E

Motherwell's MS., p. 377; from Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan.

1Earl Richard has a hunting gone,As fast as he can ride;He's a hunting-horn about his neck,And a broadsword by his side.2'Licht down, licht down, Earl Richard,' she says,'O licht down and come in,And thou'll get cheer and charcoal clear,And torches for to burn.'3'I winna licht, I canna licht,I winna licht at all;A fairer lady then ten of theeMeets me at Richard's Wall.'4He louted owre his saddle-bow,And for to kiss her sweet,But little thocht o that penknifeWherewith she wound him deep.5'Why wounds thou me so deep, lady?Why stabs thou me so sore?There's not a lord like Earl RichardCould love false woman more.'6She called upon her waiting-maid,Long before it was day:'I have a dead man in my bower,I wish he were away.'7'Keep ye your bower, my lily-flower.Keep it free of all men's blood;''Oh I will keep it een as weelAs you or any maid.8'But siller will be thy wage,' she says,'And gold will be thy fee,And I mysell will gang alangAnd bear thee companye.'9They booted him, and spurred him,As he was wont to ride,And they're awa to Lorn's Water,To Lorn's Water so wide.10They turned down his yellow hair,Turnd up his milk-white feet:'Lye thou there, Earl Richard,' she said,'Till the blood seep from thy bane;That fairer maid than ten of meWill look lang or thou come hame.'11As they were coming hame again,Upon the road so hie,There they spy'd a small pyet,Was sitting on a tree.12'Where has thou been, fair lady?' it says,'Whare has thou been so soon?Or what did thou wi Earl Richard,Was late wi thee yestreen?'13'Come down, come down, my wee pyet;An thou'll come to my knee,I have a cage of beaten gold,And I'll bestow't on thee.'14'Keep thou thy cage of beaten gold,And I will keep my tree;For as thou did wi Earl Richard,So wad thou do wi me;Thou wad thraw the wee head aff my bouk,And drown me in the sea.'15'Come down, come down, my wee pyet;An thou'll come to my hand,I have a cage of beaten gold,And thou's be put therein.'16'Keep thou thy cage o beaten gold,And I will keep my tree;For as thou did wi Earl Richard,So would thou do wi me.'17'Oh an I had my bow bendit,And set unto my knee,I wad shoot this wee pyetSits gabbing on the tree.'18'Before thou get thy bow bendit,And set unto thy knee,I'll be at Earl Richard's father,Telling ill tales on thee.'19As they were coming hame again,Upon the road so bricht,There they saw Earl Richard's father,Coming marching in their sicht.20'Whare has thou been, fair lady?' he says,'Whare has thou been back sae sune?O what did thou wi my auld son,Was late wi thee yestreen?'21She did swear by stars o licht,And grass-green growing corn,That she had not seen Earl Richard's faceSince Saturday at morn;'But in Lorn's Water, indeed,' she says,'I fear his days are done.'22'There was not a ford in Lorn's WaterBut he could ride it weel;And what did thou wi my auld son,That went with thee afield?'* * * * *

1Earl Richard has a hunting gone,As fast as he can ride;He's a hunting-horn about his neck,And a broadsword by his side.

2'Licht down, licht down, Earl Richard,' she says,'O licht down and come in,And thou'll get cheer and charcoal clear,And torches for to burn.'

3'I winna licht, I canna licht,I winna licht at all;A fairer lady then ten of theeMeets me at Richard's Wall.'

4He louted owre his saddle-bow,And for to kiss her sweet,But little thocht o that penknifeWherewith she wound him deep.

5'Why wounds thou me so deep, lady?Why stabs thou me so sore?There's not a lord like Earl RichardCould love false woman more.'

6She called upon her waiting-maid,Long before it was day:'I have a dead man in my bower,I wish he were away.'

7'Keep ye your bower, my lily-flower.Keep it free of all men's blood;''Oh I will keep it een as weelAs you or any maid.

8'But siller will be thy wage,' she says,'And gold will be thy fee,And I mysell will gang alangAnd bear thee companye.'

9They booted him, and spurred him,As he was wont to ride,And they're awa to Lorn's Water,To Lorn's Water so wide.

10They turned down his yellow hair,Turnd up his milk-white feet:'Lye thou there, Earl Richard,' she said,'Till the blood seep from thy bane;That fairer maid than ten of meWill look lang or thou come hame.'

11As they were coming hame again,Upon the road so hie,There they spy'd a small pyet,Was sitting on a tree.

12'Where has thou been, fair lady?' it says,'Whare has thou been so soon?Or what did thou wi Earl Richard,Was late wi thee yestreen?'

13'Come down, come down, my wee pyet;An thou'll come to my knee,I have a cage of beaten gold,And I'll bestow't on thee.'

14'Keep thou thy cage of beaten gold,And I will keep my tree;For as thou did wi Earl Richard,So wad thou do wi me;Thou wad thraw the wee head aff my bouk,And drown me in the sea.'

