A.

B.'Morando,' Ferraro, Canti popolari monferrini, p. 42, No 32, from Alessandria. Murando d'Inghilterra, of the king's household, fell in love with the princess, for which the king sent him off. The lady knocked at his door, and asked when he would come back. In seven years, was the answer, and if not she was to marry. The princess stole a hundred scudi from her father, frizzled her hair French fashion, bought a fashionable suit, and rode three days and nights without touching ground, eating, or drinking. She came upon a laundryman, and asked who was in command there. Murando. She knocked at the door, and Murando asked, Have you come to our wedding? She would come to the dance. At the dance she was recognized by the servants. Murando asked, How came you here? "I rode three days and three nights without touching ground, eating, or drinking." This is my wife, said Murando; and the other lady he bade return to her father.

It is possible that this ballad may formerly have been known in France. Nothing is left and known that shows this conclusively, but there is an approach to the Norse form in a fragment which occurs in several widely separated localities. A lover goes off in November, promising his love to return in December, but does not. A messenger comes to bid the lady, in his name, seek another lover, for he has another love. "Is she fairer than I, ormore powerful?" She is not fairer, but more powerful: she makes rosemary flower on the edge of her sleeve, changes the sea into wine and fish into flesh. Bujeaud, I, 203. In 'La Femme Abandonnée,' Puymaigre, I, 72, the lover is married to a Fleming:

Elle fait venir le soleilA minuit dans sa chambre,Elle fait bouiller la marmiteSans feu et sans rente.

In a Canadian version, 'Entre Paris et Saint-Denis,' Gagnon, p. 303, the deserted woman is a king's daughter, and the new love,

Ell' fait neiger, ell' fait grêler,Ell' fait le vent qui vente.Ell' fait reluire le soleilA minuit dans sa chambre.Ell' fait pousser le romarinSur le bord de la manche.

Puymaigre notes that there is a version very near to the Canadian in the sixth volume of Poésies populaires de la France, cinquième recueil, Ardennes, No 2.[425]

A broadside ballad, 'The Turkish Lady,' 'The Turkish Lady and the English Slave,' printed in Logan's Pedlar's Pack, p. 16, Christie, I, 247, from singing, and preserved also in the Kinloch MSS, V, 53, I, 263, from Elizabeth Beattie's recitation, simply relates how a Turkish pirate's daughter fell in love with an Englishman, her slave, offered to release him if he would turn Turk, but chose the better part of flying with him to Bristol, and becoming herself a Christian brave.

Sir William Stanley, passing through Constantinople, is condemned to die for his religion. A lady, walking under the prison walls, hears his lament, and begs his life of the Turk. She would make him her husband, and bring him to adore Mahomet. She offers to set the prisoner free if he will marry her, but he has a wife and children on English ground. The lady is sorry, but generously gives Stanley five hundred pounds to carry him to his own country. Sir William Stanley's Garland, Halliwell's Palatine Anthology, pp 277 f.

Two Magyars have been shut up in a dungeon by the sultan, and have not seen sun, moon, or stars for seven years. The sultan's daughter hears their moan, and offers to free them if they will take her to Hungary. This they promise to do. She gets the keys, takes money, opens the doors, and the three make off. They are followed; one of the Magyars kills all the pursuers but one, who is left to carry back the news. It is now proposed that there shall be a duel to determine who shall have the lady. She begs them rather to cut off her head than to fight about her. Szilágyi Niklas says he has a love at home, and leaves the sultan's daughter to his comrade, Hagymási László. Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, p. 93: see p. 107 of this volume.

C bis translated by Loève-Veimars, p. 330;Eby Cesare Cantù, Documenti alla Storia Universale, Torino, 1858, Tomo Vo, Parte IIIa, p. 796;E, as retouched by Allingham, by Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 18.

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 13.

1In London city was Bicham born,He longd strange countries for to see,But he was taen by a savage Moor,Who handld him right cruely.2For thro his shoulder he put a bore,An thro the bore has pitten a tree,An he's gard him draw the carts o wine,Where horse and oxen had wont to be.3He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep,Where he coud neither hear nor see;He's shut him up in a prison strong,An he's handld him right cruely.4O this Moor he had but ae daughter,I wot her name was Shusy Pye;She's doen her to the prison-house,And she's calld Young Bicham one word by.5'O hae ye ony lands or rents,Or citys in your ain country,Coud free you out of prison strong,An coud mantain a lady free?'6'O London city is my own,An other citys twa or three,Coud loose me out o prison strong,An coud mantain a lady free.'7O she has bribed her father's menWi meikle goud and white money,She's gotten the key o the prison doors,An she has set Young Bicham free.8She's gi'n him a loaf o good white bread,But an a flask o Spanish wine,An she bad him mind on the ladie's loveThat sae kindly freed him out o pine.9'Go set your foot on good ship-board,An haste you back to your ain country,An before that seven years has an end,Come back again, love, and marry me.'10It was long or seven years had an endShe longd fu sair her love to see;She's set her foot on good ship-board,An turnd her back on her ain country.11She's saild up, so has she doun,Till she came to the other side;She's landed at Young Bicham's gates,An I hop this day she sal be his bride.12'Is this Young Bicham's gates?' says she,'Or is that noble prince within?''He's up the stairs wi his bonny bride,An monny a lord and lady wi him.'13'O has he taen a bonny bride,An has he clean forgotten me!'An sighing said that gay lady,I wish I were in my ain country!14But she's pitten her han in her pocket,An gin the porter guineas three;Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter,An bid the bridegroom speak to me.15O whan the porter came up the stair,He's fa'n low down upon his knee:'Won up, won up, ye proud porter,An what makes a' this courtesy?'16'O I've been porter at your gatesThis mair nor seven years an three,But there is a lady at them nowThe like of whom I never did see.17'For on every finger she has a ring,An on the mid-finger she has three,An there's as meikle goud aboon her browAs woud buy an earldome o lan to me.'18Then up it started Young Bicham,An sware so loud by Our Lady,'It can be nane but Shusy Pye,That has come oer the sea to me.'19O quickly ran he down the stair,O fifteen steps he has made but three;He's tane his bonny love in his arms,An a wot he kissd her tenderly.20'O hae you tane a bonny bride?An hae you quite forsaken me?An hae ye quite forgotten herThat gae you life an liberty?'21She's lookit oer her left shoulderTo hide the tears stood in her ee;'Now fare thee well, Young Bicham,' she says,'I'll strive to think nae mair on thee.'22'Take back your daughter, madam,' he says,'An a double dowry I'll gi her wi;For I maun marry my first true love,That's done and suffered so much for me.'23He's take his bonny love by the han,And led her to yon fountain stane;He's changd her name frae Shusy Pye,An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

