"O wha will shoe my fair foot,And wha will glove my han'?And wha will lace my middle jimpWi' a new-made London ban'?"Or wha will kemb my yellow hair5Wi' a new-made silver kemb?Or wha'll be father to my young bairn,Till love Gregor come hame?""Your father'll shoe your fair foot,Your mother glove your han';10Your sister lace your middle jimpWi' a new-made London ban';"Your brethren will kemb your yellow hairWi' a new-made silver kemb;And the king o' Heaven will father your bairn,15Till love Gregor come hame.""O gin I had a bonny ship,And men to sail wi' me,It's I wad gang to my true love,Sin he winna come to me!"20Her father's gien her a bonny ship,And sent her to the stran';She's taen her young son in her arms,And turn'd her back to the lan'.She hadna been o' the sea sailin'25About a month or more,Till landed has she her bonny shipNear her true-love's door.The nicht was dark, and the wind blew cald,And her love was fast asleep,30And the bairn that was in her twa armsFu' sair began to greet.Lang stood she at her true love's door,And lang tirl'd at the pin;At length up gat his fause mother,35Says, "Wha's that wad be in?""O it is Annie of Lochroyan,Your love, come o'er the sea,But and your young son in her arms;So open the door to me."40"Awa, awa, ye ill woman,You're nae come here for gude;You're but a witch, or a vile warlock,Or mermaid o' the flude.""I'm nae a witch or vile warlock,45Or mermaiden," said she;—"I'm but your Annie of Lochroyan;—O open the door to me!""O gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan,As I trust not ye be,50What taiken can ye gie that e'erI kept your companie?""O dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says,"Whan we sat at the wine,How we changed the napkins frae our necks?55It's nae sae lang sinsyne."And yours was gude, and gude enough,But nae sae gude as mine;For yours was o' the cambrick clear,But mine o' the silk sae fine.60"And dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says,"As we twa sat at dine,How we chang'd the rings frae our fingers,And I can shew thee thine:"And yours was gude, and gude enough,65Yet nae sae gude as mine;For yours was o' the gude red gold,But mine o' the diamonds fine."Sae open the door, now, love Gregor,And open it wi' speed;70Or your young son, that is in my arms,For cald will soon be dead.""Awa, awa, ye ill woman,Gae frae my door for shame;For I hae gotten anither fair love,75Sae ye may hie you hame.""O hae ye gotten anither fair love,For a' the oaths ye sware?Then fare ye weel, now, fause Gregor;For me ye's never see mair!"80O hooly, hooly gaed she back,As the day began to peep;She set her foot on good ship board,And sair, sair did she weep."Tak down, tak down the mast o' goud;85Set up the mast o' tree;Ill sets it a forsaken ladyTo sail sae gallantlie."Tak down, tak down the sails o' silk;Set up the sails o' skin;90Ill sets the outside to be gay,Whan there's sic grief within!"Love Gregor started frae his sleep,And to his mother did say,"I dreamt a dream this night, mither,95That maks my heart richt wae;"I dreamt that Annie of Lochroyan,The flower o' a' her kin,Was standin' mournin' at my door,But nane wad lat her in."100"O there was a woman stood at the door,Wi' a bairn intill her arms;But I wadna let her within the bower,For fear she had done you harm."O quickly, quickly raise he up,105And fast ran to the strand;And there he saw her, fair Annie,Was sailing frae the land.And "heigh, Annie!" and "how, Annie!O, Annie, winna ye bide?"110But ay the louder that he cried "Annie,"The higher rair'd the tide.And "heigh, Annie!" and "how, Annie!O, Annie, speak to me!"But ay the louder that he cried "Annie,"115The louder rair'd the sea.The wind grew loud, and the sea grew rough,And the ship was rent in twain;And soon he saw her, fair Annie,Come floating o'er the main.120He saw his young son in her arms,Baith toss'd aboon the tide;He wrang his hands, and fast he ran,And plunged in the sea sae wide.He catch'd her by the yellow hair,125And drew her to the strand;But cald and stiff was every limb,Before he reach'd the land.O first he kist her cherry cheek,And syne he kist her chin;130And sair he kist her ruby lips,But there was nae breath within.O he has mourn'd o'er fair Annie,Till the sun was ganging down;Syne wi' a sich his heart it brast,135And his saul to heaven has flown.
"O wha will shoe my fair foot,And wha will glove my han'?And wha will lace my middle jimpWi' a new-made London ban'?
"Or wha will kemb my yellow hair5Wi' a new-made silver kemb?Or wha'll be father to my young bairn,Till love Gregor come hame?"
"Your father'll shoe your fair foot,Your mother glove your han';10Your sister lace your middle jimpWi' a new-made London ban';
"Your brethren will kemb your yellow hairWi' a new-made silver kemb;And the king o' Heaven will father your bairn,15Till love Gregor come hame."
"O gin I had a bonny ship,And men to sail wi' me,It's I wad gang to my true love,Sin he winna come to me!"20
Her father's gien her a bonny ship,And sent her to the stran';She's taen her young son in her arms,And turn'd her back to the lan'.
She hadna been o' the sea sailin'25About a month or more,Till landed has she her bonny shipNear her true-love's door.
The nicht was dark, and the wind blew cald,And her love was fast asleep,30And the bairn that was in her twa armsFu' sair began to greet.