15'Come down, come down, my wee pyet;An thou'll come to my hand,I have a cage of beaten gold,And thou's be put therein.'

16'Keep thou thy cage o beaten gold,And I will keep my tree;For as thou did wi Earl Richard,So would thou do wi me.'

17'Oh an I had my bow bendit,And set unto my knee,I wad shoot this wee pyetSits gabbing on the tree.'

18'Before thou get thy bow bendit,And set unto thy knee,I'll be at Earl Richard's father,Telling ill tales on thee.'

19As they were coming hame again,Upon the road so bricht,There they saw Earl Richard's father,Coming marching in their sicht.

20'Whare has thou been, fair lady?' he says,'Whare has thou been back sae sune?O what did thou wi my auld son,Was late wi thee yestreen?'

21She did swear by stars o licht,And grass-green growing corn,That she had not seen Earl Richard's faceSince Saturday at morn;'But in Lorn's Water, indeed,' she says,'I fear his days are done.'

22'There was not a ford in Lorn's WaterBut he could ride it weel;And what did thou wi my auld son,That went with thee afield?'

* * * * *

Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 265, 1803, communicated by James Hogg, from the recitation of his mother (Motherwell).

1Lord William was the bravest knightThat dwalt in fair Scotland,And, though renowned in France and Spain,Fell by a ladie's hand.2As she was walking maid alone,Down by yon shady wood,She heard a smit o bridle reins,She wishd might be for good.3'Come to my arms, my dear Willie,You're welcome hame to me;To best o chear and charcoal red,And candle burnin free.'4'I winna light, I darena light,Nor come to your arms at a';A fairer maid than ten o youI'll meet at Castle-law.'5'A fairer maid than me, Willie?A fairer maid than me?A fairer maid than ten o meYour eyes did never see.'6He louted owr his saddle-lapTo kiss her ere they part,And wi a little keen bodkin,She pierced him to the heart.7'Ride on, ride on, Lord William now,As fast as ye can dree;Your bonny lass at Castle-lawWill weary you to see.'8Out up then spake a bonny bird,Sat high upon a tree:'How could you kill that noble lord?He came to marry thee.'9'Come down, come down, my bonny bird,And eat bread aff my hand;Your cage shall be of wiry goud,Whar now it's but the wand.'10'Keep ye your cage o goud, lady,And I will keep my tree;As ye hae done to Lord William,Sae wad ye do to me.'11She set her foot on her door-step,A bonny marble stane,And carried him to her chamber,Oer him to make her mane.12And she has kept that good lord's corpseThree quarters of a year,Until that word began to spread;Then she began to fear.13Then she cryed on her waiting-maid,Ay ready at her ca:'There is a knight into my bower,'Tis time he were awa.'14The ane has taen him by the head,The ither by the feet,And thrown him in the wan water,That ran baith wide and deep.15'Look back, look back, now, lady fair,On him that loed ye weel;A better man than that blue corpseNeer drew a sword of steel.'

1Lord William was the bravest knightThat dwalt in fair Scotland,And, though renowned in France and Spain,Fell by a ladie's hand.

2As she was walking maid alone,Down by yon shady wood,She heard a smit o bridle reins,She wishd might be for good.

3'Come to my arms, my dear Willie,You're welcome hame to me;To best o chear and charcoal red,And candle burnin free.'

4'I winna light, I darena light,Nor come to your arms at a';A fairer maid than ten o youI'll meet at Castle-law.'

5'A fairer maid than me, Willie?A fairer maid than me?A fairer maid than ten o meYour eyes did never see.'

6He louted owr his saddle-lapTo kiss her ere they part,And wi a little keen bodkin,She pierced him to the heart.

7'Ride on, ride on, Lord William now,As fast as ye can dree;Your bonny lass at Castle-lawWill weary you to see.'

8Out up then spake a bonny bird,Sat high upon a tree:'How could you kill that noble lord?He came to marry thee.'

9'Come down, come down, my bonny bird,And eat bread aff my hand;Your cage shall be of wiry goud,Whar now it's but the wand.'

10'Keep ye your cage o goud, lady,And I will keep my tree;As ye hae done to Lord William,Sae wad ye do to me.'

11She set her foot on her door-step,A bonny marble stane,And carried him to her chamber,Oer him to make her mane.

12And she has kept that good lord's corpseThree quarters of a year,Until that word began to spread;Then she began to fear.

13Then she cryed on her waiting-maid,Ay ready at her ca:'There is a knight into my bower,'Tis time he were awa.'

14The ane has taen him by the head,The ither by the feet,And thrown him in the wan water,That ran baith wide and deep.

15'Look back, look back, now, lady fair,On him that loed ye weel;A better man than that blue corpseNeer drew a sword of steel.'

a.Motherwell's MS., p. 61, from the recitation of Miss Stevenson of Glasgow, January 22, 1825; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 218.b.Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvii, VIII, one stanza.

