15. In the copy obtained by the Editor, the word "ritted" did not occur, instead of which the word "stabbed" was used. The "nut-brown sword" was also changed into "a little small sword."Motherwell.96. Buchan's version furnishes the necessary explanation of Young Johnstone's apparent cruelty:—"Ohon, alas, my lady gay,To come sae hastilié!I thought it was my deadly foe,Ye had trysted in to me."
15. In the copy obtained by the Editor, the word "ritted" did not occur, instead of which the word "stabbed" was used. The "nut-brown sword" was also changed into "a little small sword."Motherwell.
96. Buchan's version furnishes the necessary explanation of Young Johnstone's apparent cruelty:—
"Ohon, alas, my lady gay,To come sae hastilié!I thought it was my deadly foe,Ye had trysted in to me."
"Ohon, alas, my lady gay,To come sae hastilié!I thought it was my deadly foe,Ye had trysted in to me."
From theMinstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 10.Bondsey and Maisry, another version of the same story, from Buchan's collection, is given in the Appendix.
"In this ballad the reader will find traces of a singular superstition, not yet altogether discredited in the wilder parts of Scotland. The lykewake, or watching a dead body, in itself a melancholy office, is rendered, in the idea of the assistants, more dismally awful, by the mysterious horrors of superstition. In the interval betwixt death and interment, the disembodied spirit is supposed to hover round its mortal habitation, and, if invoked by certain rites, retains the power of communicating, through its organs, the cause of its dissolution. Such inquiries, however, are always dangerous, and never to be resorted to, unless the deceased is suspected to have sufferedfoul play, as it is called. It is the more unsafe to tamper with this charm in an unauthorized manner, because the inhabitants of the infernal regions are, at such periods, peculiarly active. One of the most potent ceremonies in the charm, forcausing the dead body to speak, is, setting the door ajar, or half open. On this account, the peasants of Scotland sedulously avoid leaving the door ajar, while a corpse lies in the house. The door must either be left wide open, or quite shut; but the first is always preferred, on account of the exercise of hospitality usual on such occasions. The attendants must be likewise careful never to leave the corpse for a moment alone, or, if it is left alone, to avoid, with a degree of superstitious horror, the first sight of it.
"The following story, which is frequently related by the peasants of Scotland, will illustrate the imaginary danger of leaving the door ajar. In former times, a man and his wife lived in a solitary cottage, on one of the extensive Border fells. One day the husband died suddenly; and his wife, who was equally afraid of staying alone by the corpse, or leaving the dead body by itself, repeatedly went to the door, and looked anxiously over the lonely moor for the sight of some person approaching. In her confusion and alarm she accidentally left the door ajar, when the corpse suddenly started up, and sat in the bed, frowning and grinning at her frightfully. She sat alone, crying bitterly, unable to avoid the fascination of the dead man's eye, and too much terrified to break the sullen silence, till a Catholic priest, passing over the wild, entered the cottage. He first set the door quite open, then put his little finger in his mouth, and said the paternoster backwards; when the horrid look of the corpse relaxed, it fell back on the bed, and behaved itself as a dead man ought to do.
"The ballad is given from tradition. I have been informed by a lady, [Miss Joanna Baillie,] of the highest literary eminence, that she has heard a ballad onthe same subject, in which the scene was laid upon the banks of the Clyde. The chorus was,
"O Bothwell banks bloom bonny,"
"O Bothwell banks bloom bonny,"
and the watching of the dead corpse was said to have taken place in Bothwell church."Scott.
