89FAUSE FOODRAGE

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xx, XVIII.

As Willie and the young ColnelWere drinking at the wine,'O will ye marry my sister?' says Will,'And I will marry thine.'

104. very deep,in the edition of 1776.

B. a.

41.Motherwell informs us,p. 200, that the original reading waslittle small sword; alsohe stabbedin 43.

Finlay's version is compounded from two, and Motherwell's, since it adopts readings from Finlay's, is compounded from three; but Motherwell's has nevertheless been preferred, on account of its retaining stanzas which Finlay omitted. Besides, Motherwell gives us to understand that his changes are few.32. gowd and fee.34. come oer the sea.41. nut-brown sword.43. he ritted.52. And he's.53. dear Johnstone.55, 6.wanting.61, 101. dreamed a dream this night, she says.62, 102. be good.71, 111. They are seeking me with hawks and hounds.82, 122. A dule.91. his lover's.95, 6.wanting.123. But I gie na sae much for.124. is free.134. I'll thee.

32. gowd and fee.

34. come oer the sea.

41. nut-brown sword.

43. he ritted.

52. And he's.

53. dear Johnstone.

55, 6.wanting.

61, 101. dreamed a dream this night, she says.

62, 102. be good.

71, 111. They are seeking me with hawks and hounds.

82, 122. A dule.

91. his lover's.

95, 6.wanting.

123. But I gie na sae much for.

124. is free.

134. I'll thee.

141, 2.She hadna weel gane up the stair,And entered in her tower.

143. Till.144. the door.

143. Till.

144. the door.

151, 2.O did you see a bloody squire,A bloody squire was he.

153. O did you see.154. riding oer the lea.161. she cried.173. And.191. But light ye down now.193. be good he rides upon.194. of Tyne.201. bread, ladie.203. Butwanting: pounds.204. Your fair bodie was mine.

153. O did you see.

154. riding oer the lea.

161. she cried.

173. And.

191. But light ye down now.

193. be good he rides upon.

194. of Tyne.

201. bread, ladie.

203. Butwanting: pounds.

204. Your fair bodie was mine.

213, 4.For there's four and twenty belted knightsJust gone out at the gate.

221. had a wee penknife.

223, 4.And he ritted it through his dear ladie,And wounded her sae sair.

25.How can I live, my dear Johnstone?How can I live for thee?O do ye na see my red heart's bloodRun trickling down my knee?26.But go thy way, my dear Johnstone,And ride along the plain,And think no more of thy true loveThan she had never been.

25.How can I live, my dear Johnstone?How can I live for thee?O do ye na see my red heart's bloodRun trickling down my knee?

26.But go thy way, my dear Johnstone,And ride along the plain,And think no more of thy true loveThan she had never been.

27.wanting.

191. Oh.251. O:the first.

191. Oh.

251. O:the first.

13, 53, 153. Oh.151. he been.181. aecorrected fromain.193. wacorrected fromround.241. she said.291. O:the first.Caldwellis an obvious corruption ofColonel.

13, 53, 153. Oh.

151. he been.

181. aecorrected fromain.

193. wacorrected fromround.

241. she said.

291. O:the first.

Caldwellis an obvious corruption ofColonel.

The alterations according to the singing of Christie's old woman are, as usual with him in such cases, utterly insignificant.21. How can I bide, how shall.22. How can.34. will it.63. she did see.102. for your.153. rins.

The alterations according to the singing of Christie's old woman are, as usual with him in such cases, utterly insignificant.

21. How can I bide, how shall.

22. How can.

34. will it.

63. she did see.

102. for your.

153. rins.

A.'Fa'se Footrage,' Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 3.B.'The Eastmure King and the Westmure King, Motherwell's MS., p. 341.C.'Eastmuir King,' Harris MS., No 18, fol. 22.

A.'Fa'se Footrage,' Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 3.

B.'The Eastmure King and the Westmure King, Motherwell's MS., p. 341.

C.'Eastmuir King,' Harris MS., No 18, fol. 22.

Awas printed in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 73, 1802, "chiefly" from Mrs Brown's MS.; in fact, with not quite forty petty alterations. Scott remarks that the ballad has been popular in many parts of Scotland. Christie, I, 172, had heard it sung by an old Banffshire woman, who died in 1866, at the age of nearly eighty, with very little difference from Scott's copy.[144]

The resemblance of the verse inA31, 'The boy stared wild like a gray gose-hawke,' to one in 'Hardyknute,' 'Norse een like gray goss-hawk stared wild,' struck Sir Walter Scott as suspicious, and led him "to make the strictest inquiry into the authenticity of the song. But every doubt was removed by the evidence of a lady of high rank [Lady Douglas of Douglas, sister to Henry, Duke of Buccleuch, as we are informed in the edition of 1833], who not only recollected the ballad as having amused her infancy, but could repeat many of the verses." It is quite possible that Mrs Brown may unconsciously have adopted this verse from the tiresome and affected Hardyknute, so much esteemed in her day. One would be only too glad were this the only corruption which the ballad had undergone. On the contrary, while not calling in question the substantial genuineness of the ballad, we must admit that the form in which we have received it is an enfeebled one, without much flavor or color; and some such feeling no doubt affected Sir Walter's mind, more than the reminiscence of 'Hardyknute,' which, of itself, is of slight account.

