B.

a.Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 271, ed. 1803.b.Sts. 8-14; the same, II, 229, ed. 1802.

1There was a knight and a lady bright,Had a true tryste at the broom;The ane gaed early in the morning,The other in the afternoon.2And ay she sat in her mother's bower door,And ay she made her mane:'O whether should I gang to the Broomfield Hill,Or should I stay at hame?3'For if I gang to the Broomfield Hill,My maidenhead is gone;And if I chance to stay at hame,My love will ca me mansworn.'4Up then spake a witch-woman,Ay from the room aboon:'O ye may gang to the Broomfield Hill,And yet come maiden hame.5'For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill,Ye'll find your love asleep,With a silver belt about his head,And a broom-cow at his feet.6'Take ye the blossom of the broom,The blossom it smells sweet,And strew it at your true-love's head,And likewise at his feet.7'Take ye the rings off your fingers,Put them on his right hand,To let him know, when he doth awake,His love was at his command.'8She pu'd the broom flower on Hive Hill,And strewd on 's white hals-bane,And that was to be wittering trueThat maiden she had gane.9'O where were ye, my milk-white steed,That I hae coft sae dear,That wadna watch and waken meWhen there was maiden here?'10'I stamped wi my foot, master,And gard my bridle ring,But na kin thing wald waken ye,Till she was past and gane.'11'And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk,That I did love sae dear,That wadna watch and waken meWhen there was maiden here.'12'I clapped wi my wings, master,And aye my bells I rang,And aye cry'd, Waken, waken, master,Before the ladye gang.'13'But haste and haste, my gude white steed,To come the maiden till,Or a' the birds of gude green woodOf your flesh shall have their fill.'14'Ye need na burst your gude white steedWi racing oer the howm;Nae bird flies faster through the wood,Than she fled through the broom.'

1There was a knight and a lady bright,Had a true tryste at the broom;The ane gaed early in the morning,The other in the afternoon.

2And ay she sat in her mother's bower door,And ay she made her mane:'O whether should I gang to the Broomfield Hill,Or should I stay at hame?

3'For if I gang to the Broomfield Hill,My maidenhead is gone;And if I chance to stay at hame,My love will ca me mansworn.'

4Up then spake a witch-woman,Ay from the room aboon:'O ye may gang to the Broomfield Hill,And yet come maiden hame.

5'For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill,Ye'll find your love asleep,With a silver belt about his head,And a broom-cow at his feet.

6'Take ye the blossom of the broom,The blossom it smells sweet,And strew it at your true-love's head,And likewise at his feet.

7'Take ye the rings off your fingers,Put them on his right hand,To let him know, when he doth awake,His love was at his command.'

8She pu'd the broom flower on Hive Hill,And strewd on 's white hals-bane,And that was to be wittering trueThat maiden she had gane.

9'O where were ye, my milk-white steed,That I hae coft sae dear,That wadna watch and waken meWhen there was maiden here?'

10'I stamped wi my foot, master,And gard my bridle ring,But na kin thing wald waken ye,Till she was past and gane.'

11'And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk,That I did love sae dear,That wadna watch and waken meWhen there was maiden here.'

12'I clapped wi my wings, master,And aye my bells I rang,And aye cry'd, Waken, waken, master,Before the ladye gang.'

13'But haste and haste, my gude white steed,To come the maiden till,Or a' the birds of gude green woodOf your flesh shall have their fill.'

14'Ye need na burst your gude white steedWi racing oer the howm;Nae bird flies faster through the wood,Than she fled through the broom.'

Herd, Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 310.

1'I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with youFive hundred merks and ten,That a maid shanae go to yon bonny green wood,And a maiden return agen.'2'I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with youFive hundred merks and ten,That a maid shall go to yon bonny green wood,And a maiden return agen.'* * * * *3She's pu'd the blooms aff the broom-bush,And strewd them on 's white hass-bane:'This is a sign whereby you may knowThat a maiden was here, but she's gane.'4'O where was you, my good gray steed,That I hae loed sae dear?O why did you not awaken meWhen my true love was here?'5'I stamped with my foot, master,And gard my bridle ring,But you wadnae waken from your sleepTill your love was past and gane.'6'Now I may sing as dreary a sangAs the bird sung on the brier,For my true love is far removd,And I'll neer see her mair.'

1'I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with youFive hundred merks and ten,That a maid shanae go to yon bonny green wood,And a maiden return agen.'

2'I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with youFive hundred merks and ten,That a maid shall go to yon bonny green wood,And a maiden return agen.'

* * * * *

3She's pu'd the blooms aff the broom-bush,And strewd them on 's white hass-bane:'This is a sign whereby you may knowThat a maiden was here, but she's gane.'

4'O where was you, my good gray steed,That I hae loed sae dear?O why did you not awaken meWhen my true love was here?'

5'I stamped with my foot, master,And gard my bridle ring,But you wadnae waken from your sleepTill your love was past and gane.'

6'Now I may sing as dreary a sangAs the bird sung on the brier,For my true love is far removd,And I'll neer see her mair.'

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 291.