Of a' the maids o' fair Scotland,The fairest was Marjorie;And young Benjie was her ae true love,And a dear true love was he.And wow but they were lovers dear,5And loved fu' constantlie;But aye the mair when they fell out,The sairer was their plea.And they hae quarrell'd on a day,Till Marjorie's heart grew wae;10And she said she'd chuse another luve,And let young Benjie gae.And he was stout, and proud-hearted,And thought o't bitterlie;And he's gane by the wan moonlight,15To meet his Marjorie."O open, open, my true love,O open, and let me in!"—"I darena open, young Benjie,My three brothers are within."—20"Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonny burd,Sae loud's I hear ye lie;As I came by the Lowden banks,They bade gude e'en to me."But fare ye weel, my ae fause love,25That I have loved sae lang!It sets ye chuse another love,And let young Benjie gang."—Then Marjorie turn'd her round about,The tear blinding her ee,—30"I darena, darena let thee in,But I'll come down to thee."—Then saft she smiled, and said to him,"O what ill hae I done?"—He took her in his armis twa,35And threw her o'er the linn.The stream was strang, the maid was stout,And laith, laith to be dang,But, ere she wan the Lowden banks,Her fair colour was wan.40Then up bespak her eldest brother,"O see na ye what I see?"—And out then spak her second brother,"It's our sister Marjorie!"—Out then spak her eldest brother,45"O how shall we her ken?"—And out then spak her youngest brother,"There's a honey mark on her chin."—Then they've ta'en up the comely corpse,And laid it on the ground:50"O wha has killed our ae sister,And how can he be found?"The night it is her low lykewake,The morn her burial day,And we maun watch at mirk midnight,55And hear what she will say."—Wi' doors ajar, and candle light,And torches burning clear,The streikit corpse, till still midnight,They waked, but naething hear.60About the middle o' the night,The cocks began to craw;And at the dead hour o' the night,The corpse began to thraw."O whae has done the wrang, sister,65Or dared the deadly sin?Whae was sae stout, and fear'd nae dout,As thraw ye o'er the linn?""Young Benjie was the first ae manI laid my love upon;70He was sae stout and proud-hearted,He threw me o'er the linn."—"Sall we young Benjie head, sister,Sall we young Benjie hang,Or sall we pike out his twa gray een,75And punish him ere he gang?""Ye maunna Benjie head, brothers,Ye maunna Benjie hang,But ye maun pike out his twa gray een,And punish him ere he gang.80"Tie a green gravat round his neck,And lead him out and in,And the best ae servant about your houseTo wait young Benjie on."And aye, at every seven years' end,85Ye'l tak him to the linn;For that's the penance he maun dree,To scug his deadly sin."
Of a' the maids o' fair Scotland,The fairest was Marjorie;And young Benjie was her ae true love,And a dear true love was he.
And wow but they were lovers dear,5And loved fu' constantlie;But aye the mair when they fell out,The sairer was their plea.
And they hae quarrell'd on a day,Till Marjorie's heart grew wae;10And she said she'd chuse another luve,And let young Benjie gae.
And he was stout, and proud-hearted,And thought o't bitterlie;And he's gane by the wan moonlight,15To meet his Marjorie.
"O open, open, my true love,O open, and let me in!"—"I darena open, young Benjie,My three brothers are within."—20
"Ye lied, ye lied, ye bonny burd,Sae loud's I hear ye lie;As I came by the Lowden banks,They bade gude e'en to me.
"But fare ye weel, my ae fause love,25That I have loved sae lang!It sets ye chuse another love,And let young Benjie gang."—
Then Marjorie turn'd her round about,The tear blinding her ee,—30"I darena, darena let thee in,But I'll come down to thee."—
Then saft she smiled, and said to him,"O what ill hae I done?"—He took her in his armis twa,35And threw her o'er the linn.
The stream was strang, the maid was stout,And laith, laith to be dang,But, ere she wan the Lowden banks,Her fair colour was wan.40
Then up bespak her eldest brother,"O see na ye what I see?"—And out then spak her second brother,"It's our sister Marjorie!"—
Out then spak her eldest brother,45"O how shall we her ken?"—And out then spak her youngest brother,"There's a honey mark on her chin."—
Then they've ta'en up the comely corpse,And laid it on the ground:50"O wha has killed our ae sister,And how can he be found?
"The night it is her low lykewake,The morn her burial day,And we maun watch at mirk midnight,55And hear what she will say."—
Wi' doors ajar, and candle light,And torches burning clear,The streikit corpse, till still midnight,They waked, but naething hear.60
About the middle o' the night,The cocks began to craw;And at the dead hour o' the night,The corpse began to thraw.
"O whae has done the wrang, sister,65Or dared the deadly sin?Whae was sae stout, and fear'd nae dout,As thraw ye o'er the linn?"
"Young Benjie was the first ae manI laid my love upon;70He was sae stout and proud-hearted,He threw me o'er the linn."—
"Sall we young Benjie head, sister,Sall we young Benjie hang,Or sall we pike out his twa gray een,75And punish him ere he gang?"
"Ye maunna Benjie head, brothers,Ye maunna Benjie hang,But ye maun pike out his twa gray een,And punish him ere he gang.80
"Tie a green gravat round his neck,And lead him out and in,And the best ae servant about your houseTo wait young Benjie on.
"And aye, at every seven years' end,85Ye'l tak him to the linn;For that's the penance he maun dree,To scug his deadly sin."
Scottish version ofLittle Musgrave and Lady Barnard. See p. 15.
From Jamieson'sPopular Ballads and Songs, i. 170.
