Motherwell MS., p. 290, from the recitation of Widow McCormick; learned in Dumbarton.
Motherwell MS., p. 290, from the recitation of Widow McCormick; learned in Dumbarton.
*  *  *  *  *1'It's hold your hand, dear judge,' she says,'O hold your hand for a while!For yonder I see my father a coming,Riding many's the mile.2'Have you any gold, father?' she says,'Or have you any fee?Or did you come to see your own daughter a hanging,Like a dog, upon a tree?'3'I have no gold, daughter,' he says,'Neither have I any fee;But I am come to see my ain daughter hanged,And hanged she shall be.'4'Hey the broom, and the bonny, bonny broom,The broom o the Cauthery Knowes!I wish I were at hame again,Milking my ain daddie's ewes.5'Hold your hand, dear judge,' she says,'O hold your hand for a while!For yonder I see my own mother coming,Riding full many a mile.6'Have you any gold, mother?' she says,'Or have you any fee?Or did you come to see your own daughter hanged,Like a dog, upon a tree?'7'I have no gold, daughter,' she says,'Neither have I any fee;But I am come to see my own daughter hanged,And hanged she shall be.'8'Hey the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom,The broom o the Cauthery Knowes!I wish I were at hame again,Milking my ain daddie's ewes.9'Hold your hand, dear judge,' she says,'O hold your hand for a while!For yonder I see my ae brother a coming,Riding many's the mile.10'Have you any gold, brother?' she says,'Or have you any fee?Or did you come to see your ain sister a hanging,Like a dog, upon a tree?'11'I have no gold, sister,' he says,'Nor have I any fee;But I am come to see my ain sister hanged,And hanged she shall be.'12'Hey the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom,The broom o the Cathery Knowes!I wish I were at hame again,Milking my ain daddie's ewes.13'Hold your hand, dear judge,' she says,'O hold your hand for a while!For yonder I see my own true-love coming,Riding full many a mile.14'Have you any gold, my true-love?' she says,'Or have you any fee?Or have you come to see your own love hanged,Like a dog, upon a tree?'*  *  *  *  *
*  *  *  *  *
1'It's hold your hand, dear judge,' she says,'O hold your hand for a while!For yonder I see my father a coming,Riding many's the mile.
2'Have you any gold, father?' she says,'Or have you any fee?Or did you come to see your own daughter a hanging,Like a dog, upon a tree?'
3'I have no gold, daughter,' he says,'Neither have I any fee;But I am come to see my ain daughter hanged,And hanged she shall be.'
4'Hey the broom, and the bonny, bonny broom,The broom o the Cauthery Knowes!I wish I were at hame again,Milking my ain daddie's ewes.
5'Hold your hand, dear judge,' she says,'O hold your hand for a while!For yonder I see my own mother coming,Riding full many a mile.
6'Have you any gold, mother?' she says,'Or have you any fee?Or did you come to see your own daughter hanged,Like a dog, upon a tree?'
7'I have no gold, daughter,' she says,'Neither have I any fee;But I am come to see my own daughter hanged,And hanged she shall be.'
8'Hey the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom,The broom o the Cauthery Knowes!I wish I were at hame again,Milking my ain daddie's ewes.
9'Hold your hand, dear judge,' she says,'O hold your hand for a while!For yonder I see my ae brother a coming,Riding many's the mile.
10'Have you any gold, brother?' she says,'Or have you any fee?Or did you come to see your ain sister a hanging,Like a dog, upon a tree?'
11'I have no gold, sister,' he says,'Nor have I any fee;But I am come to see my ain sister hanged,And hanged she shall be.'
12'Hey the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom,The broom o the Cathery Knowes!I wish I were at hame again,Milking my ain daddie's ewes.
13'Hold your hand, dear judge,' she says,'O hold your hand for a while!For yonder I see my own true-love coming,Riding full many a mile.
14'Have you any gold, my true-love?' she says,'Or have you any fee?Or have you come to see your own love hanged,Like a dog, upon a tree?'
*  *  *  *  *
Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VII, 275, 1883: communicated by the Rev. E. Venables, Precentor of Lincoln, as sung by a nurse-maid from Woburn, near High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire, "between fifty and sixty years ago."
Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VII, 275, 1883: communicated by the Rev. E. Venables, Precentor of Lincoln, as sung by a nurse-maid from Woburn, near High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire, "between fifty and sixty years ago."
1'Hold up thy hand, most righteous judge,Hold up thy hand a while!For here I see my own dear father,Come tumbling over the stile.2'Oh hast thou brought me silver or gold,Or jewels, to set me free?Or hast thou come to see me hung?For hanged I shall be.3'If I could get out of this prickly bush,That prickles my heart so sore,If I could get out of this prickly bush,I'd never get in it no more.'4'Oh I have brought nor silver nor gold,Nor jewels, to set thee free;But I have come to see thee hung,For hanged thou shall be.*  *  *  *  *5'It's I have brought thee silver and gold,And jewels, to set thee free;I have not come to see thee hung,For hanged thou shall not be.'6'Now I have got out of this prickly bush,That prickled my heart so sore,And I have got out of this prickly bush,I'll never get in it no more.'
1'Hold up thy hand, most righteous judge,Hold up thy hand a while!For here I see my own dear father,Come tumbling over the stile.
2'Oh hast thou brought me silver or gold,Or jewels, to set me free?Or hast thou come to see me hung?For hanged I shall be.
3'If I could get out of this prickly bush,That prickles my heart so sore,If I could get out of this prickly bush,I'd never get in it no more.'
4'Oh I have brought nor silver nor gold,Nor jewels, to set thee free;But I have come to see thee hung,For hanged thou shall be.
*  *  *  *  *
5'It's I have brought thee silver and gold,And jewels, to set thee free;I have not come to see thee hung,For hanged thou shall not be.'
