A

J'en suis au désespoir, j'en ferai pénitence;Serai pendant sept ans sans mettr' chemise blanche,Et coucherai sept ans sous une épine blanche.

or,

Et j'aurai sous l'épin', pour toit, rien qu'une branche.

Vaugeois, Histoire des Antiquités de la Ville de l'Aigle, p. 585, repeated in Bosquet, La Normandie Romanesque, p. 83, Beaurepaire, Poésie p. en Normandie, p. 78; Haupt, Französische Volkslieder, p. 20, Souvestre, in Revue des Deux Mondes, 1849, Avril, p. 106, and Les Derniers Paysans, p. 36, ed. 1871.

The king, in 'Kong Valdemar og hans Søster,' Grundtvig, No 126,A,B,C, will live in a dark house where he shall never see fire nor light, nor shall the sun ever shine on him, till he has expiated his monstrous cruelty to his sister.

So the marquis, in the Romance del Marques de Mántua, swears, till he has avenged the death of Valdovinos,

de nunca peinar mis canas,ni las mis barbas cortar,de no vestir otras ropas,ni renovar mi calzar, etc.

Wolf and Hofmann, Primavera, No 165, II, 192.

F, Jamieson's version, connects 'Clerk Saunders' with a Scandinavian ballad,[103]which seems to be preserved in abbreviated and sometimes perverted forms, also by other races. Full forms of this Northern ballad are:

Icelandic, 'Ólöfar kvaeði,' eight versions,A-H, Íslenzk Fornkvæði, No 34, I, 332.

Färöe, 'Faðir og dottir,' communicated by Hammershaimb to the Antiquarisk Tidsskrift, 1849-51, p. 88.

Norwegian, 'Far aa dótter,' Bugge, Gamle Norske Folkeviser, p. 115,A(with two fragments,B,C).

A father [king, IcelandicA-H] asks his daughter if she is ready to marry. She has no such thought.[104][She swore by God, by man, that she had never had the thought, had no private connection, was as clear as a nun; but nobody knew what was in her mind: Färöe.] Who, then, he asks, is the fair knight that rode to your bower? No fair knight, but one of her knaves. Whose was that horse I saw at your door? It was no horse, but a hind from the fell. Who was that fair knight you kissed at the spring? It was no knight, but her maid that she kissed. Does her maid wear a sword at her side? It was no sword, but a bunch of keys. Does her maid wear spurs? It was no spurs, but gold on her shoes. Has her maid short hair? Her plaits were coiled on her head. Does she wear short clothes, like men? Maids hold up their coats when there is a dew. What babe was crying in her chamber? It was no babe, but her dog. What was that cradle standing by her bed? It was no cradle, but her little silk-loom.

In the Färöe ballad the father then rides to the wood, meets a knight, cuts him in two, hangs his foot, hand, and head to his saddle, and returns. Do you know this foot? he asks. It has often found the way to her chamber. Do you know this hand? Many a night it has lain on her arm. Do you know this head? Many a kiss have the lips had. In the other versions these bloody tokens are produced on the spot, with a more startling effect. The daughter wishes a fire in her father's house, him in it, and herself looking on. Instantly a blaze bursts forth, the king is burnt up, and all that belongs to him. The daughter sets the fire herself in the Färöe and the Norwegian ballad. She dies of grief in IcelandicC, takes to the wood inE,F,[105]goes into a cloister inD,G(cf. EnglishC).

A briefer form of this same story is 'Den grymma Brodern,' Afzelius, No 86, III, 107. In this a brother takes the place of the father. After several questions he asks his sister if she knows the man's hand that hangs at his saddle. She bursts out into an exclamation ofgrief. 'Thore och hans Syster,' Arwidsson, No 55, I, 358,[106] has lost its proper conclusion, for we have not come to the conclusion when the brother says that his sister's false inventions will never give out till the sea wants water, a comment which we also find in the Färöe ballad (where, however, it is misplaced). This is the case, also, with 'Det hurtige Svar,' Danske Viser, No 204, IV, 228[106]and 362, but in the Danish ballad a perversion towards the comic has begun, the end being:

'Brother, would you question more,I have answers still in store.''When women lack a quick reply,The German Ocean shall be dry.'

'Brother, would you question more,I have answers still in store.'

'When women lack a quick reply,The German Ocean shall be dry.'

In aSpanishandPortugueseromance a woman has received a lover in the absence of her husband. The husband returns before he is expected, and puts questions similar to those in the ballads already spoken of: whose horse, lance, sword, is this? whose spurs, whose arms are these? and is answered after the same fashion. There is considerable variety in the conclusion; the husband kills his wife, kills the paramour, kills both, both he and his rival lose their lives, the wife dies of fright, or is even pardoned. Spanish: 'De Blanca-Niña,' Wolf and Hofmann, Primavera, No 136, II, 52; 'Romance del Conde Lombardo,' the same, No 136 a, II, 53; 'La adúltera castigada,' Milá, Romancerillo, No 254,A-M, pp 241-45; 'Lo retorn soptat,' Briz, IV, 183; Fernan Caballero, La Gaviota, p. 82, ed. Leipzig, 1868.[107]

In an Illyrian ballad, husband, wife, and a young Clerk are the parties. Three watches are set to give notice of the husband's return, one in the field, one in the house-court, one before the chamber. They give due warning, but the woman, like Lady Barnard, in 'Little Musgrave,' will not heed. After some questions and evasions the husband strikes off her head: 'Nevérnost,' Vraz, Narodne Pésni Ilirske, p. 72; 'Bestrafte Untreue,' A. Grün, Volkslieder aus Krain, p. 41.