A tale 'How the king of Estmure Land married the king's daughter of Westmure Land' is mentioned in "The Complaint of Scotland," and there has been considerable speculation as to what this tale might be, and also as to what localities Estmure Land and Westmure Land might signify. Seeing no clue to a settlement of these questions, I pass them by, with the simple comment that no king of Estmure Land marries the king of Westmure Land's daughter in this ballad or any other.

Three kings (King Easter and King Wester,A, the Eastmure king and the Westmure king,B,C, and King Honor,A, the king of Onorie,B, King Luve,C), court a lady, and the third, who woos for womanhood and beauty,B, wins her. The Eastmure king,B, the Westmure,C, kills his successful rival on his wedding-day. According to the prosaic, not at all ballad-like, and evidently corrupted account inA, there is a rebellion of nobles four months after the marriage, and a certain False Foodrage takes it upon himself to kill the king. The murderer spares the queen, and if she gives birth to a girl will spare her child also, but if she bears a boy the boy is to die.

InAthe queen escapes from custody before her time comes, and gives birth to a boy in the swines' sty. Lots are cast to see who shall go find the queen (the narrative is very vague here), and the lot falls on Wise William, who sends his wife in his stead. The queen induces this woman to exchange children with her, Wise William's wife having a girl. After some years Wise William reveals to the boy that he is rightful lord of the castle (and we may suppose royal dignity) which False Foodrage has usurped. The boy kills False Foodrage and marries Wise William's daughter. Some of these incidents are wanting inB. For Wise William's wife we have simply a poor woman in the town.

'Fause Foodrage' is closely related to a Scandinavian ballad, especially popular in Denmark, where it is found in not less than twenty-three manuscripts:

Danish.A, 'Ung Villum,' Danske Viser, No 126, III, 135, 66 stanzas;B, 'Vold og Mord,' Levninger, II, 64, No 12, 64 stanzas;C, 'Lille Villum,' Kristensen, I, 305, No 111, 15 stanzas; also, Tragica, No 18, not seen.Icelandic.'Kvæði af Loga í Vallarhlíð,' Íslenzk fornkvæði, I, 235, No 28, 55 stanzas.Swedish.'Helleman Unge,' Arwidsson, I, 132, No 15, 13 stanzas (imperfect).Färöe, in unprinted copies. There are more incidents in the Danish ballad, and too many, but something, without doubt, has been lost from the English, which, however, preserves these essential points: A man that has wedded a woman who had another lover is killed by his competitor shortly after his marriage; a boy is born, who is passed off as a girl; this boy, before he has attained manhood, slays his father's murderer.

In the Danish 'Young William,'A, Svend of Voldesløv, rich in gold, woos Lisbet, who prefers William for his good qualities. Svend shuts himself up in his room, sick with grief. His mother and sister come and go. The mother will get him a fairer maid, and gives him the good rede not to distress himself about a girl that is plighted to another man. The sister gives a bad rede, to kill William, and so get the bride. The mother remarks that a son is coming into being who would revenge his father's death. The business can be done, says Svend, before that son is born, and immediately after takes occasion to meet William as he is passing through a wood, and kills him. Forty weeks gone, Lisbet gives birth to a son, but Svend is told that she has borne a daughter. Young William attains to the age of eighteen, and is a stalwart youth, given to games of strength. One day when he is putting the stone with a peasant, the two fall out, and the peasant, being roughly treated, calls out, You had better avenge your father's death. Young William hastens to his mother, and asks whether his father's death had been by violence, and, if so, who killed him. The mother thinks him too young to wield a sword: he must summon Svend to a court. This is done. Svend informs his uncle that he is summoned to court by William, and asks what he is to do. The uncle had always been told that Lisbet's child was a girl. I shall never live to see the day, says Svend, when I shall beat a woman at tricks. Svend goes to the court, attended by many of his uncle's men. William charges him with the murder of his father, for which no compensation has been offered. Svend says not a penny will be paid, and William draws his sword and cuts him down. For killing Svend William is summoned to court by Svend's brother, Nilus. Nilus demands amends. William says they are quit, with brother against father, and he will marry Nilus's sister (whom he has already carried off). Never, says Nilus, for which William finds it necessary to killhim. He then rides to his mother, who asks what amends have been offered for his father's death, and, on hearing that William has killed both the murderer and his brother, clasps him to her heart, for all her grief is now over.

