D

Motherwell's MS., p. 321, from Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan, June 21, 1825.

1Lord Robert and Mary Florence,They were twa children young;They were scarse seven years of ageTill love began to spring.2Lord Robert loved Mary Florence,And she lovd him above power;But he durst not for his cruel motherBring her unto his bower.3It was nineteen miles to Strawberry Castle,As good as ever was rode or gane,But the lord being light, and the steed being swift,Lord Robert was hame gin noon.4'A blessing, a blessing, dear mother,' he cries,'A blessing I do crave!''A blessing, a blessing, my son Lord Robert,And a blessing thou shalt have.'5She called on her chamber-maidTo fill up a glass of wine,And so clever was her cursed fingersTo put the rank poison in.6'O wae be to you, mother dear,' he cries,'For working such a wae;For poisoning of your son Lord Robert,And children you have nae mae.7'O where will I get a pretty little boyThat'll rin him my errands sune?That will rin unto Strawberry Castle,And tell Mary Florence to cum?'8'Here am I, a pretty little boy,Your eldest sister's son,That will rin unto Strawberry Castle,And tell Mary Florence to come.'9When he came unto Strawberry CastleHe tirled at the pin,And so ready was Mary Florence hersellTo open and let him in.10'What news, what news, my pretty little boy?What news hast thou brocht here?'With sichin and sabbin and wringing his hands,No message he could refer.11'The news that I have gotten,' he says,'I cannot weel declair;But my grandmother has prepard a feast,And fain she would hae thee thair.'12She called on her stable-groomTo dress her swiftest steed;For she knew very weel by this pretty little boyThat Lord Robert was dead.13And when she came to Knotingale CastleShe tirled at the pin,And so ready was Lord Robert's motherTo open and let her in.14'What news, what news, Mary Florence?' she says,'What news has thou to me?''I came to see your son Lord Robert,And fain would I him see.15'I came not for his gude red gold,Nor for his white monie,But for the ring on his wee finger,And fain would I it see.'16'That ring thou cannot see, Mary Florence,That ring thou'll never see;For death was so strong in Lord Robert's breastThat the gold ring burst in three.'17She has set her foot unto a stone,Her back unto a tree;Before she left Knotingale CastleHer heart it brak in three.

1Lord Robert and Mary Florence,They were twa children young;They were scarse seven years of ageTill love began to spring.

2Lord Robert loved Mary Florence,And she lovd him above power;But he durst not for his cruel motherBring her unto his bower.

3It was nineteen miles to Strawberry Castle,As good as ever was rode or gane,But the lord being light, and the steed being swift,Lord Robert was hame gin noon.

4'A blessing, a blessing, dear mother,' he cries,'A blessing I do crave!''A blessing, a blessing, my son Lord Robert,And a blessing thou shalt have.'

5She called on her chamber-maidTo fill up a glass of wine,And so clever was her cursed fingersTo put the rank poison in.

6'O wae be to you, mother dear,' he cries,'For working such a wae;For poisoning of your son Lord Robert,And children you have nae mae.

7'O where will I get a pretty little boyThat'll rin him my errands sune?That will rin unto Strawberry Castle,And tell Mary Florence to cum?'

8'Here am I, a pretty little boy,Your eldest sister's son,That will rin unto Strawberry Castle,And tell Mary Florence to come.'

9When he came unto Strawberry CastleHe tirled at the pin,And so ready was Mary Florence hersellTo open and let him in.

10'What news, what news, my pretty little boy?What news hast thou brocht here?'With sichin and sabbin and wringing his hands,No message he could refer.

11'The news that I have gotten,' he says,'I cannot weel declair;But my grandmother has prepard a feast,And fain she would hae thee thair.'

12She called on her stable-groomTo dress her swiftest steed;For she knew very weel by this pretty little boyThat Lord Robert was dead.

13And when she came to Knotingale CastleShe tirled at the pin,And so ready was Lord Robert's motherTo open and let her in.

14'What news, what news, Mary Florence?' she says,'What news has thou to me?''I came to see your son Lord Robert,And fain would I him see.

15'I came not for his gude red gold,Nor for his white monie,But for the ring on his wee finger,And fain would I it see.'

16'That ring thou cannot see, Mary Florence,That ring thou'll never see;For death was so strong in Lord Robert's breastThat the gold ring burst in three.'

17She has set her foot unto a stone,Her back unto a tree;Before she left Knotingale CastleHer heart it brak in three.

Harris MS., fol. 29, from the recitation of Mrs Molison.

1Prince Robert he has wedded a wife,An he daurna bring her hame;The queen ...His mither was much to blame.* * * * *2'It is the fashion in oor countrie, mither,I dinna ken what it is here,To like your wife better than your mither,That... bought you sae dear.'3She called upon her best marie,An tippet her wi a ring,To bring to her the rank poison,To gie Prince Robert a dram.4She put it to her cheek, her cheek,She put it to her chin;She put it to her fause, fause lips,But neer a drap gaed in.5She put it to his cheek, his cheek,She put it to his chin;She put it to his rosy lips,An the rank poison gaed in.6'Whare will I get a bonnie boy,Wha will win meat an fee,Wha will rin on to... bower,Bring my gude ladie to me?'7'Here am I, a bonnie boy,Willin to win meat an fee,Wha will rin on to... bower,An bring your gude ladie.'8'Whan you come to broken brig,Tak aff your coat an swim;An whan you come to grass growin,Tak aff your shoon an rin.'9An whan he cam to broken brig,He coost his coat an swam,An whan he cam to grass growin,Set doon his feet an ran.10An whan he cam to the ladie's bower,He fand her a' her lane,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .* * * * *11An syne she kissed his wan, wan lips,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

1Prince Robert he has wedded a wife,An he daurna bring her hame;The queen ...His mither was much to blame.