Lang stood she at her true love's door,And lang tirl'd at the pin;At length up gat his fause mother,35Says, "Wha's that wad be in?"
"O it is Annie of Lochroyan,Your love, come o'er the sea,But and your young son in her arms;So open the door to me."40
"Awa, awa, ye ill woman,You're nae come here for gude;You're but a witch, or a vile warlock,Or mermaid o' the flude."
"I'm nae a witch or vile warlock,45Or mermaiden," said she;—"I'm but your Annie of Lochroyan;—O open the door to me!"
"O gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan,As I trust not ye be,50What taiken can ye gie that e'erI kept your companie?"
"O dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says,"Whan we sat at the wine,How we changed the napkins frae our necks?55It's nae sae lang sinsyne.
"And yours was gude, and gude enough,But nae sae gude as mine;For yours was o' the cambrick clear,But mine o' the silk sae fine.60
"And dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says,"As we twa sat at dine,How we chang'd the rings frae our fingers,And I can shew thee thine:
"And yours was gude, and gude enough,65Yet nae sae gude as mine;For yours was o' the gude red gold,But mine o' the diamonds fine.
"Sae open the door, now, love Gregor,And open it wi' speed;70Or your young son, that is in my arms,For cald will soon be dead."
"Awa, awa, ye ill woman,Gae frae my door for shame;For I hae gotten anither fair love,75Sae ye may hie you hame."
"O hae ye gotten anither fair love,For a' the oaths ye sware?Then fare ye weel, now, fause Gregor;For me ye's never see mair!"80
O hooly, hooly gaed she back,As the day began to peep;She set her foot on good ship board,And sair, sair did she weep.
"Tak down, tak down the mast o' goud;85Set up the mast o' tree;Ill sets it a forsaken ladyTo sail sae gallantlie.
"Tak down, tak down the sails o' silk;Set up the sails o' skin;90Ill sets the outside to be gay,Whan there's sic grief within!"
Love Gregor started frae his sleep,And to his mother did say,"I dreamt a dream this night, mither,95That maks my heart richt wae;
"I dreamt that Annie of Lochroyan,The flower o' a' her kin,Was standin' mournin' at my door,But nane wad lat her in."100
"O there was a woman stood at the door,Wi' a bairn intill her arms;But I wadna let her within the bower,For fear she had done you harm."
O quickly, quickly raise he up,105And fast ran to the strand;And there he saw her, fair Annie,Was sailing frae the land.
And "heigh, Annie!" and "how, Annie!O, Annie, winna ye bide?"110But ay the louder that he cried "Annie,"The higher rair'd the tide.
And "heigh, Annie!" and "how, Annie!O, Annie, speak to me!"But ay the louder that he cried "Annie,"115The louder rair'd the sea.
The wind grew loud, and the sea grew rough,And the ship was rent in twain;And soon he saw her, fair Annie,Come floating o'er the main.120
He saw his young son in her arms,Baith toss'd aboon the tide;He wrang his hands, and fast he ran,And plunged in the sea sae wide.
He catch'd her by the yellow hair,125And drew her to the strand;But cald and stiff was every limb,Before he reach'd the land.
O first he kist her cherry cheek,And syne he kist her chin;130And sair he kist her ruby lips,But there was nae breath within.
O he has mourn'd o'er fair Annie,Till the sun was ganging down;Syne wi' a sich his heart it brast,135And his saul to heaven has flown.
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 199.
"This edition of the ballad is composed of verses selected from three MS. copies, and two obtained from recitation. Two of the copies are in Herd's MS.; the third in that of Mrs. Brown of Falkland."
Lord Gregory is represented in Scott's version, "as confined by fairy charms in an enchanted castle situated in the sea." But Jamieson assures us that when a boy he had frequently heard this ballad chanted in Morayshire, and no mention was ever made of enchantment, or "fairy charms." "Indeed," he very justly adds, "the two stanzas on that subject [v. 41-52,] are in a style of composition very peculiar, and different from the rest of the piece, and strongly remind us of the interpolations in the ballad ofGil Morris."