No other Scandinavian copy besides DanishAhas the killing of Nilus, which may be regarded as an aftergrowth. In the Icelandic version, the sister, so far from putting her brother up to the murder, bursts into tears when her brother tells what he has done, because she knows that revenge will follow. The murderer offers himself to his former love inplace of her husband, at the very moment when she is bowed in anguish over the dead body. She replies significantly, He is not far from me that shall revenge him. All the Scandinavian copies have the three chief points of the story except the Swedish, which lacks the first half.

Another Scandinavian ballad has many of the features of 'Young William:'Danish, 'Liden Engel,'A, Danske Viser, No 127, III, 147;B, Levninger, II, 82, No 13;C, Kristensen, I, 254, No 97, a fragment.Norwegian, 'Unge Ingelbrett,' Bugge, p. 110, No 23, derived from the Danish. According to DanishA, and for the most partB, Liden Engel (who, by the way, is of Westerris) carries off a bride by force. Her brother burns him and all his people in a church in which they have taken refuge, the lady being saved by lifting her on shields up to a window, whence she is taken by her natural friends. It is the mother that suggests the setting of the church on fire, and the first act of the daughter, after getting out of the church with singed hair, is to fall on her bare knees and pray that she may have a son who will take vengeance on her brother. A son is born, and called after his father, but his existence is as far as possible kept secret. As he grows up his mother is always saying to him, Thine uncle was the death of thy father. The boy wishes to serve the king; the mother says, Go, but remember thy father's death. The king observes that the youth has always a weight on his mind, and on his asking the cause Little Engel answers that his uncle had slain his father and paid no boot. The king says, If you wish to revenge his death, as it is quite proper you should, I will lend you three hundred men. When the uncle is informed that Little Engel is coming against him he declares that he had never heard of such a person before: so the secret has been well kept. Little Engel burns his uncle and all his people in a stone chamber in which they had shut themselves up.

In the Norwegian-Danish ballad Engel, or Ingelbrett, the second simply kills his uncle with a sword. The offence given in this case is not the carrying off a bride by force, but the omitting to ask the brother's consent to the marriage, though that of all the rest of the family had been obtained: another instance of the danger of such neglect in addition to those already mentioned in the preface to 'The Cruel Brother,' I, 142.

'Fause Foodrage' has some affinity with 'Jellon Grame.'

Scott's copy is translated by Schubart, p. 102; Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 33, and Hausschatz, p. 211; Doenniges, p. 51; Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 28.

'Ung Villum' is translated by Prior, III, 422, No 170; 'Liden Engel' by the same, III, 379, No 164.

Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 3.

1King Easter has courted her for her gowd,King Wester for her fee,King Honor for her lands sae braid,And for her fair body.2They had not been four months married,As I have heard them tell,Until the nobles of the landAgainst them did rebel.3And they cast kaivles them amang,And kaivles them between,And they cast kaivles them amangWha shoud gae kill the king.4O some said yea, and some said nay,Their words did not agree;Till up it gat him Fa'se Footrage,And sware it shoud be he.5When bells were rung, and mass was sung.And a' man boon to bed,King Honor and his gay ladieIn a hie chamer were laid.6Then up it raise him Fa'se Footrage,While a' were fast asleep,And slew the porter in his lodge,That watch and ward did keep.7O four and twenty silver keysHang hie upon a pin,And ay as a door he did unlock,He has fastend it him behind.8Then up it raise him King Honor,Says, What means a' this din!Now what's the matter, Fa'se Footrage?O wha was't loot you in?9'O ye my errand well shall learnBefore that I depart;'Then drew a knife baith lang and sharpAnd pierced him thro the heart.10Then up it got the Queen hersell,And fell low down on her knee:'O spare my life now, Fa'se Footrage!For I never injured thee.11'O spare my life now, Fa'se Footrage!Until I lighter be,And see gin it be lad or lassKing Honor has left me wi.'12'O gin it be a lass,' he says,'Well nursed she shall be;But gin it be a lad-bairn,He shall be hanged hie.13'I winna spare his tender age,Nor yet his hie, hie kin;But as soon as eer he born is,He shall mount the gallows-pin.'14O four and twenty valiant knightsWere set the Queen to guard,And four stood ay at her bower-door,To keep baith watch and ward.15But when the time drew till an endThat she should lighter be,She cast about to find a wileTo set her body free.16O she has birled these merry young menWi strong beer and wi wine,Until she made them a' as drunkAs any wallwood swine.17'O narrow, narrow is this window,And big, big am I grown!'Yet thro the might of Our LadieOut at it she has won.18She wanderd up, she wanderd down,She wanderd out and in,And at last, into the very swines' stye,The Queen brought forth a son.19Then they cast kaivles them amangWha should gae seek the Queen,And the kaivle fell upon Wise William,And he's sent his wife for him.20O when she saw Wise William's wife,The Queen fell on her knee;'Win up, win up, madame,' she says,'What means this courtesie?'21'O out of this I winna riseTill a boon ye grant to me,To change your lass for this lad-bairnKing Honor left me wi.22'And ye maun learn my gay gose-hawkeWell how to breast a steed,And I shall learn your turtle-dowAs well to write and read.23'And ye maun learn my gay gose-hawkeTo wield baith bow and brand,And I shall learn your turtle-dowTo lay gowd wi her hand.24'At kirk or market where we meet,We dare nae mair avowBut, Dame how does my gay gose-hawk?Madame, how does my dow?'25When days were gane, and years came on,Wise William he thought long;Out has he taen King Honor's son,A hunting for to gang.26It sae fell out at their hunting,Upon a summer's day,That they cam by a fair castle,Stood on a sunny brae.27'O dinna ye see that bonny castle,Wi wa's and towers sae fair?Gin ilka man had back his ain,Of it you shoud be heir.'28'How I shoud be heir of that castleIn sooth I canna see,When it belongs to Fa'se Footrage,And he's nae kin to me.'29'O gin ye shoud kill him Fa'se Footrage,You woud do what is right;For I wot he killd your father dear,Ere ever you saw the light.30'Gin ye should kill him Fa'se Footrage,There is nae man durst you blame;For he keeps your mother a prisoner,And she dares no take you hame.'31The boy stared wild like a gray gose-hawke,Says, What may a' this mean!'My boy, you are King Honor's son,And your mother's our lawful queen.'32'O gin I be King Honor's son,By Our Ladie I swear,This day I will that traytour slay,And relieve my mother dear.'33He has set his bent bow till his breast,And lap the castle-wa,And soon he's siesed on Fa'se Footrage,Wha loud for help gan ca.34'O hold your tongue now, Fa'se Footrage,Frae me you shanno flee;'Syne pierced him through the foul fa'se heart,And set his mother free.35And he has rewarded Wise WilliamWi the best half of his land,And sae has he the turtle-dowWi the truth of his right hand.