* * * * *

2'It is the fashion in oor countrie, mither,I dinna ken what it is here,To like your wife better than your mither,That... bought you sae dear.'

3She called upon her best marie,An tippet her wi a ring,To bring to her the rank poison,To gie Prince Robert a dram.

4She put it to her cheek, her cheek,She put it to her chin;She put it to her fause, fause lips,But neer a drap gaed in.

5She put it to his cheek, his cheek,She put it to his chin;She put it to his rosy lips,An the rank poison gaed in.

6'Whare will I get a bonnie boy,Wha will win meat an fee,Wha will rin on to... bower,Bring my gude ladie to me?'

7'Here am I, a bonnie boy,Willin to win meat an fee,Wha will rin on to... bower,An bring your gude ladie.'

8'Whan you come to broken brig,Tak aff your coat an swim;An whan you come to grass growin,Tak aff your shoon an rin.'

9An whan he cam to broken brig,He coost his coat an swam,An whan he cam to grass growin,Set doon his feet an ran.

10An whan he cam to the ladie's bower,He fand her a' her lane,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

* * * * *

11An syne she kissed his wan, wan lips,. . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

131, 133. Oh.163, 171, 173. ring,ed. 1802;rings,ed. 1833.

131, 133. Oh.

163, 171, 173. ring,ed. 1802;rings,ed. 1833.

22.Changed in the MS. toO bring me.72, 112. a'added later.92. aadded later.153. grew an;the next word looks likebuk, but is erased, andbirksubstituted. Motherwell printedbush.

22.Changed in the MS. toO bring me.

72, 112. a'added later.

92. aadded later.

153. grew an;the next word looks likebuk, but is erased, andbirksubstituted. Motherwell printedbush.

A.'The Cruel Knight,' Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 305; I, 165, ed. 1776.B. a.'Young Johnstone,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 193.b.'The Young Johnstone,' Finlay's Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads, II, 71.C.'Sweet William and the Young Colonel,' Motherwell's MS., p. 310.D.'Johnston Hey and Young Caldwell,' Motherwell's MS., p. 639.E.'Lord John's Murder,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 20.F.'Young Johnston,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xx, XVIII, one stanza.

A.'The Cruel Knight,' Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 305; I, 165, ed. 1776.

B. a.'Young Johnstone,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 193.b.'The Young Johnstone,' Finlay's Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads, II, 71.

C.'Sweet William and the Young Colonel,' Motherwell's MS., p. 310.

D.'Johnston Hey and Young Caldwell,' Motherwell's MS., p. 639.

E.'Lord John's Murder,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 20.

F.'Young Johnston,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xx, XVIII, one stanza.

Pinkerton inserted Herd's 'Cruel Knight,'A, in his Select Scotish Ballads, I, 69, with alterations and omissions. Motherwell enters in his Note-Book, p. 6, that he had received from Mrs Gentles, Paisley, 'The Young Johnstone,' "different in some measure from the copy in Finlay's Ballads." Of the version printed in his Minstrelsy (B a), undoubtedly that which was derived from Mrs Gentles, he says, "for a few verbal emendations recourse has been had to Mr Finlay's copy (B b)." These versions should therefore not have differed considerably, Finlay suppressed "Young Johnstone's reason for being sae late a coming in," "as well as a concluding stanza of inferior merit;" in this rejection he was not followed by Motherwell. Christie, I, 156, givesE"with some alterations from the way it was sung" by an old woman; petty variations, such as one must think could not have impressed themselves upon a memory unapt to retain things of more importance. 'Young Johnstone' in Chambers's Twelve Romantic Scottish Ballads, p. 19, is made up mostly fromB a,B b,E, like the copy in the same editor's Scottish Ballads, p. 293, but handles tradition very freely.

Eseems to beAaltered, or imperfectly remembered, with the addition of a few stanzas. Motherwell remarks of his version, what is true of all the others butE, that the ballad throws no light on Young Johnstone's motive for stabbing his lady. An explanation was afforded by the reciter: "The barbarous act was committed unwittingly, through Young Johnstone's suddenly waking from sleep, and, in that moment of confusion and alarm, unhappily mistaking his mistress for one of his pursuers." And this is the turn which is given to the act inE13:

'Ohon, alas, my lady gay,To come sae hastilie!I thought it was my deadly foe,Ye had trysted into me.'

The apology may go for what it is worth. Awake or waking, Young Johnstone's first instinct is as duly to stab as a bull-dog's is to bite.