1Earl Richard is a hunting gone,As fast as he can ride,His hunting-horn hung about his neck,And a small sword by his side.2When he came to my lady's gateHe tirled at the pin,And wha was sae ready as the lady hersellTo open and let him in.3'O light, O light, Earl Richard,' she says,'O light and stay a' night;You shall have cheer wi charcoal clear,And candles burning bright.'4'I will not light, I cannot light,I cannot light at all;A fairer lady than ten of theeIs waiting at Richard's Wall.'5He stooped from his milk-white steed,To kiss her rosy cheek;She had a pen-knife in her hand,And wounded him so deep.6'O lie ye there, Earl Richard,' she says,'O lie ye there till morn;A fairer lady than ten of meWill think lang of your coming home.'7She called her servants ane by ane,She called them twa by twa:'I have got a dead man in my bower,I wish he were awa.'8The one has taen [him] by the hand,And the other by the feet,And they've thrown him in a deep draw-well,Full fifty fathom deep.9Then up bespake a little bird,That sat upon a tree:'Gae hame, gae hame, ye false lady,And pay your maids their fee.'10'Come down, come down, my pretty bird,That sits upon the tree;I have a cage of beaten gold,I'll gie it unto thee.'11'Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady,And pay your maids their fee;As ye have done to Earl Richard,Sae wud ye do to me.'12'If I had an arrow in my hand,And a bow bent on a string,I'd shoot a dart at thy proud heart,Amang the leaves sae green.'

1Earl Richard is a hunting gone,As fast as he can ride,His hunting-horn hung about his neck,And a small sword by his side.

2When he came to my lady's gateHe tirled at the pin,And wha was sae ready as the lady hersellTo open and let him in.

3'O light, O light, Earl Richard,' she says,'O light and stay a' night;You shall have cheer wi charcoal clear,And candles burning bright.'

4'I will not light, I cannot light,I cannot light at all;A fairer lady than ten of theeIs waiting at Richard's Wall.'

5He stooped from his milk-white steed,To kiss her rosy cheek;She had a pen-knife in her hand,And wounded him so deep.

6'O lie ye there, Earl Richard,' she says,'O lie ye there till morn;A fairer lady than ten of meWill think lang of your coming home.'

7She called her servants ane by ane,She called them twa by twa:'I have got a dead man in my bower,I wish he were awa.'

8The one has taen [him] by the hand,And the other by the feet,And they've thrown him in a deep draw-well,Full fifty fathom deep.

9Then up bespake a little bird,That sat upon a tree:'Gae hame, gae hame, ye false lady,And pay your maids their fee.'

10'Come down, come down, my pretty bird,That sits upon the tree;I have a cage of beaten gold,I'll gie it unto thee.'

11'Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady,And pay your maids their fee;As ye have done to Earl Richard,Sae wud ye do to me.'

12'If I had an arrow in my hand,And a bow bent on a string,I'd shoot a dart at thy proud heart,Amang the leaves sae green.'

Herd's MSS, I, 34; Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 148.

1She has calld to her her bower-maidens,She has calld them one by one:'There is a dead man in my bower,I wish that he was gone.'2They have booted him, and spurred him,As he was wont to ride,A hunting-horn around his waist,A sharp sword by his side.3Then up and spake a bonie bird,That sat upon the tree:'What hae ye done wi Earl Richard?Ye was his gay lady.'4'Cum down, cum down, my bonie bird,Cum sit upon my hand;And ye sall hae a cage o the gowd,Where ye hae but the wand.'5'Awa, awa, ye ill woman,Nae ill woman for me;What ye hae done to Earl Richard,Sae wad ye do to mee.'* * * * *6'O there's a bird intill your bowirThat sings sae sad and sweet;O there's a bird intill your bourKept me frae my nicht's sleep.'* * * * *7And she sware by the grass sae greene,Sae did she by the corn,That she had not seen Earl RichardSen yesterday at morn.

1She has calld to her her bower-maidens,She has calld them one by one:'There is a dead man in my bower,I wish that he was gone.'

2They have booted him, and spurred him,As he was wont to ride,A hunting-horn around his waist,A sharp sword by his side.

3Then up and spake a bonie bird,That sat upon the tree:'What hae ye done wi Earl Richard?Ye was his gay lady.'

4'Cum down, cum down, my bonie bird,Cum sit upon my hand;And ye sall hae a cage o the gowd,Where ye hae but the wand.'

5'Awa, awa, ye ill woman,Nae ill woman for me;What ye hae done to Earl Richard,Sae wad ye do to mee.'

* * * * *

6'O there's a bird intill your bowirThat sings sae sad and sweet;O there's a bird intill your bourKept me frae my nicht's sleep.'

* * * * *

7And she sware by the grass sae greene,Sae did she by the corn,That she had not seen Earl RichardSen yesterday at morn.

* * * * *

Dr Joseph Robertson's "Journal of Excursions," No 1, 1829.