1King Easter has courted her for her gowd,King Wester for her fee,King Honor for her lands sae braid,And for her fair body.

2They had not been four months married,As I have heard them tell,Until the nobles of the landAgainst them did rebel.

3And they cast kaivles them amang,And kaivles them between,And they cast kaivles them amangWha shoud gae kill the king.

4O some said yea, and some said nay,Their words did not agree;Till up it gat him Fa'se Footrage,And sware it shoud be he.

5When bells were rung, and mass was sung.And a' man boon to bed,King Honor and his gay ladieIn a hie chamer were laid.

6Then up it raise him Fa'se Footrage,While a' were fast asleep,And slew the porter in his lodge,That watch and ward did keep.

7O four and twenty silver keysHang hie upon a pin,And ay as a door he did unlock,He has fastend it him behind.

8Then up it raise him King Honor,Says, What means a' this din!Now what's the matter, Fa'se Footrage?O wha was't loot you in?

9'O ye my errand well shall learnBefore that I depart;'Then drew a knife baith lang and sharpAnd pierced him thro the heart.

10Then up it got the Queen hersell,And fell low down on her knee:'O spare my life now, Fa'se Footrage!For I never injured thee.

11'O spare my life now, Fa'se Footrage!Until I lighter be,And see gin it be lad or lassKing Honor has left me wi.'

12'O gin it be a lass,' he says,'Well nursed she shall be;But gin it be a lad-bairn,He shall be hanged hie.

13'I winna spare his tender age,Nor yet his hie, hie kin;But as soon as eer he born is,He shall mount the gallows-pin.'

14O four and twenty valiant knightsWere set the Queen to guard,And four stood ay at her bower-door,To keep baith watch and ward.

15But when the time drew till an endThat she should lighter be,She cast about to find a wileTo set her body free.

16O she has birled these merry young menWi strong beer and wi wine,Until she made them a' as drunkAs any wallwood swine.

17'O narrow, narrow is this window,And big, big am I grown!'Yet thro the might of Our LadieOut at it she has won.

18She wanderd up, she wanderd down,She wanderd out and in,And at last, into the very swines' stye,The Queen brought forth a son.

19Then they cast kaivles them amangWha should gae seek the Queen,And the kaivle fell upon Wise William,And he's sent his wife for him.

20O when she saw Wise William's wife,The Queen fell on her knee;'Win up, win up, madame,' she says,'What means this courtesie?'

21'O out of this I winna riseTill a boon ye grant to me,To change your lass for this lad-bairnKing Honor left me wi.

22'And ye maun learn my gay gose-hawkeWell how to breast a steed,And I shall learn your turtle-dowAs well to write and read.

23'And ye maun learn my gay gose-hawkeTo wield baith bow and brand,And I shall learn your turtle-dowTo lay gowd wi her hand.

24'At kirk or market where we meet,We dare nae mair avowBut, Dame how does my gay gose-hawk?Madame, how does my dow?'

25When days were gane, and years came on,Wise William he thought long;Out has he taen King Honor's son,A hunting for to gang.

26It sae fell out at their hunting,Upon a summer's day,That they cam by a fair castle,Stood on a sunny brae.