1There was a knight and lady brightSet trysts amo the broom,The one to come at morning ear,The other at afternoon.2'I'll wager a wager wi you,' he said,'An hundred merks and ten,That ye shall not go to Broomfield Hills,Return a maiden again.'3'I'll wager a wager wi you,' she said,'A hundred pounds and ten,That I will gang to Broomfield Hills,A maiden return again.'4The lady stands in her bower door,And thus she made her mane:'O shall I gang to Broomfield Hills,Or shall I stay at hame?5'If I do gang to Broomfield Hills,A maid I'll not return;But if I stay from Broomfield Hills,I'll be a maid mis-sworn.'6Then out it speaks an auld witch-wife,Sat in the bower aboon:'O ye shall gang to Broomfield Hills,Ye shall not stay at hame.7'But when ye gang to Broomfield Hills,Walk nine times round and round;Down below a bonny burn bank,Ye'll find your love sleeping sound.8'Ye'll pu the bloom frae aff the broom,Strew 't at his head and feet,And aye the thicker that ye do strew,The sounder he will sleep.9'The broach that is on your napkin,Put it on his breast bane,To let him know, when he does wake,That's true love's come and gane.10'The rings that are on your fingers,Lay them down on a stane,To let him know, when he does wake,That's true love's come and gane.11'And when ye hae your work all done,Ye'll gang to a bush o' broom,And then you'll hear what he will say,When he sees ye are gane.'12When she came to Broomfield Hills,She walkd it nine times round,And down below yon burn bank,She found him sleeping sound.13She pu'd the bloom frae aff the broom,Strew'd it at 's head and feet,And aye the thicker that she strewd,The sounder he did sleep.14The broach that was on her napkin,She put on his breast bane,To let him know, when he did wake,His love was come and gane.15The rings that were on her fingers,She laid upon a stane,To let him know, when he did wake,His love was come and gane.16Now when she had her work all dune,She went to a bush o broom,That she might hear what he did say,When he saw she was gane.17'O where were ye, my guid grey hound,That I paid for sae dear,Ye didna waken me frae my sleepWhen my true love was sae near?'18'I scraped wi my foot, master,Till a' my collars rang,But still the mair that I did scrape,Waken woud ye nane.'19'Where were ye, my berry-brown steed,That I paid for sae dear,That ye woudna waken me out o my sleepWhen my love was sae near?'20'I patted wi my foot, master,Till a' my bridles rang,But still the mair that I did patt,Waken woud ye nane.'21'O where were ye, my gay goss-hawk,That I paid for sae dear,That ye woudna waken me out o my sleepWhen ye saw my love near?'22'I flapped wi my wings, master,Till a' my bells they rang,But still the mair that I did flap,Waken woud ye nane.'23'O where were ye, my merry young men,That I pay meat and fee,Ye woudna waken me out o' my sleepWhen my love ye did see?'24'Ye'll sleep mair on the night, master,And wake mair on the day;Gae sooner down to Broomfield HillsWhen ye've sic pranks to play.25'If I had seen any armed menCome riding over the hill—But I saw but a fair ladyCome quietly you until.'26'O wae mat worth you, my young men,That I pay meat and fee,That ye woudna waken me frae sleepWhen ye my love did see.27'O had I waked when she was nigh,And o her got my will,I shoudna cared upon the mornTho sma birds o her were fill.'28When she went out, right bitter wept,But singing came she hame;Says, I hae been at Broomfield Hills,And maid returnd again.

1There was a knight and lady brightSet trysts amo the broom,The one to come at morning ear,The other at afternoon.

2'I'll wager a wager wi you,' he said,'An hundred merks and ten,That ye shall not go to Broomfield Hills,Return a maiden again.'

3'I'll wager a wager wi you,' she said,'A hundred pounds and ten,That I will gang to Broomfield Hills,A maiden return again.'

4The lady stands in her bower door,And thus she made her mane:'O shall I gang to Broomfield Hills,Or shall I stay at hame?

5'If I do gang to Broomfield Hills,A maid I'll not return;But if I stay from Broomfield Hills,I'll be a maid mis-sworn.'

6Then out it speaks an auld witch-wife,Sat in the bower aboon:'O ye shall gang to Broomfield Hills,Ye shall not stay at hame.

7'But when ye gang to Broomfield Hills,Walk nine times round and round;Down below a bonny burn bank,Ye'll find your love sleeping sound.

8'Ye'll pu the bloom frae aff the broom,Strew 't at his head and feet,And aye the thicker that ye do strew,The sounder he will sleep.

9'The broach that is on your napkin,Put it on his breast bane,To let him know, when he does wake,That's true love's come and gane.

10'The rings that are on your fingers,Lay them down on a stane,To let him know, when he does wake,That's true love's come and gane.

11'And when ye hae your work all done,Ye'll gang to a bush o' broom,And then you'll hear what he will say,When he sees ye are gane.'

12When she came to Broomfield Hills,She walkd it nine times round,And down below yon burn bank,She found him sleeping sound.

13She pu'd the bloom frae aff the broom,Strew'd it at 's head and feet,And aye the thicker that she strewd,The sounder he did sleep.

14The broach that was on her napkin,She put on his breast bane,To let him know, when he did wake,His love was come and gane.

15The rings that were on her fingers,She laid upon a stane,To let him know, when he did wake,His love was come and gane.

16Now when she had her work all dune,She went to a bush o broom,That she might hear what he did say,When he saw she was gane.

17'O where were ye, my guid grey hound,That I paid for sae dear,Ye didna waken me frae my sleepWhen my true love was sae near?'