* * * * *

1'Hail well, hail well, my little foot-page,Hail well this deed on me,And ever I live my life to brook,I'se pay thee well thy fee.'2'It's we'l beet him, and we'l spur him,As gin he had been gain to ride,Put a huntin-horn about his neck,And a small sword by his side.3'And we'll carry him to Clyde's Water,And there we'll fling him in,That we may have it to be saidIn Clyde's Water he drownd.'4O they bet him, and they spurrd him,As gin he had been gain to ride,Pat a huntin-horn about his neck,But the sword on his wrang side.5And they hae carried him to Clyde's Water,And there they flang him in,That they might have it to be saidIn Clyde's Water he drowned.* * * * *6'It's we'll sen for the king's doukers,And douk it up and doun;It's we'll sen for the king's doukers,And douk it out and in.'7Out it spak a little wee birdie,As it sat on yon burn-brae:. . . . . . .. . . . . . .8'Ye may lay by your day doukers,And turn you to the night,And where the innocent blood lies slain,The candles will burn fou bricht.'9O they hae brunt that gay ladie,And blawn her in the air,And nothing o that bower-man would burnBut the hands that buskd him rare.

1'Hail well, hail well, my little foot-page,Hail well this deed on me,And ever I live my life to brook,I'se pay thee well thy fee.'

2'It's we'l beet him, and we'l spur him,As gin he had been gain to ride,Put a huntin-horn about his neck,And a small sword by his side.

3'And we'll carry him to Clyde's Water,And there we'll fling him in,That we may have it to be saidIn Clyde's Water he drownd.'

4O they bet him, and they spurrd him,As gin he had been gain to ride,Pat a huntin-horn about his neck,But the sword on his wrang side.

5And they hae carried him to Clyde's Water,And there they flang him in,That they might have it to be saidIn Clyde's Water he drowned.

* * * * *

6'It's we'll sen for the king's doukers,And douk it up and doun;It's we'll sen for the king's doukers,And douk it out and in.'

7Out it spak a little wee birdie,As it sat on yon burn-brae:. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

8'Ye may lay by your day doukers,And turn you to the night,And where the innocent blood lies slain,The candles will burn fou bricht.'

9O they hae brunt that gay ladie,And blawn her in the air,And nothing o that bower-man would burnBut the hands that buskd him rare.

Motherwell MS., p. 189.

* * * * *1'Come down, come down, thou bonnie bird,Sit low upon my hand,And thy cage shall be o the beaten gowd,And not of hazel wand.'2'O woe, O woe be to thee, lady,And an ill death may thou die!For the way thou guided good Lord John,Soon, soon would thou guide me.'3'Go bend to me my bow,' she said,'And set it to my ee,And I will gar that bonnie birdCome quickly down to me.'4'Before thou bend thy bow, lady,And set it to thy ee,O I will be at yon far forest,Telling ill tales on thee.'* * * * *

* * * * *

1'Come down, come down, thou bonnie bird,Sit low upon my hand,And thy cage shall be o the beaten gowd,And not of hazel wand.'

2'O woe, O woe be to thee, lady,And an ill death may thou die!For the way thou guided good Lord John,Soon, soon would thou guide me.'

3'Go bend to me my bow,' she said,'And set it to my ee,And I will gar that bonnie birdCome quickly down to me.'

4'Before thou bend thy bow, lady,And set it to thy ee,O I will be at yon far forest,Telling ill tales on thee.'

* * * * *

Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 42, 1802, and III, 184, 1833, from Herd's copies (A,G), and from tradition.