"I have a tower in Dalisberry,Which now is dearly dight,And I will gie it to young MusgraveTo lodge wi' me a' night.""To lodge wi' thee a' night, fair lady,5Wad breed baith sorrow and strife;For I see by the rings on your fingers,You're good lord Barnaby's wife.""Lord Barnaby's wife although I be,Yet what is that to thee?10For we'll beguile him for this ae night—He's on to fair Dundee."Come here, come here, my little foot-page,This gold I will give thee,If ye will keep thir secrets close15'Tween young Musgrave and me."But here I hae a little pen-knife,Hings low down by my gare;Gin ye winna keep thir secrets close,Ye'll find it wonder sair."20Then she's ta'en him to her chamber,And down in her arms lay he:The boy coost aff his hose and shoon,And ran to fair Dundee.When he cam to the wan water,25Heslack'dhis bow and swam;And when he cam to growin grass,Set down his feet and ran.And when he cam to fair Dundee,Wad neither chap nor ca';30But set hisbrentbow to his breast,And merrily jump'd the wa'."O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,Waken, and come away!"—"What ails, what ails my wee foot-page,35He cries sae lang ere day."O is my bowers brent, my boy?Or is my castle won?Or has the lady that I lo'e bestBrought me a daughter or son?"40"Your ha's are safe, your bowers are safe,And free frae all alarms;But, oh! the lady that ye lo'e bestLies sound in Musgrave's arms.""Gae saddle to me the black," he cried,45"Gae saddle to me the gray;Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed,To hie me on my way.""O lady, I heard a wee horn toot,And it blew wonder clear;50And ay the turning o' the note,Was, 'Barnaby will be here!'"I thought I heard a wee horn blaw,And it blew loud and high;And ay at ilka turn it said,55'Away, Musgrave, away!'""Lie still, my dear; lie still, my dear;Ye keep me frae the cold;For it is but my father's shepherdsDriving their flocks to the fold."60Up they lookit, and down they lay,And they're fa'en sound asleep;Till up stood good lord Barnaby,Just close at their bed feet."How do you like my bed, Musgrave?65And how like ye my sheets?And how like ye my fair lady,Lies in your arms and sleeps?"Weel like I your bed, my lord,And weel like I your sheets;70But ill like I your fair lady,Lies in my arms and sleeps."You got your wale o' se'en sisters,And I got mine o' five;Sae tak ye mine, and I's tak thine,75And we nae mair sall strive.""O my woman's the best womanThat ever brak world's bread;And your woman's the worst womanThat ever drew coat o'er head.80"I hae twa swords in ae scabbert,They are baith sharp and clear;Take ye the best, and I the warst,And we'll end the matter here."But up, and arm thee, young Musgrave,85We'll try it han' to han';It's ne'er be said o' lord Barnaby,He strack at a naked man."The first straik that young Musgrave got,It was baith deep and sair;90And down he fell at Barnaby's feet,And word spak never mair.* * * * * * *"A grave, a grave!" lord Barnaby cried,"A grave to lay them in;My lady shall lie on the sunny side,95Because of her noble kin."But oh, how sorry was that good lord,For a' his angry mood,Whan he beheld his ain young sonAll welt'ring in his blood!100
"I have a tower in Dalisberry,Which now is dearly dight,And I will gie it to young MusgraveTo lodge wi' me a' night."
"To lodge wi' thee a' night, fair lady,5Wad breed baith sorrow and strife;For I see by the rings on your fingers,You're good lord Barnaby's wife."
"Lord Barnaby's wife although I be,Yet what is that to thee?10For we'll beguile him for this ae night—He's on to fair Dundee.
"Come here, come here, my little foot-page,This gold I will give thee,If ye will keep thir secrets close15'Tween young Musgrave and me.
"But here I hae a little pen-knife,Hings low down by my gare;Gin ye winna keep thir secrets close,Ye'll find it wonder sair."20
Then she's ta'en him to her chamber,And down in her arms lay he:The boy coost aff his hose and shoon,And ran to fair Dundee.
When he cam to the wan water,25Heslack'dhis bow and swam;And when he cam to growin grass,Set down his feet and ran.
And when he cam to fair Dundee,Wad neither chap nor ca';30But set hisbrentbow to his breast,And merrily jump'd the wa'.
"O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,Waken, and come away!"—"What ails, what ails my wee foot-page,35He cries sae lang ere day.
"O is my bowers brent, my boy?Or is my castle won?Or has the lady that I lo'e bestBrought me a daughter or son?"40
"Your ha's are safe, your bowers are safe,And free frae all alarms;But, oh! the lady that ye lo'e bestLies sound in Musgrave's arms."
"Gae saddle to me the black," he cried,45"Gae saddle to me the gray;Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed,To hie me on my way."
"O lady, I heard a wee horn toot,And it blew wonder clear;50And ay the turning o' the note,Was, 'Barnaby will be here!'
"I thought I heard a wee horn blaw,And it blew loud and high;And ay at ilka turn it said,55'Away, Musgrave, away!'"