"O wha will shoe my bonny foot?And wha will glove my hand?And wha will lace my middle jimpWi' a lang, lang linen band?"O wha will kame my yellow hair,5With a new-made silver kame?And wha will father my young son,Till Lord Gregory come hame?"—"Thy father will shoe thy bonny foot,Thy mother will glove thy hand,10Thy sister will lace thy middle jimp,Till Lord Gregory come to land."Thy brother will kame thy yellow hairWith a new-made silver kame,And God will be thy bairn's father15Till Lord Gregory come hame."—"But I will get a bonny boat,And I will sail the sea;And I will gang to Lord Gregory,Since he canna come hame to me."20Syne she's gar'd build a bonny boat,To sail the salt, salt sea;The sails were o' the light green silk,The tows o' taffety.She hadna sailed but twenty leagues,25But twenty leagues and three,When she met wi' a rank robber,And a' his company."Now whether are ye the queen hersell,(For so ye weel might be,)30Or are ye the Lass of Lochroyan,Seekin' Lord Gregory?"—"O I am neither the queen," she said,"Nor sic I seem to be;But I am the Lass of Lochroyan,35Seekin' Lord Gregory."—"O see na thou yon bonny bower,It's a' cover'd o'er wi' tin?When thou hast sail'd it round about,Lord Gregory is within."40And when she saw the stately towerShining sae clear and bright,Whilk stood aboon the jawing wave,Built on a rock of height;Says—"Row the boat, my mariners,45And bring me to the land!For yonder I see my love's castleClose by the salt-sea strand."She sail'd it round, and sail'd it round,And loud, loud cried she—50"Now break, now break, ye fairy charms,And set my true love free!"She's ta'en her young son in her arms,And to the door she's gane;And long she knock'd, and sair she ca'd,55But answer got she nane."O open the door, Lord Gregory!O open and let me in!For the wind blaws through my yellow hair,And the rain draps o'er my chin."—60"Awa, awa, ye ill woman!Ye're no come here for good!Ye're but some witch or wil warlock,Or mermaid o' the flood."—"I am neither witch, nor wil warlock,65Nor mermaid o' the sea;But I am Annie of Lochroyan;O open the door to me!"—"Gin thou be Annie of Lochroyan,(As I trow thou binna she,)70Now tell me some o' the love tokensThat past between thee and me."—"O dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory,As we sat at the wine,We changed the rings frae our fingers?75And I can show thee thine."O yours was gude, and gude enough,But aye the best was mine;For yours was o' the gude red gowd,But mine o' the diamond fine.80"And has na thou mind, Lord Gregory,As we sat on the hill,Thou twin'd me o' my maidenheidRight sair against my will?"Now open the door, Lord Gregory!85Open the door, I pray!For thy young son is in my arms,And will be dead ere day."—"If thou be the lass of Lochroyan,(As I kenna thou be,)90Tell me some mair o' the love tokensPast between me and thee."Fair Annie turn'd her round about—"Weel! since that it be sae,May never a woman that has borne a son,95Hae a heart sae fou o' wae!"Take down, take down, that mast o' gowd!Set up a mast o' tree!It disna become a forsaken ladyTo sail sae royallie."100When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn,And the sun began to peep,Then up and raise him Lord Gregory,And sair, sair did he weep."Oh I hae dream'd a dream, mother,105I wish it may prove true!That the bonny Lass of LochroyanWas at the yate e'en now."O I hae dream'd a dream, mother,The thought o't gars me greet!110That fair Annie o' LochroyanLay cauld dead at my feet."—"Gin it be for Annie of LochroyanThat ye make a' this din,She stood a' last night at your door,115But I true she wan na in."—"O wae betide ye, ill woman!An ill deid may ye die!That wadna open the door to her,Nor yet wad waken me."120O he's gane down to yon shore sideAs fast as he could fare;He saw fair Annie in the boat,But the wind it toss'd her sair."And hey, Annie, and how, Annie!125O Annie, winna ye bide!"But aye the mair he cried Annie,The braider grew the tide."And hey, Annie, and how, Annie!Dear Annie, speak to me!"130But aye the louder he cried Annie,The louder roar'd the sea.The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough,And dash'd the boat on shore;Fair Annie floated through the faem,135But the babie rose no more.Lord Gregory tore his yellow hair,And made a heavy moan;Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet,Her bonny young son was gone.140O cherry, cherry was her cheek,And gowden was her hair;But clay-cold were her rosy lips—Nae spark o' life was there.And first he kiss'd her cherry cheek,145And syne he kiss'd her chin,And syne he kiss'd her rosy lips—There was nae breath within."O wae betide my cruel mother!An ill death may she die!150She turn'd my true love frae my door,Wha came sae far to me."O wae betide my cruel mother!An ill death may she die!She turn'd fair Annie frae my door,155Wha died for love o' me."
"O wha will shoe my bonny foot?And wha will glove my hand?And wha will lace my middle jimpWi' a lang, lang linen band?
"O wha will kame my yellow hair,5With a new-made silver kame?And wha will father my young son,Till Lord Gregory come hame?"—
"Thy father will shoe thy bonny foot,Thy mother will glove thy hand,10Thy sister will lace thy middle jimp,Till Lord Gregory come to land.
"Thy brother will kame thy yellow hairWith a new-made silver kame,And God will be thy bairn's father15Till Lord Gregory come hame."—
"But I will get a bonny boat,And I will sail the sea;And I will gang to Lord Gregory,Since he canna come hame to me."20
Syne she's gar'd build a bonny boat,To sail the salt, salt sea;The sails were o' the light green silk,The tows o' taffety.
She hadna sailed but twenty leagues,25But twenty leagues and three,When she met wi' a rank robber,And a' his company.
"Now whether are ye the queen hersell,(For so ye weel might be,)30Or are ye the Lass of Lochroyan,Seekin' Lord Gregory?"—
"O I am neither the queen," she said,"Nor sic I seem to be;But I am the Lass of Lochroyan,35Seekin' Lord Gregory."—
"O see na thou yon bonny bower,It's a' cover'd o'er wi' tin?When thou hast sail'd it round about,Lord Gregory is within."40
And when she saw the stately towerShining sae clear and bright,Whilk stood aboon the jawing wave,Built on a rock of height;
Says—"Row the boat, my mariners,45And bring me to the land!For yonder I see my love's castleClose by the salt-sea strand."
She sail'd it round, and sail'd it round,And loud, loud cried she—50"Now break, now break, ye fairy charms,And set my true love free!"
She's ta'en her young son in her arms,And to the door she's gane;And long she knock'd, and sair she ca'd,55But answer got she nane.