6'Now I have got out of this prickly bush,That prickled my heart so sore,And I have got out of this prickly bush,I'll never get in it no more.'
Skene MSS, p. 61, stanzas 19-24: taken down in the north or northeast of Scotland, 1802-03.
Skene MSS, p. 61, stanzas 19-24: taken down in the north or northeast of Scotland, 1802-03.
1. . . . . . .'O had your hand a while!For yonder comes my father,I'm sure he'l borrow me.2'O some of your goud, father,An of your well won fee!To save me [frae the high hill],[And] frae the gallow-tree.'3'Ye 's get nane of my goud,Nor of my well won fee,For I would gie five hundred pounTo see ye hangit hie.'4. . . . . . .'O had yer hand a while!Yonder is my love Willie,Sure he will borrow me.5'O some o your goud, my love Willie,An some o yer well won fee!To save me frae the high hill,And frae the gallow-tree.'6'Ye's get a' my goud,And a' my well won fee,To save ye fra the headin-hill,And frae the gallow-tree.'
1. . . . . . .'O had your hand a while!For yonder comes my father,I'm sure he'l borrow me.
2'O some of your goud, father,An of your well won fee!To save me [frae the high hill],[And] frae the gallow-tree.'
3'Ye 's get nane of my goud,Nor of my well won fee,For I would gie five hundred pounTo see ye hangit hie.'
4. . . . . . .'O had yer hand a while!Yonder is my love Willie,Sure he will borrow me.
5'O some o your goud, my love Willie,An some o yer well won fee!To save me frae the high hill,And frae the gallow-tree.'
6'Ye's get a' my goud,And a' my well won fee,To save ye fra the headin-hill,And frae the gallow-tree.'
Buchan's MSS, II, 186, stanzas 16-22.
Buchan's MSS, II, 186, stanzas 16-22.
1'Hold your hands, ye justice o peace,Hold them a little while!For yonder comes my father and mother,That 's travelld mony a mile.2'Gie me some o your gowd, parents,Some o your white monie,To save me frae the head o yon hill,Yon greenwood gallows-tree.'3'Ye 'll get nane o our gowd, daughter,Nor nane o our white monie,For we have travelld mony a mile,This day to see you die.'4'Hold your hands, ye justice o peace,Hold them a little while!For yonder comes him Warenston,The father of my chile.5'Give me some o your gowd, Warenston,Some o your white monie,To save me frae the head o yon hill,Yon greenwood gallows-tree.'6'I bade you nurse my bairn well,And nurse it carefullie,And gowd shoud been your hire, Maisry,And my body your fee.'7He's taen out a purse o gowd,Another o white monie,And he's tauld down ten thousand crowns,Says, True-love, gang wi me.
1'Hold your hands, ye justice o peace,Hold them a little while!For yonder comes my father and mother,That 's travelld mony a mile.
2'Gie me some o your gowd, parents,Some o your white monie,To save me frae the head o yon hill,Yon greenwood gallows-tree.'
3'Ye 'll get nane o our gowd, daughter,Nor nane o our white monie,For we have travelld mony a mile,This day to see you die.'
4'Hold your hands, ye justice o peace,Hold them a little while!For yonder comes him Warenston,The father of my chile.
5'Give me some o your gowd, Warenston,Some o your white monie,To save me frae the head o yon hill,Yon greenwood gallows-tree.'
6'I bade you nurse my bairn well,And nurse it carefullie,And gowd shoud been your hire, Maisry,And my body your fee.'
7He's taen out a purse o gowd,Another o white monie,And he's tauld down ten thousand crowns,Says, True-love, gang wi me.
Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VI, 476, 1882: "sung in Forfarshire, forty years ago."
Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VI, 476, 1882: "sung in Forfarshire, forty years ago."
1'Stop, stop, .... . . . . . .I think I see my father coming,. . . . . . .2'O hae ye brocht my silken cloak,Or my golden key?Or hae ye come to see me hanged,On this green gallows-tree?'3'I've neither brocht your silken cloak,Nor your golden key,But I have come to see you hanged,On this green gallows-tree.'*  *  *  *  *4'I've neither brocht your silken cloak,Nor your golden key,But I am come to set you freeFrom this green gallows-tree.'
1'Stop, stop, .... . . . . . .I think I see my father coming,. . . . . . .
2'O hae ye brocht my silken cloak,Or my golden key?Or hae ye come to see me hanged,On this green gallows-tree?'
3'I've neither brocht your silken cloak,Nor your golden key,But I have come to see you hanged,On this green gallows-tree.'
*  *  *  *  *
4'I've neither brocht your silken cloak,Nor your golden key,But I am come to set you freeFrom this green gallows-tree.'
a.Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VI, 415, 1882.b.The same, p. 269.
a.Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VI, 415, 1882.b.The same, p. 269.
1'Hangman, hangman, stop a minute,. . . . . . .I think I see my father coming,. . . . . . .2'Father, father, have you found the key,And have you come to set me free?Or have you come to see me hanged,Upon this gallows-tree?'*  *  *  *  *3'I have not come to see you hanged,Upon the gallows-tree,For I have found the golden key,'. . . . . . .
1'Hangman, hangman, stop a minute,. . . . . . .I think I see my father coming,. . . . . . .
2'Father, father, have you found the key,And have you come to set me free?Or have you come to see me hanged,Upon this gallows-tree?'
*  *  *  *  *
3'I have not come to see you hanged,Upon the gallows-tree,For I have found the golden key,'. . . . . . .
a.Baring-Gould's Appendix to Henderson's Notes on the Folk Lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders, 1866, p. 333, Yorkshire.b.Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, X, 354, 1884.
a.Baring-Gould's Appendix to Henderson's Notes on the Folk Lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders, 1866, p. 333, Yorkshire.b.Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, X, 354, 1884.