1In London city was Bicham born,He longd strange countries for to see,But he was taen by a savage Moor,Who handld him right cruely.

2For thro his shoulder he put a bore,An thro the bore has pitten a tree,An he's gard him draw the carts o wine,Where horse and oxen had wont to be.

3He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep,Where he coud neither hear nor see;He's shut him up in a prison strong,An he's handld him right cruely.

4O this Moor he had but ae daughter,I wot her name was Shusy Pye;She's doen her to the prison-house,And she's calld Young Bicham one word by.

5'O hae ye ony lands or rents,Or citys in your ain country,Coud free you out of prison strong,An coud mantain a lady free?'

6'O London city is my own,An other citys twa or three,Coud loose me out o prison strong,An coud mantain a lady free.'

7O she has bribed her father's menWi meikle goud and white money,She's gotten the key o the prison doors,An she has set Young Bicham free.

8She's gi'n him a loaf o good white bread,But an a flask o Spanish wine,An she bad him mind on the ladie's loveThat sae kindly freed him out o pine.

9'Go set your foot on good ship-board,An haste you back to your ain country,An before that seven years has an end,Come back again, love, and marry me.'

10It was long or seven years had an endShe longd fu sair her love to see;She's set her foot on good ship-board,An turnd her back on her ain country.

11She's saild up, so has she doun,Till she came to the other side;She's landed at Young Bicham's gates,An I hop this day she sal be his bride.

12'Is this Young Bicham's gates?' says she,'Or is that noble prince within?''He's up the stairs wi his bonny bride,An monny a lord and lady wi him.'

13'O has he taen a bonny bride,An has he clean forgotten me!'An sighing said that gay lady,I wish I were in my ain country!

14But she's pitten her han in her pocket,An gin the porter guineas three;Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter,An bid the bridegroom speak to me.

15O whan the porter came up the stair,He's fa'n low down upon his knee:'Won up, won up, ye proud porter,An what makes a' this courtesy?'

16'O I've been porter at your gatesThis mair nor seven years an three,But there is a lady at them nowThe like of whom I never did see.

17'For on every finger she has a ring,An on the mid-finger she has three,An there's as meikle goud aboon her browAs woud buy an earldome o lan to me.'

18Then up it started Young Bicham,An sware so loud by Our Lady,'It can be nane but Shusy Pye,That has come oer the sea to me.'

19O quickly ran he down the stair,O fifteen steps he has made but three;He's tane his bonny love in his arms,An a wot he kissd her tenderly.

20'O hae you tane a bonny bride?An hae you quite forsaken me?An hae ye quite forgotten herThat gae you life an liberty?'

21She's lookit oer her left shoulderTo hide the tears stood in her ee;'Now fare thee well, Young Bicham,' she says,'I'll strive to think nae mair on thee.'

22'Take back your daughter, madam,' he says,'An a double dowry I'll gi her wi;For I maun marry my first true love,That's done and suffered so much for me.'

23He's take his bonny love by the han,And led her to yon fountain stane;He's changd her name frae Shusy Pye,An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

Glenriddell MSS, XI, 80.