27'O dinna ye see that bonny castle,Wi wa's and towers sae fair?Gin ilka man had back his ain,Of it you shoud be heir.'

28'How I shoud be heir of that castleIn sooth I canna see,When it belongs to Fa'se Footrage,And he's nae kin to me.'

29'O gin ye shoud kill him Fa'se Footrage,You woud do what is right;For I wot he killd your father dear,Ere ever you saw the light.

30'Gin ye should kill him Fa'se Footrage,There is nae man durst you blame;For he keeps your mother a prisoner,And she dares no take you hame.'

31The boy stared wild like a gray gose-hawke,Says, What may a' this mean!'My boy, you are King Honor's son,And your mother's our lawful queen.'

32'O gin I be King Honor's son,By Our Ladie I swear,This day I will that traytour slay,And relieve my mother dear.'

33He has set his bent bow till his breast,And lap the castle-wa,And soon he's siesed on Fa'se Footrage,Wha loud for help gan ca.

34'O hold your tongue now, Fa'se Footrage,Frae me you shanno flee;'Syne pierced him through the foul fa'se heart,And set his mother free.

35And he has rewarded Wise WilliamWi the best half of his land,And sae has he the turtle-dowWi the truth of his right hand.

Motherwell's MS., p. 341.

1The Eastmure king, and the Westmure king,And the king of Onorie,They have all courted a pretty maid,And guess wha she micht be.2The Eastmure king courted her for gold,And the Westmure king for fee,The king of Onore for womanheid,And for her fair beautie.3The Eastmure king swore a solemn oath,He would keep it till May,That he would murder the king of Onore,Upon his wedding day.4When bells was rung, and psalms was sung.And all men boune for sleep,Up and started the Eastmure kingAt the king of Onore's head.5He has drawn the curtains by—Their sheets was made of dorn—And he has murdered the king of Onore,As innocent as he was born.6This maid she awak'd in the middle of the night,Was in a drowsy dream;She found her bride's-bed swim with blood,Bot and her good lord slain.7'What will the court and council say?What will they say to me?What will the court and council sayBut this night I've murderd thee?'8Out and speaks the Eastmure king:'Hold your tongue, my pretty may,And come along with me, my dear,And that court ye'll never see.'9He mounted her on a milk-white steed,Himself upon a gray;She turnd her back against the court,And weeping rode away.10'Now if you be with child,' he says,'As I trew well you be,If it be of a lassie-bairn,I'll give her nurses three.11'If it be a lassie-bairn,If you please she'll get five;But if it be a bonnie boy,I will not let him live.'12Word is to the city gone,And word is to the town,And word is to the city gone,She's delivered of a son.13But a poor woman in the townIn the same case does lye,Wha gived to her her woman-child,Took awa her bonnie boy.14At kirk or market, whereer they met,They never durst avow,But 'Thou be kind to my boy,' she says,'I'll be kind to your bonnie dow.'15This boy was sixteen years of age,But he was nae seventeen,When he is to the garden gone,To slay that Eastmure king.16'Be aware, be aware, thou Eastmure king,Be aware this day of me;For I do swear and do declareThy botcher I will be.'17'What aileth thee, my bonnie boy?What aileth thee at me?I'm sure I never did thee wrang;Thy face I neer did see.'18'Thou murdered my father dear,When scarse conceived was I;Thou murdered my father dear,When scarse conceived was me:'So then he slew that Eastmure king,Beneath that garden tree.

1The Eastmure king, and the Westmure king,And the king of Onorie,They have all courted a pretty maid,And guess wha she micht be.

2The Eastmure king courted her for gold,And the Westmure king for fee,The king of Onore for womanheid,And for her fair beautie.

3The Eastmure king swore a solemn oath,He would keep it till May,That he would murder the king of Onore,Upon his wedding day.

4When bells was rung, and psalms was sung.And all men boune for sleep,Up and started the Eastmure kingAt the king of Onore's head.

5He has drawn the curtains by—Their sheets was made of dorn—And he has murdered the king of Onore,As innocent as he was born.

6This maid she awak'd in the middle of the night,Was in a drowsy dream;She found her bride's-bed swim with blood,Bot and her good lord slain.

7'What will the court and council say?What will they say to me?What will the court and council sayBut this night I've murderd thee?'

8Out and speaks the Eastmure king:'Hold your tongue, my pretty may,And come along with me, my dear,And that court ye'll never see.'

9He mounted her on a milk-white steed,Himself upon a gray;She turnd her back against the court,And weeping rode away.

10'Now if you be with child,' he says,'As I trew well you be,If it be of a lassie-bairn,I'll give her nurses three.

11'If it be a lassie-bairn,If you please she'll get five;But if it be a bonnie boy,I will not let him live.'

12Word is to the city gone,And word is to the town,And word is to the city gone,She's delivered of a son.

13But a poor woman in the townIn the same case does lye,Wha gived to her her woman-child,Took awa her bonnie boy.