1'Stop, stop! .... . . . . . .I think I see my mother coming,. . . . . . .2'Oh mother, hast brought my golden ball,And come to set me free?. . . . . . .. . . . . . .3'I've neither brought thy golden ball,Nor come to set thee free,But I have come to see thee hung,Upon this gallows-tree.'4'Stop, stop! .... . . . . . .I think I see my father coming,. . . . . . .5'O father, hast brought my golden ball,And come to set me free?. . . . . . .. . . . . . .6'I've neither brought thy golden ball,Nor come to set thee free,But I have come to see thee hung,Upon this gallows-tree.'7'Stop, stop! .... . . . . . .I see my sweet-heart coming,. . . . . . .8'Sweet-heart, hast brought my golden ball,And come to set me free?. . . . . . .. . . . . . .9'Aye, I have brought thy golden ball,And come to set thee free;I have not come to see thee hung,Upon this gallows-tree.'
1'Stop, stop! .... . . . . . .I think I see my mother coming,. . . . . . .
2'Oh mother, hast brought my golden ball,And come to set me free?. . . . . . .. . . . . . .
3'I've neither brought thy golden ball,Nor come to set thee free,But I have come to see thee hung,Upon this gallows-tree.'
4'Stop, stop! .... . . . . . .I think I see my father coming,. . . . . . .
5'O father, hast brought my golden ball,And come to set me free?. . . . . . .. . . . . . .
6'I've neither brought thy golden ball,Nor come to set thee free,But I have come to see thee hung,Upon this gallows-tree.'
7'Stop, stop! .... . . . . . .I see my sweet-heart coming,. . . . . . .
8'Sweet-heart, hast brought my golden ball,And come to set me free?. . . . . . .. . . . . . .
9'Aye, I have brought thy golden ball,And come to set thee free;I have not come to see thee hung,Upon this gallows-tree.'
B.
The title, 'The Broom o the Cathery Knowes,' is not prefixed to the ballad, but is given in the Index.54.Changed by Motherwell tomany's the mile, as in 1.12. Hey the broom, &c.
The title, 'The Broom o the Cathery Knowes,' is not prefixed to the ballad, but is given in the Index.
54.Changed by Motherwell tomany's the mile, as in 1.
12. Hey the broom, &c.
C.
This version, which the Rev. E. Venables has also communicated to me in manuscript, was tagged on to a fragment of 'Hugh of Lincoln.'After 4: "Mother, brother, sister, uncle, aunt, etc., succeed. At last comes the own true love, who replies."
This version, which the Rev. E. Venables has also communicated to me in manuscript, was tagged on to a fragment of 'Hugh of Lincoln.'
After 4: "Mother, brother, sister, uncle, aunt, etc., succeed. At last comes the own true love, who replies."
D.
23, 4.Restored from stanza 5.
23, 4.Restored from stanza 5.
F.
"It was sung in Forfarshire forty years ago by girls during the progress of some game, which I do not now distinctly recollect. A lady, at the point of being executed, cries Stop, stop! I think I see my father coming. Then, addressing her father, she asks,"as in stanza 2; "to which the father replies,"as in stanza 3. "Mother, brother, sister, are each addressed in turn, and give the same answer. Last of all the fair sinner sees her lover coming, and on putting the question to him is answered thus,"as in stanza 4; "whereupon the game ends."W. F. (2), Saline Manse, Fife.
"It was sung in Forfarshire forty years ago by girls during the progress of some game, which I do not now distinctly recollect. A lady, at the point of being executed, cries Stop, stop! I think I see my father coming. Then, addressing her father, she asks,"as in stanza 2; "to which the father replies,"as in stanza 3. "Mother, brother, sister, are each addressed in turn, and give the same answer. Last of all the fair sinner sees her lover coming, and on putting the question to him is answered thus,"as in stanza 4; "whereupon the game ends."W. F. (2), Saline Manse, Fife.
G. a.
Before stanza 1: "I think the title of this ballad is 'The Golden Key.' The substance of it is that a woman has lost a gold key, and is about to be hung, when she exclaims,as in stanza 1. Then follows"stanza 2.After 2: "Father, mother, brother, sister, all in turn come up, and have not found the lost key. At last the sweet-heart appears, who exclaims triumphantly,"as in stanza 3. "I write this from memory. I never saw it in print."H. Fishwick.
Before stanza 1: "I think the title of this ballad is 'The Golden Key.' The substance of it is that a woman has lost a gold key, and is about to be hung, when she exclaims,as in stanza 1. Then follows"stanza 2.After 2: "Father, mother, brother, sister, all in turn come up, and have not found the lost key. At last the sweet-heart appears, who exclaims triumphantly,"as in stanza 3. "I write this from memory. I never saw it in print."H. Fishwick.
b.
"A lady writes to me, My mother used to hear, in Lancashire and Cheshire, a ballad of which she only recollects three lines:
"A lady writes to me, My mother used to hear, in Lancashire and Cheshire, a ballad of which she only recollects three lines:
And I'm not come to set you free,But I am come to see you hanged,All under the gallows-tree.
And I'm not come to set you free,But I am come to see you hanged,All under the gallows-tree.
The last line was repeated, I believe, in every verse."William Andrews.
The last line was repeated, I believe, in every verse."William Andrews.
H. a.
The verses form part of a Yorkshire story calledThe Golden Ball. A man gives a golden ball to each of two lasses, and if either loses the ball she is to be hanged. The younger, while playing with her ball, tosses it over a park-paling; the ball runs away over the grass into a house, and is seen no more."Now t' lass was taken to York to be hanged. She was brought out on t' scaffold, and t' hangman said, Now, lass, tha must hang by t' neck till tha be'st dead. But she cried out, Stop, stop,"etc., stanzas 1-3."Then the hangman said. Now, lass, say thy prayers, for tha must dee."Stanzas 4-6 follow. The maid thinks she sees her brother coming, her sister, uncle, aunt, cousin. The hangman then says, "I wee-nt stop no longer, tha's making gam of me. Tha must be hung at once. But now she saw her sweetheart coming through the crowd, and he had over head i t' air her own golden ball. So she said,"as in stanzas 7-9.
