C

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 67.

1Now word is gane thro a' the land,Gude seal that it sae spread!To Rose the Red and White Lillie,Their mither dear was dead.2Their father's married a bauld woman,And brought her ower the sea,Twa sprightly youths, her ain young sons,Intill her companie.3They fixd their eyes on those ladies,On shipboard as they stood,And sware, if ever they wan to land,These ladies they woud wed.4But there was nae a quarter past,A quarter past but three,Till these young luvers a' were fondO other's companie.5The knights they harped i their bower,The ladies sewd and sang;There was mair mirth in that chamerThan a' their father's lan.6Then out it spak their step-mither,At the stair-foot stood she:I'm plagued wi your troublesome noise!What makes your melodie?7O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud,White Lillie, your voice is strang;But gin I live and brook my life,I'se gar you change your sang.8'We maunna change our loud, loud songFor nae duke's son ye'll bear;We winna change our loud, loud song,But aye we'll sing the mair.9'We never sung the sang, mither,But we'll sing ower again;We'll take our harps into our hands,And we'll harp, and we'll sing.'10She's calld upon her twa young sons,Says, Boun ye for the sea;Let Rose the Red and White LillieStay in their bower wi me.11'O God forbid,' said her eldest son,'Nor lat it ever be,Unless ye were as kind to our luvesAs gin we were them wi.'12'Yet never the less, my pretty sons,Ye'll boun you for the faem;Let Rose the Red and White LillieStay in their bowers at hame.'13'O when wi you we came alang,We felt the stormy sea,And where we go, ye neer shall know,Nor shall be known by thee.'14Then wi her harsh and boisterous wordShe forc'd these lads away,While Rose the Red and White LillieStill in their bowers did stay.15But there was not a quarter past,A quarter past but ane,Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed,White Lillie's claithing grew thin.16Wi bitter usage every day,The ladies they thought lang;'Ohon, alas!' said Rose the Red,'She's gard us change our sang.17'But we will change our own fu names,And we'll gang frae the town,Frae Rose the Red and White LillieTo Nicholas and Roger Brown.18'And we will cut our green claithingA little aboon our knee,And we will on to gude greenwood,Twa bauld bowmen to be.'19'Ohon, alas!' said White Lillie,'My fingers are but sma,And tho my hands woud wield the bow,They winna yield at a'.'20'O had your tongue now, White Lillie,And lat these fears a' be;There's naething that ye're awkward inBut I will learn thee.'21Then they are on to gude greenwood,As fast as gang coud they;O then they spied him Robin Hood,Below a green aik tree.22'Gude day, gude day, kind sir,' they said,'God make you safe and free:''Gude day, gude day,' said Robin Hood,'What is your wills wi me?'23'Lo here we are, twa banishd knights,Come frae our native hame;We're come to crave o thee service,Our king will gie us nane.'24'If ye be twa young banishd knights,Tell me frae what countrie:''Frae Anster town into Fifeshire;Ye know it as well as we.'25'If a' be true that ye hae said,And tauld just now to me,Ye're welcome, welcome, every one;Your master I will be.26'Now ye shall eat as I do eat,And lye as I do lye;Ye salna wear nae waur claithingNor my young men and I.'27Then they went to a ruinous house,And there they enterd in,And Nicholas fed wi Robin Hood,And Roger wi Little John.28But it fell ance upon a dayThey were at the putting-stane,Whan Rose the Red she viewd them a',As they stood on the green.29She hit the stane then wi her foot,And kepd it wi her knee,And spaces three aboon them a'I wyte she gard it flee.30She sat her back then to a tree,And gae a loud Ohon!A lad spak in the companie,I hear a woman's moan.31'How know you that, young man?' she said,'How know you that o me?Did eer ye see me in that placeAe foot my ground to flee?32'Or know ye by my cherry cheeks?Or by my yellow hair?Or by the paps on my breast-bane?Ye never saw them bare.'33'I know not by your cherry cheeks,Nor by your yellow hair;But I know by your milk-white chin,On it there grows nae hair.34'I never saw you in that causeAe foot your ground to flee;I've seen you stan wi sword in hanMang men's blood to the knee.35'But if I come your bower within,By night, or yet by day,I shall know before I goIf ye be man or may.'36'O if you come my bower within,By night, or yet by day,As soon's I draw my trusty brand,Nae lang ye'll wi me stay.'37But he is haunted to her bower,Her bigly bower o stane,Till he has got her big wi bairn,And near sax months she's gane.38Whan three mair months were come and gane,They gaed to hunt the hynde;She wont to be the foremost ane,But now stayd far behynd.39Her luver looks her in the face,And thus to her said he;I think your cheeks are pale and wan;Pray, what gaes warst wi thee?40O want ye roses to your breast?Or ribbons to your sheen?Or want ye as muckle o dear bought luveAs your heart can conteen?41'I want nae roses to my breast,Nae ribbons to my sheen;Nor want I as muckle dear bought luveAs my heart can conteen.42'I'd rather hae a fire behynd,Anither me before,A gude midwife at my right side,Till my young babe be bore.'43'I'll kindle a fire wi a flint-stane,Bring wine in a green horn;I'll be midwife at your right side,Till your young babe be born.'44'That was neer my mither's custom,Forbid that it be mine!A knight stan by a lady brightWhan she drees a' her pine.45'There is a knight in gude greenwood,If that he kent o me,Thro stock and stane and the hawthornSae soon's he woud come me tee.'46'If there be a knight in gude greenwoodYe like better than me,If ance he come your bower within,Ane o us twa shall dee.'47She set a horn to her mouth,And she blew loud and shrill;Thro stock and stane and the hawthornBrave Roger came her till.48'Wha's here sae bauld,' the youth replied,'Thus to encroach on me?''O here I am,' the knight replied,'Hae as much right as thee.'49Then they fought up the gude greenwood,Sae did they down the plain;They niddart ither wi lang braid-swords,Till they were bleedy men.50Then out it spak the sick woman,Sat under the greenwood tree;O had your han, young man, she said,She's a woman as well as me.51Then out it speaks anither youth,Amang the companie;Gin I had kent what I ken now,'T is for her I woud dee.52'O wae mat worth you, Rose the Red,An ill death mat ye dee!Altho ye tauld upo yoursell,Ye might hae heald on me.'53'O for her sake I was contentFor to gae ower the sea;For her I left my mither's ha,Tho she proves fause to me.'54But whan these luvers were made known,They sung right joyfullie,Nae blyther was the nightingale,Nor bird that sat on tree.55Now they hae married these ladies,Brought them to bower and ha;And now a happy life they lead;I wish sae may we a'.