1'O lady, rock never your young son youngOne hour langer for me;For I have a sweetheart in Garlioch WellsI love far better than thee.2'The very sole o that ladye's footThan thy face is far mair white:''But, nevertheless, now, Erl Richard,Ye will bide in my bower a' night?'3She birled him wi the ale and wine,As they sat down to sup:A living man he laid him down,But I wot he neer rose up.4Then up and spake the popinjay,That flew aboun her head:'Lady, keep weel your green cleidingFrae gude Erl Richard's bleid.'5'O better I'll keep my green cleidingFrae gude Erl Richard's bleid,Than thou canst keep thy clattering toung,That trattles in thy head.'6She has calld upon her bower-maidens,She has calld them ane by ane:'There lies a deid man in my bowr,I wish that he were gane.'7They hae booted him, and spurred him,As he was wont to ride,A hunting-horn tied round his waist,A sharp sword by his side;And they hae had him to the wan water,For a' men call it Clyde.8Then up and spake the popinjay,That sat upon the tree:'What hae ye done wi Erl Richard?Ye were his gaye ladye.'9'Come down, come down, my bonny bird,And sit upon my hand;And thou sall hae a cage o gowd,Where thou hast but the wand.'10'Awa, awa, ye ill woman,Nae cage o gowd for me;As ye hae dune to Erl Richard,Sae wad ye do to me.'11She hadna crossd a rigg o land,A rigg but barely ane,When she met wi his auld father,Came riding all alane.12'Where hae ye been, now, ladye fair,Where hae ye been sae late?We hae been seeking Erl Richard,But him we canna get.'13'Erl Richard kens a' the fords in Clyde,He'll ride them ane by ane;And though the night was neer sae mirk,Erl Richard will be hame.'14O it fell anes upon a dayThe king was boun to ride,And he has mist him Erl Richard,Should hae ridden on his right side.15The ladye turnd her round about,Wi mickle mournfu din:'It fears me sair o Clyde water,That he is drownd therein.'16'Gar douk, gar douk,' the king he cried,'Gar douk for gold and fee;O wha will douk for Erl Richard's sake,Or wha will douk for me?'17They douked in at ae weil-heid,And out aye at the other:'We can douk nae mair for Erl Richard,Altho he were our brother.'18It fell that in that ladye's castleThe king was boun to bed,And up and spake the popinjay,That flew abune his head.19'Leave aff your douking on the day,And douk upon the night;And wherever that sackless knight lies slain,The candles will burn bright.'20'O there's a bird within this bower,That sings baith sad and sweet;O there's a bird within your bowerKeeps me frae my night's sleep.'21They left the douking on the day,And douked upon the night,And where that sackless knight lay slain,The candles burned bright.22The deepest pot in a' the linnThey fand Erl Richard in;A green turf tyed across his breast,To keep that gude lord down.23Then up and spake the king himsell,When he saw the deadly wound,'O wha has slain my right-hand man,That held my hawk and hound?'24Then up and spake the popinjay,Says, What needs a' this din?It was his light lemman took his life,And hided him in the linn.25She swore her by the grass sae grene,Sae did she by the corn,She had na seen him Erl RichardSince Moninday at morn.26'Put na the wyte on me,' she said,'It was my may, Catherine:'Then they hae cut baith fern and thorn,To burn that maiden in.27It wadna take upon her cheik,Nor yet upon her chin,Nor yet upon her yellow hair,To cleanse the deadly sin.28The maiden touchd the clay-cauld corpse,A drap it never bled;The ladye laid her hand on him,And soon the ground was red.29Out they hae ta'en her May Catherine,And put her mistress in;The flame tuik fast upon her cheik,Tuik fast upon her chin,Tuik fast upon her fair bodye,She burnd like hollins grene.

1'O lady, rock never your young son youngOne hour langer for me;For I have a sweetheart in Garlioch WellsI love far better than thee.

2'The very sole o that ladye's footThan thy face is far mair white:''But, nevertheless, now, Erl Richard,Ye will bide in my bower a' night?'

3She birled him wi the ale and wine,As they sat down to sup:A living man he laid him down,But I wot he neer rose up.

4Then up and spake the popinjay,That flew aboun her head:'Lady, keep weel your green cleidingFrae gude Erl Richard's bleid.'

5'O better I'll keep my green cleidingFrae gude Erl Richard's bleid,Than thou canst keep thy clattering toung,That trattles in thy head.'

6She has calld upon her bower-maidens,She has calld them ane by ane:'There lies a deid man in my bowr,I wish that he were gane.'

7They hae booted him, and spurred him,As he was wont to ride,A hunting-horn tied round his waist,A sharp sword by his side;And they hae had him to the wan water,For a' men call it Clyde.

8Then up and spake the popinjay,That sat upon the tree:'What hae ye done wi Erl Richard?Ye were his gaye ladye.'

9'Come down, come down, my bonny bird,And sit upon my hand;And thou sall hae a cage o gowd,Where thou hast but the wand.'

10'Awa, awa, ye ill woman,Nae cage o gowd for me;As ye hae dune to Erl Richard,Sae wad ye do to me.'

11She hadna crossd a rigg o land,A rigg but barely ane,When she met wi his auld father,Came riding all alane.

12'Where hae ye been, now, ladye fair,Where hae ye been sae late?We hae been seeking Erl Richard,But him we canna get.'

13'Erl Richard kens a' the fords in Clyde,He'll ride them ane by ane;And though the night was neer sae mirk,Erl Richard will be hame.'

14O it fell anes upon a dayThe king was boun to ride,And he has mist him Erl Richard,Should hae ridden on his right side.

15The ladye turnd her round about,Wi mickle mournfu din:'It fears me sair o Clyde water,That he is drownd therein.'

16'Gar douk, gar douk,' the king he cried,'Gar douk for gold and fee;O wha will douk for Erl Richard's sake,Or wha will douk for me?'

17They douked in at ae weil-heid,And out aye at the other:'We can douk nae mair for Erl Richard,Altho he were our brother.'

18It fell that in that ladye's castleThe king was boun to bed,And up and spake the popinjay,That flew abune his head.

19'Leave aff your douking on the day,And douk upon the night;And wherever that sackless knight lies slain,The candles will burn bright.'

20'O there's a bird within this bower,That sings baith sad and sweet;O there's a bird within your bowerKeeps me frae my night's sleep.'

21They left the douking on the day,And douked upon the night,And where that sackless knight lay slain,The candles burned bright.