Nothing could be easier than to give these questions, prevarications, and comments a humorous turn, and this is done in a large number of ballads: see 'Our good man came hame at een.'

The two ballads which immediately follow have connections with 'Clerk Saunders.'

Scott's copy is translated by Schubart, p. 79; Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 45, Hausschatz, p. 202; Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 13.F, in Afzelius, III, 110.

Herd's MSS,a, I, 177;b, II, 419.

1Clark Sanders and May MargretWalkt ower yon graveld green,And sad and heavy was the love,I wat, it fell this twa between.2'A bed, a bed,' Clark Sanders said,'A bed, a bed for you and I;''Fye no, fye no,' the lady said,'Until the day we married be.3'For in it will come my seven brothers,And a' their torches burning bright;They'll say, We hae but ae sister,And here her lying wi a knight.'4'Ye'l take the sourde fray my scabbord,And lowly, lowly lift the gin,And you may say, your oth to save,You never let Clark Sanders in.5'Yele take a napken in your hand,And ye'l ty up baith your een,An ye may say, your oth to save,That ye saw na Sandy sen late yestreen.6'Yele take me in your armes twa,Yele carrey me ben into your bed,And ye may say, your oth to save,In your bower-floor I never tread.'7She has taen the sourde fray his scabbord,And lowly, lowly lifted the gin;She was to swear, her oth to save,She never let Clerk Sanders in.8She has tain a napkin in her hand,And she ty'd up baith her eeen;She was to swear, her oth to save,She saw na him sene late yestreen.9She has taen him in her armes twa,And carried him ben into her bed;She was to swear, her oth to save,He never in her bower-floor tread.10In and came her seven brothers,And all their torches burning bright;Says thay, We hae but ae sister,And see there her lying wi a knight.11Out and speaks the first of them,'A wat they hay been lovers dear;'Out and speaks the next of them,'They hay been in love this many a year.'12Out an speaks the third of them,'It wear great sin this twa to twain;'Out an speaks the fourth of them,'It wear a sin to kill a sleeping man.'13Out an speaks the fifth of them,'A wat they'll near be twaind by me;'Out an speaks the sixt of them,'We'l tak our leave an gae our way.'14Out an speaks the seventh of them,'Altho there wear no a man but me,. . . . . . .I bear the brand, I'le gar him die.'15Out he has taen a bright long brand,And he has striped it throw the straw,And throw and throw Clarke Sanders' bodyA wat he has gard cold iron gae.16Sanders he started, an Margret she lapt,Intill his arms whare she lay,And well and wellsom was the night,A wat it was between these twa.17And they lay still, and sleeped sound,Untill the day began to daw;And kindly till him she did say'It's time, trew-love, ye wear awa.'18They lay still, and sleeped sound,Untill the sun began to shine;She lookt between her and the wa,And dull and heavy was his eeen.19She thought it had been a loathsome sweat,A wat it had fallen this twa between;But it was the blood of his fair body,A wat his life days wair na lang.20'O Sanders, I'le do for your sakeWhat other ladys would na thoule;When seven years is come and gone,There's near a shoe go on my sole.21'O Sanders, I'le do for your sakeWhat other ladies would think mare;When seven years is come an gone,Ther's nere a comb go in my hair.22'O Sanders, I'le do for your sakeWhat other ladies would think lack;When seven years is come an gone,I'le wear nought but dowy black.'23The bells gaed clinking throw the towne,To carry the dead corps to the clay,An sighing says her May Margret,'A wat I bide a doulfou day.'24In an come her father dear,Stout steping on the floor;. . . . . . .. . . . . . .25'Hold your toung, my doughter dear,Let all your mourning a bee;I'le carry the dead corps to the clay,An I'le come back an comfort thee.'26'Comfort well your seven sons,For comforted will I never bee;For it was neither lord nor louneThat was in bower last night wi mee.'

1Clark Sanders and May MargretWalkt ower yon graveld green,And sad and heavy was the love,I wat, it fell this twa between.

2'A bed, a bed,' Clark Sanders said,'A bed, a bed for you and I;''Fye no, fye no,' the lady said,'Until the day we married be.

3'For in it will come my seven brothers,And a' their torches burning bright;They'll say, We hae but ae sister,And here her lying wi a knight.'

4'Ye'l take the sourde fray my scabbord,And lowly, lowly lift the gin,And you may say, your oth to save,You never let Clark Sanders in.