1In England was Young Brechin born,Of parents of a high degree;The selld him to the savage Moor,Where they abused him maist cruellie.2Thro evry shoulder they bord a bore,And thro evry bore they pat a tree;They made him draw the carts o wine,Which horse and owsn were wont to drie.3The pat him into prison strong,Where he could neither hear nor see;They pat him in a dark dungeon,Where he was sick and like to die.4'Is there neer an auld wife in this townThat'll borrow me to be her son?Is there neer a young maid in this townWill take me for her chiefest one?'5A Savoyen has an only daughter,I wat she's called Young Brichen by;'O sleepst thou, wakest thou, Brichen?' she says,'Or who is't that does on me cry?6'O hast thou any house or lands,Or hast thou any castles free,That thou wadst gi to a lady fairThat out o prison wad bring thee?'7'O lady, Lundin it is mine,And other castles twa or three;These I wad gie to a lady fairThat out of prison wad set me free.'8She's taen him by the milk-white hand,And led him to a towr sae hie,She's made him drink the wine sae reid,And sung to him like a mavosie.9O these two luvers made a bond,For seven years, and that is lang,That he was to marry no other wife,And she's to marry no other man.10When seven years were past and gane,This young lady began to lang,And she's awa to Lundin gane,To see if Brechin's got safe to land.11When she came to Young Brechin's yett,She chappit gently at the gin;'Is this Young Brechin's yett?' she says,'Or is this lusty lord within?''O yes, this is Lord Brechin's yett,And I wat this be his bridal een.'12She's put her hand in her pocket,And thrawin the porter guineas three;'Gang up the stair, young man,' she says,'And bid your master come down to me.13'Bid him bring a bite o his ae best bread,And a bottle o his ae best wine,And neer forget that lady fairThat did him out o prison bring.'14The porter tripped up the stair,And fell low down upon his knee:'Rise up, rise up, ye proud porter,What mean you by this courtesie?'15'O I hae been porter at your yettThis thirty years and a' but three;There stands the fairest lady thereatThat ever my twa een did see.16'On evry finger she has a ring,On her mid-finger she has three;She's as much gold on her horse's neckAs wad by a earldom o land to me.17'She bids you send o your ae best bread,And a bottle o your ae best wine,And neer forget the lady fairThat out o prison did you bring.'18He's taen the table wi his foot,And made the cups and cans to flee:'I'll wager a' the lands I haeThat Susan Pye's come oer the sea.'* * * * *19Then up and spak the bride's mother:'And O an ill deid may ye die!If ye didna except the bonny bride,Ye might hae ay excepted me.'20'O ye are fair, and fair, madam,And ay the fairer may ye be!But the fairest day that eer ye saw,Ye were neer sae fair as yon lady.'21O when these lovers two did meet,The tear it blinded baith their ee;'Gie me my faith and troth,' she says,'For now fain hame wad I be.'22'Tak hame your daughter, madam,' he says,'She's neer a bit the war o me;Except a kiss o her bonny lips,Of her body I am free;She came to me on a single horse,Now I'll send her hame in chariots three.23He's taen her by the milk-white hand,And he's led her to a yard o stane;He's changed her name frae Susan Pye,And calld her lusty Lady Jane.

1In England was Young Brechin born,Of parents of a high degree;The selld him to the savage Moor,Where they abused him maist cruellie.

2Thro evry shoulder they bord a bore,And thro evry bore they pat a tree;They made him draw the carts o wine,Which horse and owsn were wont to drie.

3The pat him into prison strong,Where he could neither hear nor see;They pat him in a dark dungeon,Where he was sick and like to die.

4'Is there neer an auld wife in this townThat'll borrow me to be her son?Is there neer a young maid in this townWill take me for her chiefest one?'

5A Savoyen has an only daughter,I wat she's called Young Brichen by;'O sleepst thou, wakest thou, Brichen?' she says,'Or who is't that does on me cry?

6'O hast thou any house or lands,Or hast thou any castles free,That thou wadst gi to a lady fairThat out o prison wad bring thee?'

7'O lady, Lundin it is mine,And other castles twa or three;These I wad gie to a lady fairThat out of prison wad set me free.'

8She's taen him by the milk-white hand,And led him to a towr sae hie,She's made him drink the wine sae reid,And sung to him like a mavosie.

9O these two luvers made a bond,For seven years, and that is lang,That he was to marry no other wife,And she's to marry no other man.

10When seven years were past and gane,This young lady began to lang,And she's awa to Lundin gane,To see if Brechin's got safe to land.

11When she came to Young Brechin's yett,She chappit gently at the gin;'Is this Young Brechin's yett?' she says,'Or is this lusty lord within?''O yes, this is Lord Brechin's yett,And I wat this be his bridal een.'

12She's put her hand in her pocket,And thrawin the porter guineas three;'Gang up the stair, young man,' she says,'And bid your master come down to me.

13'Bid him bring a bite o his ae best bread,And a bottle o his ae best wine,And neer forget that lady fairThat did him out o prison bring.'

14The porter tripped up the stair,And fell low down upon his knee:'Rise up, rise up, ye proud porter,What mean you by this courtesie?'

15'O I hae been porter at your yettThis thirty years and a' but three;There stands the fairest lady thereatThat ever my twa een did see.

16'On evry finger she has a ring,On her mid-finger she has three;She's as much gold on her horse's neckAs wad by a earldom o land to me.

17'She bids you send o your ae best bread,And a bottle o your ae best wine,And neer forget the lady fairThat out o prison did you bring.'

18He's taen the table wi his foot,And made the cups and cans to flee:'I'll wager a' the lands I haeThat Susan Pye's come oer the sea.'

* * * * *

19Then up and spak the bride's mother:'And O an ill deid may ye die!If ye didna except the bonny bride,Ye might hae ay excepted me.'

20'O ye are fair, and fair, madam,And ay the fairer may ye be!But the fairest day that eer ye saw,Ye were neer sae fair as yon lady.'

21O when these lovers two did meet,The tear it blinded baith their ee;'Gie me my faith and troth,' she says,'For now fain hame wad I be.'

22'Tak hame your daughter, madam,' he says,'She's neer a bit the war o me;Except a kiss o her bonny lips,Of her body I am free;She came to me on a single horse,Now I'll send her hame in chariots three.