18'I scraped wi my foot, master,Till a' my collars rang,But still the mair that I did scrape,Waken woud ye nane.'

19'Where were ye, my berry-brown steed,That I paid for sae dear,That ye woudna waken me out o my sleepWhen my love was sae near?'

20'I patted wi my foot, master,Till a' my bridles rang,But still the mair that I did patt,Waken woud ye nane.'

21'O where were ye, my gay goss-hawk,That I paid for sae dear,That ye woudna waken me out o my sleepWhen ye saw my love near?'

22'I flapped wi my wings, master,Till a' my bells they rang,But still the mair that I did flap,Waken woud ye nane.'

23'O where were ye, my merry young men,That I pay meat and fee,Ye woudna waken me out o' my sleepWhen my love ye did see?'

24'Ye'll sleep mair on the night, master,And wake mair on the day;Gae sooner down to Broomfield HillsWhen ye've sic pranks to play.

25'If I had seen any armed menCome riding over the hill—But I saw but a fair ladyCome quietly you until.'

26'O wae mat worth you, my young men,That I pay meat and fee,That ye woudna waken me frae sleepWhen ye my love did see.

27'O had I waked when she was nigh,And o her got my will,I shoudna cared upon the mornTho sma birds o her were fill.'

28When she went out, right bitter wept,But singing came she hame;Says, I hae been at Broomfield Hills,And maid returnd again.

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 195.

1'I'll wager, I'll wager,' says Lord John,'A hundred merks and ten,That ye winna gae to the bonnie broom-fields,And a maid return again.'2'But I'll lay a wager wi you, Lord John,A' your merks oure again,That I'll gae alane to the bonnie broom-fields,And a maid return again.'3Then Lord John mounted his grey steed,And his hound wi his bells sae bricht,And swiftly he rade to the bonny broom-fields,Wi his hawks, like a lord or knicht.4'Now rest, now rest, my bonnie grey steed,My lady will soon be here,And I'll lay my head aneath this rose sae red,And the bonnie burn sae near.'5But sound, sound was the sleep he took,For he slept till it was noon,And his lady cam at day, left a taiken and away,Gaed as licht as a glint o the moon.6She strawed the roses on the ground,Threw her mantle on the brier,And the belt around her middle sae jimp,As a taiken that she'd been there.7The rustling leaves flew round his head,And rousd him frae his dream;He saw by the roses, and mantle sae green,That his love had been there and was gane.8'O whare was ye, my gude grey steed,That I coft ye sae dear,That ye didna waken your master,Whan ye kend that his love was here?'9'I pautit wi my foot, master,Garrd a' my bridles ring,And still I cried, Waken, gude master,For now is the hour and time.'10'Then whare was ye, my bonnie grey hound,That I coft ye sae dear,That ye didna waken your master,Whan ye kend that his love was here?'11'I pautit wi my foot, master,Garrd a' my bells to ring,And still I cried, Waken, gude master,For now is the hour and time.'12'But whare was ye, my hawks, my hawks,That I coft ye sae dear,That ye didna waken your master,Whan ye kend that his love was here?'13'O wyte na me, now, my master dear,I garrd a' my young hawks sing,And still I cried, Waken, gude master,For now is the hour and time.'14'Then be it sae, my wager gane,'T will skaith frae meikle ill,For gif I had found her in bonnie broom-fields,O her heart's blude ye'd drunken your fill.'

1'I'll wager, I'll wager,' says Lord John,'A hundred merks and ten,That ye winna gae to the bonnie broom-fields,And a maid return again.'

2'But I'll lay a wager wi you, Lord John,A' your merks oure again,That I'll gae alane to the bonnie broom-fields,And a maid return again.'

3Then Lord John mounted his grey steed,And his hound wi his bells sae bricht,And swiftly he rade to the bonny broom-fields,Wi his hawks, like a lord or knicht.

4'Now rest, now rest, my bonnie grey steed,My lady will soon be here,And I'll lay my head aneath this rose sae red,And the bonnie burn sae near.'

5But sound, sound was the sleep he took,For he slept till it was noon,And his lady cam at day, left a taiken and away,Gaed as licht as a glint o the moon.

6She strawed the roses on the ground,Threw her mantle on the brier,And the belt around her middle sae jimp,As a taiken that she'd been there.

7The rustling leaves flew round his head,And rousd him frae his dream;He saw by the roses, and mantle sae green,That his love had been there and was gane.

8'O whare was ye, my gude grey steed,That I coft ye sae dear,That ye didna waken your master,Whan ye kend that his love was here?'

9'I pautit wi my foot, master,Garrd a' my bridles ring,And still I cried, Waken, gude master,For now is the hour and time.'

10'Then whare was ye, my bonnie grey hound,That I coft ye sae dear,That ye didna waken your master,Whan ye kend that his love was here?'

11'I pautit wi my foot, master,Garrd a' my bells to ring,And still I cried, Waken, gude master,For now is the hour and time.'

12'But whare was ye, my hawks, my hawks,That I coft ye sae dear,That ye didna waken your master,Whan ye kend that his love was here?'

13'O wyte na me, now, my master dear,I garrd a' my young hawks sing,And still I cried, Waken, gude master,For now is the hour and time.'

14'Then be it sae, my wager gane,'T will skaith frae meikle ill,For gif I had found her in bonnie broom-fields,O her heart's blude ye'd drunken your fill.'

Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1, 1830, p. 7.

1'I'll wager, I'll wager wi you, fair maid,Five hunder punds and ten,That a maid winna gae to the bonnie green bower,An a maid return back agen.'2'I'll wager, I'll wager wi you, kin' sir,Five hunder punds and ten,That a maid I'll gang to the bonnie green bower,An a maid return again.'3But when she cam to the bonnie green bower,Her true-love was fast asleep;Sumtimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,An his breath was wondrous sweet.4Sometimes she went to the crown o his head,Sometimes to the soles o his feet,Sometimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,An his breath was wondrous sweet.5She's taen a ring frae her finger,Laid it upon his breast-bane;It was for a token that she had been there,That she had been there, but was gane.6'Where was you, where was ye, my merrymen a',That I do luve sae dear,That ye didna waken me out o my sleepWhen my true love was here?7'Where was ye, where was ye, my gay goshawk,That I do luve sae dear,That ye didna waken me out o my sleepWhen my true love was here?'8'Wi my wings I flaw, kin' sir,An wi my bill I sang,But ye woudna waken out o yer sleepTill your true love was gane.'9'Where was ye, my bonnie grey steed,That I do luve sae dear,That ye didna waken me out o my sleepWhen my true love was here?'10'I stampit wi my fit, maister,And made my bridle ring,But ye wadna waken out o yer sleep,Till your true love was gane.'

1'I'll wager, I'll wager wi you, fair maid,Five hunder punds and ten,That a maid winna gae to the bonnie green bower,An a maid return back agen.'

2'I'll wager, I'll wager wi you, kin' sir,Five hunder punds and ten,That a maid I'll gang to the bonnie green bower,An a maid return again.'

3But when she cam to the bonnie green bower,Her true-love was fast asleep;Sumtimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,An his breath was wondrous sweet.

4Sometimes she went to the crown o his head,Sometimes to the soles o his feet,Sometimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,An his breath was wondrous sweet.

5She's taen a ring frae her finger,Laid it upon his breast-bane;It was for a token that she had been there,That she had been there, but was gane.

6'Where was you, where was ye, my merrymen a',That I do luve sae dear,That ye didna waken me out o my sleepWhen my true love was here?

7'Where was ye, where was ye, my gay goshawk,That I do luve sae dear,That ye didna waken me out o my sleepWhen my true love was here?'

8'Wi my wings I flaw, kin' sir,An wi my bill I sang,But ye woudna waken out o yer sleepTill your true love was gane.'

9'Where was ye, my bonnie grey steed,That I do luve sae dear,That ye didna waken me out o my sleepWhen my true love was here?'

10'I stampit wi my fit, maister,And made my bridle ring,But ye wadna waken out o yer sleep,Till your true love was gane.'

a.Douce Ballads, III, fol. 64b: Newcastle, printed and sold by John White, in Pilgrim Street.b.Douce Ballads, IV, fol. 10.

1A noble young squire that livd in the west,He courted a young lady gay,And as he was merry, he put forth a jest,A wager with her he would lay.2'A wager with me?' the young lady reply'd,'I pray, about what must it be?If I like the humour you shan't be deny'd;I love to be merry and free.'3Quoth he, 'I will lay you an hundred pounds,A hundred pounds, aye, and ten,That a maid if you go to the merry broomfield,That a maid you return not again.'4'I'll lay you that wager,' the lady she said,Then the money she flung down amain;'To the merry broomfield I'll go a pure maid,The same I'll return home again.'5He coverd her bett in the midst of the hallWith an hundred and ten jolly pounds,And then to his servant straightway he did call,For to bring forth his hawk and his hounds.6A ready obedience the servant did yield,And all was made ready oer night;Next morning he went to the merry broomfield,To meet with his love and delight.7Now when he came there, having waited a while,Among the green broom down he lies;The lady came to him, and coud not but smile,For sleep then had closed his eyes.8Upon his right hand a gold ring she secur'd,Down from her own finger so fair,That when he awaked he might be assur'dHis lady and love had been there.9She left him a posie of pleasant perfume,Then stept from the place where he lay;Then hid herself close in the besom of the broom,To hear what her true-love would say.10He wakend and found the gold ring on his hand,Then sorrow of heart he was in:'My love has been here, I do well understand,And this wager I now shall not win.11'O where was you, my goodly gawshawk,The which I have purchasd so dear?Why did you not waken me out of my sleepWhen the lady, my lover, was here?'12'O with my bells did I ring, master,And eke with my feet did I run;And still did I cry, Pray awake, master,She's here now, and soon will be gone.'13'O where was you, my gallant greyhound,Whose collar is flourishd with gold?Why hadst thou not wakend me out of my sleepWhen thou didst my lady behold?'14'Dear master, I barkd with my mouth when she came,And likewise my coller I shook,And told you that here was the beautiful dame,But no notice of me then you took.'15'O where was thou, my serving-man,Whom I have cloathed so fine?If you had wak'd me when she was here,The wager then had been mine.'16'In the night ye should have slept, master,And kept awake in the day;Had you not been sleeping when hither she came,Then a maid she had not gone away.'17 Then home he returnd, when the wager was lost,With sorrow of heart, I may say;The lady she laughd to find her love crost,—This was upon midsummer-day.18'O squire, I laid in the bushes conceald,And heard you when you did complain;And thus I have been to the merry broomfield,And a maid returnd back again.19'Be chearful, be chearful, and do not repine,For now 't is as clear as the sun,The money, the money, the money is mine,The wager I fairly have won.'