The verses form part of a Yorkshire story calledThe Golden Ball. A man gives a golden ball to each of two lasses, and if either loses the ball she is to be hanged. The younger, while playing with her ball, tosses it over a park-paling; the ball runs away over the grass into a house, and is seen no more.
"Now t' lass was taken to York to be hanged. She was brought out on t' scaffold, and t' hangman said, Now, lass, tha must hang by t' neck till tha be'st dead. But she cried out, Stop, stop,"etc., stanzas 1-3.
"Then the hangman said. Now, lass, say thy prayers, for tha must dee."Stanzas 4-6 follow. The maid thinks she sees her brother coming, her sister, uncle, aunt, cousin. The hangman then says, "I wee-nt stop no longer, tha's making gam of me. Tha must be hung at once. But now she saw her sweetheart coming through the crowd, and he had over head i t' air her own golden ball. So she said,"as in stanzas 7-9.
b.
Miss Kate Thompson, of Newcastle-on-Tyne, had when a child frequently been told the story ofThe Golden Ballby a woman who was a native of the Borderland. A rich lady possessed a goldenball, which she held in high esteem. A poor girl, her servant, had to clean this ball every day, and it was death to lose it. One day when she was cleaning the ball near a stream it disappeared. The girl was condemned to die, and had mounted the scaffold. The story was all in prose up to the execution, when the narrator broke into rhyme:
Miss Kate Thompson, of Newcastle-on-Tyne, had when a child frequently been told the story ofThe Golden Ballby a woman who was a native of the Borderland. A rich lady possessed a goldenball, which she held in high esteem. A poor girl, her servant, had to clean this ball every day, and it was death to lose it. One day when she was cleaning the ball near a stream it disappeared. The girl was condemned to die, and had mounted the scaffold. The story was all in prose up to the execution, when the narrator broke into rhyme:
'Stop the rope! stop the rope!For here I see my mother coming.'Oh mother, have you brought the golden ball,And come to set me free?Or are you only here to see me die,Upon the high, high gallows-tree?'
'Stop the rope! stop the rope!For here I see my mother coming.
'Oh mother, have you brought the golden ball,And come to set me free?Or are you only here to see me die,Upon the high, high gallows-tree?'
The mother answers that she has only come to see her die. Other relatives follow, and last of all comes the lover, who produces the ball, and the execution is stopped. Miss Thompson adds that two Northumbrian servants in her house remember the story so.
The mother answers that she has only come to see her die. Other relatives follow, and last of all comes the lover, who produces the ball, and the execution is stopped. Miss Thompson adds that two Northumbrian servants in her house remember the story so.
FOOTNOTES:[154]Liebrecht was the first to call attention to this ballad-cycle, Zur Volkskunde, p. 222, repeating, with enlargement, an article in Zeitschrift für deutsche Philologie, IX, 53. He gives the Sicilian text, and a Balearic and a Färöe, presently to be noticed, with translations, and points out other parallels. Reifferscheid made additions in his Westfälische Volkslieder, p. 10, p. 138 ff. I have not at hand the Effemeridi for 1874.[155]"Legenkan nu fortsættes videre" might imply that the ballad was used as a game; but it is presumable that the author would have been explicit, had he meant this.[156]Translated by George Stephens in the Foreign Quarterly Review, XXVI, 31.[157]In the same collection, No 297, I, 297, there is no refusal on the part of the kindred, but what they offer is insufficient, and the maid succeeds by outbidding them. So in some of the corresponding German ballads, as Hoffmann und Richter, Nos 9, 10; Erk's Liederhort, Nos 51, 51a, 51b; Elwert, Ungedruckte Reste alten Gesangs, p. 43,=Liederhort, 51c; Longard, p. 22, No 11; Fiedler, p. 141. In Ulmann's Lettische Volkslieder, 1874, p. 168 (cited by Reiffenberg), 'Der losgekaufte Soldat,' a conscript writes to father, mother, brother, sister, to buy him off, and they devote horses, cows, lands, dowry, to this object, but do not succeed. His mistress sells her wreath and frees him.[158]Goetze, Stimmen des russischen Volks, p. 150; Wenzig, Slawische Volkslieder, p. 151.[159]Translated by Anastasius Grün, Volkslieder aus Krain, p. 30.
[154]Liebrecht was the first to call attention to this ballad-cycle, Zur Volkskunde, p. 222, repeating, with enlargement, an article in Zeitschrift für deutsche Philologie, IX, 53. He gives the Sicilian text, and a Balearic and a Färöe, presently to be noticed, with translations, and points out other parallels. Reifferscheid made additions in his Westfälische Volkslieder, p. 10, p. 138 ff. I have not at hand the Effemeridi for 1874.
[154]Liebrecht was the first to call attention to this ballad-cycle, Zur Volkskunde, p. 222, repeating, with enlargement, an article in Zeitschrift für deutsche Philologie, IX, 53. He gives the Sicilian text, and a Balearic and a Färöe, presently to be noticed, with translations, and points out other parallels. Reifferscheid made additions in his Westfälische Volkslieder, p. 10, p. 138 ff. I have not at hand the Effemeridi for 1874.
[155]"Legenkan nu fortsættes videre" might imply that the ballad was used as a game; but it is presumable that the author would have been explicit, had he meant this.
[155]"Legenkan nu fortsættes videre" might imply that the ballad was used as a game; but it is presumable that the author would have been explicit, had he meant this.
[156]Translated by George Stephens in the Foreign Quarterly Review, XXVI, 31.