14At kirk or market, whereer they met,They never durst avow,But 'Thou be kind to my boy,' she says,'I'll be kind to your bonnie dow.'

15This boy was sixteen years of age,But he was nae seventeen,When he is to the garden gone,To slay that Eastmure king.

16'Be aware, be aware, thou Eastmure king,Be aware this day of me;For I do swear and do declareThy botcher I will be.'

17'What aileth thee, my bonnie boy?What aileth thee at me?I'm sure I never did thee wrang;Thy face I neer did see.'

18'Thou murdered my father dear,When scarse conceived was I;Thou murdered my father dear,When scarse conceived was me:'So then he slew that Eastmure king,Beneath that garden tree.

Harris MS., No 18, fol. 22: derived from Jannie Scott, an old Perthshire nurse, about 1790.

1Eastmuir king, and Wastmuir king,And king o Luve, a' three,It's they coost kevils them amang,Aboot a gay ladie.2Eastmuir king he wan the gowd,An Wastmuir king the fee,But king o Luve, wi his lands sae broad,He's won the fair ladie.3Thae twa kings, they made an aith,That, be it as it may,They wad slay him king o Luve,Upon his waddin day.4Eastmuir king he brak his aith,An sair penance did he;But Wastmuir king he made it oot,An an ill deid mat he dee!

1Eastmuir king, and Wastmuir king,And king o Luve, a' three,It's they coost kevils them amang,Aboot a gay ladie.

2Eastmuir king he wan the gowd,An Wastmuir king the fee,But king o Luve, wi his lands sae broad,He's won the fair ladie.

3Thae twa kings, they made an aith,That, be it as it may,They wad slay him king o Luve,Upon his waddin day.

4Eastmuir king he brak his aith,An sair penance did he;But Wastmuir king he made it oot,An an ill deid mat he dee!

44. Onore's feetoriginally.53. Onores.

44. Onore's feetoriginally.

53. Onores.

FOOTNOTES:[144]"As far as he can remember, the old woman gave the story in fewer verses." Christie gives the ballad from Scott (omitting stanzas 10-18), "with slight alterations from the way she sung it." These alterations are: 11, hasomitted. 41, Then someforO some. 263, fair castleforbonny castle (bonny in Scott, 1833; fair in Scott, 1802). 292, is rightforwas right. 294. Ere ever youforOr ever ye. Dean Christie's memory, it seems, retains the most inconsiderable variations, while it is not so good for larger things. See the note at Christie, I, 128, 'Willie and Earl Richard's Daughter,' in this volume, and other ballads.

[144]"As far as he can remember, the old woman gave the story in fewer verses." Christie gives the ballad from Scott (omitting stanzas 10-18), "with slight alterations from the way she sung it." These alterations are: 11, hasomitted. 41, Then someforO some. 263, fair castleforbonny castle (bonny in Scott, 1833; fair in Scott, 1802). 292, is rightforwas right. 294. Ere ever youforOr ever ye. Dean Christie's memory, it seems, retains the most inconsiderable variations, while it is not so good for larger things. See the note at Christie, I, 128, 'Willie and Earl Richard's Daughter,' in this volume, and other ballads.

A. a.'Jellon Grame and Lillie Flower,' A. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 4.b.'Jellon Grame,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 20, 1802.B.'Hind Henry,' Motherwell's MS., p. 443.C.'May-a-Row,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 231.D.'Lady Margerie,' Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 222.

A. a.'Jellon Grame and Lillie Flower,' A. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 4.b.'Jellon Grame,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 20, 1802.

B.'Hind Henry,' Motherwell's MS., p. 443.

C.'May-a-Row,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 231.

D.'Lady Margerie,' Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 222.

'Jellon Grame' was first given to the world in Scott's Minstrelsy, in 1802. The editor says of this copy,A b, "This ballad is published from tradition, with some conjectural emendations. It is corrected by a copy in Mrs Brown's MS. [A a], from which it differs in the concluding stanzas. Some verses are apparently modernized." The only very important difference between Scott's version and Mrs Brown's is its having four stanzas of its own, the four before the last two, which are evidently not simply modernized, but modern.

There is a material difference between the story furnished byAand what we learn from the three other copies. Jellon Grame sends for his love Lillie Flower to come to the wood. She is very eager to go, though warned by the messenger that she may never come back. Jellon Grame, who has already dug her grave, kills her because her father will hang him when it is discovered that she has had a child by him. He brings up the child as his sister's son. One day, when the boy asks why his mother does not take him home, Jellon Grame (very unnaturally) answers, I slew her, and there she lies: upon which the boy sends an arrow through him.