C5, 9, 13 are taken from 'The Lass of Roch Royal:' cf. No 76,B17,C2,E9,H3.D6 recalls'Fair Margaret and Sweet William,' No 74,A8,B11;A13,B25,C26,D30,E15,'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' No 73,B34,D17;D31, 32, 'The Twa Brothers,' No 49,B4,C4, 5,D5, 7,E6, 7,F5, 6,G4, 5.

A, with the last two stanzas ofB a, is translated by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 27;Eby Gerhard, p. 157; Aytoun, II, 110 by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 30, p. 94, with abridgment; Pinkerton's copy by Grundtvig, No 20, p. 136.

Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 305.

1The knight stands in the stable-door,As he was for to ryde,When out then came his fair lady,Desiring him to byde.2'How can I byde? how dare I byde?How can I byde with thee?Have I not killd thy ae brother?Thou hadst nae mair but he.'3'If you have killd my ae brother,Alas, and woe is me!But if I save your fair body,The better you'll like me.'4She's tane him to her secret bower,Pinnd with a siller pin,And she's up to her highest tower,To watch that none come in.5She had na well gane up the stair,And entered in her tower,When four and twenty armed knightsCame riding to the door.6'Now God you save, my fair lady,I pray you tell to me,Saw you not a wounded knightCome riding by this way?'7'Yes, bloody, bloody was his sword,And bloody were his hands;But if the steed he rides be good,He's past fair Scotland's strands.8'Light down, light down then, gentlemen,And take some bread and wine;The better you will him pursueWhen you shall lightly dine.'9'We thank you for your bread, lady,We thank you for your wine;I would gie thrice three thousand poundsYour fair body was mine.'10Then she's gane to her secret bower,Her husband dear to meet;But he drew out his bloody sword,And wounded her sae deep.11'What aileth thee now, good my lord?What aileth thee at me?Have you not got my father's gold,But and my mother's fee?'12'Now live, now live, my fair lady,O live but half an hour,There's neer a leech in fair ScotlandBut shall be at thy bower.'13'How can I live? how shall I live?How can I live for thee?See you not where my red heart's bloodRuns trickling down my knee?'* * * * *

1The knight stands in the stable-door,As he was for to ryde,When out then came his fair lady,Desiring him to byde.

2'How can I byde? how dare I byde?How can I byde with thee?Have I not killd thy ae brother?Thou hadst nae mair but he.'

3'If you have killd my ae brother,Alas, and woe is me!But if I save your fair body,The better you'll like me.'

4She's tane him to her secret bower,Pinnd with a siller pin,And she's up to her highest tower,To watch that none come in.

5She had na well gane up the stair,And entered in her tower,When four and twenty armed knightsCame riding to the door.

6'Now God you save, my fair lady,I pray you tell to me,Saw you not a wounded knightCome riding by this way?'

7'Yes, bloody, bloody was his sword,And bloody were his hands;But if the steed he rides be good,He's past fair Scotland's strands.

8'Light down, light down then, gentlemen,And take some bread and wine;The better you will him pursueWhen you shall lightly dine.'

9'We thank you for your bread, lady,We thank you for your wine;I would gie thrice three thousand poundsYour fair body was mine.'

10Then she's gane to her secret bower,Her husband dear to meet;But he drew out his bloody sword,And wounded her sae deep.

11'What aileth thee now, good my lord?What aileth thee at me?Have you not got my father's gold,But and my mother's fee?'

12'Now live, now live, my fair lady,O live but half an hour,There's neer a leech in fair ScotlandBut shall be at thy bower.'

13'How can I live? how shall I live?How can I live for thee?See you not where my red heart's bloodRuns trickling down my knee?'

* * * * *

a.Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 193, from the recitation of Mrs Gentles, Paisley,b.Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 71, from two recited copies.