"Lie still, my dear; lie still, my dear;Ye keep me frae the cold;For it is but my father's shepherdsDriving their flocks to the fold."60
Up they lookit, and down they lay,And they're fa'en sound asleep;Till up stood good lord Barnaby,Just close at their bed feet.
"How do you like my bed, Musgrave?65And how like ye my sheets?And how like ye my fair lady,Lies in your arms and sleeps?
"Weel like I your bed, my lord,And weel like I your sheets;70But ill like I your fair lady,Lies in my arms and sleeps.
"You got your wale o' se'en sisters,And I got mine o' five;Sae tak ye mine, and I's tak thine,75And we nae mair sall strive."
"O my woman's the best womanThat ever brak world's bread;And your woman's the worst womanThat ever drew coat o'er head.80
"I hae twa swords in ae scabbert,They are baith sharp and clear;Take ye the best, and I the warst,And we'll end the matter here.
"But up, and arm thee, young Musgrave,85We'll try it han' to han';It's ne'er be said o' lord Barnaby,He strack at a naked man."
The first straik that young Musgrave got,It was baith deep and sair;90And down he fell at Barnaby's feet,And word spak never mair.
* * * * * * *
"A grave, a grave!" lord Barnaby cried,"A grave to lay them in;My lady shall lie on the sunny side,95Because of her noble kin."
But oh, how sorry was that good lord,For a' his angry mood,Whan he beheld his ain young sonAll welt'ring in his blood!100
26. Forslack'dreadbent. J.Note. [Inv. 31] the term "braidbow" has been altered by the editor into "brentbow," i. e.straight, orunbentbow. In most of the old ballads, where a page is employed as the bearer of a message, we are told, that,"When he came to wan water,Hebenthis bow and swam;"And"He set hisbentbow to his breast,And lightly lap the wa'," &c.The application of the termbent, in the latter instance, does not seem correct, and is probably substituted forbrent.In the establishment of a feudal baron, every thing wore a military aspect; he was a warrior by profession; every man attached to him, particularly those employed about his person, was a soldier; and his little foot-page was very appropriately equipped in the light accoutrements of an archer. His bow, in the old ballad, seems as inseparable from his character as the bow of Cupid or of Apollo, or the caduceus of his celestial prototype Mercury. This bow, which he carried unbent, he seems to havebentwhen he had occasion to swim, in order that he might the more easily carry it in his teeth, to prevent the string from being injured by getting wet. At other times he availed himself of its length and elasticity in thebrent, or straight state, and used it (as hunters do a leaping pole) invaulting over the wall of the outer court of a castle, when his business would not admit of the tedious formality of blowing a horn, or ringing a bell, and holding a long parley with the porter at the gate, before he could gain admission. This, at least, appears to the editor to be the meaning of these passages in the old ballads.Jamieson.
26. Forslack'dreadbent. J.
Note. [Inv. 31] the term "braidbow" has been altered by the editor into "brentbow," i. e.straight, orunbentbow. In most of the old ballads, where a page is employed as the bearer of a message, we are told, that,
"When he came to wan water,Hebenthis bow and swam;"
"When he came to wan water,Hebenthis bow and swam;"
And
"He set hisbentbow to his breast,And lightly lap the wa'," &c.
"He set hisbentbow to his breast,And lightly lap the wa'," &c.
The application of the termbent, in the latter instance, does not seem correct, and is probably substituted forbrent.
In the establishment of a feudal baron, every thing wore a military aspect; he was a warrior by profession; every man attached to him, particularly those employed about his person, was a soldier; and his little foot-page was very appropriately equipped in the light accoutrements of an archer. His bow, in the old ballad, seems as inseparable from his character as the bow of Cupid or of Apollo, or the caduceus of his celestial prototype Mercury. This bow, which he carried unbent, he seems to havebentwhen he had occasion to swim, in order that he might the more easily carry it in his teeth, to prevent the string from being injured by getting wet. At other times he availed himself of its length and elasticity in thebrent, or straight state, and used it (as hunters do a leaping pole) invaulting over the wall of the outer court of a castle, when his business would not admit of the tedious formality of blowing a horn, or ringing a bell, and holding a long parley with the porter at the gate, before he could gain admission. This, at least, appears to the editor to be the meaning of these passages in the old ballads.Jamieson.
From Jamieson'sPopular Ballads and Songs, i. 8.