InB,C,D, the man is Henry, Hind Henry,B,C; the maid is May Margerie,B, May-a-Roe,C, Margerie,D. Margerie, inB, receives a message to come to the wood to make her love a shirt, which surprises her, for no month had passed in the year that she had not made him three. Nevertheless, she goes, though warned by her mother that there is a plot against her life. She is stopped in the wood by Hind Henry, who kills her because she loves Brown Robin. Word is carried that Margerie has been slain; her sister hastens to the wood, takes under her care the child which Margerie was going with, and calls him Brown Robin, after his father. The lad goes to the wood one day after school to pull a hollin wand, and meets Hind Henry at the place where the mother had been killed. No grass is growing just there, and the boy asks Hind Henry why this is so. Hind Henry, not less frank than Jellon Grame, says, That is the very spot where I killed your mother. The boy catches at Henry's sword and runs him through.

Chas nearly the same incidents asB, diluted and vulgarized in almost twice as many verses. Brown Robin is made to be Hind Henry's brother. The sister does not appear in the action, and the child is brought up by the murderer, as inA, but is named Robin Hood, after that bold robber. On hearing from Hind Henry how his mother had come to her death, young Robin sends an arrow to his heart.

A story is supplied from the "traditions of Galloway" for the fragmentary, and perhaps heterogeneous, verses calledD; I suppose by Allan Cunningham. Margerie was beloved by two brothers, and preferred the elder. Henry, the younger, forged a billet to her by which he obtained a meeting in a wood, when he reproached her for not returning his feelings: sts 1, 2. "She expostulated with him on the impropriety of bringing her into an unfrequented place for the purpose of winning affections which, she observed, were not hers to bestow;" but expostulations as to improprieties producing but slight effect in "those rude times," told him plainly that she was with child by his brother. Henry drew his sword and killed Margerie. The elder brother, who was hunting, was apprised of mischief by the omens in stanza 4. "Astonished at this singular phenomenon, he immediately flew to the bower of his mistress, where a page informed him she was gone to the 'silver wood,' agreeably to his desire. Thither he spurred his horse, and, meeting Henry with his bloody sword still in his hand, inquired what he had been killing." The other replied as in stanza 5. "A mutual explanation took place, and Henry fell by the sword of his unhappy brother."

The resemblance of this ballad at the beginning to 'Child Maurice' will not escape notice. Silver Wood, or the silver wood, is found in 'Child Maurice,'A1,G1.A14,B10,C15, is a commonplace: see No 66,A28, 29,B20, 21,D9,E40; No 70,B25; No 81,K13.B13 is found in'Willie and Earl Richard's Daughter,'B24: cf.A15. The phenomenon inD4 we have had in No 65,D17.

'Jellon Grame,' and particularly versionsB,C,D, may be regarded as a counterpart to 'Fause Foodrage,' and especially to versionsB,C, of that ballad. In 'Fause Foodrage,'B,C, and 'Jellon Grame,'B,C,D, a woman has two lovers. The one who is preferred is killed by the other in 'Fause Foodrage;' in 'Jellon Grame' the woman herself is killed by the lover she has rejected. This kind of interchange is familiar in ballads. In both 'Fause Foodrage' and 'Jellon Grame' the son of the woman, before he comes to manhood, takes vengeance on the murderer.

'Jellon Grame,' as well as 'Fause Foodrage,' has certainly suffered very much in transmission. It is interesting to find an ancient and original trait preserved even in so extremely corrupted a version asCof the present ballad, a circumstance very far from unexampled. In stanza 18 we read that the child who is to avenge his mother "grew as big in ae year auld as some boys woud in three," and we have a faint trace of the same extraordinary thriving inB15: "Of all the youths was at that school none could with him compare." So in one of the Scandinavian ballads akin to 'Fause Foodrage,' and more remotely to 'Jellon Grame,' the corresponding child grows more in two months than other boys in eight years:

Mei voks unge Ingelbrettí dei maanar tvaahell híne smaabonnivokse paa aatte aar.

Bugge, Norske Folkeviser, No 23, st. 17, p. 113.

This is a commonplace: so again Bugge, No 5, sts 7, 8, p. 23. Compare Robert le Diable, and Sir Gowther.

InB14 we are told that the boy was called by his father's name (C17 is corrupted). This is a point in the corresponding Scandinavian ballads: Danske Viser, No 126, st. 21, No 127, st. 34; Levninger, No 12, st. 26, No 13, st. 18; Íslenzk fornkvæði, No 28, st. 33b; Bugge, No 23, st. 16; Kristensen, I, No 97, sts 7, 11, No 111, st. 9.

A bis translated by Schubart, p. 69; by Arndt, Blütenlese, p. 234.

a.A. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 4.b.Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 20, 1802.