1Now word is gane thro a' the land,Gude seal that it sae spread!To Rose the Red and White Lillie,Their mither dear was dead.

2Their father's married a bauld woman,And brought her ower the sea,Twa sprightly youths, her ain young sons,Intill her companie.

3They fixd their eyes on those ladies,On shipboard as they stood,And sware, if ever they wan to land,These ladies they woud wed.

4But there was nae a quarter past,A quarter past but three,Till these young luvers a' were fondO other's companie.

5The knights they harped i their bower,The ladies sewd and sang;There was mair mirth in that chamerThan a' their father's lan.

6Then out it spak their step-mither,At the stair-foot stood she:I'm plagued wi your troublesome noise!What makes your melodie?

7O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud,White Lillie, your voice is strang;But gin I live and brook my life,I'se gar you change your sang.

8'We maunna change our loud, loud songFor nae duke's son ye'll bear;We winna change our loud, loud song,But aye we'll sing the mair.

9'We never sung the sang, mither,But we'll sing ower again;We'll take our harps into our hands,And we'll harp, and we'll sing.'

10She's calld upon her twa young sons,Says, Boun ye for the sea;Let Rose the Red and White LillieStay in their bower wi me.

11'O God forbid,' said her eldest son,'Nor lat it ever be,Unless ye were as kind to our luvesAs gin we were them wi.'

12'Yet never the less, my pretty sons,Ye'll boun you for the faem;Let Rose the Red and White LillieStay in their bowers at hame.'

13'O when wi you we came alang,We felt the stormy sea,And where we go, ye neer shall know,Nor shall be known by thee.'

14Then wi her harsh and boisterous wordShe forc'd these lads away,While Rose the Red and White LillieStill in their bowers did stay.

15But there was not a quarter past,A quarter past but ane,Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed,White Lillie's claithing grew thin.

16Wi bitter usage every day,The ladies they thought lang;'Ohon, alas!' said Rose the Red,'She's gard us change our sang.

17'But we will change our own fu names,And we'll gang frae the town,Frae Rose the Red and White LillieTo Nicholas and Roger Brown.

18'And we will cut our green claithingA little aboon our knee,And we will on to gude greenwood,Twa bauld bowmen to be.'

19'Ohon, alas!' said White Lillie,'My fingers are but sma,And tho my hands woud wield the bow,They winna yield at a'.'

20'O had your tongue now, White Lillie,And lat these fears a' be;There's naething that ye're awkward inBut I will learn thee.'

21Then they are on to gude greenwood,As fast as gang coud they;O then they spied him Robin Hood,Below a green aik tree.

22'Gude day, gude day, kind sir,' they said,'God make you safe and free:''Gude day, gude day,' said Robin Hood,'What is your wills wi me?'

23'Lo here we are, twa banishd knights,Come frae our native hame;We're come to crave o thee service,Our king will gie us nane.'

24'If ye be twa young banishd knights,Tell me frae what countrie:''Frae Anster town into Fifeshire;Ye know it as well as we.'

25'If a' be true that ye hae said,And tauld just now to me,Ye're welcome, welcome, every one;Your master I will be.

26'Now ye shall eat as I do eat,And lye as I do lye;Ye salna wear nae waur claithingNor my young men and I.'