1Young Johnstone and the young ColnelSat drinking at the wine:'O gin ye wad marry my sister,It's I wad marry thine.'2'I wadna marry your sisterFor a' your houses and land;But I'll keep her for my leman,When I come oer the strand.3'I wadna marry your sisterFor a' your gowd so gay;But I'll keep her for my leman,When I come by the way.'4Young Johnstone had a little small sword,Hung low down by his gair,And he stabbed it through the young Colnel,That word he neer spak mair.5But he's awa to his sister's bower,He's tirled at the pin:'Whare hae ye been, my dear brither,Sae late a coming in?''I hae been at the school, sister,Learning young clerks to sing.'6'I've dreamed a dreary dream this night,I wish it may be for good;They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,And the young Colnel was dead.'7'Hawks and hounds they may seek me,As I trow well they be;For I have killed the young Colnel,And thy own true-love was he.'8'If ye hae killed the young Colnel,O dule and wae is me!But I wish ye may be hanged on a hie gallows,And hae nae power to flee.'9And he's awa to his true-love's bower,He's tirled at the pin:'Whar hae ye been, my dear Johnstone,Sae late a coming in?''It's I hae been at the school,' he says,'Learning young clerks to sing.'10'I have dreamed a dreary dream,' she says,'I wish it may be for good;They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,And the young Colnel was dead.'11'Hawks and hounds they may seek me,As I trow well they be;For I hae killed the young Colnel,And thy ae brother was he.'12'If ye hae killed the young Colnel,O dule and wae is me!But I care the less for the young Colnel,If thy ain body be free.13'Come in, come in, my dear Johnstone,Come in and take a sleep;And I will go to my casement,And carefully I will thee keep.'14He had not weel been in her bower-door,No not for half an hour,When four and twenty belted knightsCame riding to the bower.15'Well may you sit and see, lady,Well may you sit and say;Did you not see a bloody squireCome riding by this way?'16'What colour were his hawks?' she says,'What colour were his hounds?What colour was the gallant steed,That bore him from the bounds?'17'Bloody, bloody were his hawks,And bloody were his hounds;But milk-white was the gallant steed,That bore him from the bounds.'18'Yes, bloody, bloody were his hawks,And bloody were his hounds;And milk-white was the gallant steed,That bore him from the bounds.19'Light down, light down now, gentlemen,And take some bread and wine;And the steed be swift that he rides on,He's past the brig o Lyne.'20'We thank you for your bread, fair lady,We thank you for your wine;But I wad gie thrice three thousand poundThat bloody knight was taen.'21'Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone,Lie still and take a sleep;For thy enemies are past and gone,And carefully I will thee keep.'22But Young Johnstone had a little wee sword,Hung low down by his gair,And he stabbed it in fair Annet's breast,A deep wound and a sair.23'What aileth thee now, dear Johnstone?What aileth thee at me?Hast thou not got my father's gold,Bot and my mither's fee?'24'Now live, now live, my dear ladye,Now live but half an hour,And there's no a leech in a' ScotlandBut shall be in thy bower.'25'How can I live? how shall I live?Young Johnstone, do not you seeThe red, red drops o my bonny heart's bloodRin trinkling down my knee?26'But take thy harp into thy hand,And harp out owre yon plain,And neer think mair on thy true-loveThan if she had never been.'27He hadna weel been out o the stable,And on his saddle set,Till four and twenty broad arrowsWere thrilling in his heart.

1Young Johnstone and the young ColnelSat drinking at the wine:'O gin ye wad marry my sister,It's I wad marry thine.'

2'I wadna marry your sisterFor a' your houses and land;But I'll keep her for my leman,When I come oer the strand.

3'I wadna marry your sisterFor a' your gowd so gay;But I'll keep her for my leman,When I come by the way.'

4Young Johnstone had a little small sword,Hung low down by his gair,And he stabbed it through the young Colnel,That word he neer spak mair.

5But he's awa to his sister's bower,He's tirled at the pin:'Whare hae ye been, my dear brither,Sae late a coming in?''I hae been at the school, sister,Learning young clerks to sing.'

6'I've dreamed a dreary dream this night,I wish it may be for good;They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,And the young Colnel was dead.'

7'Hawks and hounds they may seek me,As I trow well they be;For I have killed the young Colnel,And thy own true-love was he.'

8'If ye hae killed the young Colnel,O dule and wae is me!But I wish ye may be hanged on a hie gallows,And hae nae power to flee.'

9And he's awa to his true-love's bower,He's tirled at the pin:'Whar hae ye been, my dear Johnstone,Sae late a coming in?''It's I hae been at the school,' he says,'Learning young clerks to sing.'

10'I have dreamed a dreary dream,' she says,'I wish it may be for good;They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,And the young Colnel was dead.'

11'Hawks and hounds they may seek me,As I trow well they be;For I hae killed the young Colnel,And thy ae brother was he.'

12'If ye hae killed the young Colnel,O dule and wae is me!But I care the less for the young Colnel,If thy ain body be free.

13'Come in, come in, my dear Johnstone,Come in and take a sleep;And I will go to my casement,And carefully I will thee keep.'

14He had not weel been in her bower-door,No not for half an hour,When four and twenty belted knightsCame riding to the bower.

15'Well may you sit and see, lady,Well may you sit and say;Did you not see a bloody squireCome riding by this way?'

16'What colour were his hawks?' she says,'What colour were his hounds?What colour was the gallant steed,That bore him from the bounds?'

17'Bloody, bloody were his hawks,And bloody were his hounds;But milk-white was the gallant steed,That bore him from the bounds.'

18'Yes, bloody, bloody were his hawks,And bloody were his hounds;And milk-white was the gallant steed,That bore him from the bounds.

19'Light down, light down now, gentlemen,And take some bread and wine;And the steed be swift that he rides on,He's past the brig o Lyne.'

20'We thank you for your bread, fair lady,We thank you for your wine;But I wad gie thrice three thousand poundThat bloody knight was taen.'

21'Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone,Lie still and take a sleep;For thy enemies are past and gone,And carefully I will thee keep.'

22But Young Johnstone had a little wee sword,Hung low down by his gair,And he stabbed it in fair Annet's breast,A deep wound and a sair.

23'What aileth thee now, dear Johnstone?What aileth thee at me?Hast thou not got my father's gold,Bot and my mither's fee?'

24'Now live, now live, my dear ladye,Now live but half an hour,And there's no a leech in a' ScotlandBut shall be in thy bower.'

25'How can I live? how shall I live?Young Johnstone, do not you seeThe red, red drops o my bonny heart's bloodRin trinkling down my knee?