"O open the door, Lord Gregory!O open and let me in!For the wind blaws through my yellow hair,And the rain draps o'er my chin."—60
"Awa, awa, ye ill woman!Ye're no come here for good!Ye're but some witch or wil warlock,Or mermaid o' the flood."—
"I am neither witch, nor wil warlock,65Nor mermaid o' the sea;But I am Annie of Lochroyan;O open the door to me!"—
"Gin thou be Annie of Lochroyan,(As I trow thou binna she,)70Now tell me some o' the love tokensThat past between thee and me."—
"O dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory,As we sat at the wine,We changed the rings frae our fingers?75And I can show thee thine.
"O yours was gude, and gude enough,But aye the best was mine;For yours was o' the gude red gowd,But mine o' the diamond fine.80
"And has na thou mind, Lord Gregory,As we sat on the hill,Thou twin'd me o' my maidenheidRight sair against my will?
"Now open the door, Lord Gregory!85Open the door, I pray!For thy young son is in my arms,And will be dead ere day."—
"If thou be the lass of Lochroyan,(As I kenna thou be,)90Tell me some mair o' the love tokensPast between me and thee."
Fair Annie turn'd her round about—"Weel! since that it be sae,May never a woman that has borne a son,95Hae a heart sae fou o' wae!
"Take down, take down, that mast o' gowd!Set up a mast o' tree!It disna become a forsaken ladyTo sail sae royallie."100
When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn,And the sun began to peep,Then up and raise him Lord Gregory,And sair, sair did he weep.
"Oh I hae dream'd a dream, mother,105I wish it may prove true!That the bonny Lass of LochroyanWas at the yate e'en now.
"O I hae dream'd a dream, mother,The thought o't gars me greet!110That fair Annie o' LochroyanLay cauld dead at my feet."—
"Gin it be for Annie of LochroyanThat ye make a' this din,She stood a' last night at your door,115But I true she wan na in."—
"O wae betide ye, ill woman!An ill deid may ye die!That wadna open the door to her,Nor yet wad waken me."120
O he's gane down to yon shore sideAs fast as he could fare;He saw fair Annie in the boat,But the wind it toss'd her sair.
"And hey, Annie, and how, Annie!125O Annie, winna ye bide!"But aye the mair he cried Annie,The braider grew the tide.
"And hey, Annie, and how, Annie!Dear Annie, speak to me!"130But aye the louder he cried Annie,The louder roar'd the sea.
The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough,And dash'd the boat on shore;Fair Annie floated through the faem,135But the babie rose no more.
Lord Gregory tore his yellow hair,And made a heavy moan;Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet,Her bonny young son was gone.140
O cherry, cherry was her cheek,And gowden was her hair;But clay-cold were her rosy lips—Nae spark o' life was there.
And first he kiss'd her cherry cheek,145And syne he kiss'd her chin,And syne he kiss'd her rosy lips—There was nae breath within.
"O wae betide my cruel mother!An ill death may she die!150She turn'd my true love frae my door,Wha came sae far to me.
"O wae betide my cruel mother!An ill death may she die!She turn'd fair Annie frae my door,155Wha died for love o' me."
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 3.
This ballad, of which more than thirty versions have been published in the Northern languages, is preserved in English in several forms, all of them more or less unsatisfactory. Of these the present copy comes nearest to the pure original, as it is found in Danish. The next best isThe Brave Earl Brand and The King of England's Daughter, recently printed for the first time in Bell'sBallads of the Peasantry, and givenat the end of this volume.Erlinton(vol. iii. 220) is much mutilated, and has a perverted conclusion, but retains a faint trace of one characteristic trait of the ancient ballad, which really constitutes the turning point of the story, but which all the others lack. (SeeErlinton.) A fragment exists in the Percy MS., of which we can only say that if it much resembled Percy'sChild of Elle(which it cannot), it might without loss be left undisturbed forever. In the only remaining copy Robin Hood appears as the hero. (See vol. v. p. 334.) It is of slight value, but considerably less insipid than theChild of Elle. Motherwell (Minstrelsy, p. 180) has given a few variations to Scott's ballad, but they are of no importance.—Of the corresponding Danish ballad,Ribolt og Guldborg, Grundtvig has collected more than twenty versions, some of them ancient, many obtained from recitation, and eight of thekindredHildebrand og Hilde. There have also been printed of the latter, three versions in Swedish, and of the former, three in Icelandic, two in Norse, and seven in Swedish. (Danmarks Gamle Folkeviser, ii. 308-403, 674-81.) Jamieson has translated an inferior copy of the Danish ballad inIllustrations of North. Antiq., p. 317.
"The ballad ofThe Douglas Tragedy," says Scott, "is one of the few (?) to which popular tradition has ascribed complete locality.
"The farm of Blackhouse, in Selkirkshire, is said to have been the scene of this melancholy event. There are the remains of a very ancient tower, adjacent to the farm-house, in a wild and solitary glen, upon a torrent named Douglas burn, which joins the Yarrow, after passing a craggy rock, called the Douglas craig.... From this ancient tower Lady Margaret is said to have been carried by her lover. Seven large stones, erected upon the neighboring heights of Blackhouse, are shown, as marking the spot where the seven brethren were slain; and the Douglas burn is averred to have been the stream at which the lovers stopped to drink: so minute is tradition in ascertaining the scene of a tragical tale, which, considering the rude state of former times, had probably foundation in some real event."