27Then they went to a ruinous house,And there they enterd in,And Nicholas fed wi Robin Hood,And Roger wi Little John.

28But it fell ance upon a dayThey were at the putting-stane,Whan Rose the Red she viewd them a',As they stood on the green.

29She hit the stane then wi her foot,And kepd it wi her knee,And spaces three aboon them a'I wyte she gard it flee.

30She sat her back then to a tree,And gae a loud Ohon!A lad spak in the companie,I hear a woman's moan.

31'How know you that, young man?' she said,'How know you that o me?Did eer ye see me in that placeAe foot my ground to flee?

32'Or know ye by my cherry cheeks?Or by my yellow hair?Or by the paps on my breast-bane?Ye never saw them bare.'

33'I know not by your cherry cheeks,Nor by your yellow hair;But I know by your milk-white chin,On it there grows nae hair.

34'I never saw you in that causeAe foot your ground to flee;I've seen you stan wi sword in hanMang men's blood to the knee.

35'But if I come your bower within,By night, or yet by day,I shall know before I goIf ye be man or may.'

36'O if you come my bower within,By night, or yet by day,As soon's I draw my trusty brand,Nae lang ye'll wi me stay.'

37But he is haunted to her bower,Her bigly bower o stane,Till he has got her big wi bairn,And near sax months she's gane.

38Whan three mair months were come and gane,They gaed to hunt the hynde;She wont to be the foremost ane,But now stayd far behynd.

39Her luver looks her in the face,And thus to her said he;I think your cheeks are pale and wan;Pray, what gaes warst wi thee?

40O want ye roses to your breast?Or ribbons to your sheen?Or want ye as muckle o dear bought luveAs your heart can conteen?

41'I want nae roses to my breast,Nae ribbons to my sheen;Nor want I as muckle dear bought luveAs my heart can conteen.

42'I'd rather hae a fire behynd,Anither me before,A gude midwife at my right side,Till my young babe be bore.'

43'I'll kindle a fire wi a flint-stane,Bring wine in a green horn;I'll be midwife at your right side,Till your young babe be born.'

44'That was neer my mither's custom,Forbid that it be mine!A knight stan by a lady brightWhan she drees a' her pine.

45'There is a knight in gude greenwood,If that he kent o me,Thro stock and stane and the hawthornSae soon's he woud come me tee.'

46'If there be a knight in gude greenwoodYe like better than me,If ance he come your bower within,Ane o us twa shall dee.'

47She set a horn to her mouth,And she blew loud and shrill;Thro stock and stane and the hawthornBrave Roger came her till.

48'Wha's here sae bauld,' the youth replied,'Thus to encroach on me?''O here I am,' the knight replied,'Hae as much right as thee.'

49Then they fought up the gude greenwood,Sae did they down the plain;They niddart ither wi lang braid-swords,Till they were bleedy men.

50Then out it spak the sick woman,Sat under the greenwood tree;O had your han, young man, she said,She's a woman as well as me.

51Then out it speaks anither youth,Amang the companie;Gin I had kent what I ken now,'T is for her I woud dee.

52'O wae mat worth you, Rose the Red,An ill death mat ye dee!Altho ye tauld upo yoursell,Ye might hae heald on me.'

53'O for her sake I was contentFor to gae ower the sea;For her I left my mither's ha,Tho she proves fause to me.'

54But whan these luvers were made known,They sung right joyfullie,Nae blyther was the nightingale,Nor bird that sat on tree.

55Now they hae married these ladies,Brought them to bower and ha;And now a happy life they lead;I wish sae may we a'.

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, annotated by the editor, p. 69.

1The king has wedded an ill woman,Into some foreign land;His daughters twa, that stood in awe,They bravely sat and sang.2Then in became their step-mother,Sae stately steppin ben:'O gin I live and bruik my life,I'll gar ye change your tune.'3'O we sang neer that sang, ladie,But we will sing again;And ye neer boor that son, ladie,We wad lay our love on.4'But we will cow our yellow locksA little abune our bree,And we will on to gude greenwud,And serve for meat and fee.5'And we will kilt our gay claithingA little below the knee,And we will on to gude greenwud,Gif Robin Hood we see.6'And we will change our ain twa names,When we gae frae the toun;The tane we will call Nicholas,The tither Rogee Roun.'7Then they hae cowd their yellow locksA little abune their bree,And they are on to gude greenwud,To serve for meat and fee.8And they hae kilt their gay claithingA little below their knee,And they are on to gud greenwud,Gif Robin Hood they see.9And they hae chang'd thair ain twa names,Whan they gaed frae the toun;The tane they've called Nicholas,The tither Rogee Roun.10And they hae staid in gude greenwud,And never a day thoucht lang,Till it fell ance upon a dayThat Rogee sang a sang.11'Whan we were in our father's bouer,We sewd the silken seam;But now we walk the gude greenwud,And bear anither name.12'When we were in our father's ha,We wore the beaten gold;But now we wear the shield sae sharp;Alas, we'll die with cold!'13Then up bespak him Robin Hood,As he to them drew near:'Instead of boys to carry the bow,Two ladies we've got here'14So they had not been in gud greenwudA twalmonth and a day,Till Rogee Roun was as big wi bairnAs onie lady could gae.15'O wae be to my stepmother,That garrd me leave my hame!For I'm wi bairn to Robin Hood,And near nine month is gane.16'O wha will be my bouer-woman?Na bouer-woman is here;O wha will be my bouer-woman,Whan that sad time draws near?'17Then up bespak him Robin Hood,At the foot o yon greenwud tree:O hold your tongue, fair Rogee Roun,For married ye sall be.18The tane was wedded to Robin Hood,And the tither to Little John;And it was a' owing to their stepmother,That garrd them leave their hame.