26'But take thy harp into thy hand,And harp out owre yon plain,And neer think mair on thy true-loveThan if she had never been.'

27He hadna weel been out o the stable,And on his saddle set,Till four and twenty broad arrowsWere thrilling in his heart.

Motherwell's MS., p. 310, from the recitation of Jeanie Nicol, May 4, 1825.

1Sweet William and the young ColnelOne day was drinking wine:'It's I will marry your sister,If ye will marry mine.'2'I will not marry your sister,Altho her hair he brown;But I'll keep her for my liberty-wife,As I ride thro the town.'3William, having his two-edged sword,He leaned quite low to the ground,And he has given the young ColnelA deep and a deadly wound.4He rade, he rade, and awa he rade,Till he came to his mother's bower;'O open, open, mother,' he says,'And let your auld son in.5'For the rain rains owre my yellow hair,And the dew draps on my chin,And trembling stands the gallant steedThat carries me from the ground.'6'What aileth thee, Sweet William?' she says,'What harm now hast thou done?''Oh I hae killed the young Colnel,And his heart's blood sair does run.'7'If ye hae killed the young Colnel,Nae shelter ye'll get frae me;May the two-edged sword be upon your heart,That never hath power to flee!'8He rade, he rade, and awa he rade,Till he came to his sister's bower;'Oh open, open, sister,' he says,'And let your brother in.9'For the rain rains on my yellow hair,And the dew draps on my chin,And trembling stands the gallant steedThat carries me from the ground.'10'What aileth thee, Sweet William?' she says,'What harm now hast thou done?''Oh I have killed the young Colnel,And his heart's blood sair doth run.'11'If ye hae killed the young Colnel,Nae shelter ye'll get frae me;May the two-edged sword be upon your heart,That never hath power to flee!'12He rade, he rade, and awa he rade,Till he came to his true-love's bower;'Oh open, oh open, my true-love,' he says,'And let your sweetheart in.13'For the rain rains on my yellow hair,And the dew draps on my chin,And trembling stands the gallant steedThat carries me from the ground.'14'What aileth thee, Sweet William?' she says,'What harm now hast thou done?''Oh I hae killed thy brother dear,And his heart's blood sair doth run.'15'If ye hae killed my brother dear,It's oh and alace for me!But between the blankets and the sheetsIt's there I will hide thee!'16She's taen him by the milk-white hand,She's led him thro chambers three,Until she came to her own chamber:'It's there I will hide thee.17'Lye down, lye down, Sweet William,' she says,'Lye down and take a sleep;It's owre the chamber I will watch,Thy fair bodie to keep.'18She had not watched at the chamber-doorAn hour but only three,Till four and twenty belted knichtsDid seek his fair bodie.19'O did you see the hunt?' she says,'Or did you see the hounds?Or did you see that gallant steed,That last rade thro the town?'20'What colour was the fox?' they said,'What colour was the hounds?What colour was the gallant steed,That's far yont London toun?'21'O dark grey was the fox,' she said,'And light grey was the hounds,But milk-white was the gallant steedThat's far yont London town.'22'Rise up, rise up, Sweet William,' she says,'Rise up, and go away;For four and twenty belted knightsWere seeking thy bodye.'23Sweet William, having his two-edged sword,He leaned it quite low to the ground,And he has given his own true-loveA deep and a deadly wound.24'What aileth thee, Sweet William?' she says,'What harm now have I done?I never harmed a hair of your headSince ever this love began.'25'Oh live, oh live, my own true-love,Oh live but half an hour,And the best doctor in London townShall come within thy bower.'26'How can I live? how shall I live?How can I live half an hour?For don't you see my very heart's bloodAll sprinkled on the floor?'27William, having his two-edged sword,He leaned it quite low to the ground,And he has given his own bodieA deep and a deadly wound.

1Sweet William and the young ColnelOne day was drinking wine:'It's I will marry your sister,If ye will marry mine.'

2'I will not marry your sister,Altho her hair he brown;But I'll keep her for my liberty-wife,As I ride thro the town.'

3William, having his two-edged sword,He leaned quite low to the ground,And he has given the young ColnelA deep and a deadly wound.

4He rade, he rade, and awa he rade,Till he came to his mother's bower;'O open, open, mother,' he says,'And let your auld son in.

5'For the rain rains owre my yellow hair,And the dew draps on my chin,And trembling stands the gallant steedThat carries me from the ground.'

6'What aileth thee, Sweet William?' she says,'What harm now hast thou done?''Oh I hae killed the young Colnel,And his heart's blood sair does run.'

7'If ye hae killed the young Colnel,Nae shelter ye'll get frae me;May the two-edged sword be upon your heart,That never hath power to flee!'

8He rade, he rade, and awa he rade,Till he came to his sister's bower;'Oh open, open, sister,' he says,'And let your brother in.

9'For the rain rains on my yellow hair,And the dew draps on my chin,And trembling stands the gallant steedThat carries me from the ground.'

10'What aileth thee, Sweet William?' she says,'What harm now hast thou done?''Oh I have killed the young Colnel,And his heart's blood sair doth run.'

11'If ye hae killed the young Colnel,Nae shelter ye'll get frae me;May the two-edged sword be upon your heart,That never hath power to flee!'