[156]Translated by George Stephens in the Foreign Quarterly Review, XXVI, 31.
[157]In the same collection, No 297, I, 297, there is no refusal on the part of the kindred, but what they offer is insufficient, and the maid succeeds by outbidding them. So in some of the corresponding German ballads, as Hoffmann und Richter, Nos 9, 10; Erk's Liederhort, Nos 51, 51a, 51b; Elwert, Ungedruckte Reste alten Gesangs, p. 43,=Liederhort, 51c; Longard, p. 22, No 11; Fiedler, p. 141. In Ulmann's Lettische Volkslieder, 1874, p. 168 (cited by Reiffenberg), 'Der losgekaufte Soldat,' a conscript writes to father, mother, brother, sister, to buy him off, and they devote horses, cows, lands, dowry, to this object, but do not succeed. His mistress sells her wreath and frees him.
[157]In the same collection, No 297, I, 297, there is no refusal on the part of the kindred, but what they offer is insufficient, and the maid succeeds by outbidding them. So in some of the corresponding German ballads, as Hoffmann und Richter, Nos 9, 10; Erk's Liederhort, Nos 51, 51a, 51b; Elwert, Ungedruckte Reste alten Gesangs, p. 43,=Liederhort, 51c; Longard, p. 22, No 11; Fiedler, p. 141. In Ulmann's Lettische Volkslieder, 1874, p. 168 (cited by Reiffenberg), 'Der losgekaufte Soldat,' a conscript writes to father, mother, brother, sister, to buy him off, and they devote horses, cows, lands, dowry, to this object, but do not succeed. His mistress sells her wreath and frees him.
[158]Goetze, Stimmen des russischen Volks, p. 150; Wenzig, Slawische Volkslieder, p. 151.
[158]Goetze, Stimmen des russischen Volks, p. 150; Wenzig, Slawische Volkslieder, p. 151.
[159]Translated by Anastasius Grün, Volkslieder aus Krain, p. 30.
[159]Translated by Anastasius Grün, Volkslieder aus Krain, p. 30.
A.'The Gay Goss Hawk,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 15, No 6.B.Motherwell's MS., p. 230.C.'The Jolly Goshawk,' Motherwell's MS., p. 435; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 353.D.'The Gay Goss-hawk,' Motherwell's Note-Book, 27; Motherwell's MS., p. 415.E.'The Gay Goss-hawk,' Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 7, 1802.F.Communicated by Miss Reburn, as sung in County Meath, Ireland.G.'The Scottish Squire,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 245.
A.'The Gay Goss Hawk,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 15, No 6.
B.Motherwell's MS., p. 230.
C.'The Jolly Goshawk,' Motherwell's MS., p. 435; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 353.
D.'The Gay Goss-hawk,' Motherwell's Note-Book, 27; Motherwell's MS., p. 415.
E.'The Gay Goss-hawk,' Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 7, 1802.
F.Communicated by Miss Reburn, as sung in County Meath, Ireland.
G.'The Scottish Squire,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 245.
The 'Gay Goshawk' first appeared in print in the second volume of Scott's Minstrelsy, in 1802. Scott's copy was formed partly from Mrs Brown's version,A, "and partly from a MS. of some antiquitypenes Edit." This compounded copy is now given,E, with those portions which are contained in the Brown MS. printed in smaller type, in order that what is peculiar to the other manuscript may be distinguished. A second copy ofAwas made for William Tytler under the direction of the reciter in 1783, but has not been recovered. There were 28 stanzas, as inA, and the first stanza has been given by Anderson in Nichols's Illustrations, VII, 176.Cwas furnished Motherwell by Buchan from a manuscript sent him, and Buchan says that he himself took down from recitation the vilely dilated and debasedG: Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 340.
A ballad widely known in France has the central idea of the Gay Goshawk, a maid's feigning death to escape from a father to a lover whom she is not permitted to marry, but in the development of the story there is no likeness. A version of this ballad, 'Belle Isambourg,' was printed as early as 1607 in a collection with the title Airs de Cour, p. 40, and was republished by Rathery in the Moniteur of August 26, 1853, p. 946, afterwards in Haupt's Französische Volkslieder, p. 92. The king wishes to give Fair Isambourg a husband, but her heart is fixed on a handsome knight, whom she loves more than all her kin together, though he is poor. The king shuts her up in a dark tower, thinking that this treatment will bring about a change, but it does not. Isambourg sees her lover riding towards or by the tower at full speed. She calls to him to stop, and says:
Malade et morte m'y feray,Porter en terre m'y lairray,Pourtant morte je ne seray.Puis apres je vous prie amy,Qu'Ã ma chapelle a Sainct-DenisNe m'y laissez pas enfouir.
Malade et morte m'y feray,Porter en terre m'y lairray,Pourtant morte je ne seray.
Puis apres je vous prie amy,Qu'Ã ma chapelle a Sainct-DenisNe m'y laissez pas enfouir.
Isambourg is now proclaimed to be dead, and is carried to burial by three princes and a knight. Her lover, hearing the knelling and chanting, puts himself in the way and bids the bearers stop. Since she has died for loving him too well, he wishes to say a De profundis. He rips open a little of the shroud, and she darts a loving smile at him. Everybody is astonished.