1A noble young squire that livd in the west,He courted a young lady gay,And as he was merry, he put forth a jest,A wager with her he would lay.

2'A wager with me?' the young lady reply'd,'I pray, about what must it be?If I like the humour you shan't be deny'd;I love to be merry and free.'

3Quoth he, 'I will lay you an hundred pounds,A hundred pounds, aye, and ten,That a maid if you go to the merry broomfield,That a maid you return not again.'

4'I'll lay you that wager,' the lady she said,Then the money she flung down amain;'To the merry broomfield I'll go a pure maid,The same I'll return home again.'

5He coverd her bett in the midst of the hallWith an hundred and ten jolly pounds,And then to his servant straightway he did call,For to bring forth his hawk and his hounds.

6A ready obedience the servant did yield,And all was made ready oer night;Next morning he went to the merry broomfield,To meet with his love and delight.

7Now when he came there, having waited a while,Among the green broom down he lies;The lady came to him, and coud not but smile,For sleep then had closed his eyes.

8Upon his right hand a gold ring she secur'd,Down from her own finger so fair,That when he awaked he might be assur'dHis lady and love had been there.

9She left him a posie of pleasant perfume,Then stept from the place where he lay;Then hid herself close in the besom of the broom,To hear what her true-love would say.

10He wakend and found the gold ring on his hand,Then sorrow of heart he was in:'My love has been here, I do well understand,And this wager I now shall not win.

11'O where was you, my goodly gawshawk,The which I have purchasd so dear?Why did you not waken me out of my sleepWhen the lady, my lover, was here?'

12'O with my bells did I ring, master,And eke with my feet did I run;And still did I cry, Pray awake, master,She's here now, and soon will be gone.'

13'O where was you, my gallant greyhound,Whose collar is flourishd with gold?Why hadst thou not wakend me out of my sleepWhen thou didst my lady behold?'

14'Dear master, I barkd with my mouth when she came,And likewise my coller I shook,And told you that here was the beautiful dame,But no notice of me then you took.'

15'O where was thou, my serving-man,Whom I have cloathed so fine?If you had wak'd me when she was here,The wager then had been mine.'

16'In the night ye should have slept, master,And kept awake in the day;Had you not been sleeping when hither she came,Then a maid she had not gone away.'

17 Then home he returnd, when the wager was lost,With sorrow of heart, I may say;The lady she laughd to find her love crost,—This was upon midsummer-day.

18'O squire, I laid in the bushes conceald,And heard you when you did complain;And thus I have been to the merry broomfield,And a maid returnd back again.

19'Be chearful, be chearful, and do not repine,For now 't is as clear as the sun,The money, the money, the money is mine,The wager I fairly have won.'

A. b.

81. flower frae the bush.83. a witter true.92. I did love.111. gray goshawk.112. sae well.113. When my love was here hersell.124. Afore your true love gang.133. in good.

81. flower frae the bush.

83. a witter true.

92. I did love.

111. gray goshawk.

112. sae well.

113. When my love was here hersell.

124. Afore your true love gang.

133. in good.

142-4.By running oer the howm;Nae hare runs swifter oer the leaNor your love ran thro the broom.

Econcludes with these stanzas, which do not belong to this ballad:

11'Rise up, rise up, my bonnie grey cock,And craw when it is day,An your neck sall be o the beaten gowd,And your wings o the silver lay.'12But the cock provd fauss, and untrue he was,And he crew three hour ower seen,The lassie thocht it day, and sent her love away,An it was but a blink o the meen.13'If I had him but agen,' she says,'O if I but had him agen,The best grey cock that ever crew at mornShould never bereave me o 's charms.'

11'Rise up, rise up, my bonnie grey cock,And craw when it is day,An your neck sall be o the beaten gowd,And your wings o the silver lay.'

12But the cock provd fauss, and untrue he was,And he crew three hour ower seen,The lassie thocht it day, and sent her love away,An it was but a blink o the meen.

13'If I had him but agen,' she says,'O if I but had him agen,The best grey cock that ever crew at mornShould never bereave me o 's charms.'

F. a.

82. fingers.111, 131. Oh.152. I am.

82. fingers.

111, 131. Oh.

152. I am.

22. I pray you now, what.31. Said he.34.omitsThat.43.omitspure.44. And the ... back again.52. ten good.53. he strait.54.omitsFor.61. his servants.62.omitsmade.64. his joy.74. sleep had fast.82. finger.93. in the midst.94. what her lover.101. Awaking he found.102. of bearst.103.omitsdo.113. wake.114. and lover.121,2. I did.123. wake.124. here and she.133. Why did you not wake.141. I barked aloud when.143. that there was my.152. I have.153. when she had been here.154. had been surely mine.161.omitsshould.173. to see.181. lay.183. so I.184. have returnd.bhas no imprint.

22. I pray you now, what.

31. Said he.

34.omitsThat.

43.omitspure.

44. And the ... back again.

52. ten good.

53. he strait.

54.omitsFor.

61. his servants.

62.omitsmade.

64. his joy.

74. sleep had fast.

82. finger.

93. in the midst.

94. what her lover.

101. Awaking he found.

102. of bearst.

103.omitsdo.