5'Yele take a napken in your hand,And ye'l ty up baith your een,An ye may say, your oth to save,That ye saw na Sandy sen late yestreen.

6'Yele take me in your armes twa,Yele carrey me ben into your bed,And ye may say, your oth to save,In your bower-floor I never tread.'

7She has taen the sourde fray his scabbord,And lowly, lowly lifted the gin;She was to swear, her oth to save,She never let Clerk Sanders in.

8She has tain a napkin in her hand,And she ty'd up baith her eeen;She was to swear, her oth to save,She saw na him sene late yestreen.

9She has taen him in her armes twa,And carried him ben into her bed;She was to swear, her oth to save,He never in her bower-floor tread.

10In and came her seven brothers,And all their torches burning bright;Says thay, We hae but ae sister,And see there her lying wi a knight.

11Out and speaks the first of them,'A wat they hay been lovers dear;'Out and speaks the next of them,'They hay been in love this many a year.'

12Out an speaks the third of them,'It wear great sin this twa to twain;'Out an speaks the fourth of them,'It wear a sin to kill a sleeping man.'

13Out an speaks the fifth of them,'A wat they'll near be twaind by me;'Out an speaks the sixt of them,'We'l tak our leave an gae our way.'

14Out an speaks the seventh of them,'Altho there wear no a man but me,. . . . . . .I bear the brand, I'le gar him die.'

15Out he has taen a bright long brand,And he has striped it throw the straw,And throw and throw Clarke Sanders' bodyA wat he has gard cold iron gae.

16Sanders he started, an Margret she lapt,Intill his arms whare she lay,And well and wellsom was the night,A wat it was between these twa.

17And they lay still, and sleeped sound,Untill the day began to daw;And kindly till him she did say'It's time, trew-love, ye wear awa.'

18They lay still, and sleeped sound,Untill the sun began to shine;She lookt between her and the wa,And dull and heavy was his eeen.

19She thought it had been a loathsome sweat,A wat it had fallen this twa between;But it was the blood of his fair body,A wat his life days wair na lang.

20'O Sanders, I'le do for your sakeWhat other ladys would na thoule;When seven years is come and gone,There's near a shoe go on my sole.

21'O Sanders, I'le do for your sakeWhat other ladies would think mare;When seven years is come an gone,Ther's nere a comb go in my hair.

22'O Sanders, I'le do for your sakeWhat other ladies would think lack;When seven years is come an gone,I'le wear nought but dowy black.'

23The bells gaed clinking throw the towne,To carry the dead corps to the clay,An sighing says her May Margret,'A wat I bide a doulfou day.'

24In an come her father dear,Stout steping on the floor;. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

25'Hold your toung, my doughter dear,Let all your mourning a bee;I'le carry the dead corps to the clay,An I'le come back an comfort thee.'

26'Comfort well your seven sons,For comforted will I never bee;For it was neither lord nor louneThat was in bower last night wi mee.'

Herd's MSS,a, I, 163;b, II, 46.

1Clerk Saunders and a gay ladyWas walking in yonder green,And heavy, heavy was the loveThat fell this twa lovers between.2'A bed, a bed,' Clerk Saunders said,'And ay a bed for you and me;''Never a ane,' said the gay lady,'Till ance we twa married be.3'There would come a' my seven brethern,And a' their torches burning bright,And say, We hae but ae sister,And behad, she's lying wi you the night.'4'You'll take a napkain in your hand,And then you will tie up your een;Then you may swear, and safe your aith,You sawna Sandy sin yestreen.5'You'll take me up upo your back,And then you'll carry me to your bed;Then you may swear, and save your aith,Your board [-floor] Sandy never tred.'6She's taen him upo her back,And she's carried him unto her bed,That she might swear, and safe her aith,Her board-floor Sandy never tread.7She's taen a napkin in her hand,And lo she did tie up her een,That she might swear, and safe her aith,She sawna Sandy syne yestreen.8They were na weel into the room,Nor yet laid weel into the bed,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .9When in came a' her seven brethern,And a' their torches burning bright;Says they, We hae but ae sister,And behold, she's lying wi you this night.10'I,' bespake the first o them,A wat an ill death mat he die!'I bear a brand into my handShall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.'11'I,' bespake the second of them,A wat a good death mat he die!'We will gae back, let him alane,His father has nae mair but he.'12'I,' bespake the third o them,A wat an ill death mat he die!'I bear the brand into my handShall quickly help to gar him die.'13'I,' bespake the fourth o them,A wat a good death mat he die!'I bear the brand into my handShall never help to gar him die.'14'I,' bespake the fifth o them,A wat an ill death mat he die!'Altho his father hae nae mair,I'll quickly help to gar him die.'15'I,' bespake the sixth o them,A wat a good death mat he die!'He's a worthy earl's son,I'll never help to gar him die.'16'I,' bespake the seventh of them,A wat an ill death mat he die!'I bear the brand into my handShall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.'17They baith lay still, and sleeped sound,Untill the sun began to sheen;She drew the curtains a wee bit,And dull and drowsie was his een.18'This night,' said she, 'the sleepiest manThat ever my twa eyes did seeHay lyen by me, and sweat the sheets;A wite they're a great shame to see.'19She rowd the claiths a' to the foot,And then she spied his deadly wounds:'O wae be to my seven brethern,A wat an ill death mat they die!20'I'm sure it was neither rogue nor lounI had into my bed wi me;'T was Clerk Saunders, that good earl's son,That pledgd his faith to marry me.'