Were it not for Scott's concluding remark, and the obstinate credulity of most of the English and Scotch editors, we should hardly think it necessary to say that the locality of some of the incidents inRibolt and Guldborg, is equally well ascertained (Grundtvig, 342, 343). "Popular tales and anecdotes of every kind," as Jamieson well remarks, "soon obtain locality wherever they are told; and the intelligent and attentivetraveller will not be surprised to find the same story which he had learnt when a child, with every appropriate circumstance of names, time, and place, in a Glen of Morven, Lochaber, or Rannoch, equally domesticated among the mountains of Norway, Caucasus, or Thibet."Ill. North. Ant.p. 317.
"Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says,"And put on your armour so bright;Let it never be said that a daughter of thineWas married to a lord under night."Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,5And put on your armour so bright,And take better care of your youngest sister,For your eldest's awa' the last night."—He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,And himself on a dapple grey,10With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,And lightly they rode away.Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder,To see what he could see,And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold,15Come riding o'er the lee."Light down, light down, Lady Marg'ret," he said,"And hold my steed in your hand,Until that against your seven brethren bold,And your father, I make a stand."—20She held his steed in her milk-white hand,And never shed one tear,Until that she saw her seven brethren fa',And her father hard fighting, who loved her so dear."O hold your hand, Lord William!" she said,25"For your strokes they are wondrous sair;True lovers I can get many a ane,But a father I can never get mair."—O she's ta'en out her handkerchief,It was o' the holland sae fine,30And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds,That were redder than the wine."O chuse, O chuse, Lady Marg'ret," he said,"O whether will ye gang or bide?"—"I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William," she said,35"For you have left me no other guide."—He's lifted her on a milk-white steed,And himself on a dapple grey,With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,And slowly they baith rade away.40O they rade on, and on they rade,And a' by the light of the moon,Until they came to yon wan water,And there they lighted down.They lighted down to tak a drink45Of the spring that ran sae clear;And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood,And sair she 'gan to fear."Hold up, hold up, Lord William," she says,"For I fear that you are slain!"—50"'Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak,That shines in the water sae plain."—O they rade on, and on they rade,And a' by the light of the moon,Until they cam to his mother's ha' door,55And there they lighted down."Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,"Get up, and let me in!—Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,"For this night my fair lady I've win.60"O mak my bed, lady mother," he says,"O mak it braid and deep!And lay Lady Marg'ret close at my back,And the sounder I will sleep."—Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,65Lady Marg'ret lang ere day—And all true lovers that go thegither,May they have mair luck than they!Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk,Lady Marg'ret in Marie's quire;70Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose,And out o' the knight's a brier.And they twa met, and they twa plat,And fain they wad be near;And a' the warld might ken right weel,75They were twa lovers dear.But bye and rade the Black Douglas,And wow but he was rough!For he pull'd up the bonny brier,And flang't in St. Marie's Loch.80
"Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says,"And put on your armour so bright;Let it never be said that a daughter of thineWas married to a lord under night.
"Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,5And put on your armour so bright,And take better care of your youngest sister,For your eldest's awa' the last night."—
He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,And himself on a dapple grey,10With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,And lightly they rode away.
Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder,To see what he could see,And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold,15Come riding o'er the lee.
"Light down, light down, Lady Marg'ret," he said,"And hold my steed in your hand,Until that against your seven brethren bold,And your father, I make a stand."—20
She held his steed in her milk-white hand,And never shed one tear,Until that she saw her seven brethren fa',And her father hard fighting, who loved her so dear.
"O hold your hand, Lord William!" she said,25"For your strokes they are wondrous sair;True lovers I can get many a ane,But a father I can never get mair."—
O she's ta'en out her handkerchief,It was o' the holland sae fine,30And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds,That were redder than the wine.
"O chuse, O chuse, Lady Marg'ret," he said,"O whether will ye gang or bide?"—"I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William," she said,35"For you have left me no other guide."—
He's lifted her on a milk-white steed,And himself on a dapple grey,With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,And slowly they baith rade away.40
O they rade on, and on they rade,And a' by the light of the moon,Until they came to yon wan water,And there they lighted down.
They lighted down to tak a drink45Of the spring that ran sae clear;And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood,And sair she 'gan to fear.
"Hold up, hold up, Lord William," she says,"For I fear that you are slain!"—50"'Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak,That shines in the water sae plain."—
O they rade on, and on they rade,And a' by the light of the moon,Until they cam to his mother's ha' door,55And there they lighted down.
"Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,"Get up, and let me in!—Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,"For this night my fair lady I've win.60
"O mak my bed, lady mother," he says,"O mak it braid and deep!And lay Lady Marg'ret close at my back,And the sounder I will sleep."—
Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,65Lady Marg'ret lang ere day—And all true lovers that go thegither,May they have mair luck than they!
Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk,Lady Marg'ret in Marie's quire;70Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose,And out o' the knight's a brier.
And they twa met, and they twa plat,And fain they wad be near;And a' the warld might ken right weel,75They were twa lovers dear.