22The deepest pot in a' the linnThey fand Erl Richard in;A green turf tyed across his breast,To keep that gude lord down.

23Then up and spake the king himsell,When he saw the deadly wound,'O wha has slain my right-hand man,That held my hawk and hound?'

24Then up and spake the popinjay,Says, What needs a' this din?It was his light lemman took his life,And hided him in the linn.

25She swore her by the grass sae grene,Sae did she by the corn,She had na seen him Erl RichardSince Moninday at morn.

26'Put na the wyte on me,' she said,'It was my may, Catherine:'Then they hae cut baith fern and thorn,To burn that maiden in.

27It wadna take upon her cheik,Nor yet upon her chin,Nor yet upon her yellow hair,To cleanse the deadly sin.

28The maiden touchd the clay-cauld corpse,A drap it never bled;The ladye laid her hand on him,And soon the ground was red.

29Out they hae ta'en her May Catherine,And put her mistress in;The flame tuik fast upon her cheik,Tuik fast upon her chin,Tuik fast upon her fair bodye,She burnd like hollins grene.

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 118.

1Lady Maisry forth from her bower came,And stood on her tower-head;She thought she heard a bridle ring,The sound did her heart guid.2She thought it was her first true-love,Whom she loved ance in time;But it was her new love, Hunting,Come frae the hunting o the hyn.3'Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry,God make you safe and free;I'm come to take my last farewell,And pay my last visit to thee.'4'O stay, O stay then, Young Hunting,O stay with me this night;Ye shall hae cheer, an charcoal clear,And candles burning bright.'5'Have no more cheer, you lady fair,An hour langer for me;I have a lady in Garmouth townI love better than thee.'6'O if your love be changed, my love,Since better canno be,Nevertheless, for auld lang syne,Ye'll stay this night wi me.7'Silver, silver shall be your wage,And gowd shall be your fee,And nine times nine into the yearYour weed shall changed be.8'Will ye gae to the cards or dice,Or to a tavern fine?Or will ye gae to a table forebye,And birl baith beer and wine?'9'I winna gang to the cards nor dice,Nor to a tavern fine;But I will gang to a table forebye,And birl baith beer and wine.'10Then she has drawn for Young HuntingThe beer but and the wine,Till she got him as deadly drunkAs ony unhallowed swine.11Then she's taen out a trusty brand,That hang below her gare,Then she's wounded him Young Hunting,A deep wound and a sair.12Then out it speaks her comrade,Being in the companie:'Alas! this deed that ye hae doneWill ruin baith you and me.'13'Heal well, heal well, you Lady Katharine,Heal well this deed on me,The robes that were shapen for my bodie,They shall be sewed for thee.'14'Tho I woud heal it never sae well,And never sae well,' said she,'There is a God above us baithThat can baith hear and see.'15They booted him, and spurred him,As he'd been gaun to ride,A hunting-horn about his neck,A sharp sword by his side.16And they rode on, and farther on,All the lang summer's tide,Until they came to wan water,Where a' man ca's it Clyde.17And the deepest pot in Clyde's water,And there they flang him in,And put a turf on his breast-bane,To had Young Hunting down.18O out it speaks a little wee bird,As she sat on the brier:'Gae hame, gae hame, ye Lady Maisry,And pay your maiden's hire.'19'O I will pay my maiden's hire,And hire I'll gie to thee;If ye'll conceal this fatal deed,Ye's hae gowd for your fee.'20Then out it speaks a bonny bird,That flew aboon their head:'Keep well, keep well your green claithingFrae ae drap o his bluid.'21'O I'll keep well my green claithingFrae ae drop o his bluid,Better than I'll do your flattering tongue,That flutters in your head.22'Come down, come down, my bonny bird,Light down upon my hand;For ae gowd feather that's in your wing,I woud gie a' my land.'23'How shall I come down, how can I come down,How shall I come down to thee?The things ye said to Young Hunting,The same ye're saying to me.'24But it fell out on that same dayThe king was going to ride,And he calld for him Young Hunting,For to ride by his side.25Then out it speaks the little young son,Sat on the nurse's knee:'It fears me sair,' said that young babe,'He's in bower wi yon ladie.'26Then they hae calld her Lady Katharine,And she sware by the thornThat she saw not him Young HuntingSin yesterday at morn.27Then they hae calld her Lady Maisry,And she sware by the moonThat she saw not him Young HuntingSin yesterday at noon.28'He was playing him at the Clyde's Water,Perhaps he has fa'en in:'The king he calld his divers all,To dive for his young son.29They div'd in thro the wan burn-bank,Sae did they outthro the other:'We'll dive nae mair,' said these young men,'Suppose he were our brother.'30Then out it spake a little bird,That flew aboon their head:'Dive on, dive on, ye divers all,For there he lies indeed.31'But ye'll leave aff your day diving,And ye'll dive in the night;The pot where Young Hunting lies in,The candles they'll burn bright.32'There are twa ladies in yon bower,And even in yon ha,And they hae killd him Young Hunting,And casten him awa.33'They booted him, and spurred him,As he'd been gaun to ride,A hunting-horn tied round his neck,A sharp sword by his side34'The deepest pot o Clyde's Water,There they flang him in,Laid a turf on his breast-bane,To had Young Hunting down.'35Now they left aff their day diving,And they dived on the night;The pot that Young Hunting lay in,The candles were burning bright.36The king he calld his hewers all,To hew down wood and thorn,For to put up a strong bale-fire,These ladies for to burn.37And they hae taen her Lady Katharine,And they hae pitten her in;But it wadna light upon her cheek,Nor woud it on her chin,But sang the points o her yellow hair,For healing the deadly sin.38Then they hae taen her Lady Maisry,And they hae put her in:First it lighted on her cheek,And syne upon her chin,And sang the points o her yellow hair,And she burnt like keckle-pin.