1Clerk Saunders and a gay ladyWas walking in yonder green,And heavy, heavy was the loveThat fell this twa lovers between.

2'A bed, a bed,' Clerk Saunders said,'And ay a bed for you and me;''Never a ane,' said the gay lady,'Till ance we twa married be.

3'There would come a' my seven brethern,And a' their torches burning bright,And say, We hae but ae sister,And behad, she's lying wi you the night.'

4'You'll take a napkain in your hand,And then you will tie up your een;Then you may swear, and safe your aith,You sawna Sandy sin yestreen.

5'You'll take me up upo your back,And then you'll carry me to your bed;Then you may swear, and save your aith,Your board [-floor] Sandy never tred.'

6She's taen him upo her back,And she's carried him unto her bed,That she might swear, and safe her aith,Her board-floor Sandy never tread.

7She's taen a napkin in her hand,And lo she did tie up her een,That she might swear, and safe her aith,She sawna Sandy syne yestreen.

8They were na weel into the room,Nor yet laid weel into the bed,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

9When in came a' her seven brethern,And a' their torches burning bright;Says they, We hae but ae sister,And behold, she's lying wi you this night.

10'I,' bespake the first o them,A wat an ill death mat he die!'I bear a brand into my handShall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.'

11'I,' bespake the second of them,A wat a good death mat he die!'We will gae back, let him alane,His father has nae mair but he.'

12'I,' bespake the third o them,A wat an ill death mat he die!'I bear the brand into my handShall quickly help to gar him die.'

13'I,' bespake the fourth o them,A wat a good death mat he die!'I bear the brand into my handShall never help to gar him die.'

14'I,' bespake the fifth o them,A wat an ill death mat he die!'Altho his father hae nae mair,I'll quickly help to gar him die.'

15'I,' bespake the sixth o them,A wat a good death mat he die!'He's a worthy earl's son,I'll never help to gar him die.'

16'I,' bespake the seventh of them,A wat an ill death mat he die!'I bear the brand into my handShall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.'

17They baith lay still, and sleeped sound,Untill the sun began to sheen;She drew the curtains a wee bit,And dull and drowsie was his een.

18'This night,' said she, 'the sleepiest manThat ever my twa eyes did seeHay lyen by me, and sweat the sheets;A wite they're a great shame to see.'

19She rowd the claiths a' to the foot,And then she spied his deadly wounds:'O wae be to my seven brethern,A wat an ill death mat they die!

20'I'm sure it was neither rogue nor lounI had into my bed wi me;'T was Clerk Saunders, that good earl's son,That pledgd his faith to marry me.'

Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p. 233, a North Country version.

1It was a sad and a rainy nichtAs ever raind frae toun to toun;Clerk Saunders and his lady gayThey were in the fields sae broun.2'A bed, a bed,' Clerk Saunders cried,'A bed, a bed, let me lie doun;For I am sae weet and sae wearieThat I canna gae nor ride frae toun.'3'A bed, a bed,' his lady cried,'A bed, a bed, ye'll neer get nane;. . . . . . .. . . . . . .4'For I hae seven bauld brethren,Bauld are they, and very rude;And if they find ye in bouer wi me,They winna care to spill your blude.'5'Ye'll tak a lang claith in your hand,Ye'll haud it up afore your een,That ye may swear, and save your aith,That ye saw na Sandy sin yestreen.6'And ye'll tak me in your arms twa,Ye'll carry me into your bed,That ye may swear, and save your aith,That in your bour-floor I never gaed.'7She's taen a lang claith in her hand,She's hauden 't up afore her een,That she might swear, and save her aith,That she saw na Sandy sin yestreen.8She has taen him in her arms twa,And carried him into her bed,That she might swear, and save her aith,That on her bour-floor he never gaed.9Then in there cam her firsten brother,Bauldly he cam steppin in:'Come here, come here, see what I see!We hae only but ae sister alive,And a knave is in bour her wi.'10Then in and cam her second brother,Says, Twa lovers are ill to twin;And in and cam her thirden brother,'O brother dear, I say the same.'11Then in and cam her fourthen brother,'It's a sin to kill a sleepin man;'And in and cam her fifthen brother,'O brother dear, I say the same.'12Then in and cam her sixthen brother,'I wat he's neer be steerd by me;'But in and cam her seventhen brother,'I bear the hand that sall gar him dee.'13Then out he drew a nut-brown sword,I wat he stript it to the stroe,And thro and thro Clerk Saunders' bodyI wat he garrd cauld iron go.14Then they lay there in ither's armsUntil the day began to daw;Then kindly to him she did say,'It's time, my dear, ye were awa.15'Ye are the sleepiest young man,' she said,'That ever my twa een did see;Ye've lain a' nicht into my arms,I'm sure it is a shame to be.'16She turnd the blankets to the foot,And turnd the sheets unto the wa,And there she saw his bluidy wound,. . . . . . .17'O wae be to my seventhen brother,I wat an ill death mot he dee!He's killd Clerk Saunders, an earl's son,I wat he's killd him unto me.'18Then in and cam her father dear,Cannie cam he steppin in;Says, Haud your tongue, my dochter dear,What need you mak sic heavy meane?19'We'll carry Clerk Saunders to his grave,And syne come back and comfort thee:''O comfort weel your seven sons, father,For man sall never comfort me;Ye'll marrie me wi the Queen o Heaven,For man sall never enjoy me.'