Childe Maurice hunted i' thesilverwood,He hunted it round about,And noebody yt he found theren,Nor noebody without.* * * * * * ** * * * * * *And tooke his silver combe in his hand5To kembe his yellow lockes.He sayes, "come hither, thou litle footpage,That runneth lowly by my knee;Ffor thou shalt goe to John Steward's wiffe,And pray her speake with mee.10"And as it ffallsout, many timesAs knotts been knitt on a kell,Or merchant men gone to leeve London,Either to buy ware or sell,* * * * * * ** * * * * * *And grete thou doe that ladye well,15Ever soe well ffroe mee."And as it ffalls out, many timesAs any harte can thinke,As schoole masters are in any schoole house,Writting with pen and inke,20* * * * * * ** * * * * * *Ffor if I might as well as shee may,This night I wold with her speake."And heere I send a mantle of greene,As greene as any grasse,And bid her come to the silver wood,25To hunt with Child Maurice."And there I send her a ring of gold,A ring of precyous stone;And bid her come to the silver wood,Let for no kind of man."30One while this litle boy he yode,Another while he ran;Until he came to John Steward's hall,Iwis he never blan.And of nurture the child had good;35He ran up hall and bower ffree,And when he came to this lady ffaire,Sayes, "God you save and see."I am come ffrom Childe Maurice,A message unto thee,40And Childe Maurice he greetes you well,And ever soe well ffrom me."And as it ffalls out, oftentimesAs knotts been knitt on a kell,Or merchant men gone to leeve London45Either to buy or sell;"And as oftentimes he greetes you well,As any hart can thinke,Or schoolemaster in any schoole,Wryting with pen and inke.50"And heere he sends a mantle of greene,As greene as any grasse,And he bidds you come to the silver wood,To hunt with child Maurice."And heere he sends you a ring of gold,55A ring of precyous stone;He prayes you to come to the silver wood,Let for no kind of man.""Now peace, now peace, thou litle fotpage,Ffor Christes sake I pray thee;60Ffor if my lord heare one of those words,Thou must be hanged hye."John Steward stood under the castle wall,And he wrote the words every one;* * * * * * ** * * * * * *And he called unto his horssekeeper,65"Make ready you my steede;"And soe he did to his chamberlaine,"Make readye then my weed."And he cast a lease upon his backe,And he rode to the silver wood,70And there he sought all about,About the silver wood.And there he found him Childe Maurice,Sitting upon a blocke,With a silver combe in his hand,75Kembing his yellow locke.He sayes, "how now, how now, Childe Maurice,Alacke how may this bee?"But then stood by him Childe Maurice,And sayd these words trulye:80"I do not know your ladye," he said,"If that I doe her see.""Ffor thou hast sent her love tokens,More now than two or three."For thou hast sent her a mantle of greene,85As greene as any grasse,And bade her come to the silver wood,To hunt with Childe Maurice."And by my faith now, Childe Maurice,The tane of us shall dye;"90"Now by my troth," sayd Childe Maurice,"And that shall not be I."But he pulled out a bright browne sword,And dryed it on the grasse,And soe fast he smote at John Steward,95Iwis he never rest.Then hee pulled forth his bright browne sword,And dryed itt on his sleeve,And the ffirst good stroke John Steward stroke,Child Maurice head he did cleeve.100And he pricked it on his swords poynt,Went singing there beside,And he rode till he came to the ladye ffaire,Whereas his ladye lyed.And sayes, "dost thou know Child Maurice head,105Iff that thou dost it see?And llap it soft, and kisse itt offt,Ffor thou lovedst him better than mee."But when shee looked on Child Maurice head,Shee never spake words but three:110"I never beare noe child but one,And you have slain him trulye."Sayes, "wicked be my merry men all,I gave meate, drinke, and clothe;But cold they not have holden me,115When I was in all that wrath!"Ffor I have slaine one of the courteousest knightsThat ever bestrode a steede;Soe have I done one of the fairest ladyesThat ever ware womans weede."120
Childe Maurice hunted i' thesilverwood,He hunted it round about,And noebody yt he found theren,Nor noebody without.
* * * * * * ** * * * * * *And tooke his silver combe in his hand5To kembe his yellow lockes.
He sayes, "come hither, thou litle footpage,That runneth lowly by my knee;Ffor thou shalt goe to John Steward's wiffe,And pray her speake with mee.10
"And as it ffallsout, many timesAs knotts been knitt on a kell,Or merchant men gone to leeve London,Either to buy ware or sell,
* * * * * * ** * * * * * *And grete thou doe that ladye well,15Ever soe well ffroe mee.
"And as it ffalls out, many timesAs any harte can thinke,As schoole masters are in any schoole house,Writting with pen and inke,20
* * * * * * ** * * * * * *Ffor if I might as well as shee may,This night I wold with her speake.
"And heere I send a mantle of greene,As greene as any grasse,And bid her come to the silver wood,25To hunt with Child Maurice.
"And there I send her a ring of gold,A ring of precyous stone;And bid her come to the silver wood,Let for no kind of man."30
One while this litle boy he yode,Another while he ran;Until he came to John Steward's hall,Iwis he never blan.
And of nurture the child had good;35He ran up hall and bower ffree,And when he came to this lady ffaire,Sayes, "God you save and see.