1Lady Maisry forth from her bower came,And stood on her tower-head;She thought she heard a bridle ring,The sound did her heart guid.

2She thought it was her first true-love,Whom she loved ance in time;But it was her new love, Hunting,Come frae the hunting o the hyn.

3'Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry,God make you safe and free;I'm come to take my last farewell,And pay my last visit to thee.'

4'O stay, O stay then, Young Hunting,O stay with me this night;Ye shall hae cheer, an charcoal clear,And candles burning bright.'

5'Have no more cheer, you lady fair,An hour langer for me;I have a lady in Garmouth townI love better than thee.'

6'O if your love be changed, my love,Since better canno be,Nevertheless, for auld lang syne,Ye'll stay this night wi me.

7'Silver, silver shall be your wage,And gowd shall be your fee,And nine times nine into the yearYour weed shall changed be.

8'Will ye gae to the cards or dice,Or to a tavern fine?Or will ye gae to a table forebye,And birl baith beer and wine?'

9'I winna gang to the cards nor dice,Nor to a tavern fine;But I will gang to a table forebye,And birl baith beer and wine.'

10Then she has drawn for Young HuntingThe beer but and the wine,Till she got him as deadly drunkAs ony unhallowed swine.

11Then she's taen out a trusty brand,That hang below her gare,Then she's wounded him Young Hunting,A deep wound and a sair.

12Then out it speaks her comrade,Being in the companie:'Alas! this deed that ye hae doneWill ruin baith you and me.'

13'Heal well, heal well, you Lady Katharine,Heal well this deed on me,The robes that were shapen for my bodie,They shall be sewed for thee.'

14'Tho I woud heal it never sae well,And never sae well,' said she,'There is a God above us baithThat can baith hear and see.'

15They booted him, and spurred him,As he'd been gaun to ride,A hunting-horn about his neck,A sharp sword by his side.

16And they rode on, and farther on,All the lang summer's tide,Until they came to wan water,Where a' man ca's it Clyde.

17And the deepest pot in Clyde's water,And there they flang him in,And put a turf on his breast-bane,To had Young Hunting down.

18O out it speaks a little wee bird,As she sat on the brier:'Gae hame, gae hame, ye Lady Maisry,And pay your maiden's hire.'

19'O I will pay my maiden's hire,And hire I'll gie to thee;If ye'll conceal this fatal deed,Ye's hae gowd for your fee.'

20Then out it speaks a bonny bird,That flew aboon their head:'Keep well, keep well your green claithingFrae ae drap o his bluid.'

21'O I'll keep well my green claithingFrae ae drop o his bluid,Better than I'll do your flattering tongue,That flutters in your head.

22'Come down, come down, my bonny bird,Light down upon my hand;For ae gowd feather that's in your wing,I woud gie a' my land.'

23'How shall I come down, how can I come down,How shall I come down to thee?The things ye said to Young Hunting,The same ye're saying to me.'

24But it fell out on that same dayThe king was going to ride,And he calld for him Young Hunting,For to ride by his side.

25Then out it speaks the little young son,Sat on the nurse's knee:'It fears me sair,' said that young babe,'He's in bower wi yon ladie.'

26Then they hae calld her Lady Katharine,And she sware by the thornThat she saw not him Young HuntingSin yesterday at morn.

27Then they hae calld her Lady Maisry,And she sware by the moonThat she saw not him Young HuntingSin yesterday at noon.

28'He was playing him at the Clyde's Water,Perhaps he has fa'en in:'The king he calld his divers all,To dive for his young son.

29They div'd in thro the wan burn-bank,Sae did they outthro the other:'We'll dive nae mair,' said these young men,'Suppose he were our brother.'

30Then out it spake a little bird,That flew aboon their head:'Dive on, dive on, ye divers all,For there he lies indeed.

31'But ye'll leave aff your day diving,And ye'll dive in the night;The pot where Young Hunting lies in,The candles they'll burn bright.

32'There are twa ladies in yon bower,And even in yon ha,And they hae killd him Young Hunting,And casten him awa.