1It was a sad and a rainy nichtAs ever raind frae toun to toun;Clerk Saunders and his lady gayThey were in the fields sae broun.

2'A bed, a bed,' Clerk Saunders cried,'A bed, a bed, let me lie doun;For I am sae weet and sae wearieThat I canna gae nor ride frae toun.'

3'A bed, a bed,' his lady cried,'A bed, a bed, ye'll neer get nane;. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

4'For I hae seven bauld brethren,Bauld are they, and very rude;And if they find ye in bouer wi me,They winna care to spill your blude.'

5'Ye'll tak a lang claith in your hand,Ye'll haud it up afore your een,That ye may swear, and save your aith,That ye saw na Sandy sin yestreen.

6'And ye'll tak me in your arms twa,Ye'll carry me into your bed,That ye may swear, and save your aith,That in your bour-floor I never gaed.'

7She's taen a lang claith in her hand,She's hauden 't up afore her een,That she might swear, and save her aith,That she saw na Sandy sin yestreen.

8She has taen him in her arms twa,And carried him into her bed,That she might swear, and save her aith,That on her bour-floor he never gaed.

9Then in there cam her firsten brother,Bauldly he cam steppin in:'Come here, come here, see what I see!We hae only but ae sister alive,And a knave is in bour her wi.'

10Then in and cam her second brother,Says, Twa lovers are ill to twin;And in and cam her thirden brother,'O brother dear, I say the same.'

11Then in and cam her fourthen brother,'It's a sin to kill a sleepin man;'And in and cam her fifthen brother,'O brother dear, I say the same.'

12Then in and cam her sixthen brother,'I wat he's neer be steerd by me;'But in and cam her seventhen brother,'I bear the hand that sall gar him dee.'

13Then out he drew a nut-brown sword,I wat he stript it to the stroe,And thro and thro Clerk Saunders' bodyI wat he garrd cauld iron go.

14Then they lay there in ither's armsUntil the day began to daw;Then kindly to him she did say,'It's time, my dear, ye were awa.

15'Ye are the sleepiest young man,' she said,'That ever my twa een did see;Ye've lain a' nicht into my arms,I'm sure it is a shame to be.'

16She turnd the blankets to the foot,And turnd the sheets unto the wa,And there she saw his bluidy wound,. . . . . . .

17'O wae be to my seventhen brother,I wat an ill death mot he dee!He's killd Clerk Saunders, an earl's son,I wat he's killd him unto me.'

18Then in and cam her father dear,Cannie cam he steppin in;Says, Haud your tongue, my dochter dear,What need you mak sic heavy meane?

19'We'll carry Clerk Saunders to his grave,And syne come back and comfort thee:''O comfort weel your seven sons, father,For man sall never comfort me;Ye'll marrie me wi the Queen o Heaven,For man sall never enjoy me.'

Motherwell's MS., p. 196, from the recitation of Mrs Thomson.

* * * * *1'O I have seven bold brethren,And they are all valiant men,If they knew a man that would tread my bowerHis life should not go along wi him.'2'Then take me up into your arms,And lay me low down on your bed,That ye may swear, and keep your oath clear,That your bower-room I did na tread.3'Tie a handkerchief round your face,And you must tye it wondrous keen,That you may swear, and keep your oath clear,Ye saw na me since late yestreen.'4But they were scarsley gone to bed,Nor scarse fa'n owre asleep,Till up and started her seven brethren,Just at Lord Saunders' feet.5Out bespoke the first brither,'Oh but love be wondrous keen!'Out bespoke the second brither,'It's ill done to kill a sleeping man.'6Out bespoke the third brither,'We had better gae and let him be;'Out bespoke the fourth brither,'He'll no be killd this night for me:'7Out bespoke the fifth brother,'This night Lord Saunders he shall die;Tho there were not a man in all Scotland,This night Lord Saunders he shall die.'8He took out a rousty rapier,And he drew it three times thro the strae;Between Lord Saunders' short rib and his sideHe gard the rusty rapier gae.9'Awake, awake, Lord Saunders,' she said,'Awake, awake, for sin and shame!For the day is light, and the sun shines bricht,And I am afraid we will be taen.10'Awake, awake, Lord Saunders,' she said,'Awake, awake, for sin and shame!For the sheets they are asweat,' she said,'And I am afraid we will be taen.11'I dreamed a dreary dream last night,I wish it may be for our good,That I was cutting my yellow hair,And dipping it in the wells o blood.'12Aye she waukened at this dead man,Aye she put on him to and fro;Oh aye she waukend at this dead man,But of his death she did not know.* * * * *13'It's I will do for my love's sakeWhat many ladies would think lang;Seven years shall come and goBefore a glove go on my hand.14'And I will do for my love's sakeWhat many ladies would not do;Seven years shall come and goBefore I wear stocking or shoe.15'Ther'll neer a shirt go on my back,There'll neer a kame go in my hair,There'll never coal nor candle-lightShine in my bower nae mair.'