But bye and rade the Black Douglas,And wow but he was rough!For he pull'd up the bonny brier,And flang't in St. Marie's Loch.80
69-80. This miracle is frequently witnessed over the graves of faithful lovers.—King Mark, according to the German romance, planted a rose on Tristan's grave, and a vine on that of Isold. The roots struck down into the very hearts of the dead lovers, and the stems twined lovingly together. The French account is somewhat different. An eglantine sprung from the tomb of Tristan, and twisted itself round the monument of Isold. It was cut down three times, but grew up every morning fresher than before, so that it was allowed to stand. Other examples are, in this volume,Fair Janet,Lord Thomas and Fair Annet; in the third volume,Prince Robert, &c. The same phenomenon is exhibited in the Swedish ballads ofHertig Fröjdenborg och Fröken Adelin,Lilla Rosa,Hilla Lilla,Hertig Nils, (Svenska Folk-Visor, i. 95, 116, Arwidsson, ii. 8, 21, 24,) in the Danish ballad ofHerr Sallemand, (Danske Viser, iii. 348,) in the Breton ballad ofLord Nann and the Korrigan, translated in Keightley'sFairy Mythology, p. 433, in a Servian tale cited by Talvi,Versuch, &c., p. 139, and in the Afghan poem ofAudam and Doorkhaunee, described by Elphinstone,Account of the Kingdom of Caubul, i. 295,—which last reference we owe to Talvi.—In the case of the Danish ballad it is certain, and in some of the other cases probable, that the idea was derived from the romance ofTristan.
69-80. This miracle is frequently witnessed over the graves of faithful lovers.—King Mark, according to the German romance, planted a rose on Tristan's grave, and a vine on that of Isold. The roots struck down into the very hearts of the dead lovers, and the stems twined lovingly together. The French account is somewhat different. An eglantine sprung from the tomb of Tristan, and twisted itself round the monument of Isold. It was cut down three times, but grew up every morning fresher than before, so that it was allowed to stand. Other examples are, in this volume,Fair Janet,Lord Thomas and Fair Annet; in the third volume,Prince Robert, &c. The same phenomenon is exhibited in the Swedish ballads ofHertig Fröjdenborg och Fröken Adelin,Lilla Rosa,Hilla Lilla,Hertig Nils, (Svenska Folk-Visor, i. 95, 116, Arwidsson, ii. 8, 21, 24,) in the Danish ballad ofHerr Sallemand, (Danske Viser, iii. 348,) in the Breton ballad ofLord Nann and the Korrigan, translated in Keightley'sFairy Mythology, p. 433, in a Servian tale cited by Talvi,Versuch, &c., p. 139, and in the Afghan poem ofAudam and Doorkhaunee, described by Elphinstone,Account of the Kingdom of Caubul, i. 295,—which last reference we owe to Talvi.—In the case of the Danish ballad it is certain, and in some of the other cases probable, that the idea was derived from the romance ofTristan.
The four pieces which follow have all the same subject.Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor, is given from theCollection of Old Ballads, 1723, vol. i. p. 249, where it is entitled,A Tragical Ballad on the unfortunate Love of Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor, together with the Downfal of the Brown Girl. The text differs but slightly from that of Percy, (iii. 121,) and Ritson,Ancient Songs, ii. 89.
Lord Thomas he was a bold forrester,And a chaser of the king's deer;Fair Ellinor was a fine woman,And Lord Thomas he loved her dear."Come riddle my riddle, dear mother," he said,5"And riddle us both as one;Whether I shall marry with fair Ellinor,And let the brown girl alone?""The brown girl she has got houses and land,And fair Ellinor she has got none;10Therefore I charge you on my blessing,Bring me the brown girl home."As it befell on a high holiday,As many more did beside,Lord Thomas he went to fair Ellinor,15That should have been his bride.But when he came to fair Ellinors bower,He knocked there at the ring;But who was so ready as fair Ellinor,For to let Lord Thomas in.20"What news, what news, Lord Thomas?" she said,"What news hast thou brought unto me?""I am come to bid thee to my wedding,And that is bad news for thee.""O God forbid, Lord Thomas," she said,25"That such a thing should be done;I thought to have been thy bride my own self,And you to have been the bridegrom.""Come riddle my riddle, dear mother," she said,"And riddle it all in one;30Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas's wedding,Or whether I shall tarry at home?""There are many that are your friends, daughter,And many that are your foe;Therefore I charge you on my blessing,35To Lord Thomas's wedding don't go.""There's many that are my friends, mother;And if a thousand more were my foe,Betide my life, betide my death,To Lord Thomas's wedding I'll go."40She cloathed herself in gallant attire,And her merry men all in green;And as they rid through every town,They took her to be some queen.But when she came to Lord Thomas's gate,She knocked there at the ring;45But who was so ready as Lord Thomas,To let fair Ellinor in."Is this your bride?" fair Ellinor said;"Methinks she looks wonderful brown;50Thou might'st have had as fair a woman,As ever trod on the ground.""Despise her not, fair Ellin," he said,"Despise her not unto me;For better I love thy little finger,55Than all her whole body."This brown bride had a little penknife,That was both long and sharp,And betwixt the short ribs and the long,Prick'd fair Ellinor to the heart.60"O Christ now save thee," Lord Thomas he said,"Methinks thou look'st wondrous wan;Thou us'd to look with as fresh a colour,As ever the sun shin'd on.""O art thou blind, Lord Thomas?" she said,"Or canst thou not very well see?65O dost thou not see my own heart's bloodRun trickling down my knee?"Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side;As he walk'd about the hall,70He cut off his bride's head from her shoulders,And threw it against the wall.He set the hilt against the ground,And the point against his heart;There never were three lovers met,75That sooner did depart.
Lord Thomas he was a bold forrester,And a chaser of the king's deer;Fair Ellinor was a fine woman,And Lord Thomas he loved her dear.