Other versions, derived from oral tradition, have a more popular stamp: (1.) Poésies populaires de la France, MS., III, 54, 'La fille du roi et le Prince de Guise,' learned at Maubeuge, about 1760. (2.) III, 47, 'Le beau Déon,' Auvergne. (3.) III, 49, 'La princesse de la Grand' Tour,' Berry. (4.) III, 50 (the hero being Léon), Berry. (5.) III, 53, Caudebec. (6.) III, 56, Pamiers, Languedoc. (7.) III, 57, and II, 52, Orléans. (8.) 'La fille d'un prince,' Buchon, Noëls et chants p. de la Franche-Comté, p. 82, No 16. (9.) 'La fille d'un prince,' Rondes et Chansons p. illustrées, Paris, 1876, p. 286. (10.) 'La princesse,' Guillon, Chansons p. de l'Ain, p. 87. (11.) 'La maîtresse captive,' Puymaigre, Chants p. messins, I, 87. (12.) Le Héricher, Littérature p. de Normandie, p. 153 f. (13.) 'De Dion et de la fille du roi,' Ampère, Instructions, p. 38, the first fourteen stanzas; Auvergne. (14.) G. de Nerval, La Bohème Galante, ed. 1866, p. 70, and Les Faux Saulniers, ed. 1868, p. 346, the story completed in Les Filles du Feu, ed. 1868, p. 132; or, in the collection lately made from his works, Chansons et Ballades p. du Valois, p. 16, VIII. The last two have a false termination, as already remarked under No 4, I, 42.
In these traditional versions, the father pays a visit to the princess after she has been confined seven years, and asks how she is. One side is eaten away by worms, her feet are rotting in the irons. She begs a few sous to give the jailer to loosen her fetters. Millions are at her disposal if she will give up her lover. Rather rot, is her reply. Rot, then, says her father. The lover comes by and throws a few words of writing into the tower, directing her to counterfeit death. The rest is much the same. In several versions the king yields.
There are many other ballads in which a girl, for one reason or another, feigns death. In 'Les trois capitaines,' or 'La jolie fille de la Garde,' etc., Arbaud, I, 143, Decombe, Ch. p. d'Ille-et-Vilaine, p. 150, No 51, Champfleury, Ch. p. des Provinces, p. 95, Bujeaud, II, 174, 'La Bohème Galante,' ed. 1866, p. 71 f, Chansons du Valois, p. 19, IX, Puymaigre, Vieux Auteurs, II, 478, E. Legrand, Romania, X, 369, No 6, the object is to save her honor;[160]so in Marcoaldi, p. 162, No 10, Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 41, No 31. The well-disposed hostess of an inn administers a sleeping-draught, in Arbaud's ballad and in Decombe's. The object is to avoid becoming a king's mistress, in 'Kvindelist,' Grundtvig, IV, 394, No 235, 'Hertig Hillebrand och hans Syster,' Arwidsson, I, 380 No 61; in a Bohemian ballad, to avoid marrying a Turk, 'Oklamaný Turek,' 'The Turk duped,' Ćelakovský, III, 11 (translated in Bowring's Cheskian Anthology, p. 129) Erben, p. 485, etc., etc.; to move a lover who is on the point of deserting, Hoffmann, Niederländische Volkslieder, p. 61, No 15, Willems, No 60, Uhland, No 97B.
In 'Willie's Lyke-Wake,' No 25, I, 247, a man feigns death in order to capture a coy maid, or a maid refused him by her parents.
Birds are not seldom employed as posts in ballads: see 'Sweet William,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 307, Milá, Romancerillo, No 258; Hartung, Romanceiro, I, 193 (dove).A falcon carries a letter, in Afzelius, III, 116, No 87, and Milá, No 258 K, and Marko Kraljevitch sends a letter by a falcon from his prison, Karadshitch, II, 383. For a love-message of a general sort, not involving business, the nightingale is usually and rightly selected. On the other hand, a nightingale first orders a ring of a goldsmith, and afterwards delivers it to a lady, in Uhland, No 15.[161]In this ballad the goshawk is endowed with the nightingale's voice. The substitution of a parrot inG, a bird that we all know can talk, testifies to the advances made by reason among the humblest in the later generations.[162]A parrot, says Buchan, "is by far a more likely messenger to carry a love-letter or deliver a verbal message," II, 341. The parrot goes well with the heroine swooning on a sofa (stanza 33) and the step-dame sitting on the sofa's end (stanza 36).
Thieves drop three drops ofwaxon the breast of a servant-girl who is feigning sleep, and she shows no sign of feeling, in a Catalan ballad, Milá, Romancerillo, p. 104, No 114, vv 13-16, Observaciones, p. 147, No 43, Briz, I, 147.[163]
Translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 32, afterE,C,G. AfterDby Talvj, Versuch, u. s. w., p. 560; Schubart, p. 57; Doenniges, p. 19; Gerhard, p. 37; Loève-Veimars, p. 264. By Knortz, Lieder Alt-Englands, No 2, afterC; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 38, afterCandE, sometimes following Aytoun, I, 178.
Jamieson-Brown MS., No 6, pt 15.
Jamieson-Brown MS., No 6, pt 15.