* * * * *

1'O I have seven bold brethren,And they are all valiant men,If they knew a man that would tread my bowerHis life should not go along wi him.'

2'Then take me up into your arms,And lay me low down on your bed,That ye may swear, and keep your oath clear,That your bower-room I did na tread.

3'Tie a handkerchief round your face,And you must tye it wondrous keen,That you may swear, and keep your oath clear,Ye saw na me since late yestreen.'

4But they were scarsley gone to bed,Nor scarse fa'n owre asleep,Till up and started her seven brethren,Just at Lord Saunders' feet.

5Out bespoke the first brither,'Oh but love be wondrous keen!'Out bespoke the second brither,'It's ill done to kill a sleeping man.'

6Out bespoke the third brither,'We had better gae and let him be;'Out bespoke the fourth brither,'He'll no be killd this night for me:'

7Out bespoke the fifth brother,'This night Lord Saunders he shall die;Tho there were not a man in all Scotland,This night Lord Saunders he shall die.'

8He took out a rousty rapier,And he drew it three times thro the strae;Between Lord Saunders' short rib and his sideHe gard the rusty rapier gae.

9'Awake, awake, Lord Saunders,' she said,'Awake, awake, for sin and shame!For the day is light, and the sun shines bricht,And I am afraid we will be taen.

10'Awake, awake, Lord Saunders,' she said,'Awake, awake, for sin and shame!For the sheets they are asweat,' she said,'And I am afraid we will be taen.

11'I dreamed a dreary dream last night,I wish it may be for our good,That I was cutting my yellow hair,And dipping it in the wells o blood.'

12Aye she waukened at this dead man,Aye she put on him to and fro;Oh aye she waukend at this dead man,But of his death she did not know.

* * * * *

13'It's I will do for my love's sakeWhat many ladies would think lang;Seven years shall come and goBefore a glove go on my hand.

14'And I will do for my love's sakeWhat many ladies would not do;Seven years shall come and goBefore I wear stocking or shoe.

15'Ther'll neer a shirt go on my back,There'll neer a kame go in my hair,There'll never coal nor candle-lightShine in my bower nae mair.'

Motherwell MS., p. 199, from Widow Smith, George Street, Paisley.

1An ensign and a lady gay,As they were walking on a green,The ensign said to the lady gay,Will you tak me to your bower at een?2'I have seven bluidy brithers,Och and to you they have nae good will;And if they catch you in my bower,They'll value not your bluid to spill.'3'O you may take me on your back,And carry me to your chamber-bed,That I may swear, and avow richt clear,That your flowery bower I did never tread.4'O take a napkin from your pocket,And with it blindfold my een,That I may swear, and avow richt clear,That your flowery bower I have never seen.'5O she's taen him upon her back,And carried him to her chamber-bed,That he might swear, and avow it clear,That her flowery [bower] he did never tread.6O she's taen a napkin from her pocket,And with it blinded baith his een,That he might swear, and avow it clear,That her flowery bower he had never seen.7They were not well into their bed,Nor were they scarsely fallen asleep,Till in there came her seven bluidy brithers,And placed themselves at the ensign's feet.8Said the first one to the second,'Och it is long since this love began;'Said the second unto the third,'It's a sin to kill a sleeping man.'9Said the third one to the fourth,'I will go to yon tavern hie;'Said [the] fourth one to the fifth,'O if you will go, so will I.'10Said the fifth to the sixth,'Och it's long since this love began;'Said the sixth to the seventh,'It's a sin to kill a sleeping man.'11Out then spoke the seventh bluidy brither,Aye and an angry man was he:'Altho there was no more men alive,The ensign's butcher I will be.'12He's taen out his rusty broad-sword,And ran it three times along his throat,And thro and thro the ensign's bodyThe tempered steel it went thro and thro.13'O I have dreamed a dream,' she said,'And such an dreams cannot be good;I dreamed my bower was full of swine,And the ensign's clothes all dipped in blood.14'I have dreamed another dream,And such an dreams are never good;That I was combing down my yellow hair,And dipping it in the ensign's blood.'15'O hold your tongue, my sister dear,And of your weeping let a be;For I will get you a better matchThan eer the ensign, what was he?'16'So woe be to you, my seven bluidy brithers,Aye and an ill death may you die!For you durst not fight him in battle-field,But you killed him sleeping in bed wi me.17'I'll do more for my love's sakeThat other lovers would not incline;Seven years shall come and goBefore I wash this face of mine.18'I will do for my love's sakeWhat other lovers would not repair;Seven years shall come and goBefore I comb down my yellow hair.19'I'll do more for my love's sake,What other lovers will not do;Seven years shall come and goBefore I cast off stocking and shoe.20'I will do for my love's sakeWhat other lovers they will be slack;Seven years shall come and goBefore I cast off my robes of black.21'Go make to me a high, high tower,Be sure you make it stout and strong,And on the top put an honour's gate,That my love's ghost may go out and in.'