"Come riddle my riddle, dear mother," he said,5"And riddle us both as one;Whether I shall marry with fair Ellinor,And let the brown girl alone?"
"The brown girl she has got houses and land,And fair Ellinor she has got none;10Therefore I charge you on my blessing,Bring me the brown girl home."
As it befell on a high holiday,As many more did beside,Lord Thomas he went to fair Ellinor,15That should have been his bride.
But when he came to fair Ellinors bower,He knocked there at the ring;But who was so ready as fair Ellinor,For to let Lord Thomas in.20
"What news, what news, Lord Thomas?" she said,"What news hast thou brought unto me?""I am come to bid thee to my wedding,And that is bad news for thee."
"O God forbid, Lord Thomas," she said,25"That such a thing should be done;I thought to have been thy bride my own self,And you to have been the bridegrom."
"Come riddle my riddle, dear mother," she said,"And riddle it all in one;30Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas's wedding,Or whether I shall tarry at home?"
"There are many that are your friends, daughter,And many that are your foe;Therefore I charge you on my blessing,35To Lord Thomas's wedding don't go."
"There's many that are my friends, mother;And if a thousand more were my foe,Betide my life, betide my death,To Lord Thomas's wedding I'll go."40
She cloathed herself in gallant attire,And her merry men all in green;And as they rid through every town,They took her to be some queen.
But when she came to Lord Thomas's gate,She knocked there at the ring;45But who was so ready as Lord Thomas,To let fair Ellinor in.
"Is this your bride?" fair Ellinor said;"Methinks she looks wonderful brown;50Thou might'st have had as fair a woman,As ever trod on the ground."
"Despise her not, fair Ellin," he said,"Despise her not unto me;For better I love thy little finger,55Than all her whole body."
This brown bride had a little penknife,That was both long and sharp,And betwixt the short ribs and the long,Prick'd fair Ellinor to the heart.60
"O Christ now save thee," Lord Thomas he said,"Methinks thou look'st wondrous wan;Thou us'd to look with as fresh a colour,As ever the sun shin'd on."
"O art thou blind, Lord Thomas?" she said,"Or canst thou not very well see?65O dost thou not see my own heart's bloodRun trickling down my knee?"
Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side;As he walk'd about the hall,70He cut off his bride's head from her shoulders,And threw it against the wall.
He set the hilt against the ground,And the point against his heart;There never were three lovers met,75That sooner did depart.
From Percy'sReliques, iii. 290, where it was "given, with some corrections, from a MS. copy transmitted from Scotland." There is a corresponding Swedish Ballad,Herr Peder och Liten Kerstin, in theSvenska Folk-Visor, i. 49. It is translated inLiterature and Romance of Northern Europe, by William and Mary Howitt, i. 258.
Lord Thomas and fair AnnetSate a' day on a hill;Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,They had not talkt their fill.Lord Thomas said a word in jest,5Fair Annet took it ill:"A' I will nevir wed a wifeAgainst my ain friends will.""Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife,A wife wull neir wed yee:"10Sae he is hame to tell his mither,And knelt upon his knee."O rede, O rede, mither," he says,"A gude rede gie to mee:O sall I tak the nut-browne bride,15And let faire Annet bee?""The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear,Fair Annet she has gat nane;And the little beauty fair Annet has,O it wull soon be gane."20And he has till his brother gane:"Now, brother, rede ye mee;A', sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,And let fair Annet bee?""The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother,25The nut-browne bride has kye:I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,And cast fair Annet bye.""Her oxen may dye i' the house, billie,And her kye into the byre,30And I sall hae nothing to mysell,Bot a fat fadge by the fyre."And he has till his sister gane:"Now sister, rede ye mee;O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,35And set fair Annet free?""Ise rede ye tak fair Annet, Thomas,And let the browne bride alane;Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace,What is this we brought hame!"40"No, I will tak my mithers counsel,And marrie me owt o' hand;And I will tak the nut-browne bride;Fair Annet may leive the land."Up then rose fair Annets father,45Twa hours or it wer day,And he is gane into the bowerWherein fair Annet lay."Rise up, rise up, fair Annet," he says,"Put on your silken sheene;50Let us gae to St. Maries kirke,And see that rich weddeen.""My maides, gae to my dressing-roome,And dress to me my hair;Whair-eir yee laid a plait before,55See yee lay ten times mair."My maids, gae to my dressing-room,And dress to me my smock;The one half is o' the holland fine,The other o' needle-work."60The horse fair Annet rade upon,He amblit like the wind;Wi' siller he was shod before,Wi' burning gowd behind.Four and twanty siller bells65Wer a' tyed till his mane,And yae tift o' the norland wind,They tinkled ane by ane.Four and twanty gay gude knichtsRade by fair Annets side,70And four and twanty fair ladies,As gin she had bin a bride.And whan she cam to Maries kirk,She sat on Maries stean:The cleading that fair Annet had on75It skinkled in their een.And whan she cam into the kirk,She shimmer'd like the sun;The belt that was about her waist,Was a' wi' pearles bedone.80She sat her by the nut-browne bride,And her een they wer sae clear,Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,Whan fair Annet she drew near.He had a rose into his hand,85And he gave it kisses three,And reaching by the nut-browne bride,Laid it on fair Annets knee.Up than spak the nut-browne bride,She spak wi' meikle spite;90"And whair gat ye that rose-water,That does mak yee sae white?""O I did get the rose-waterWhair ye wull neir get nane,For I did get that very rose-water95Into my mithers wame."The bride she drew a long bodkinFrae out her gay head-gear,And strake fair Annet unto the heart,That word she nevir spak mair.100Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wex pale,And marvelit what mote bee:But whan he saw her dear hearts blude,A' wood-wroth wexed hee.He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp,105That was sae sharp and meet,And drave into the nut-browne bride,That fell deid at his feit."Now stay for me, dear Annet," he sed,"Now stay, my dear," he cry'd;110Then strake the dagger untill his heart,And fell deid by her side.Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa',Fair Annet within the quiere;And o' the tane thair grew a birk,115The other a bonny briere.And ay they grew, and ay they threw,As they wad faine be neare;And by this ye may ken right weil,They were twa luvers deare.120
Lord Thomas and fair AnnetSate a' day on a hill;Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,They had not talkt their fill.