1'O well's me o my gay goss-hawk,That he can speak and flee;He'll carry a letter to my love,Bring back another to me.'2'O how can I your true-love ken,Or how can I her know?Whan frae her mouth I never heard couth,Nor wi my eyes her saw.'3'O well sal ye my true-love ken,As soon as you her see;For, of a' the flowrs in fair Englan,The fairest flowr is she.4'At even at my love's bowr-doorThere grows a bowing birk,An sit ye down and sing thereon,As she gangs to the kirk.5'An four-and-twenty ladies fairWill wash and go to kirk,But well shall ye my true-love ken,For she wears goud on her skirt.6'An four and twenty gay ladiesWill to the mass repair,But well sal ye my true-love ken,For she wears goud on her hair.'7O even at that lady's bowr-doorThere grows a bowin birk,An she set down and sang thereon,As she ged to the kirk.8'O eet and drink, my marys a',The wine flows you among,Till I gang to my shot-window,An hear yon bonny bird's song.9'Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,The song ye sang the streen,For I ken by your sweet singinYou 're frae my true-love sen.'10O first he sang a merry song,An then he sang a grave,An then he peckd his feathers gray,To her the letter gave.11'Ha, there's a letter frae your love,He says he sent you three;He canna wait your love langer,But for your sake he'll die.12'He bids you write a letter to him;He says he's sent you five;He canna wait your love langer,Tho you 're the fairest woman alive.'13'Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread,And brew his bridal-ale,An I 'll meet him in fair ScotlanLang, lang or it be stale.'14She 's doen her to her father dear,Fa'n low down on her knee:'A boon, a boon, my father dear,I pray you, grant it me.'15'Ask on, ask on, my daughter,An granted it sal be;Except ae squire in fair Scotlan,An him you sall never see.'16'The only boon, my father dear,That I do crave of the,Is, gin I die in southin lands,In Scotland to bury me.17'An the firstin kirk that ye come till,Ye gar the bells be rung,An the nextin kirk that ye come till,Ye gar the mess be sung.18'An the thirdin kirk that ye come till,You deal gold for my sake,An the fourthin kirk that ye come till,You tarry there till night.'19She is doen her to her bigly bowr,As fast as she coud fare,An she has tane a sleepy draught,That she had mixed wi care.20She's laid her down upon her bed,An soon she's fa'n asleep,And soon oer every tender limbCauld death began to creep.21Whan night was flown, an day was come,Nae ane that did her seeBut thought she was as surely deadAs ony lady coud be.22Her father an her brothers dearGard make to her a bier;The tae half was o guide red gold,The tither o silver clear.23Her mither an her sisters fairGard work for her a sark;The tae half was o cambrick fine,The tither o needle wark.24The firstin kirk that they came till,They gard the bells be rung,An the nextin kirk that they came till,They gard the mess be sung.25The thirdin kirk that they came till,They dealt gold for her sake,An the fourthin kirk that they came till,Lo, there they met her make!26'Lay down, lay down the bigly bier,Lat me the dead look on;'Wi cherry cheeks and ruby lipsShe lay an smil'd on him.27'O ae sheave o your bread, true-love,An ae glass o your wine,For I hae fasted for your sakeThese fully days is nine.28'Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers,Gang hame and sound your horn;An ye may boast in southin lansYour sister's playd you scorn.'
1'O well's me o my gay goss-hawk,That he can speak and flee;He'll carry a letter to my love,Bring back another to me.'
2'O how can I your true-love ken,Or how can I her know?Whan frae her mouth I never heard couth,Nor wi my eyes her saw.'
3'O well sal ye my true-love ken,As soon as you her see;For, of a' the flowrs in fair Englan,The fairest flowr is she.
4'At even at my love's bowr-doorThere grows a bowing birk,An sit ye down and sing thereon,As she gangs to the kirk.
5'An four-and-twenty ladies fairWill wash and go to kirk,But well shall ye my true-love ken,For she wears goud on her skirt.
6'An four and twenty gay ladiesWill to the mass repair,But well sal ye my true-love ken,For she wears goud on her hair.'
7O even at that lady's bowr-doorThere grows a bowin birk,An she set down and sang thereon,As she ged to the kirk.
8'O eet and drink, my marys a',The wine flows you among,Till I gang to my shot-window,An hear yon bonny bird's song.
9'Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,The song ye sang the streen,For I ken by your sweet singinYou 're frae my true-love sen.'
10O first he sang a merry song,An then he sang a grave,An then he peckd his feathers gray,To her the letter gave.
11'Ha, there's a letter frae your love,He says he sent you three;He canna wait your love langer,But for your sake he'll die.
12'He bids you write a letter to him;He says he's sent you five;He canna wait your love langer,Tho you 're the fairest woman alive.'
13'Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread,And brew his bridal-ale,An I 'll meet him in fair ScotlanLang, lang or it be stale.'
14She 's doen her to her father dear,Fa'n low down on her knee:'A boon, a boon, my father dear,I pray you, grant it me.'
15'Ask on, ask on, my daughter,An granted it sal be;Except ae squire in fair Scotlan,An him you sall never see.'
16'The only boon, my father dear,That I do crave of the,Is, gin I die in southin lands,In Scotland to bury me.
17'An the firstin kirk that ye come till,Ye gar the bells be rung,An the nextin kirk that ye come till,Ye gar the mess be sung.
18'An the thirdin kirk that ye come till,You deal gold for my sake,An the fourthin kirk that ye come till,You tarry there till night.'
19She is doen her to her bigly bowr,As fast as she coud fare,An she has tane a sleepy draught,That she had mixed wi care.
20She's laid her down upon her bed,An soon she's fa'n asleep,And soon oer every tender limbCauld death began to creep.
21Whan night was flown, an day was come,Nae ane that did her seeBut thought she was as surely deadAs ony lady coud be.
22Her father an her brothers dearGard make to her a bier;The tae half was o guide red gold,The tither o silver clear.
23Her mither an her sisters fairGard work for her a sark;The tae half was o cambrick fine,The tither o needle wark.
24The firstin kirk that they came till,They gard the bells be rung,An the nextin kirk that they came till,They gard the mess be sung.
25The thirdin kirk that they came till,They dealt gold for her sake,An the fourthin kirk that they came till,Lo, there they met her make!
26'Lay down, lay down the bigly bier,Lat me the dead look on;'Wi cherry cheeks and ruby lipsShe lay an smil'd on him.
27'O ae sheave o your bread, true-love,An ae glass o your wine,For I hae fasted for your sakeThese fully days is nine.
28'Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers,Gang hame and sound your horn;An ye may boast in southin lansYour sister's playd you scorn.'
Motherwell's MS., p. 230: from the recitation of Mrs Bell, of Paisley, and of Miss Montgomerie, of Edinburgh, her sister.
Motherwell's MS., p. 230: from the recitation of Mrs Bell, of Paisley, and of Miss Montgomerie, of Edinburgh, her sister.