113. wake.

114. and lover.

121,2. I did.

123. wake.

124. here and she.

133. Why did you not wake.

141. I barked aloud when.

143. that there was my.

152. I have.

153. when she had been here.

154. had been surely mine.

161.omitsshould.

173. to see.

181. lay.

183. so I.

184. have returnd.

bhas no imprint.

FOOTNOTES:[366]Furnivall, Captain Cox, his Ballads and Books, pp cxxvii f. Ritson cited the comedy in the dissertation prefixed to his Ancient Songs, 1790, p. lx.[367]Motherwell remarks, at page 42 of his Introduction, "The song is popular still, and is often to be met with." It was printed in a cheap American song-book, which I have not been able to recover, under the title of 'The Green Broomfield,' and with some cis-atlantic variations. Graham's Illustrated Magazine, September, 1858, gives these stanzas:"Then when she went to the green broom field,Where her love was fast asleep,With a graygoose-hawk and a green laurel bough,And a green broom under his feet."And when he awoke from out his sleep,An angry man was he;He looked to the East, and he looked to the West,And he wept for his sweetheart to see."Oh! where was you, my graygoose-hawk,The hawk that I loved so dear,That you did not awake me from out my sleep,When my sweetheart was so near?"[368]The broadside is also copied into Buchan's MSS, II, 197.[369]The Anglo-Latin text in Harleian MS. 2270, No 48.[370]Sy ... bereytte keyn abende das bette met der czöberye met der schryft und met des wylden mannes veddere, p. 145, lines 8, 10-12; das quam alles von der czoyberye, das die jungfrowe dy knaben alle beczobert hatte met schryft und met bryven, dy sy en under dy höbt leyte under dy kussen, und met den veddern von den wylden ruchen lüten, lines 1-5. Onlyoneletter and one feather is employed in each case.[371]Svefnþorn, Danish søvntorn, or søvnpreen: blundstafir, sleep-staves, rods (if not letters, runes) in Sigrdrífumál, 2.[372]The first stanza of the German ballad occurs in a music-book of 1622: Hoffmann u. Richter, p. 202, who add that the ballad is extant in Dutch and Flemish.

[366]Furnivall, Captain Cox, his Ballads and Books, pp cxxvii f. Ritson cited the comedy in the dissertation prefixed to his Ancient Songs, 1790, p. lx.

[367]Motherwell remarks, at page 42 of his Introduction, "The song is popular still, and is often to be met with." It was printed in a cheap American song-book, which I have not been able to recover, under the title of 'The Green Broomfield,' and with some cis-atlantic variations. Graham's Illustrated Magazine, September, 1858, gives these stanzas:"Then when she went to the green broom field,Where her love was fast asleep,With a graygoose-hawk and a green laurel bough,And a green broom under his feet."And when he awoke from out his sleep,An angry man was he;He looked to the East, and he looked to the West,And he wept for his sweetheart to see."Oh! where was you, my graygoose-hawk,The hawk that I loved so dear,That you did not awake me from out my sleep,When my sweetheart was so near?"

"Then when she went to the green broom field,Where her love was fast asleep,With a graygoose-hawk and a green laurel bough,And a green broom under his feet."And when he awoke from out his sleep,An angry man was he;He looked to the East, and he looked to the West,And he wept for his sweetheart to see."Oh! where was you, my graygoose-hawk,The hawk that I loved so dear,That you did not awake me from out my sleep,When my sweetheart was so near?"

"Then when she went to the green broom field,Where her love was fast asleep,With a graygoose-hawk and a green laurel bough,And a green broom under his feet.

"And when he awoke from out his sleep,An angry man was he;He looked to the East, and he looked to the West,And he wept for his sweetheart to see.

"Oh! where was you, my graygoose-hawk,The hawk that I loved so dear,That you did not awake me from out my sleep,When my sweetheart was so near?"

[368]The broadside is also copied into Buchan's MSS, II, 197.

[369]The Anglo-Latin text in Harleian MS. 2270, No 48.

[370]Sy ... bereytte keyn abende das bette met der czöberye met der schryft und met des wylden mannes veddere, p. 145, lines 8, 10-12; das quam alles von der czoyberye, das die jungfrowe dy knaben alle beczobert hatte met schryft und met bryven, dy sy en under dy höbt leyte under dy kussen, und met den veddern von den wylden ruchen lüten, lines 1-5. Onlyoneletter and one feather is employed in each case.

[371]Svefnþorn, Danish søvntorn, or søvnpreen: blundstafir, sleep-staves, rods (if not letters, runes) in Sigrdrífumál, 2.

[372]The first stanza of the German ballad occurs in a music-book of 1622: Hoffmann u. Richter, p. 202, who add that the ballad is extant in Dutch and Flemish.

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 24; Motherwell's MS., p. 570.

A base-born cousin of a pretty ballad known over all Southern Europe, and elsewhere, and in especially graceful forms in France.

The French ballad generally begins with a young man's announcing that he has won a mistress, and intends to pay her a visit on Sunday, or to give her anaubade. She declines his visit, or his music. To avoid him she will turn, e. g., into a rose; then he will turn bee, and kiss her. She will turn quail; he sportsman, and bag her. She will turn carp; he angler, and catch her. She will turn hare; and he hound. She will turn nun;he priest, and confess her day and night. She will fall sick; he will watch with her, or be her doctor. She will become a star; he a cloud, and muffle her. She will die; he will turn earth, into which they will put her, or St Peter, and receive her into Paradise. In the end she says, Since you are inevitable, you may as well have me as another; or more complaisantly, Je me donnerai à toi, puisque tu m'aimes tant.