1An ensign and a lady gay,As they were walking on a green,The ensign said to the lady gay,Will you tak me to your bower at een?

2'I have seven bluidy brithers,Och and to you they have nae good will;And if they catch you in my bower,They'll value not your bluid to spill.'

3'O you may take me on your back,And carry me to your chamber-bed,That I may swear, and avow richt clear,That your flowery bower I did never tread.

4'O take a napkin from your pocket,And with it blindfold my een,That I may swear, and avow richt clear,That your flowery bower I have never seen.'

5O she's taen him upon her back,And carried him to her chamber-bed,That he might swear, and avow it clear,That her flowery [bower] he did never tread.

6O she's taen a napkin from her pocket,And with it blinded baith his een,That he might swear, and avow it clear,That her flowery bower he had never seen.

7They were not well into their bed,Nor were they scarsely fallen asleep,Till in there came her seven bluidy brithers,And placed themselves at the ensign's feet.

8Said the first one to the second,'Och it is long since this love began;'Said the second unto the third,'It's a sin to kill a sleeping man.'

9Said the third one to the fourth,'I will go to yon tavern hie;'Said [the] fourth one to the fifth,'O if you will go, so will I.'

10Said the fifth to the sixth,'Och it's long since this love began;'Said the sixth to the seventh,'It's a sin to kill a sleeping man.'

11Out then spoke the seventh bluidy brither,Aye and an angry man was he:'Altho there was no more men alive,The ensign's butcher I will be.'

12He's taen out his rusty broad-sword,And ran it three times along his throat,And thro and thro the ensign's bodyThe tempered steel it went thro and thro.

13'O I have dreamed a dream,' she said,'And such an dreams cannot be good;I dreamed my bower was full of swine,And the ensign's clothes all dipped in blood.

14'I have dreamed another dream,And such an dreams are never good;That I was combing down my yellow hair,And dipping it in the ensign's blood.'

15'O hold your tongue, my sister dear,And of your weeping let a be;For I will get you a better matchThan eer the ensign, what was he?'

16'So woe be to you, my seven bluidy brithers,Aye and an ill death may you die!For you durst not fight him in battle-field,But you killed him sleeping in bed wi me.

17'I'll do more for my love's sakeThat other lovers would not incline;Seven years shall come and goBefore I wash this face of mine.

18'I will do for my love's sakeWhat other lovers would not repair;Seven years shall come and goBefore I comb down my yellow hair.

19'I'll do more for my love's sake,What other lovers will not do;Seven years shall come and goBefore I cast off stocking and shoe.

20'I will do for my love's sakeWhat other lovers they will be slack;Seven years shall come and goBefore I cast off my robes of black.

21'Go make to me a high, high tower,Be sure you make it stout and strong,And on the top put an honour's gate,That my love's ghost may go out and in.'

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 83, communicated by Mrs Arrot, of Aberbrothick, but enlarged from two fragments.

1Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,He livd upon sea-sand;May Margaret was a king's daughter,She livd in upper land.2Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,Weel learned at the scheel;May Margaret was a king's daughter,They baith loed ither weel.3He's throw the dark, and throw the mark,And throw the leaves o green,Till he came to May Margaret's door,And tirled at the pin.4'O sleep ye, wake ye, May Margaret,Or are ye the bower within?''O wha is that at my bower-door,Sae weel my name does ken?''It's I, Clerk Saunders, your true-love,You'll open and lat me in.5'O will ye to the cards, Margaret,Or to the table to dine?Or to the bed, that's weel down spread,And sleep when we get time?'6'I'll no go to the cards,' she says,'Nor to the table to dine;But I'll go to a bed, that's weel down spread,And sleep when we get time.'7They were not weel lyen down,And no weel fa'en asleep,When up and stood May Margaret's brethren,Just up at their bed-feet.8'O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,And dinna to us len,O wha is aught yon noble steed,That stands your stable in?'9'The steed is mine, and it may be thine,To ride whan ye ride in hie;. . . . . . .. . . . . . .10'But awa, awa, my bald brethren,Awa, and mak nae din;For I am as sick a lady the nichtAs eèr lay a bower within.'11'O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,And dinna to us len,O wha is aught yon noble hawk,That stands your kitchen in?'12'The hawk is mine, and it may be thine,To hawk whan ye hawk in hie;. . . . . . .. . . . . . .13'But awa, awa, my bald brethren,Awa, and mak nae din;For I'm ane o the sickest ladies this nichtThat eer lay a bower within.'14'O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,And dinna to us len,O wha is that, May Margaret,You and the wa between?'15'O it is my bower-maiden,' she says,'As sick as sick can be;O it is my bower-maiden,' she says,'And she's thrice as sick as me.'16'We hae been east, and we've been west,And low beneath the moon;But a' the bower-women eer we sawHadna goud buckles in their shoon.'17Then up and spak her eldest brither,Ay in ill time spak he:'It is Clerk Saunders, your true-love,And never mat I theBut for this scorn that he has doneThis moment he sall die.'18But up and spak her youngest brother,Ay in good time spak he:'O but they are a gudelie pair!True lovers an ye be,The sword that hangs at my sword-beltSall never sinder ye.'19Syne up and spak her nexten brother,And the tear stood in his ee:'You've loed her lang, and loed her weel,And pity it wad beThe sword that hangs at my sword-beltShoud ever sinder ye.'20But up and spak her fifthen brother:'Sleep on your sleep for me;But we baith sall never sleep again,For the tane o us sall die.'21And up and spak her thirden brother,Ay in ill time spak he:'Curse on his love and comeliness!Dishonourd as ye be,The sword that hangs at my sword-beltSall quickly sinder ye.'22The eldest brother has drawn his sword,The second has drawn anither,Between Clerk Saunders' hause and collar-baneThe cald iron met thegither.23'O wae be to you, my fause brethren,And an ill death mat ye die!Ye mith slain Clerk Saunders in open field,And no in bed wi me.'

1Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,He livd upon sea-sand;May Margaret was a king's daughter,She livd in upper land.

2Clerk Saunders was an earl's son,Weel learned at the scheel;May Margaret was a king's daughter,They baith loed ither weel.

3He's throw the dark, and throw the mark,And throw the leaves o green,Till he came to May Margaret's door,And tirled at the pin.

4'O sleep ye, wake ye, May Margaret,Or are ye the bower within?''O wha is that at my bower-door,Sae weel my name does ken?''It's I, Clerk Saunders, your true-love,You'll open and lat me in.

5'O will ye to the cards, Margaret,Or to the table to dine?Or to the bed, that's weel down spread,And sleep when we get time?'

6'I'll no go to the cards,' she says,'Nor to the table to dine;But I'll go to a bed, that's weel down spread,And sleep when we get time.'

7They were not weel lyen down,And no weel fa'en asleep,When up and stood May Margaret's brethren,Just up at their bed-feet.

8'O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,And dinna to us len,O wha is aught yon noble steed,That stands your stable in?'

9'The steed is mine, and it may be thine,To ride whan ye ride in hie;. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

10'But awa, awa, my bald brethren,Awa, and mak nae din;For I am as sick a lady the nichtAs eèr lay a bower within.'

11'O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,And dinna to us len,O wha is aught yon noble hawk,That stands your kitchen in?'

12'The hawk is mine, and it may be thine,To hawk whan ye hawk in hie;. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

13'But awa, awa, my bald brethren,Awa, and mak nae din;For I'm ane o the sickest ladies this nichtThat eer lay a bower within.'

14'O tell us, tell us, May Margaret,And dinna to us len,O wha is that, May Margaret,You and the wa between?'

15'O it is my bower-maiden,' she says,'As sick as sick can be;O it is my bower-maiden,' she says,'And she's thrice as sick as me.'

16'We hae been east, and we've been west,And low beneath the moon;But a' the bower-women eer we sawHadna goud buckles in their shoon.'

17Then up and spak her eldest brither,Ay in ill time spak he:'It is Clerk Saunders, your true-love,And never mat I theBut for this scorn that he has doneThis moment he sall die.'

18But up and spak her youngest brother,Ay in good time spak he:'O but they are a gudelie pair!True lovers an ye be,The sword that hangs at my sword-beltSall never sinder ye.'

19Syne up and spak her nexten brother,And the tear stood in his ee:'You've loed her lang, and loed her weel,And pity it wad beThe sword that hangs at my sword-beltShoud ever sinder ye.'

20But up and spak her fifthen brother:'Sleep on your sleep for me;But we baith sall never sleep again,For the tane o us sall die.'

21And up and spak her thirden brother,Ay in ill time spak he:'Curse on his love and comeliness!Dishonourd as ye be,The sword that hangs at my sword-beltSall quickly sinder ye.'

22The eldest brother has drawn his sword,The second has drawn anither,Between Clerk Saunders' hause and collar-baneThe cald iron met thegither.

23'O wae be to you, my fause brethren,And an ill death mat ye die!Ye mith slain Clerk Saunders in open field,And no in bed wi me.'

Back to Index Next