23He's taen her by the milk-white hand,And he's led her to a yard o stane;He's changed her name frae Susan Pye,And calld her lusty Lady Jane.

a.Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. II.b.Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 127.

1Young Bekie was as brave a knightAs ever saild the sea;An he's doen him to the court of France,To serve for meat and fee.2He had nae been i the court of FranceA twelvemonth nor sae long,Til he fell in love with the king's daughter,An was thrown in prison strong.3The king he had but ae daughter,Burd Isbel was her name;An she has to the prison-house gane,To hear the prisoner's mane.4'O gin a lady woud borrow me,At her stirrup-foot I woud rin;Or gin a widow wad borrow me,I woud swear to be her son.5'Or gin a virgin woud borrow me,I woud wed her wi a ring;I'd gi her ha's, I'd gie her bowers,The bonny towrs o Linne.'6O barefoot, barefoot gaed she but,An barefoot came she ben;It was no for want o hose an shoone,Nor time to put them on.7But a' for fear that her father dearHad heard her making din:She's stown the keys o the prison-house dorAn latten the prisoner gang.8O whan she saw him, Young Bekie,Her heart was wondrous sair!For the mice but an the bold rottonsHad eaten his yallow hair.9She's gien him a shaver for his beard,A comber till his hair,Five hunder pound in his pocket,To spen, an nae to spair.10She's gien him a steed was good in need,An a saddle o royal bone,A leash o hounds o ae litter,An Hector called one.11Atween this twa a vow was made,'Twas made full solemnly,That or three years was come an gane,Well married they shoud be.12He had nae been in 's ain countryA twelvemonth till an end,Till he's forcd to marry a duke's daughter,Or than lose a' his land.13'Ohon, alas!' says Young Beckie,'I know not what to dee;For I canno win to Burd Isbel,And she kensnae to come to me.'14O it fell once upon a dayBurd Isbel fell asleep,An up it starts the Belly Blin,An stood at her bed-feet.15'O waken, waken, Burd Isbel,How [can] you sleep so soun,Whan this is Bekie's wedding day,An the marriage gain on?16'Ye do ye to your mither's bowr,Think neither sin nor shame;An ye tak twa o your mither's marys,To keep ye frae thinking lang.17'Ye dress yoursel in the red scarlet,An your marys in dainty green,An ye pit girdles about your middlesWoud buy an earldome.18'O ye gang down by yon sea-side,An down by yon sea-stran;Sae bonny will the Hollans boatsCome rowin till your han.19'Ye set your milk-white foot abord,Cry, Hail ye, Domine!An I shal be the steerer o 't,To row you oer the sea.'20She's tane her till her mither's bowr,Thought neither sin nor shame,An she took twa o her mither's marys,To keep her frae thinking lang.21She dressd hersel i the red scarlet,Her marys i dainty green,And they pat girdles about their middlesWoud buy an earldome.22An they gid down by yon sea-side,An down by yon sea-stran;Sae bonny did the Hollan boatsCome rowin to their han.23She set her milk-white foot on board,Cried, Hail ye, Domine!An the Belly Blin was the steerer o 't,To row her oer the sea.24Whan she came to Young Bekie's gate,She heard the music play;Sae well she kent frae a' she heard,It was his wedding day.25She's pitten her han in her pocket,Gin the porter guineas three;'Hae, tak ye that, ye proud porter,Bid the bride-groom speake to me.'26O whan that he cam up the stair,He fell low down on his knee:He haild the king, an he haild the queen,An he haild him, Young Bekie.27'O I've been porter at your gatesThis thirty years an three;But there's three ladies at them now,Their like I never did see.28'There's ane o them dressd in red scarlet,And twa in dainty green,An they hae girdles about their middlesWoud buy an earldome.'29Then out it spake the bierly bride,Was a' goud to the chin;'Gin she be braw without,' she says,'We's be as braw within.'30Then up it starts him, Young Bekie,An the tears was in his ee:'I'll lay my life it's Burd Isbel,Come oer the sea to me.'31O quickly ran he down the stair,An whan he saw 't was shee,He kindly took her in his arms,And kissd her tenderly.32'O hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie,The vow ye made to me,Whan I took you out o the prison strong,Whan ye was condemnd to die?33'I gae you a steed was good in need,An a saddle o royal bone,A leash o hounds o ae litter,An Hector called one.'34It was well kent what the lady said,That it wasnae a lee,For at ilka word the lady spake,The hound fell at her knee.35'Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear,A blessing gae her wi,For I maun marry my Burd Isbel,That's come oer the sea to me.'36'Is this the custom o your house,Or the fashion o your lan,To marry a maid in a May mornin,An send her back at even?'

1Young Bekie was as brave a knightAs ever saild the sea;An he's doen him to the court of France,To serve for meat and fee.

2He had nae been i the court of FranceA twelvemonth nor sae long,Til he fell in love with the king's daughter,An was thrown in prison strong.

3The king he had but ae daughter,Burd Isbel was her name;An she has to the prison-house gane,To hear the prisoner's mane.

4'O gin a lady woud borrow me,At her stirrup-foot I woud rin;Or gin a widow wad borrow me,I woud swear to be her son.

5'Or gin a virgin woud borrow me,I woud wed her wi a ring;I'd gi her ha's, I'd gie her bowers,The bonny towrs o Linne.'

6O barefoot, barefoot gaed she but,An barefoot came she ben;It was no for want o hose an shoone,Nor time to put them on.