1The king has wedded an ill woman,Into some foreign land;His daughters twa, that stood in awe,They bravely sat and sang.

2Then in became their step-mother,Sae stately steppin ben:'O gin I live and bruik my life,I'll gar ye change your tune.'

3'O we sang neer that sang, ladie,But we will sing again;And ye neer boor that son, ladie,We wad lay our love on.

4'But we will cow our yellow locksA little abune our bree,And we will on to gude greenwud,And serve for meat and fee.

5'And we will kilt our gay claithingA little below the knee,And we will on to gude greenwud,Gif Robin Hood we see.

6'And we will change our ain twa names,When we gae frae the toun;The tane we will call Nicholas,The tither Rogee Roun.'

7Then they hae cowd their yellow locksA little abune their bree,And they are on to gude greenwud,To serve for meat and fee.

8And they hae kilt their gay claithingA little below their knee,And they are on to gud greenwud,Gif Robin Hood they see.

9And they hae chang'd thair ain twa names,Whan they gaed frae the toun;The tane they've called Nicholas,The tither Rogee Roun.

10And they hae staid in gude greenwud,And never a day thoucht lang,Till it fell ance upon a dayThat Rogee sang a sang.

11'Whan we were in our father's bouer,We sewd the silken seam;But now we walk the gude greenwud,And bear anither name.

12'When we were in our father's ha,We wore the beaten gold;But now we wear the shield sae sharp;Alas, we'll die with cold!'

13Then up bespak him Robin Hood,As he to them drew near:'Instead of boys to carry the bow,Two ladies we've got here'

14So they had not been in gud greenwudA twalmonth and a day,Till Rogee Roun was as big wi bairnAs onie lady could gae.

15'O wae be to my stepmother,That garrd me leave my hame!For I'm wi bairn to Robin Hood,And near nine month is gane.

16'O wha will be my bouer-woman?Na bouer-woman is here;O wha will be my bouer-woman,Whan that sad time draws near?'

17Then up bespak him Robin Hood,At the foot o yon greenwud tree:O hold your tongue, fair Rogee Roun,For married ye sall be.

18The tane was wedded to Robin Hood,And the tither to Little John;And it was a' owing to their stepmother,That garrd them leave their hame.

Written, like all the ballads in the MS., in stanzas of two long lines.1.Anderson cites this stanza, giving the last line, Wist them twa little quee'd.81. younges.83. youngst.131. greed.214. sear.263. beltest kights.474. well?491. the the king.Scott's variations, the contrary not being alleged, must be supposed to be his own. Scott inserts after 10:

Written, like all the ballads in the MS., in stanzas of two long lines.

1.Anderson cites this stanza, giving the last line, Wist them twa little quee'd.

81. younges.

83. youngst.

131. greed.

214. sear.

263. beltest kights.

474. well?

491. the the king.

Scott's variations, the contrary not being alleged, must be supposed to be his own. Scott inserts after 10:

Sae Bauld Arthur's gane to our king's court,His hie chamberlain to be;But Brown Robin he has slain a knight,And to grene wood he did flee.

115, 6are 121, 2in the MS., making a stanza with 121, 2; 123, 4make an eight-line stanza with 13. 115, 6are omitted by Scott.135, 6make the last half of a stanza in Scott, which begins:

115, 6are 121, 2in the MS., making a stanza with 121, 2; 123, 4make an eight-line stanza with 13. 115, 6are omitted by Scott.

135, 6make the last half of a stanza in Scott, which begins:

And left hae they that bonny bour,To cross the raging sea.

203, 4are omitted by Scott.335, 6make the last half of a stanza in Scott, which runs:

203, 4are omitted by Scott.

335, 6make the last half of a stanza in Scott, which runs:

And that all for the knightly vowI swore to Our Ladye,But mair,etc.

57 follows 53 in Scott, and 59 is omitted.

72. While Lillie.432. horn green.

72. While Lillie.

432. horn green.

A.'The Disconsolate Lady,' The Jovial Rake's Garland, n. d., p. 6, No 4.B.'Prince Heathen,' Buchan's MSS, I, 97; Motherwell's MS., p. 665.