1Out then spoke the king of Scotland,And he spak wondrous clear:Where will I get a boy, and a pretty little boy,That will my tidings bear?2Out then spak a pretty little bird,As it sat on a brier:What will ye gie me, king of Scotland, he said,If I your tidings will bear?3'One wing of the beaten gowd,And another of the silver clear;It's all unto thee, my pretty little bird,If thou my tidings will bear.'4The bird flew high, the bird flew low,This bird flew to and fro,Until that he came to the king of England's dochter,Who was sitting in her bower-window.5'Here is a gift, a very rare gift,And the king has sent you three;He says if your father and mother winna let,You may come privately.6'Here is a gift, and a very rare gift,The king has sent you five;He says he will not wait any longer on you,If there be another woman alive.'7She's away to her mother dear,Made a low beck on her knee:'What is your asking of me, daughter?Queen of Scotland you never shall be.'8'That's not my asking of thee, mother,That's not my asking of thee;But that if I die in merry England,In Scotland you will bury me.'9She's awa to her father dear,Made a low beck on her knee:'What is your asking of me, daughter?Queen of Scotland you never shall be.'10'That's not my asking of thee, father,That's not my asking of thee;But that if I die in merry England,In Scotland you will bury me.'11She walked to and fro,She walked up and down,But ye wud na spoken three words to an endTill she was in a deep swoon.12Out then spoke an auld witch-wife,And she spoke random indeed:Honoured madam, I would have you to tryThree drops of the burning lead.13Her mother went weeping round and round,She dropped one on her chin;'Och and alace,' her mother did say,'There is no breath within!'14Her mother went weeping round and round,She dropt one on her briest;'Och and alace,' her mother did cry,'For she's died without a priest!'15Her mother went weeping round and round,She dropped one on her toe;'Och and alace,' her mother did cry,'To Scotland she must goe!16'Call down, call down her sisters five,To make to her a smock;The one side of the bonny beaten gold,And the other of the needle-work.17'Call down, call down her brothers seven,To make for her a bier;The one side of the bonny beaten gold,And the other of the silver clear.'18Many a mile by land they went,And many a league by sea,Until that they came to the king of Scotland,Who was walking in his own valley.19'Here is a gift, and a very rare gift,And you to have made her your own;But now she is dead, and she's new come from her steed,And she's ready to lay in the ground.'20O he has opened the lid of the coffin,And likewise the winding sheet,And thrice he has kissed her cherry, cherry cheek,And she smiled on him full sweet.21'One hit of your bread,' she says,'And one glass of your wine;It's all for you and your sakeI've fasted long days nine.22'One glass of your wine,' she says,'And one bit of your bread;For it 's all for you and for your sakeI suffered the burning lead.23'Go home, go home, my brothers seven,You may go blow your horn;And you may tell it in merry EnglandThat your sister has given you the scorn.24'Go home, go home, my brothers seven,Tell my sisters to sew their seam;And you may tell it in merry EnglandThat your sister she is queen.'
1Out then spoke the king of Scotland,And he spak wondrous clear:Where will I get a boy, and a pretty little boy,That will my tidings bear?
2Out then spak a pretty little bird,As it sat on a brier:What will ye gie me, king of Scotland, he said,If I your tidings will bear?
3'One wing of the beaten gowd,And another of the silver clear;It's all unto thee, my pretty little bird,If thou my tidings will bear.'
4The bird flew high, the bird flew low,This bird flew to and fro,Until that he came to the king of England's dochter,Who was sitting in her bower-window.
5'Here is a gift, a very rare gift,And the king has sent you three;He says if your father and mother winna let,You may come privately.
6'Here is a gift, and a very rare gift,The king has sent you five;He says he will not wait any longer on you,If there be another woman alive.'
7She's away to her mother dear,Made a low beck on her knee:'What is your asking of me, daughter?Queen of Scotland you never shall be.'
8'That's not my asking of thee, mother,That's not my asking of thee;But that if I die in merry England,In Scotland you will bury me.'
9She's awa to her father dear,Made a low beck on her knee:'What is your asking of me, daughter?Queen of Scotland you never shall be.'
10'That's not my asking of thee, father,That's not my asking of thee;But that if I die in merry England,In Scotland you will bury me.'
11She walked to and fro,She walked up and down,But ye wud na spoken three words to an endTill she was in a deep swoon.
12Out then spoke an auld witch-wife,And she spoke random indeed:Honoured madam, I would have you to tryThree drops of the burning lead.
13Her mother went weeping round and round,She dropped one on her chin;'Och and alace,' her mother did say,'There is no breath within!'
14Her mother went weeping round and round,She dropt one on her briest;'Och and alace,' her mother did cry,'For she's died without a priest!'
15Her mother went weeping round and round,She dropped one on her toe;'Och and alace,' her mother did cry,'To Scotland she must goe!
16'Call down, call down her sisters five,To make to her a smock;The one side of the bonny beaten gold,And the other of the needle-work.
17'Call down, call down her brothers seven,To make for her a bier;The one side of the bonny beaten gold,And the other of the silver clear.'
18Many a mile by land they went,And many a league by sea,Until that they came to the king of Scotland,Who was walking in his own valley.
19'Here is a gift, and a very rare gift,And you to have made her your own;But now she is dead, and she's new come from her steed,And she's ready to lay in the ground.'
20O he has opened the lid of the coffin,And likewise the winding sheet,And thrice he has kissed her cherry, cherry cheek,And she smiled on him full sweet.
21'One hit of your bread,' she says,'And one glass of your wine;It's all for you and your sakeI've fasted long days nine.
22'One glass of your wine,' she says,'And one bit of your bread;For it 's all for you and for your sakeI suffered the burning lead.
23'Go home, go home, my brothers seven,You may go blow your horn;And you may tell it in merry EnglandThat your sister has given you the scorn.
24'Go home, go home, my brothers seven,Tell my sisters to sew their seam;And you may tell it in merry EnglandThat your sister she is queen.'