7But a' for fear that her father dearHad heard her making din:She's stown the keys o the prison-house dorAn latten the prisoner gang.

8O whan she saw him, Young Bekie,Her heart was wondrous sair!For the mice but an the bold rottonsHad eaten his yallow hair.

9She's gien him a shaver for his beard,A comber till his hair,Five hunder pound in his pocket,To spen, an nae to spair.

10She's gien him a steed was good in need,An a saddle o royal bone,A leash o hounds o ae litter,An Hector called one.

11Atween this twa a vow was made,'Twas made full solemnly,That or three years was come an gane,Well married they shoud be.

12He had nae been in 's ain countryA twelvemonth till an end,Till he's forcd to marry a duke's daughter,Or than lose a' his land.

13'Ohon, alas!' says Young Beckie,'I know not what to dee;For I canno win to Burd Isbel,And she kensnae to come to me.'

14O it fell once upon a dayBurd Isbel fell asleep,An up it starts the Belly Blin,An stood at her bed-feet.

15'O waken, waken, Burd Isbel,How [can] you sleep so soun,Whan this is Bekie's wedding day,An the marriage gain on?

16'Ye do ye to your mither's bowr,Think neither sin nor shame;An ye tak twa o your mither's marys,To keep ye frae thinking lang.

17'Ye dress yoursel in the red scarlet,An your marys in dainty green,An ye pit girdles about your middlesWoud buy an earldome.

18'O ye gang down by yon sea-side,An down by yon sea-stran;Sae bonny will the Hollans boatsCome rowin till your han.

19'Ye set your milk-white foot abord,Cry, Hail ye, Domine!An I shal be the steerer o 't,To row you oer the sea.'

20She's tane her till her mither's bowr,Thought neither sin nor shame,An she took twa o her mither's marys,To keep her frae thinking lang.

21She dressd hersel i the red scarlet,Her marys i dainty green,And they pat girdles about their middlesWoud buy an earldome.

22An they gid down by yon sea-side,An down by yon sea-stran;Sae bonny did the Hollan boatsCome rowin to their han.

23She set her milk-white foot on board,Cried, Hail ye, Domine!An the Belly Blin was the steerer o 't,To row her oer the sea.

24Whan she came to Young Bekie's gate,She heard the music play;Sae well she kent frae a' she heard,It was his wedding day.

25She's pitten her han in her pocket,Gin the porter guineas three;'Hae, tak ye that, ye proud porter,Bid the bride-groom speake to me.'

26O whan that he cam up the stair,He fell low down on his knee:He haild the king, an he haild the queen,An he haild him, Young Bekie.

27'O I've been porter at your gatesThis thirty years an three;But there's three ladies at them now,Their like I never did see.

28'There's ane o them dressd in red scarlet,And twa in dainty green,An they hae girdles about their middlesWoud buy an earldome.'

29Then out it spake the bierly bride,Was a' goud to the chin;'Gin she be braw without,' she says,'We's be as braw within.'

30Then up it starts him, Young Bekie,An the tears was in his ee:'I'll lay my life it's Burd Isbel,Come oer the sea to me.'

31O quickly ran he down the stair,An whan he saw 't was shee,He kindly took her in his arms,And kissd her tenderly.

32'O hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie,The vow ye made to me,Whan I took you out o the prison strong,Whan ye was condemnd to die?

33'I gae you a steed was good in need,An a saddle o royal bone,A leash o hounds o ae litter,An Hector called one.'

34It was well kent what the lady said,That it wasnae a lee,For at ilka word the lady spake,The hound fell at her knee.

35'Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear,A blessing gae her wi,For I maun marry my Burd Isbel,That's come oer the sea to me.'

36'Is this the custom o your house,Or the fashion o your lan,To marry a maid in a May mornin,An send her back at even?'

Skene MSS, p. 70. North of Scotland, 1802-3.