A.'The Disconsolate Lady,' The Jovial Rake's Garland, n. d., p. 6, No 4.

B.'Prince Heathen,' Buchan's MSS, I, 97; Motherwell's MS., p. 665.

The fragmentA(pointed out to me by Svend Grundtvig) is partly explained byB, which is no doubt some stall-copy, reshaped from tradition. Motherwell's copy was derived from Buchan.

The story, which reads like an old one extremely corrupted, is none too intelligible even in the longer form. Lady Margery is sitting in her bower-door. Prince Heathen comes by and gives her a ring. She refuses him her love. He swears that he will make her greet; she swears that he shall not. He takes her maidenhead: still she will not greet. He tells her that he has killed her father, mother, and seven brothers: still she will not greet. He puts her in a vault of stone, fastened with five and thirty locks: she will not greet [go,A], but rues. He comes back from the mountains, and asks her how she is faring. Dying, she says. He takes her out upon the green, allowing her no female service, and she brings forth a son. How is it with her now? Dying. She asks for a drink of water: he will not give her a drop until she wraps up her young son. She has nothing to wrap the babe in; he gives her his horse-sheet; her tears fall fast. "Bonny may, now you greet!" he exclaims ["will you go now?"A]. But she greets not for him; it is for her young son, wrapped so roughly. Prince Heathen, satisfied, as far as we can see, now that he has subdued her proud will, orders his son to be rolled in silk and washed in milk, according to the usage of Scottish nursery: see No 5,B61,C82, 83,E32,F57,G33; No 20,C8; No 63,B35,C35,F22,J47; No 101,A25. Having broken her spirit, he loves her well.

The Jovial Rake's Garland, n. d., p. 6, No 4, Bodleian Library, Douce PP, 164.

1Lady Margery May sits in her bower,Sewing at her seem;By there comes a heathen knight,From her her maidenhead has tane.2He has put her in a tower strong,With double locks on fifty doors:'Lady Margery May, will you ga now?''O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.3'I am asking, you heathen knight;What I am asking will you grant to me?Will ye let one of your waitmenA drink of your well bring to me?'4'Meat nor drink you shall never get,Nor out of that shall you never come,Meat nor drink shall you never get,Until you bear to me daughter or son.'5Thus time drew on, and further on,For travail came this young lady to;She travailed up, so did she down,But lighter could she never be.6'An asking, an asking, you heathen knight;An asking will you grant to me?Will you give me a scread of silk,For to row your young son wi?'7He took the horse-sheet in his hand,The tears came twinkling down:'Lady Margaret May, will ye ga now?''O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.'8'I'll wash my young son with the milk,I will dry my young son with the silk;For hearts will break, and bands will bow;So dear will I love my lady now!'

1Lady Margery May sits in her bower,Sewing at her seem;By there comes a heathen knight,From her her maidenhead has tane.

2He has put her in a tower strong,With double locks on fifty doors:'Lady Margery May, will you ga now?''O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.

3'I am asking, you heathen knight;What I am asking will you grant to me?Will ye let one of your waitmenA drink of your well bring to me?'

4'Meat nor drink you shall never get,Nor out of that shall you never come,Meat nor drink shall you never get,Until you bear to me daughter or son.'

5Thus time drew on, and further on,For travail came this young lady to;She travailed up, so did she down,But lighter could she never be.

6'An asking, an asking, you heathen knight;An asking will you grant to me?Will you give me a scread of silk,For to row your young son wi?'

7He took the horse-sheet in his hand,The tears came twinkling down:'Lady Margaret May, will ye ga now?''O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.'

8'I'll wash my young son with the milk,I will dry my young son with the silk;For hearts will break, and bands will bow;So dear will I love my lady now!'

Buchan's MSS, I, 97; Motherwell's MS., p. 665.