12He rade, he rade, and awa he rade,Till he came to his true-love's bower;'Oh open, oh open, my true-love,' he says,'And let your sweetheart in.

13'For the rain rains on my yellow hair,And the dew draps on my chin,And trembling stands the gallant steedThat carries me from the ground.'

14'What aileth thee, Sweet William?' she says,'What harm now hast thou done?''Oh I hae killed thy brother dear,And his heart's blood sair doth run.'

15'If ye hae killed my brother dear,It's oh and alace for me!But between the blankets and the sheetsIt's there I will hide thee!'

16She's taen him by the milk-white hand,She's led him thro chambers three,Until she came to her own chamber:'It's there I will hide thee.

17'Lye down, lye down, Sweet William,' she says,'Lye down and take a sleep;It's owre the chamber I will watch,Thy fair bodie to keep.'

18She had not watched at the chamber-doorAn hour but only three,Till four and twenty belted knichtsDid seek his fair bodie.

19'O did you see the hunt?' she says,'Or did you see the hounds?Or did you see that gallant steed,That last rade thro the town?'

20'What colour was the fox?' they said,'What colour was the hounds?What colour was the gallant steed,That's far yont London toun?'

21'O dark grey was the fox,' she said,'And light grey was the hounds,But milk-white was the gallant steedThat's far yont London town.'

22'Rise up, rise up, Sweet William,' she says,'Rise up, and go away;For four and twenty belted knightsWere seeking thy bodye.'

23Sweet William, having his two-edged sword,He leaned it quite low to the ground,And he has given his own true-loveA deep and a deadly wound.

24'What aileth thee, Sweet William?' she says,'What harm now have I done?I never harmed a hair of your headSince ever this love began.'

25'Oh live, oh live, my own true-love,Oh live but half an hour,And the best doctor in London townShall come within thy bower.'

26'How can I live? how shall I live?How can I live half an hour?For don't you see my very heart's bloodAll sprinkled on the floor?'

27William, having his two-edged sword,He leaned it quite low to the ground,And he has given his own bodieA deep and a deadly wound.

Motherwell's MS., p. 639, from the recitation of an Irishwoman, wife of John French, a porter at the quay of Ayr.

1Johnston Hey and Young CaldwellWere drinking o the wine:'O will ye marry my sister?And I will marry thine.'2'I winna marry your sister,Altho her locks are broun;But I'll make her my concubine,As I ride through the toun.'3Syne Johnston drew a gude braid sword,That hang down by his knee,And he has run the Young CaldwellOut through the fair bodie.4Up he gat, and awa he rade,By the clear light o the moon,Until he came to his mother's door,And there he lichtit doun.5'Whare hae ye been, son Willie,' she said,'Sae late and far in the night?''O I hae been at yon new slate house,Hearing the clergy speak.'6'I dreamd a dream, son Willie,' she said,'I doubt it bodes nae gude;That your ain room was fu o red swine,And your bride's bed daubd wi blude.'7'To dream o blude, mither,' he said,'It bodeth meikle ill;And I hae slain a Young Caldwell,And they're seeking me to kill.'8'Gin ye hae slain a Young Caldwell,Alace and wae is me!But gin your fair body's free frae skaith,The easier I will be.'9Up he gat, and awa he rade,By the clear licht o the mune,Until he cam to his sister's bower,And there he lichtit doun.10'Whare hae ye been, brither,' she said,'Sae late and far in the night?''O I hae been in yon new slate house,Hearing the clergy speak.'11'I dreamd a dream, brither,' she said,'I doubt it bodes nae gude;I dreamd the ravens eat your flesh,And the lions drank your blude.'12'To dream o blude, sister,' he said,'It bodeth meikle ill;And I hae slain a Young Caldwell,And they're seeking me to kill.'13'Gin ye hae slain a Young Caldwell,Alace and wae is me!To be torn at the tail o wild horsesIs the death I weet ye'll die.'14Up he gat, and awa he rade,By the clear light o the mune,Untill he cam to his true-love's bower,And there he lichtit doun.15'Whare hae ye been, Love Willie,' she said,'Sae late and far in the night?''O I hae been in yon new sklate house,Hearing the clergy speak.'16'I dreamd a dream, Willie,' she said,'I doubt it bodes nae gude;I dreamd the ravens ate your flesh,And the lions drank your blude.'17'To dream o ravens, love,' he said,'Is the loss o a near friend;And I hae killd your brither dear,And for it I'll be slain.'18'Gin ye hae slain my ae brither,Alace and wae is me!But gin your fair body's free frae skaith,The easier I will be.19'Lye doun, lye doun, Love Willie,' she said,'Lye doun and tak a sleep;And I will walk the castel wa,Your fair bodie to keep.'20He laid him doun within her bowr,She happit him wi her plaid,And she's awa to the castle-wa,To see what would betide.21She hadna gane the castle roundA time but only three,Till four and twenty beltit knichtsCam riding ower the lea.22And whan they came unto the gate,They stude and thus did say:'O did ye see yon bludie knicht,As he rade out this way?'23'What colour was his hawk?' she said,'What colour was his hound?What colour was the gudely steedThe bludie knicht rade on?'24'Nut-brown was his hawk,' they said,'And yellow-fit was his hound,And milk-white was the goodly steedThe bluidie knicht rade on.'25'Gin nut-brown was his hawk,' she said,'And yellow-fit was his hound,And milk-white was the gudely steed,He's up to London gone.'26They spurrd their steeds out ower the lea,They being void o fear;Syne up she gat, and awa she gade,Wi tidings to her dear.27'Lye still, lye still, Love Willie,' she said,'Lye still and tak your sleep;'Syne he took up his good braid sword,And wounded her fu deep.28'O wae be to you, Love Willie,' she said,'And an ill death may ye die!For first ye slew my ae brither,And now ye hae killd me.'29'Oh live, oh live, true-love,' he said,'Oh live but ae half hour,And there's not a docter in a' LondonBut sall be in your bower.'30'How can I live, Love Willie,' she said,'For the space of half an hour?Dinnae ye see my clear heart's bloodA rinnin down the floor?31'Tak aff, tak aff my holland sark,And rive't frae gare to gair,And stap it in my bleeding wounds;They'll may be bleed nae mair.'32Syne he took aff her holland sark,And rave't frae gare to gair,And stappit it in her bleeding wounds,But aye they bled the mair.33'Gae dress yoursell in black,' she said,'And gae whistling out the way,And mourn nae mair for your true-loveWhen she's laid in the clay.'34He leaned his halbert on the ground,The point o't to his breast,Saying, Here three sauls ['s] gaun to heaven;I hope they'll a' get rest.