Lord Thomas said a word in jest,5Fair Annet took it ill:"A' I will nevir wed a wifeAgainst my ain friends will."
"Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife,A wife wull neir wed yee:"10Sae he is hame to tell his mither,And knelt upon his knee.
"O rede, O rede, mither," he says,"A gude rede gie to mee:O sall I tak the nut-browne bride,15And let faire Annet bee?"
"The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear,Fair Annet she has gat nane;And the little beauty fair Annet has,O it wull soon be gane."20
And he has till his brother gane:"Now, brother, rede ye mee;A', sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,And let fair Annet bee?"
"The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother,25The nut-browne bride has kye:I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,And cast fair Annet bye."
"Her oxen may dye i' the house, billie,And her kye into the byre,30And I sall hae nothing to mysell,Bot a fat fadge by the fyre."
And he has till his sister gane:"Now sister, rede ye mee;O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,35And set fair Annet free?"
"Ise rede ye tak fair Annet, Thomas,And let the browne bride alane;Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace,What is this we brought hame!"40
"No, I will tak my mithers counsel,And marrie me owt o' hand;And I will tak the nut-browne bride;Fair Annet may leive the land."
Up then rose fair Annets father,45Twa hours or it wer day,And he is gane into the bowerWherein fair Annet lay.
"Rise up, rise up, fair Annet," he says,"Put on your silken sheene;50Let us gae to St. Maries kirke,And see that rich weddeen."
"My maides, gae to my dressing-roome,And dress to me my hair;Whair-eir yee laid a plait before,55See yee lay ten times mair.
"My maids, gae to my dressing-room,And dress to me my smock;The one half is o' the holland fine,The other o' needle-work."60
The horse fair Annet rade upon,He amblit like the wind;Wi' siller he was shod before,Wi' burning gowd behind.
Four and twanty siller bells65Wer a' tyed till his mane,And yae tift o' the norland wind,They tinkled ane by ane.
Four and twanty gay gude knichtsRade by fair Annets side,70And four and twanty fair ladies,As gin she had bin a bride.
And whan she cam to Maries kirk,She sat on Maries stean:The cleading that fair Annet had on75It skinkled in their een.
And whan she cam into the kirk,She shimmer'd like the sun;The belt that was about her waist,Was a' wi' pearles bedone.80
She sat her by the nut-browne bride,And her een they wer sae clear,Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,Whan fair Annet she drew near.
He had a rose into his hand,85And he gave it kisses three,And reaching by the nut-browne bride,Laid it on fair Annets knee.
Up than spak the nut-browne bride,She spak wi' meikle spite;90"And whair gat ye that rose-water,That does mak yee sae white?"
"O I did get the rose-waterWhair ye wull neir get nane,For I did get that very rose-water95Into my mithers wame."
The bride she drew a long bodkinFrae out her gay head-gear,And strake fair Annet unto the heart,That word she nevir spak mair.100
Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wex pale,And marvelit what mote bee:But whan he saw her dear hearts blude,A' wood-wroth wexed hee.
He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp,105That was sae sharp and meet,And drave into the nut-browne bride,That fell deid at his feit.
"Now stay for me, dear Annet," he sed,"Now stay, my dear," he cry'd;110Then strake the dagger untill his heart,And fell deid by her side.
Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa',Fair Annet within the quiere;And o' the tane thair grew a birk,115The other a bonny briere.
And ay they grew, and ay they threw,As they wad faine be neare;And by this ye may ken right weil,They were twa luvers deare.120
Is another version of the foregoing piece, furnished by Jamieson,Popular Ballads, i. 22.
"The text ofLord Thomas and Fair Annet," remarks Jamieson, "seems to have been adjusted, previous to its leaving Scotland, by some one who was more of a scholar than the reciters of ballads generally are; and, in attempting to give it an antique cast, it has been deprived of somewhat of that easy facility which is the distinguished characteristic of the traditionary ballad narrative. With the text of the following ditty, no such experiment has been made. It is here given pure and entire, as it was taken down by the editor, from the recitation of a lady in Aberbrothick, (Mrs. W. Arrot.) As she had, when a child, learnt the ballad from an elderly maid-servant, and probably had not repeated it for a dozen years before I had the good fortune to be introduced to her, it may be depended upon, that every line was recited to me as nearly as possible in the exact form in which she learnt it."
Mr. Chambers, in conformity with the plan of his work, presents us with an edition composed out of Percy's and Jamieson's, with some amended readings and additional verses from a manuscript copy, (Scottish Ballads, p. 269.)