1Lady Margaret sat in her bower-door,Sewing at her silken seem,When by it came Prince Heathen then,An gae to her a gay gold ring.2He turnd about, an gied a bow;She said, Begone, I love na you;When he sware by his yellow hairThat he woud gar her greet fu sair.3But she sware by her milk-white skinPrince Heathen shoud gar her greet nane:'O bonny may, winna ye greet now?''Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'4He's taen her in his arms twa,Laid her between him an the wa,An ere he let her free again,Her maidenhead frae her he's taen.'O bonny may, winna ye greet now?''Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'5'I killd your father in his bed,And your gay mother by his side,And your seven brothers, ane by ane,And they were seven pretty men.O bonny may, winna ye greet now?''Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'6'I'll put you in a vault o stone,Where five an thirty locks hing on;Naebody there then shall you see,For I will keep the keys wi me.O bonny may, winna ye greet now?''Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'7He's put her in a vault o stone,Where five an thirty locks hing on;Naebody there coud eer her see,Prince Heathen kept the keys him wi.But ae she cried, What shall I do!The heathenish dog has gart me rue.8Prince Heathen from the mountains came,Attended by his armed men,And he's gane to the bonny may,And to the prison where she lay:'O bonny may, what do you now?''Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.'9'I'll take you out upon the green,Where women ye shall neer see ane,But only me and my young men,Till ye bring daughter hame or son.O bonny may, what do you now?''Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.'10He's taen her out upon the green,Where she saw women never ane,But only him and 's merry young men,Till she brought hame a bonny young son.'O bonny may, what do you now?''Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.11'A drink, a drink, frae Prince Heathen's hand,Though it were frae yon cauld well strong!''O neer a drap, Prince Heathen,' said one,'Till ye row up your bonny young son.''How can I row up my bonny young son,When I hae naething to row him in?'12'I will lend you my horse's sheet,That will row him baith head and feet.'As soon's she took it in her han,Tears oer her cheeks down rapping ran.'O bonny may, ye do greet now:''Ye heathenish dog, but nae for you.13'But a' is for my bonny young son;Your sheets are rough to row him in;Ohon, alas, sair may I rueThat eer I saw such rogues as you!'14'Ye'll row my young son in the silk,An ye will wash him wi the milk,An lay my lady very saft,That I may see her very aft.'When hearts are broken, bands will bow;Sae well's he loved his lady now!

1Lady Margaret sat in her bower-door,Sewing at her silken seem,When by it came Prince Heathen then,An gae to her a gay gold ring.

2He turnd about, an gied a bow;She said, Begone, I love na you;When he sware by his yellow hairThat he woud gar her greet fu sair.

3But she sware by her milk-white skinPrince Heathen shoud gar her greet nane:'O bonny may, winna ye greet now?''Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'

4He's taen her in his arms twa,Laid her between him an the wa,An ere he let her free again,Her maidenhead frae her he's taen.'O bonny may, winna ye greet now?''Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'

5'I killd your father in his bed,And your gay mother by his side,And your seven brothers, ane by ane,And they were seven pretty men.O bonny may, winna ye greet now?''Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'

6'I'll put you in a vault o stone,Where five an thirty locks hing on;Naebody there then shall you see,For I will keep the keys wi me.O bonny may, winna ye greet now?''Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'

7He's put her in a vault o stone,Where five an thirty locks hing on;Naebody there coud eer her see,Prince Heathen kept the keys him wi.But ae she cried, What shall I do!The heathenish dog has gart me rue.

8Prince Heathen from the mountains came,Attended by his armed men,And he's gane to the bonny may,And to the prison where she lay:'O bonny may, what do you now?''Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.'

9'I'll take you out upon the green,Where women ye shall neer see ane,But only me and my young men,Till ye bring daughter hame or son.O bonny may, what do you now?''Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.'

10He's taen her out upon the green,Where she saw women never ane,But only him and 's merry young men,Till she brought hame a bonny young son.'O bonny may, what do you now?''Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.

11'A drink, a drink, frae Prince Heathen's hand,Though it were frae yon cauld well strong!''O neer a drap, Prince Heathen,' said one,'Till ye row up your bonny young son.''How can I row up my bonny young son,When I hae naething to row him in?'

12'I will lend you my horse's sheet,That will row him baith head and feet.'As soon's she took it in her han,Tears oer her cheeks down rapping ran.'O bonny may, ye do greet now:''Ye heathenish dog, but nae for you.

13'But a' is for my bonny young son;Your sheets are rough to row him in;Ohon, alas, sair may I rueThat eer I saw such rogues as you!'

14'Ye'll row my young son in the silk,An ye will wash him wi the milk,An lay my lady very saft,That I may see her very aft.'When hearts are broken, bands will bow;Sae well's he loved his lady now!

33. writmen.52. too.

33. writmen.

52. too.

112. wells.Motherwell MS.well.There are some trifling deviations in Motherwell's copy.

112. wells.Motherwell MS.well.

There are some trifling deviations in Motherwell's copy.

a.Printed for P. Brooksby, Boxburghe Ballads, II, 457.b.Printed for J. Walter, Douce Ballads, II, fol. 229.c.Printed for P. Brooksby, Pepys Ballads, III, 258, No 256.d.Printed for P. Brooksby, Roxburghe Ballads, IV, 56.e.Printed for P. Brooksby, Douce Ballads, II, fol. 230.f.An Aldermary Churchyard copy.

Reprinted in Percy's Reliques, III, 133, 1765, from the Pepys copy,c, but "with some improvements, communicated by a lady as she heard the same repeated in her youth;" that is, in fact, a few casual verbal variations, attributable to imperfect recollection of a broadside. There are much better in a copy which I have received from an Irish lady, partly made over by secondary tradition. Reprinted also by Ritson, A Select Collection of English Songs, II, 234, 1783, apparently froma, with an arbitrary change in st. 82, and one or two other variations. Mr F. H. Stoddard informs me that 'The Bailiff's Daughter' is still very much sung, and may be heard any day at a country cricket-match.