This ballad might probably be found anywhere in France, but most of the known versions are from south of the Loire.A.Romania, X, 390, E. Legrand, from Normandy; also known in Champagne.B.'Les Transformations,' V. Smith, Vielles Chansons du Velay et du Forez, Romania, VII, 61 ff.C.Poésies populaires de la France, MS., III, fol. 233, Vienne.D.The same, II, fol. 39, Guéret, Creuse.E, F.The same volume, fol. 41, fol. 42.G.'La maitresse gagnée,' the same volume, fol. 38: "on chante cette chanson sur les confines du département de l'Ain qui le séparent de la Savoie."[373]H.'J'ai fait une maitresse,' Champfleury, Chansons populaires des Provinces, p. 90, Bourbonnais.I.'Adiu, Margaridoto,' Bladé, Poésies pop. de la Gascogne, II, 361.J.Mélusine, col. 338 f, Carcasonne.K.Montel et Lambert, Chansons pop. du Languedoc, p. 544-51, and Revue des Langues romanes, XII, 261-67, four copies.L.'Les Transfourmatiens,' Arbaud, II, 128. The Provençal ballad is introduced by Mistral into Mirèio, Chant III, as the song of Magali.M.'La Poursuite d'Amour,' Marelle, in Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen, LVI, 191.N.'J'ai fait une maitresse,' Gagnon, Chansons populaires du Canada, p. 137, and Lovell, Recueil de Chansons canadiennes, 'Chanson de Voyageur,' p. 68.O.Gagnon, p. 78.

Catalan.Closely resembling the French:A.'La Esquerpa,' Briz, Cansons de la Terra, I, 125.B, C, D.'Las Transformaciones,' Milá, Romancerillo Catalan, p. 393, No 513.

Italian.Reduced to arispetto, Tigri, Canti popolari toscani, ed. 1860, p. 241, No 861.

Roumanian.'Cucul si Turturica,' Alecsandri, Poesiĕ populare ale Românilor, p. 7, No 3; French version, by the same, Ballades et Chants populaires, p. 35, No 7; Schuller, Romänische Volkslieder, p. 47. The cuckoo, or the lover under that style, asks the dove to be his mistress till Sunday. The dove, for his sake, would not say No, but because of his mother, who is a witch, if not let alone will change into a roll, and hide under the ashes. Then he will turn into a shovel, and get her out. She will turn into a reed, and hide in the pond. He will come as shepherd to find a reed for a flute, put her to his lips, and cover her with kisses. She will change to an image, and hide in the depths of the church. He will come every day in the week, as deacon or chorister, to kiss the images (a pious usage in those parts), and she will not thus escape him. Schuller refers to another version, in Schuster's unprinted collection, in which youth and maid carry on this contest in their proper persons, and not under figure.

Ladin.Flugi, Die Volkslieder des Engadin, p. 83, No 12. "Who is the younker that goes a-field ere dawn? Who is his love?" "A maid all too fair, with dowry small enough." "Maid, wilt give me a rose?" "No; my father has forbidden." "Wilt be my love?" "Rather a seed, and hide in the earth." "Then I will be a bird, and pick thee out," etc.

Greek.Tommaseo, III, 61, Passow, p. 431, No 574a. A girl tells her mother she will kill herself rather than accept the Turk: she will turn swallow, and take to the woods. The mother replies, Turn what you will, he will turn hunter, and take you from me. The same kernel of this ballad of transformations in Comparetti, Saggi dei Dialetti greci dell' Italia meridionale, p. 38, No 36, as M. Paul Meyer has remarked, Revue Critique, II, 302.

The ballad is well known to the Slavic nations.

Moravian.Čelakovský, p. 75, No 6, Wenzig, Slawische Volkslieder, p. 72, Bibliothek slavischer Poesien, p. 92. A youth threatens to carry off a maid for his wife. She will fly to the wood as a dove. He has a rifle that will bring her down. She will jump into thewater as a fish. He has a net that will take the fish. She will turn to a hare; he to a dog; she cannot escape him.

Polish.Very common.A a.Wacław z Oleska, p. 417, No 287; Konopka, p. 124. A young man says, though he should ride night and day for it, ride his horse's eyes out, the maid must be his. She will turn to a bird, and take to the thicket. But carpenters have axes which can fell a wood. Then she will be a fish, and take to the water. But fishermen have nets which will find her. Then she will become a wild duck, and swim on the lake. Sportsmen have rifles to shoot ducks. Then she will be a star in the sky, and give light to the people. He has a feeling for the poor, and will bring the star down to the earth by his prayers. "I see," she says, "it's God's ordinance; whithersoever I betake myself, you are up with me; I will be yours after all." Nearly the same mutations in other versions, with some variety of introduction and arrangement.A b.Kolberg, Lud, VI, 129, No 257.A c."Przyjaciel ludu, 1836, rok 2, No 34;" Lipiński, p. 135; Kolberg, Lud XII, 98, No 193.B.Pauli, Pieśńi ludu polskiego, I, 135.C.The same, p. 133.D.Kolberg, Lud, XII, 99, No 194.E.Lud, IV, 19, No 137.F.Lud, XII, 97, No 192.G.Lud, II, 134, No 161.H.Lud, VI, 130, No 258.I.Woicicki, I, 141, Waldbrühl, Slawische Balalaika, p. 433.J. a, b.Roger, p. 147, No 285, p. 148, No 286.