1O Jellon Grame sat in Silver Wood,He whistled and he sang,And he has calld his little foot-page,His errand for to gang.2'Win up, my bonny boy,' he says,'As quick as eer you may;For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower,Before the break of day.'3The boy he's buckled his belt about,And thro the green-wood ran,And he came to the ladie's bower-door,Before the day did dawn.4'O sleep ye, or wake ye, Lillie Flower?The red run's i the rain:''I sleep not aft, I wake right aft;Wha's that that kens my name?'5'Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood,But I fear you'll never win hame;Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood,And speak wi Jellon Grame.'6'O I will gang to Silver Wood,Though I shoud never win hame;For the thing I most desire on earthIs to speak wi Jellon Grame.'7She had no ridden a mile, a mile,A mile but barely three,Ere she came to a new made grave,Beneath a green oak tree.8O then up started Jellon Grame,Out of a bush hard bye:'Light down, light down now, Lillie Flower,For it's here that ye maun ly.'9She lighted aff her milk-white steed,And knelt upon her knee:'O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame!For I'm nae prepar'd to die.10'Your bairn, that stirs between my sides,Maun shortly see the light;But to see it weltring in my bludeWoud be a piteous sight.'11'O shoud I spare your life,' he says,'Until that bairn be born,I ken fu well your stern fatherWoud hang me on the morn.'12'O spare my life now, Jellon Grame!My father ye neer need dread;I'll keep my bairn i the good green wood,Or wi it I'll beg my bread.'13He took nae pity on that ladie,Tho she for life did pray;But pierced her thro the fair body,As at his feet she lay.14He felt nae pity for that ladie,Tho she was lying dead;But he felt some for the bonny boy,Lay weltring in her blude.15Up has he taen that bonny boy,Gien him to nurices nine,Three to wake, and three to sleep,And three to go between.16And he's brought up that bonny boy,Calld him his sister's son;He thought nae man would eer find outThe deed that he had done.17But it sae fell out upon a time,As a hunting they did gay,That they rested them in Silver Wood,Upon a summer-day.18Then out it spake that bonny boy,While the tear stood in his eye,'O tell me this now, Jellon Grame,And I pray you dinna lie.19'The reason that my mother dearDoes never take me hame?To keep me still in banishmentIs baith a sin and shame.'20'You wonder that your mother dearDoes never send for thee;Lo, there's the place I slew thy mother,Beneath that green oak tree.'21Wi that the boy has bent his bow,It was baith stout and lang,And through and thro him Jellon GrameHe's gard an arrow gang.22Says, Lye you thare now, Jellon Grame,My mellison you wi;The place my mother lies buried inIs far too good for thee.

1O Jellon Grame sat in Silver Wood,He whistled and he sang,And he has calld his little foot-page,His errand for to gang.

2'Win up, my bonny boy,' he says,'As quick as eer you may;For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower,Before the break of day.'

3The boy he's buckled his belt about,And thro the green-wood ran,And he came to the ladie's bower-door,Before the day did dawn.

4'O sleep ye, or wake ye, Lillie Flower?The red run's i the rain:''I sleep not aft, I wake right aft;Wha's that that kens my name?'

5'Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood,But I fear you'll never win hame;Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood,And speak wi Jellon Grame.'

6'O I will gang to Silver Wood,Though I shoud never win hame;For the thing I most desire on earthIs to speak wi Jellon Grame.'

7She had no ridden a mile, a mile,A mile but barely three,Ere she came to a new made grave,Beneath a green oak tree.

8O then up started Jellon Grame,Out of a bush hard bye:'Light down, light down now, Lillie Flower,For it's here that ye maun ly.'

9She lighted aff her milk-white steed,And knelt upon her knee:'O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame!For I'm nae prepar'd to die.

10'Your bairn, that stirs between my sides,Maun shortly see the light;But to see it weltring in my bludeWoud be a piteous sight.'

11'O shoud I spare your life,' he says,'Until that bairn be born,I ken fu well your stern fatherWoud hang me on the morn.'

12'O spare my life now, Jellon Grame!My father ye neer need dread;I'll keep my bairn i the good green wood,Or wi it I'll beg my bread.'

13He took nae pity on that ladie,Tho she for life did pray;But pierced her thro the fair body,As at his feet she lay.

14He felt nae pity for that ladie,Tho she was lying dead;But he felt some for the bonny boy,Lay weltring in her blude.

15Up has he taen that bonny boy,Gien him to nurices nine,Three to wake, and three to sleep,And three to go between.

16And he's brought up that bonny boy,Calld him his sister's son;He thought nae man would eer find outThe deed that he had done.

17But it sae fell out upon a time,As a hunting they did gay,That they rested them in Silver Wood,Upon a summer-day.

18Then out it spake that bonny boy,While the tear stood in his eye,'O tell me this now, Jellon Grame,And I pray you dinna lie.

19'The reason that my mother dearDoes never take me hame?To keep me still in banishmentIs baith a sin and shame.'

20'You wonder that your mother dearDoes never send for thee;Lo, there's the place I slew thy mother,Beneath that green oak tree.'

21Wi that the boy has bent his bow,It was baith stout and lang,And through and thro him Jellon GrameHe's gard an arrow gang.

22Says, Lye you thare now, Jellon Grame,My mellison you wi;The place my mother lies buried inIs far too good for thee.

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