A fond youth and a coy maid, a bailiff's daughter, having been parted seven years, the maid disguises herself to go in quest of her lover, and meets him on her way. He asks her whether she knows the bailiff's daughter. The bailiff's daughter is dead long ago, she replies. Then he will go into a far country. The maid, assured of his faith, reveals herself, and is ready to be his bride.

This is the counterpart of a ballad found in other languages (and represented in English by Percy's cento 'The Friar of Orders Gray,' Reliques, I, 225, 1765), in which a man tells a woman that the object of her affection, lover, or more commonly husband, is dead. So runs the story in the following:

Italian.Marcoaldi, Canti popolari umbri, etc., p. 151, 'La prova d'amore,' Piedmontese; Gianandrea, C. p. marchigiani, p. 270, No 7, 'La prova d'amore;' Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 60, No 41, 'Il ritorno,' and C. p. di Ferrara, Cento e Pontelagoscuro, p. 16, No 4, p. 105, No 18; Bernoni, C. p. veneziani, Punt. IX, No 1, 'Il ritorno dalla guerra;' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, No 91, 'La ragazza ed i soldati;' Bolza, Canzoni p. comasche, No 53, 'Il riconoscimento;' Finamore, Storie p. abruzzesi, Archivio, I, 91, No 6, 'Rusine e Ddiamóre;' Kestner, in Reifferscheid, Westfälische V. 1., p. 156, Roman.

Spanish.'Caballero de lejas tierras,' Juan de Ribera, Nueve Romances, 1605, in Duran, I, 175, No 318, Wolf y Hofmann, Primavera, II, 88, No 156, and a traditional version in a note of Duran, as above, repeated in Primavera.Catalan.'La vuelta del peregrino,' Milá, Observaciones, p. 111, No 12, 'El peregrino,' Romancerillo, p. 154, No 203; 'La tornada del pelegrí,' Briz, V, 65.

Portuguese.'Bella Infanta,' Almeida-Garrett, II, 7; Bellermann, p. 100, No 12; Braga, C. p. do Archipelago açoriano, p. 298, No 41, Romanceiro Geral, p. 1, 'Dona Infanta,' p. 4, 'Dona Catherina;' Coelho, in Zeitschrift für romanische Philologie, III, 63, 1879 (imperfect).

Romaic.'Ἡ αναγνωρισις,' Zambelios, p. 718, No 5, Kind, Anthologie, 1861, p. 126, No 5, Passow, No 442: 'Ἡ πιστη συζυγος,' Evlambios, p. 58, Marcellus, I, 332, Passow, No 444; Tommaseo, III, 148, Passow, No 445, and III, 150, Passow, No 446; Schmidt, Griechische M., S., u. V. 1., p. 192, No 57 (see note, p. 272); Marcellus, I, 328, Passow, No 441; 'Αναγνωρισμος,' Chasiotis, p. 89, No 28; Aravandinos, Nos 347-349, pp. 209-211; 'Το γυρισμα,' Oikonomides, p. 132; Jeannaraki, p. 237, No 300, with perverted conclusion; Fauriel, II, 396, Passow, No 447 (fragment). Aravandinos, No 348, is translated by Miss Garnett, Greek Folk Songs, p. 163.

Translated by Bodmer, I, 82; Döring, p. 85; Arndt, p. 193; Von Marées, p. 45; Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 64.

1There was a youth, and a well belovd youth,And he was a esquire's son,He loved the bayliff's daughter dear,That lived in Islington.2She was coy, and she would not believeThat he did love her so,No, nor at any time she wouldAny countenance to him show.3But when his friends did understandHis fond and foolish mind,They sent him up to fair London,An apprentice for to bind.4And when he had been seven long years,And his love he had not seen,'Many a tear have I shed for her sakeWhen she little thought of me.'5All the maids of IslingtonWent forth to sport and play;All but the bayliff's daughter dear;She secretly stole away.6She put off her gown of gray,And put on her puggish attire;She's up to fair London gone,Her true-love to require.7As she went along the road,The weather being hot and dry,There was she aware of her true-love,At length came riding by.8She stept to him, as red as any rose,And took him by the bridle-ring:'I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny,To ease my weary limb.'9'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell meWhere that thou wast born?''At Islington, kind sir,' said she,'Where I have had many a scorn.'10'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell meWhether thou dost knowThe bailiff's daughter of Islington?''She's dead, sir, long ago.'11'Then will I sell my goodly steed,My saddle and my bow;I will into some far countrey,Where no man doth me know.'12'O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth!She's alive, she is not dead;Here she standeth by thy side,And is ready to be thy bride.'13'O farewel grief, and welcome joy,Ten thousand times and more!For now I have seen my own true-love,That I thought I should have seen no more.'

1There was a youth, and a well belovd youth,And he was a esquire's son,He loved the bayliff's daughter dear,That lived in Islington.

2She was coy, and she would not believeThat he did love her so,No, nor at any time she wouldAny countenance to him show.

3But when his friends did understandHis fond and foolish mind,They sent him up to fair London,An apprentice for to bind.