1Johnston Hey and Young CaldwellWere drinking o the wine:'O will ye marry my sister?And I will marry thine.'

2'I winna marry your sister,Altho her locks are broun;But I'll make her my concubine,As I ride through the toun.'

3Syne Johnston drew a gude braid sword,That hang down by his knee,And he has run the Young CaldwellOut through the fair bodie.

4Up he gat, and awa he rade,By the clear light o the moon,Until he came to his mother's door,And there he lichtit doun.

5'Whare hae ye been, son Willie,' she said,'Sae late and far in the night?''O I hae been at yon new slate house,Hearing the clergy speak.'

6'I dreamd a dream, son Willie,' she said,'I doubt it bodes nae gude;That your ain room was fu o red swine,And your bride's bed daubd wi blude.'

7'To dream o blude, mither,' he said,'It bodeth meikle ill;And I hae slain a Young Caldwell,And they're seeking me to kill.'

8'Gin ye hae slain a Young Caldwell,Alace and wae is me!But gin your fair body's free frae skaith,The easier I will be.'

9Up he gat, and awa he rade,By the clear licht o the mune,Until he cam to his sister's bower,And there he lichtit doun.

10'Whare hae ye been, brither,' she said,'Sae late and far in the night?''O I hae been in yon new slate house,Hearing the clergy speak.'

11'I dreamd a dream, brither,' she said,'I doubt it bodes nae gude;I dreamd the ravens eat your flesh,And the lions drank your blude.'

12'To dream o blude, sister,' he said,'It bodeth meikle ill;And I hae slain a Young Caldwell,And they're seeking me to kill.'

13'Gin ye hae slain a Young Caldwell,Alace and wae is me!To be torn at the tail o wild horsesIs the death I weet ye'll die.'

14Up he gat, and awa he rade,By the clear light o the mune,Untill he cam to his true-love's bower,And there he lichtit doun.

15'Whare hae ye been, Love Willie,' she said,'Sae late and far in the night?''O I hae been in yon new sklate house,Hearing the clergy speak.'

16'I dreamd a dream, Willie,' she said,'I doubt it bodes nae gude;I dreamd the ravens ate your flesh,And the lions drank your blude.'

17'To dream o ravens, love,' he said,'Is the loss o a near friend;And I hae killd your brither dear,And for it I'll be slain.'

18'Gin ye hae slain my ae brither,Alace and wae is me!But gin your fair body's free frae skaith,The easier I will be.

19'Lye doun, lye doun, Love Willie,' she said,'Lye doun and tak a sleep;And I will walk the castel wa,Your fair bodie to keep.'

20He laid him doun within her bowr,She happit him wi her plaid,And she's awa to the castle-wa,To see what would betide.

21She hadna gane the castle roundA time but only three,Till four and twenty beltit knichtsCam riding ower the lea.

22And whan they came unto the gate,They stude and thus did say:'O did ye see yon bludie knicht,As he rade out this way?'

23'What colour was his hawk?' she said,'What colour was his hound?What colour was the gudely steedThe bludie knicht rade on?'

24'Nut-brown was his hawk,' they said,'And yellow-fit was his hound,And milk-white was the goodly steedThe bluidie knicht rade on.'

25'Gin nut-brown was his hawk,' she said,'And yellow-fit was his hound,And milk-white was the gudely steed,He's up to London gone.'

26They spurrd their steeds out ower the lea,They being void o fear;Syne up she gat, and awa she gade,Wi tidings to her dear.

27'Lye still, lye still, Love Willie,' she said,'Lye still and tak your sleep;'Syne he took up his good braid sword,And wounded her fu deep.

28'O wae be to you, Love Willie,' she said,'And an ill death may ye die!For first ye slew my ae brither,And now ye hae killd me.'