1Young Beachen was born in fair London,And foreign lands he langed to see;He was taen by the savage Moor,An the used him most cruellie.2Through his showlder they pat a bore,And through the bore the pat a tree;They made him trail their ousen carts,And they used him most cruellie.3The savage Moor had ae daughter,I wat her name was Susan Pay;An she is to the prison house,To hear the prisoner's moan.4He made na his moan to a stocke,He made na it to a stone,But it was to the Queen of HeavenThat he made his moan.5'Gin a lady wad borrow me,I at her foot wad run;An a widdow wad borrow me,I wad become her son.6'But an a maid wad borrow me,I wad wed her wi a ring;I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,An of the high towers of Line.'7'Sing oer yer sang, Young Beachen,' she says,'Sing oer yer sang to me;''I never sang that sang, lady,But I wad sing to thee.8'Gin a lady wad borrow me,I at her foot wad run;An a widdow wad borrow me,I wad become her son.9'But an a maid wad borrow me,I wad wed her wi a ring;I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,An of the high towers of Line.'10Saftly, [saftly] gaed she but,An saftlly gaed she ben,It was na for want of hose nor shoon,Nor time to pet them on.11. . . . . . .. . . . . . .An she has staen the keys of the prison,An latten Young Beachen gang.12She gae him a leaf of her white bread,An a bottle of her wine,She bad him mind on the lady's loveThat freed him out of pine.13She gae him a steed was guid in need,A saddle of the bane,Five hundred pown in his pocket,Bad him gae speeding hame.14An a leash of guid grayhounds,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . .15Whan seven lang years were come and gane,Shusie Pay thought lang,An she is on to fair London,As fast as she could gang.16Whan she cam to Young Beachen's gate,. . . . . . .'Is Young Beachan at hame,Or is he in this countrie?'17'He is at hame, is hear,' they said,. . . . . . .An sighan says her Susie Pay,Has he quite forgotten me?18On every finger she had a ring,On the middle finger three;She gae the porter ane of them:'Get a word o your lord to me.'19He gaed up the stair,Fell low down on his knee:'Win up, my proud porter,What is your will wi me?'20'I hae been porter at yer gateThis thirty year and three;The fairst lady is at yer gateMine eyes did ever see.'21Out spak the bride's mither,An a haghty woman was she:'If ye had na eccepted the bonny bride,Ye might well ha eccepted me.'22'No disparagement to you, madam,Nor none unto her Grace;The sole of your lady's footIs fairer than her face.'23He's gaen the table wi his foot,And couped it wi his knee:'I wad my head and a' my land'T is Susie Pay, come oer the sea.'24The stair was thirty steps,I wat he made them three;He took her in his arms twa:'Susie Pay, ye'r welcome to me.'25'Gie me a shive of your white bread,An a bottle of your wine;Dinna ye mind on the lady's loveThat freed ye out of pine?'26He took her ...Down to yon garden green,An changed her name fra Susie Pay,An called her bonny Lady Jean.27'Yer daughter came here on high horse-back,She sal gae hame in coaches three,An I sall double her tocher our,She's nane the war o me.'28'It's na the fashion o our countrie,Nor yet o yer nane,To wed a maid in the morning,An send her hame at een.'29'It's na the fashion o my countrie,Nor is it of my nane,But I man mind on the lady's loveThat freed me out of pine.'

1Young Beachen was born in fair London,And foreign lands he langed to see;He was taen by the savage Moor,An the used him most cruellie.

2Through his showlder they pat a bore,And through the bore the pat a tree;They made him trail their ousen carts,And they used him most cruellie.

3The savage Moor had ae daughter,I wat her name was Susan Pay;An she is to the prison house,To hear the prisoner's moan.

4He made na his moan to a stocke,He made na it to a stone,But it was to the Queen of HeavenThat he made his moan.

5'Gin a lady wad borrow me,I at her foot wad run;An a widdow wad borrow me,I wad become her son.

6'But an a maid wad borrow me,I wad wed her wi a ring;I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,An of the high towers of Line.'

7'Sing oer yer sang, Young Beachen,' she says,'Sing oer yer sang to me;''I never sang that sang, lady,But I wad sing to thee.

8'Gin a lady wad borrow me,I at her foot wad run;An a widdow wad borrow me,I wad become her son.

9'But an a maid wad borrow me,I wad wed her wi a ring;I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,An of the high towers of Line.'

10Saftly, [saftly] gaed she but,An saftlly gaed she ben,It was na for want of hose nor shoon,Nor time to pet them on.

11. . . . . . .. . . . . . .An she has staen the keys of the prison,An latten Young Beachen gang.

12She gae him a leaf of her white bread,An a bottle of her wine,She bad him mind on the lady's loveThat freed him out of pine.

13She gae him a steed was guid in need,A saddle of the bane,Five hundred pown in his pocket,Bad him gae speeding hame.

14An a leash of guid grayhounds,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

15Whan seven lang years were come and gane,Shusie Pay thought lang,An she is on to fair London,As fast as she could gang.

16Whan she cam to Young Beachen's gate,. . . . . . .'Is Young Beachan at hame,Or is he in this countrie?'

17'He is at hame, is hear,' they said,. . . . . . .An sighan says her Susie Pay,Has he quite forgotten me?

18On every finger she had a ring,On the middle finger three;She gae the porter ane of them:'Get a word o your lord to me.'

19He gaed up the stair,Fell low down on his knee:'Win up, my proud porter,What is your will wi me?'

20'I hae been porter at yer gateThis thirty year and three;The fairst lady is at yer gateMine eyes did ever see.'

21Out spak the bride's mither,An a haghty woman was she:'If ye had na eccepted the bonny bride,Ye might well ha eccepted me.'

22'No disparagement to you, madam,Nor none unto her Grace;The sole of your lady's footIs fairer than her face.'

23He's gaen the table wi his foot,And couped it wi his knee:'I wad my head and a' my land'T is Susie Pay, come oer the sea.'

24The stair was thirty steps,I wat he made them three;He took her in his arms twa:'Susie Pay, ye'r welcome to me.'

25'Gie me a shive of your white bread,An a bottle of your wine;Dinna ye mind on the lady's loveThat freed ye out of pine?'

26He took her ...Down to yon garden green,An changed her name fra Susie Pay,An called her bonny Lady Jean.

27'Yer daughter came here on high horse-back,She sal gae hame in coaches three,An I sall double her tocher our,She's nane the war o me.'

28'It's na the fashion o our countrie,Nor yet o yer nane,To wed a maid in the morning,An send her hame at een.'

29'It's na the fashion o my countrie,Nor is it of my nane,But I man mind on the lady's loveThat freed me out of pine.'

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 117, compounded fromA, a manuscript and a stall copy from Scotland, a recited copy from the north of England, and a short version picked off a wall in London. (The parts which repeatAare in smaller type.)