"I am come ffrom Childe Maurice,A message unto thee,40And Childe Maurice he greetes you well,And ever soe well ffrom me.
"And as it ffalls out, oftentimesAs knotts been knitt on a kell,Or merchant men gone to leeve London45Either to buy or sell;
"And as oftentimes he greetes you well,As any hart can thinke,Or schoolemaster in any schoole,Wryting with pen and inke.50
"And heere he sends a mantle of greene,As greene as any grasse,And he bidds you come to the silver wood,To hunt with child Maurice.
"And heere he sends you a ring of gold,55A ring of precyous stone;He prayes you to come to the silver wood,Let for no kind of man."
"Now peace, now peace, thou litle fotpage,Ffor Christes sake I pray thee;60Ffor if my lord heare one of those words,Thou must be hanged hye."
John Steward stood under the castle wall,And he wrote the words every one;* * * * * * ** * * * * * *
And he called unto his horssekeeper,65"Make ready you my steede;"And soe he did to his chamberlaine,"Make readye then my weed."
And he cast a lease upon his backe,And he rode to the silver wood,70And there he sought all about,About the silver wood.
And there he found him Childe Maurice,Sitting upon a blocke,With a silver combe in his hand,75Kembing his yellow locke.
He sayes, "how now, how now, Childe Maurice,Alacke how may this bee?"But then stood by him Childe Maurice,And sayd these words trulye:80
"I do not know your ladye," he said,"If that I doe her see.""Ffor thou hast sent her love tokens,More now than two or three.
"For thou hast sent her a mantle of greene,85As greene as any grasse,And bade her come to the silver wood,To hunt with Childe Maurice.
"And by my faith now, Childe Maurice,The tane of us shall dye;"90"Now by my troth," sayd Childe Maurice,"And that shall not be I."
But he pulled out a bright browne sword,And dryed it on the grasse,And soe fast he smote at John Steward,95Iwis he never rest.
Then hee pulled forth his bright browne sword,And dryed itt on his sleeve,And the ffirst good stroke John Steward stroke,Child Maurice head he did cleeve.100
And he pricked it on his swords poynt,Went singing there beside,And he rode till he came to the ladye ffaire,Whereas his ladye lyed.
And sayes, "dost thou know Child Maurice head,105Iff that thou dost it see?And llap it soft, and kisse itt offt,Ffor thou lovedst him better than mee."
But when shee looked on Child Maurice head,Shee never spake words but three:110"I never beare noe child but one,And you have slain him trulye."
Sayes, "wicked be my merry men all,I gave meate, drinke, and clothe;But cold they not have holden me,115When I was in all that wrath!
"Ffor I have slaine one of the courteousest knightsThat ever bestrode a steede;Soe have I done one of the fairest ladyesThat ever ware womans weede."120
1. MS. silven. See vv. 25, 53, 70, 72.11. out out.25. Sic in MS.
1. MS. silven. See vv. 25, 53, 70, 72.
11. out out.
25. Sic in MS.
From Jamieson'sPopular Ballads and Songs, i. 83.
"The following copy was transmitted by Mrs. Arrott of Aberbrothick. The stanzas, where the seven brothers are introduced, have been enlarged from two fragments, which, although very defective in themselves, furnished lines which, when incorporated with the text, seemed to improve it. Stanzas 21 and 22, were written by the editor; the idea of therosebeing suggested by the gentleman who recited, but who could not recollect the language in which it was expressed."
This copy ofClerk Saundersbears traces of having been made up from several sources. A portion of theconcluding stanzas (v. 107-130) have a strong resemblance to the beginning and end ofProud Lady Margaret(vol. viii. 83, 278), which ballad is itself in a corrupt condition. It may also be doubted whether the fragments Jamieson speaks of did not belong to a ballad resemblingLady Maisry, p. 78 of this volume.
Accepting the ballad as it stands here, there is certainly likeness enough in the first part to suggest a community of origin with the Swedish balladDen Grymma Brodern,Svenska Folk-Visor, No. 86 (translated inLit. and Rom. of Northern Europe, p. 261). W. Grimm mentions (Altdän. Heldenl., p. 519) a Spanish ballad,De la Blanca Niña, in theRomancero de Amberes, in which the similarity toDen Grymma Brodernis very striking. The series of questions (v. 30-62) sometimes appears apart from the story, and with a comic turn, as inDet Hurtige Svar,Danske V., No. 204, orThore och hans Syster, Arwidsson, i. 358. In this shape they closely resemble the familiar old song,Our gudeman came hame at e'en, Herd,Scottish Songs, ii. 74.
Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,He liv'd upon sea-sand;May Margaret was a king's daughter,She liv'd in upper land.Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,5Weel learned at the scheel;May Margaret was a king's daughter;They baith lo'ed ither weel.He's throw the dark, and throw the mark,And throw the leaves o' green;10Till he came to May Margaret's door,And tirled at the pin."O sleep ye, wake ye, May Margaret,Or are ye the bower within?""O wha is that at my bower door,15Sae weel my name does ken?""It's I, Clerk Saunders, your true love,You'll open and lat me in."O will ye to the cards, Margaret,Or to the table to dine?20Or to the bed, that's weel down spread,And sleep when we get time.""I'll no go to the cards," she says,"Nor to the table to dine;But I'll go to a bed, that's weel down spread,25And sleep when we get time."They were not weel lyen down,And no weel fa'en asleep,When up and stood May Margaret's brethren,Just up at their bed feet.30"O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,And dinna to us len,O wha is aught yon noble steed,That stands your stable in?"The steed is mine, and it may be thine,35To ride whan ye ride in hie——* * * * * * *"But awa', awa', my bald brethren,Awa', and mak nae din;For I am as sick a lady the nichtAs e'er lay a bower within."40"O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,And dinna to us len,O wha is aught yon noble hawk,That stands your kitchen in?""The hawk is mine, and it may be thine,45To hawk whan ye hawk in hie——* * * * * * *"But awa', awa', my bald brethren!Awa', and mak nae din;For I'm ane o' the sickest ladies this nichtThat e'er lay a bower within."50"O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,And dinna to us len,O wha is that, May Margaret,You and the wa' between?""O it is my bower-maiden," she says,55"As sick as sick can be;O it is my bower maiden," she says,And she's thrice as sick as me.""We hae been east, and we've been west,And low beneath the moon;60But a' the bower-women e'er we sawHadna goud buckles in their shoon."Then up and spak her eldest brither,Ay in ill time spak he:"It is Clerk Saunders, your true love,65And never mat I the,But for this scorn that he has done,This moment he sall die."But up and spak her youngest brother,Ay in good time spak he:70"O but they are a gudelie pair!—True lovers an ye be,The sword that hangs at my sword beltSall never sinder ye!"Syne up and spak her nexten brother,75And the tear stood in his ee:"You've lo'ed her lang, and lo'ed her weel,And pity it wad be,The sword that hangs at my sword-beltShoud ever sinder ye!"80But up and spak her fifthen brother,"Sleep on your sleep for me;But we baith sall never sleep again,For the tane o' us sall die!"[But up and spak her midmaist brother;85And an angry laugh leugh he:"The thorn that dabs, I'll cut it down,Though fair the rose may be."The flower that smell'd sae sweet yestreenHas lost its bloom wi' thee;90And though I'm wae it should be sae,Clerk Saunders, ye maun die."]And up and spak her thirden brother,Ay in ill time spak he:"Curse on his love and comeliness!—95Dishonour'd as ye be,The sword that hangs at my sword-beltSall quickly sinder ye!"Her eldest brother has drawn his sword;Her second has drawn anither;100Between Clerk Saunders' hause and collar baneThe cald iron met thegither."O wae be to you, my fause brethren,And an ill death mat ye die!Ye mith slain Clerk Saunders in open field,105And no in the bed wi' me."When seven years were come and gane,Lady Margaret she thought lang;And she is up to the hichest tower,By the lee licht o' the moon.110She was lookin o'er her castle high,To see what she might fa';And there she saw a grieved ghostComin waukino'er the wa'."O are ye a man of mean," she says,115"Seekin ony o' my meat?Or are you a rank robber,Come in my bower to break?""O I'm Clerk Saunders, your true love;Behold, Margaret, and see,120And mind, for a' your meikle pride,Sae will become of thee.""Gin ye be Clerk Saunders, my true love,This meikle marvels me:O wherein is your bonny arms125That wont to embrace me?""By worms they're eaten, in mools they're rotten,Behold, Margaret, and see;And mind, for a' your mickle pride,Sae will become o' thee!"130* * * * * * *O, bonny, bonny sang the bird,Sat on the coil o' hay;But dowie, dowie was the maid,That follow'd the corpse o' clay."Is there ony room at your head, Saunders,135Is there ony room at your feet?Is there ony room at your twa sides,For a lady to lie and sleep?""There is nae room at my head, Margaret,As little at my feet;140There is nae room at my twa sides,For a lady to lie and sleep."But gae hame, gae hame, now, May Margaret,Gae hame and sew your seam;For if ye were laid in your weel-made bed,145Your days will nae be lang."
Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,He liv'd upon sea-sand;May Margaret was a king's daughter,She liv'd in upper land.
Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,5Weel learned at the scheel;May Margaret was a king's daughter;They baith lo'ed ither weel.
He's throw the dark, and throw the mark,And throw the leaves o' green;10Till he came to May Margaret's door,And tirled at the pin.