29'Oh live, oh live, true-love,' he said,'Oh live but ae half hour,And there's not a docter in a' LondonBut sall be in your bower.'

30'How can I live, Love Willie,' she said,'For the space of half an hour?Dinnae ye see my clear heart's bloodA rinnin down the floor?

31'Tak aff, tak aff my holland sark,And rive't frae gare to gair,And stap it in my bleeding wounds;They'll may be bleed nae mair.'

32Syne he took aff her holland sark,And rave't frae gare to gair,And stappit it in her bleeding wounds,But aye they bled the mair.

33'Gae dress yoursell in black,' she said,'And gae whistling out the way,And mourn nae mair for your true-loveWhen she's laid in the clay.'

34He leaned his halbert on the ground,The point o't to his breast,Saying, Here three sauls ['s] gaun to heaven;I hope they'll a' get rest.

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 20.

1Lord John stands in his stable door,Says he, I will gae ride,His lady, in her bigly bower?Desired him to bide.2'How can I bide? how can I bide?How shall I bide wi thee?When I hae killd your ae brother;You hae nae mair but he.'3'If ye hae killd my ae brother,Alas, and wae is me!If ye be well yoursell, my love,The less matter will be.4'Ye'll do you to yon bigly bower,And take a silent sleep,And I'll watch in my highest tower,Your fair body to keep.'5She has shut her bigly bower,All wi a silver pin,And done her to the highest tower,To watch that nane come in.6But as she looked round about,To see what she could see,There she saw nine armed knightsCome riding oer the lea.7'God make you safe and free, lady,God make you safe and free!Did you see a bludy knightCome riding oer the lea?'8'O what like was his hawk, his hawk?And what like was his hound?If his steed has ridden well,He's passd fair Scotland's strand.9'Come in, come in, gude gentlemen,And take white bread and wine;And aye the better ye'll pursue,The lighter that ye dine.'10'We thank you for your bread, lady,We thank you for the wine,And I woud gie my lands sae broadYour fair body were mine.'11She has gane to her bigly bower,Her ain gude lord to meet;A trusty brand he quickly drew,Gae her a wound sae deep.12'What harm, my lord, provokes thine ireTo wreak itself on me,When thus I strove to save thy life,Yet served for sic a fee?'13'Ohon, alas, my lady gay,To come sae hastilie!I thought it was my deadly foe,Ye had trysted into me.14'O live, O live, my gay lady,The space o ae half hour,And nae a leech in a' the landBut I'se bring to your bower.'15'How can I live? how shall I live?How can I live for thee?Ye see my blude rin on the ground,My heart's blude by your knee.16'O take to flight, and flee, my love,O take to flight, and flee!I woudna wish your fair bodyFor to get harm for me.'17'Ae foot I winna flee, lady,Ae foot I winna flee;I've dune the crime worthy o death,It's right that I shoud die.8'O deal ye well at my love's lykeThe beer but an the wine;For ere the morn, at this same time,Ye'll deal the same at mine.'

1Lord John stands in his stable door,Says he, I will gae ride,His lady, in her bigly bower?Desired him to bide.

2'How can I bide? how can I bide?How shall I bide wi thee?When I hae killd your ae brother;You hae nae mair but he.'

3'If ye hae killd my ae brother,Alas, and wae is me!If ye be well yoursell, my love,The less matter will be.

4'Ye'll do you to yon bigly bower,And take a silent sleep,And I'll watch in my highest tower,Your fair body to keep.'

5She has shut her bigly bower,All wi a silver pin,And done her to the highest tower,To watch that nane come in.

6But as she looked round about,To see what she could see,There she saw nine armed knightsCome riding oer the lea.

7'God make you safe and free, lady,God make you safe and free!Did you see a bludy knightCome riding oer the lea?'

8'O what like was his hawk, his hawk?And what like was his hound?If his steed has ridden well,He's passd fair Scotland's strand.

9'Come in, come in, gude gentlemen,And take white bread and wine;And aye the better ye'll pursue,The lighter that ye dine.'

10'We thank you for your bread, lady,We thank you for the wine,And I woud gie my lands sae broadYour fair body were mine.'

11She has gane to her bigly bower,Her ain gude lord to meet;A trusty brand he quickly drew,Gae her a wound sae deep.

12'What harm, my lord, provokes thine ireTo wreak itself on me,When thus I strove to save thy life,Yet served for sic a fee?'

13'Ohon, alas, my lady gay,To come sae hastilie!I thought it was my deadly foe,Ye had trysted into me.

14'O live, O live, my gay lady,The space o ae half hour,And nae a leech in a' the landBut I'se bring to your bower.'

15'How can I live? how shall I live?How can I live for thee?Ye see my blude rin on the ground,My heart's blude by your knee.

16'O take to flight, and flee, my love,O take to flight, and flee!I woudna wish your fair bodyFor to get harm for me.'

17'Ae foot I winna flee, lady,Ae foot I winna flee;I've dune the crime worthy o death,It's right that I shoud die.

8'O deal ye well at my love's lykeThe beer but an the wine;For ere the morn, at this same time,Ye'll deal the same at mine.'

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