4And when he had been seven long years,And his love he had not seen,'Many a tear have I shed for her sakeWhen she little thought of me.'

5All the maids of IslingtonWent forth to sport and play;All but the bayliff's daughter dear;She secretly stole away.

6She put off her gown of gray,And put on her puggish attire;She's up to fair London gone,Her true-love to require.

7As she went along the road,The weather being hot and dry,There was she aware of her true-love,At length came riding by.

8She stept to him, as red as any rose,And took him by the bridle-ring:'I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny,To ease my weary limb.'

9'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell meWhere that thou wast born?''At Islington, kind sir,' said she,'Where I have had many a scorn.'

10'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell meWhether thou dost knowThe bailiff's daughter of Islington?''She's dead, sir, long ago.'

11'Then will I sell my goodly steed,My saddle and my bow;I will into some far countrey,Where no man doth me know.'

12'O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth!She's alive, she is not dead;Here she standeth by thy side,And is ready to be thy bride.'

13'O farewel grief, and welcome joy,Ten thousand times and more!For now I have seen my own true-love,That I thought I should have seen no more.'

a-f.

True Love Requited, or, The Bayliff's Daughter of Islington.

The young man's friends the maid did scorn,Cause she was poor, and left forlorn;They sent the esquire to London fair,To be an apprentice seven year.And when he out on 's time was come,He met his love, a going home,And then, to end all further strife,He took the maid to be his wife.

To a North Countrey Tune, or, I have a good old mother at home.e,fhaveof's, of his,in verse 5.

To a North Countrey Tune, or, I have a good old mother at home.

e,fhaveof's, of his,in verse 5.

82. bridal ring,and so all butf.At the end:Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Pye-Corner.Brooksby printed 1672-95: Chappell.

82. bridal ring,and so all butf.

At the end:Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Pye-Corner.Brooksby printed 1672-95: Chappell.

12, a squire's.Printed for J. Walter, at the Golden Bal[l] in Pye-Corner.J. Walter's time is 1690-1720: Chappell.

12, a squire's.

Printed for J. Walter, at the Golden Bal[l] in Pye-Corner.J. Walter's time is 1690-1720: Chappell.

12, awanting.62. herwanting.Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Py-Corner.

12, awanting.

62. herwanting.

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Py-Corner.

34. a apprentice.62. herwanting.92. was.121. thou well belovd.Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in West Smithfield.

34. a apprentice.

62. herwanting.

92. was.

121. thou well belovd.

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in West Smithfield.

31. a apprentice.62. herwanting.64. inquire.82. a penny.92. was.111. I sellwanting.121. thou well belovd.Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golde[n] Ball, near the Bear Tavern, in Pye Corner.

31. a apprentice.

62. herwanting.

64. inquire.

82. a penny.

92. was.

111. I sellwanting.

121. thou well belovd.

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golde[n] Ball, near the Bear Tavern, in Pye Corner.

11. was was youth.12. a squire's.21. He was.23. would she.51. When all... of fair.62. her ragged.63. And she is.64. After her... enquire.71. And as.81. a rose.82. bridle.84. For to.92. Whereat.102. Whether that.111. I will.113. And travel into.133. I see.134. should neer see more.Printed and sold in Aldermary Churchyard, Bow Lane, London. "1700, or a little later."

11. was was youth.

12. a squire's.

21. He was.

23. would she.

51. When all... of fair.

62. her ragged.

63. And she is.

64. After her... enquire.

71. And as.

81. a rose.

82. bridle.

84. For to.

92. Whereat.

102. Whether that.

111. I will.

113. And travel into.

133. I see.

134. should neer see more.

Printed and sold in Aldermary Churchyard, Bow Lane, London. "1700, or a little later."

a.Wood, E. 25, fol. 75, Bodleian Library.b.Pepys, III, 142, No 140, Magdalen College Library, Cambridge.c.A Collection of Old Ballads, I, 216, 1723.

This ballad was given in Percy's Reliques, III, 87, 1765, "from a written copy, containing some improvements (perhaps modern ones)." These improvements are execrable in style and in matter, so far as there is new matter, but not in so glaring contrast with the groundwork as literary emendations of traditional ballads. Ritson reprinted in A Select Collection of English Songs, II, 244, 1783, some broadside like that which was followed byc.[169]

'Sweet Willie' in Kinloch MSS, V, 407 and VII, 197 (the latter printed in Kinloch'sAncient Scottish Ballads, p. 96), and also a fragment with the same title in the Harris MS., fol. 20 f, No 15, are derived from the broadside through recitation. A copy in Buchan's MSS, I, 150, is taken directly from print.

In other cases portions of the broadside appear to have entered into combination with traditional verses belonging to some other story, or possibly to some older form of this.

The Dean of Derry communicated to Percy in 1776 the following stanzas, which he wrote down from the recitation of his mother, Mrs Barnard, wife of the Bishop of Derry.[170]

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