1In London was Young Beichan born,He longed strange countries for to see,But he was taen by a savage Moor,Who handled him right cruellie.2For he viewed the fashions of that land,Their way of worship viewed he,But to Mahound or TermagantWould Beichan never bend a knee.3So in every shoulder they've putten a bore,In every bore they've putten a tree,And they have made him trail the wineAnd spices on his fair bodie.4They've casten him in a dungeon deep,Where he could neither hear nor see,For seven years they kept him there,Till he for hunger's like to die.5This Moor he had but ae daughter,Her name was called Susie Pye,And every day as she took the air,Near Beichan's prison she passed by.6O so it fell upon a dayShe heard Young Beichan sadly sing:'My hounds they all go masterless,My hawks they flee from tree to tree,My younger brother will heir my land,Fair England again I'll never see!'7All night long no rest she got,Young Beichan's song for thinking on;She's stown the keys from her father's head,And to the prison strong is gone.8And she has opend the prison doors,I wot she opend two or three,Ere she could come Young Beichan at,He was locked up so curiouslie.9But when she came Young Beichan before,Sore wonderd he that may to see;He took her for some fair captive:'Fair Lady, I pray, of what countrie?'10'O have ye any lands,' she said,'Or castles in your own countrie,That ye could give to a lady fair,From prison strong to set you free?'11'Near London town I have a hall,With other castles two or three;I'll give them all to the lady fairThat out of prison will set me free.'12'Give me the truth of your right hand,The truth of it give unto me,That for seven years ye'll no lady wed,Unless it be along with me.'13'I'll give thee the truth of my right hand,The truth of it I'll freely gie,That for seven years I'll stay unwed,For the kindness thou dost show to me.'14And she has brib'd the proud warderWi mickle gold and white monie,She's gotten the keys of the prison strong,And she has set Young Beichan free.15She's gien him to eat the good spice-cake,She's gien him to drink the blood-red wine,She's bidden him sometimes think on her,That sae kindly freed him out of pine.16She's broken a ring from her finger,And to Beichan half of it gave she:'Keep it, to mind you of that loveThe lady bore that set you free.17'And set your foot on good ship-board,And haste ye back to your own countrie,And before that seven years have an end,Come back again, love, and marry me.'18But long ere seven years had an end,She longd full sore her love to see,For ever a voice within her breastSaid, 'Beichan has broke his vow to thee:'So she's set her foot on good ship-board,And turnd her back on her own countrie.19She sailed east, she sailed west,Till to fair England's shore she came,Where a bonny shepherd she espied,Feeding his sheep upon the plain.20'What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd?What news hast thou to tell to me?''Such news I hear, ladie,' he says,'The like was never in this countrie.21'There is a wedding in yonder hall,Has lasted these thirty days and three;Young Beichan will not bed with his bride,For love of one that's yond the sea.'22She's put her hand in her pocket,Gien him the gold and white monie:'Hae, take ye that, my bonny boy,For the good news thou tellst to me.'23When she came to Young Beichan's gate,She tirled softly at the pin;So ready was the proud porterTo open and let this lady in.24'Is this Young Beichan's hall,' she said,'Or is that noble lord within?''Yea, he's in the hall among them all,And this is the day o his weddin.'25'And has he wed anither love?And has he clean forgotten me?'And sighin said that gay ladie,I wish I were in my own countrie!26And she has taen her gay gold ring,That with her love she brake so free;Says, Gie him that, ye proud porter,And bid the bridegroom speak to me.27When the porter came his lord before,He kneeled down low on his knee:'What aileth thee, my proud porter,Thou art so full of courtesie?'28'I've been porter at your gates,It's thirty long years now and three;But there stands a lady at them now,The like o her did I never see.29'For on every finger she has a ring,And on her mid-finger she has three,And as meickle gold aboon her browAs would buy an earldom to me.'30It's out then spak the bride's mother,Aye and an angry woman was shee:'Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,And twa or three of our companie.'31'O hold your tongue, thou bride's mother,Of all your folly let me be;She's ten times fairer nor the bride,And all that's in your companie.32'She begs one sheave of your white bread,But and a cup of your red wine,And to remember the lady's loveThat last relievd you out of pine.'33'O well-a-day!' said Beichan then,'That I so soon have married thee!For it can be none but Susie Pye,That sailed the sea for love of me.'34And quickly hied he down the stair;Of fifteen steps he made but three;He's taen his bonny love in his arms,And kist and kist her tenderlie.35'O hae ye taen anither bride?And hae ye quite forgotten me?And hae ye quite forgotten herThat gave you life and libertie?'36She looked oer her left shoulder,To hide the tears stood in her ee:'Now fare thee well, Young Beichan,' she says,'I'll try to think no more on thee.'37'O never, never, Susie Pye,For surely this can never be,Nor ever shall I wed but herThat's done and dreed so much for me.'38Then out and spak the forenoon bride:'My lord, your love it changeth soon;This morning I was made your bride,And another chose ere it be noon.'39O hold thy tongue, thou forenoon bride,Ye're neer a whit the worse for me,And whan ye return to your own countrie,A double dower I'll send with thee.'40He's taen Susie Pye by the white hand,And gently led her up and down,And ay as he kist her red rosy lips,'Ye're welcome, jewel, to your own.'41He's taen her by the milk-white hand,And led her to yon fountain stane;He's changed her name from Susie Pye,And he's call'd her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

1In London was Young Beichan born,He longed strange countries for to see,But he was taen by a savage Moor,Who handled him right cruellie.