"O sleep ye, wake ye, May Margaret,Or are ye the bower within?""O wha is that at my bower door,15Sae weel my name does ken?""It's I, Clerk Saunders, your true love,You'll open and lat me in.
"O will ye to the cards, Margaret,Or to the table to dine?20Or to the bed, that's weel down spread,And sleep when we get time."
"I'll no go to the cards," she says,"Nor to the table to dine;But I'll go to a bed, that's weel down spread,25And sleep when we get time."
They were not weel lyen down,And no weel fa'en asleep,When up and stood May Margaret's brethren,Just up at their bed feet.30
"O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,And dinna to us len,O wha is aught yon noble steed,That stands your stable in?
"The steed is mine, and it may be thine,35To ride whan ye ride in hie——
* * * * * * *
"But awa', awa', my bald brethren,Awa', and mak nae din;For I am as sick a lady the nichtAs e'er lay a bower within."40
"O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,And dinna to us len,O wha is aught yon noble hawk,That stands your kitchen in?"
"The hawk is mine, and it may be thine,45To hawk whan ye hawk in hie——
* * * * * * *
"But awa', awa', my bald brethren!Awa', and mak nae din;For I'm ane o' the sickest ladies this nichtThat e'er lay a bower within."50
"O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,And dinna to us len,O wha is that, May Margaret,You and the wa' between?"
"O it is my bower-maiden," she says,55"As sick as sick can be;O it is my bower maiden," she says,And she's thrice as sick as me."
"We hae been east, and we've been west,And low beneath the moon;60But a' the bower-women e'er we sawHadna goud buckles in their shoon."
Then up and spak her eldest brither,Ay in ill time spak he:"It is Clerk Saunders, your true love,65And never mat I the,But for this scorn that he has done,This moment he sall die."
But up and spak her youngest brother,Ay in good time spak he:70"O but they are a gudelie pair!—True lovers an ye be,The sword that hangs at my sword beltSall never sinder ye!"
Syne up and spak her nexten brother,75And the tear stood in his ee:"You've lo'ed her lang, and lo'ed her weel,And pity it wad be,The sword that hangs at my sword-beltShoud ever sinder ye!"80
But up and spak her fifthen brother,"Sleep on your sleep for me;But we baith sall never sleep again,For the tane o' us sall die!"
[But up and spak her midmaist brother;85And an angry laugh leugh he:"The thorn that dabs, I'll cut it down,Though fair the rose may be.
"The flower that smell'd sae sweet yestreenHas lost its bloom wi' thee;90And though I'm wae it should be sae,Clerk Saunders, ye maun die."]
And up and spak her thirden brother,Ay in ill time spak he:"Curse on his love and comeliness!—95Dishonour'd as ye be,The sword that hangs at my sword-beltSall quickly sinder ye!"
Her eldest brother has drawn his sword;Her second has drawn anither;100Between Clerk Saunders' hause and collar baneThe cald iron met thegither.
"O wae be to you, my fause brethren,And an ill death mat ye die!Ye mith slain Clerk Saunders in open field,105And no in the bed wi' me."
When seven years were come and gane,Lady Margaret she thought lang;And she is up to the hichest tower,By the lee licht o' the moon.110
She was lookin o'er her castle high,To see what she might fa';And there she saw a grieved ghostComin waukino'er the wa'.
"O are ye a man of mean," she says,115"Seekin ony o' my meat?Or are you a rank robber,Come in my bower to break?"
"O I'm Clerk Saunders, your true love;Behold, Margaret, and see,120And mind, for a' your meikle pride,Sae will become of thee."
"Gin ye be Clerk Saunders, my true love,This meikle marvels me:O wherein is your bonny arms125That wont to embrace me?"
"By worms they're eaten, in mools they're rotten,Behold, Margaret, and see;And mind, for a' your mickle pride,Sae will become o' thee!"130
* * * * * * *
O, bonny, bonny sang the bird,Sat on the coil o' hay;But dowie, dowie was the maid,That follow'd the corpse o' clay.
"Is there ony room at your head, Saunders,135Is there ony room at your feet?Is there ony room at your twa sides,For a lady to lie and sleep?"
"There is nae room at my head, Margaret,As little at my feet;140There is nae room at my twa sides,For a lady to lie and sleep.
"But gae hame, gae hame, now, May Margaret,Gae hame and sew your seam;For if ye were laid in your weel-made bed,145Your days will nae be lang."
114. Thewa'here is supposed to mean the wall, which, in some old castles, surrounded the court. J.
114. Thewa'here is supposed to mean the wall, which, in some old castles, surrounded the court. J.
Jamieson'sPopular Ballads, ii. 265.
"From Mr. Herd's MS., transmitted by Mr. Scott."