Servian.Karadshitch, I, 434, No 602; Talvj, II, 100; Kapper, II, 208; Pellegrini, p. 37. Rather than be her lover's, the maid will turn into a gold-jug in a drinking-house; he will be mine host. She will change into a cup in a coffee-house; he will becafetier. She will become a quail, he a sportsman; a fish, he a net. Pellegrini has still another form, 'La fanciulla assediata,' p. 93. An old man desires a maid. She will rather turn into a lamb; he will turn into a wolf. She will become a quail; he a hawk. She will change into a rose; he into a goat, and tear off the rose from the tree.

There can be little doubt that these ballads are derived, or take their hint, from popular tales, in which (1) a youth and maid, pursued by a sorcerer, fiend, giant, ogre, are transformed by the magical powers of one or the other into such shapes as enable them to elude, and finally to escape, apprehension; or (2) a young fellow, who has been apprenticed to a sorcerer, fiend, etc., and has acquired the black art by surreptitious reading in his master's books, being pursued, as before, assumes a variety of forms, and his master others, adapted to the destruction of his intended victim, until the tables are turned by the fugitive's taking on the stronger figure and despatching his adversary.

Specimens of the first kind are afforded by Gonzenbach, Sicilianische Märchen, Nos 14, 15, 54, 55; Grimms, Nos 51, 56, 113; Schneller, No 27; Pitrè, Fiabe, Novelle e Racconti siciliani, No 15; Imbriani, Novellaja milanese, No 27, N. fiorentana, No 29; Maspons y Labrós, Rondallayre, I, 85, II, 30; Cosquin, Contes lorrains, in Romania, V, 354; Ralston's Russian Folk-Tales, p. 129 f, from Afanasief V, No 23; Bechstein, Märchenbuch, p. 75, ed. 1879, which combines both. Others in Köhler's note to Gonzenbach, No 14, at II, 214.

Of the second kind, among very many, are Straparola, viii, 5, see Grimms, III, 288, Louveau et Larivey, II, 152; Grimms, Nos 68, 117; Müllenhoff, No 27, p. 466; Pröhle, Märchen für die Jugend, No 26; Asbjørnsen og Moe, No 57; Grundtvig, Gamle danske Minder, 1854, Nos 255, 256; Hahn, Griechische Märchen, No 68; the Breton tale Koadalan, Luzel, in Revue Celtique, I, 106/107; the Schotts, Walachische Mærchen, No 18;[374]Woicicki, Klechdy, II, 26, No 4; Karadshitch, No 6; Afanasief, V, 95 f, No 22, VI,189 ff, No 45 a, b, and other Russian and Little Russian versions, VIII, 340. Köhler adds several examples of one kind or the other in a note to Koadalan, Revue Celtique, I, 132, and Wollner Slavic parallels in a note to Leskien und Brugman, Litanische Volkslieder und Märchen, p. 537 f.

The usual course of events in these last is that the prentice takes refuge in one of many pomegranate kernels, barley-corns, poppy-seeds, millet-grains, pearls; the master becomes a cock, hen, sparrow, and picks up all of these but one, which turns into a fox, dog, weasel, crow, cat, hawk, vulture, that kills the bird.

The same story occurs in the Turkish Forty Viziers, Behrnauer, p. 195 ff, the last transformations being millet, cock, man, who tears off the cock's head. Also in the introduction to Siddhi-Kür, Jülg, pp 1-3, where there are seven masters instead of one, and the final changes are worms, instead of seeds, seven hens, a man with a cane who kills the hens.[375]

The pomegranate and cock (found in Straparola) are among the metamorphoses in the contest between the afrite and the princess in the tale of the Second Calender in the Arabian Nights.

Entirely similar is the pursuit of Gwion the pigmy by the goddess Koridgwen, cited by Villemarqué, Barzaz Breiz, p. lvi, ed. 1867, from the Myvyrian Archaiology of Wales, I, 17. Gwion having, by an accident, come to the knowledge of superhuman mysteries, Koridgwen wishes to take his life. He flees, and turns successively into a hare, fish, bird; she follows, in the form of hound, otter, hawk; finally he becomes a wheaten grain, she a hen, and swallows the grain.

The ordinary tale has found its way into rhyme in a German broadside ballad, Longard, Altrheinländische Mährlein und Liedlein, p. 76, No 40, 'Von einem gottlosen Zauberer und seiner unschuldigen Kindlein wunderbarer Erlösung.' The two children of an ungodly magician, a boy and a girl, are devoted by him to the devil. The boy had read in his father's books while his father was away. They flee, and are pursued: the girl becomes a pond, the boy a fish. The wicked wizard goes for a net. The boy pronounces a spell, by which the girl is turned into a chapel, and he into an image on the altar. The wizard, unable to get at the image, goes for fire. The boy changes the girl into a threshing-floor, himself into a barley-corn. The wizard becomes a hen, and is about to swallow the grain of barley. By another spell the boy changes himself into a fox, and then twists the hen's neck.

Translated by Gerhard, p. 18.

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