2For he viewed the fashions of that land,Their way of worship viewed he,But to Mahound or TermagantWould Beichan never bend a knee.

3So in every shoulder they've putten a bore,In every bore they've putten a tree,And they have made him trail the wineAnd spices on his fair bodie.

4They've casten him in a dungeon deep,Where he could neither hear nor see,For seven years they kept him there,Till he for hunger's like to die.

5This Moor he had but ae daughter,Her name was called Susie Pye,And every day as she took the air,Near Beichan's prison she passed by.

6O so it fell upon a dayShe heard Young Beichan sadly sing:'My hounds they all go masterless,My hawks they flee from tree to tree,My younger brother will heir my land,Fair England again I'll never see!'

7All night long no rest she got,Young Beichan's song for thinking on;She's stown the keys from her father's head,And to the prison strong is gone.

8And she has opend the prison doors,I wot she opend two or three,Ere she could come Young Beichan at,He was locked up so curiouslie.

9But when she came Young Beichan before,Sore wonderd he that may to see;He took her for some fair captive:'Fair Lady, I pray, of what countrie?'

10'O have ye any lands,' she said,'Or castles in your own countrie,That ye could give to a lady fair,From prison strong to set you free?'

11'Near London town I have a hall,With other castles two or three;I'll give them all to the lady fairThat out of prison will set me free.'

12'Give me the truth of your right hand,The truth of it give unto me,That for seven years ye'll no lady wed,Unless it be along with me.'

13'I'll give thee the truth of my right hand,The truth of it I'll freely gie,That for seven years I'll stay unwed,For the kindness thou dost show to me.'

14And she has brib'd the proud warderWi mickle gold and white monie,She's gotten the keys of the prison strong,And she has set Young Beichan free.

15She's gien him to eat the good spice-cake,She's gien him to drink the blood-red wine,She's bidden him sometimes think on her,That sae kindly freed him out of pine.

16She's broken a ring from her finger,And to Beichan half of it gave she:'Keep it, to mind you of that loveThe lady bore that set you free.

17'And set your foot on good ship-board,And haste ye back to your own countrie,And before that seven years have an end,Come back again, love, and marry me.'

18But long ere seven years had an end,She longd full sore her love to see,For ever a voice within her breastSaid, 'Beichan has broke his vow to thee:'So she's set her foot on good ship-board,And turnd her back on her own countrie.

19She sailed east, she sailed west,Till to fair England's shore she came,Where a bonny shepherd she espied,Feeding his sheep upon the plain.

20'What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd?What news hast thou to tell to me?''Such news I hear, ladie,' he says,'The like was never in this countrie.

21'There is a wedding in yonder hall,Has lasted these thirty days and three;Young Beichan will not bed with his bride,For love of one that's yond the sea.'

22She's put her hand in her pocket,Gien him the gold and white monie:'Hae, take ye that, my bonny boy,For the good news thou tellst to me.'

23When she came to Young Beichan's gate,She tirled softly at the pin;So ready was the proud porterTo open and let this lady in.

24'Is this Young Beichan's hall,' she said,'Or is that noble lord within?''Yea, he's in the hall among them all,And this is the day o his weddin.'

25'And has he wed anither love?And has he clean forgotten me?'And sighin said that gay ladie,I wish I were in my own countrie!

26And she has taen her gay gold ring,That with her love she brake so free;Says, Gie him that, ye proud porter,And bid the bridegroom speak to me.

27When the porter came his lord before,He kneeled down low on his knee:'What aileth thee, my proud porter,Thou art so full of courtesie?'

28'I've been porter at your gates,It's thirty long years now and three;But there stands a lady at them now,The like o her did I never see.

29'For on every finger she has a ring,And on her mid-finger she has three,And as meickle gold aboon her browAs would buy an earldom to me.'

30It's out then spak the bride's mother,Aye and an angry woman was shee:'Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,And twa or three of our companie.'

31'O hold your tongue, thou bride's mother,Of all your folly let me be;She's ten times fairer nor the bride,And all that's in your companie.

32'She begs one sheave of your white bread,But and a cup of your red wine,And to remember the lady's loveThat last relievd you out of pine.'

33'O well-a-day!' said Beichan then,'That I so soon have married thee!For it can be none but Susie Pye,That sailed the sea for love of me.'

34And quickly hied he down the stair;Of fifteen steps he made but three;He's taen his bonny love in his arms,And kist and kist her tenderlie.

35'O hae ye taen anither bride?And hae ye quite forgotten me?And hae ye quite forgotten herThat gave you life and libertie?'

36She looked oer her left shoulder,To hide the tears stood in her ee:'Now fare thee well, Young Beichan,' she says,'I'll try to think no more on thee.'

37'O never, never, Susie Pye,For surely this can never be,Nor ever shall I wed but herThat's done and dreed so much for me.'

38Then out and spak the forenoon bride:'My lord, your love it changeth soon;This morning I was made your bride,And another chose ere it be noon.'

39O hold thy tongue, thou forenoon bride,Ye're neer a whit the worse for me,And whan ye return to your own countrie,A double dower I'll send with thee.'

40He's taen Susie Pye by the white hand,And gently led her up and down,And ay as he kist her red rosy lips,'Ye're welcome, jewel, to your own.'

41He's taen her by the milk-white hand,And led her to yon fountain stane;He's changed her name from Susie Pye,And he's call'd her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

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