33'They booted him, and spurred him,As he'd been gaun to ride,A hunting-horn tied round his neck,A sharp sword by his side

34'The deepest pot o Clyde's Water,There they flang him in,Laid a turf on his breast-bane,To had Young Hunting down.'

35Now they left aff their day diving,And they dived on the night;The pot that Young Hunting lay in,The candles were burning bright.

36The king he calld his hewers all,To hew down wood and thorn,For to put up a strong bale-fire,These ladies for to burn.

37And they hae taen her Lady Katharine,And they hae pitten her in;But it wadna light upon her cheek,Nor woud it on her chin,But sang the points o her yellow hair,For healing the deadly sin.

38Then they hae taen her Lady Maisry,And they hae put her in:First it lighted on her cheek,And syne upon her chin,And sang the points o her yellow hair,And she burnt like keckle-pin.

A. a.

11. than he.21. lover's.33. drucken.73. the green.101. higher.103. On every.122. Or he.201, 2and 21 in one stanza.211. Clyd's. (?)233. lackless.255, 6and 26 in one stanza.

11. than he.

21. lover's.

33. drucken.

73. the green.

101. higher.

103. On every.

122. Or he.

201, 2and 21 in one stanza.

211. Clyd's. (?)

233. lackless.

255, 6and 26 in one stanza.

is a revised copy, in which most of the above readings are corrected, with other changes.11.secondyoungomitted.33. love drucken.43. love drunken.61. her of.131. wanomitted.141. 241. pit.152. gan.181, 211. Clyde's.191. taeomitted.271, 2. haeomitted.276. hoky grenwanting.

is a revised copy, in which most of the above readings are corrected, with other changes.

11.secondyoungomitted.

33. love drucken.

43. love drunken.

61. her of.

131. wanomitted.

141. 241. pit.

152. gan.

181, 211. Clyde's.

191. taeomitted.

271, 2. haeomitted.

276. hoky grenwanting.

6, 7.These stanzas, with the trivial variation in 63ofshe's taen out, are given by Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p. 259, note, from his recollection of a recited fragment.

"The catastrophe wanting, but the lady's treachery was discovered, and she was burned."Motherwell's MS.94. so deep.201. hast.

"The catastrophe wanting, but the lady's treachery was discovered, and she was burned."Motherwell's MS.

94. so deep.

201. hast.

"Although much of the language seems somewhat modernized, this must be attributed to its currency, being much liked, and very much sung, in this neighborhood. I can trace it back several generations, but cannot hear of its ever having been in print. I have never heard it with any considerable variation, save that one reciter called the dwelling of the feigned sweetheart Castle-swa."Hogg.

"To a wild melancholy tune."Herd.Quhat, ze,etc.,are printedwhat, ye,as usual.

"To a wild melancholy tune."Herd.

Quhat, ze,etc.,are printedwhat, ye,as usual.

71, 2and 8 one stanza.

FOOTNOTES:[98]For utter ineptness 7-9 even go beyond the ordinary Buchan mark.[99]Other expedients are, a loaf of bread weighted with quicksilver, or without candle or quicksilver, or a chip of wood; Henderson, as above, p. 59, Gregor, Notes on the Folk Lore of the North East of Scotland, p. 208, Choice Notes from Notes and Queries, pp 40-43, and Liebrecht, Volkskunde, p. 344 f, who cites nearly all these places. J. S. C. observes in Notes and Queries: As there are in all running streams deep pools formed by eddies, in which drowned bodies would be likely to be caught and retained, any light substance thrown into the current would consequently be drawn to that part of the surface over the centre of the eddy hole.[100]Also (not seen by me) Danske Samlinger, II, 274-76, 1867, Norske Magasin, I, 401, 1860, cited by somebody (probably Grundtvig) whom I have neglected to note.

[98]For utter ineptness 7-9 even go beyond the ordinary Buchan mark.

[99]Other expedients are, a loaf of bread weighted with quicksilver, or without candle or quicksilver, or a chip of wood; Henderson, as above, p. 59, Gregor, Notes on the Folk Lore of the North East of Scotland, p. 208, Choice Notes from Notes and Queries, pp 40-43, and Liebrecht, Volkskunde, p. 344 f, who cites nearly all these places. J. S. C. observes in Notes and Queries: As there are in all running streams deep pools formed by eddies, in which drowned bodies would be likely to be caught and retained, any light substance thrown into the current would consequently be drawn to that part of the surface over the centre of the eddy hole.

[100]Also (not seen by me) Danske Samlinger, II, 274-76, 1867, Norske Magasin, I, 401, 1860, cited by somebody (probably Grundtvig) whom I have neglected to note.

A.'Clerk Sanders,' Herd's MSS, I, 177, II, 49.B.'Clerk Saunders,' Herd's MSS, I, 163, II, 46.C.'Clerk Saunders,' Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p. 233.D.'Lord Saunders,' Motherwell's MS., p. 196.E.'The Seven Bluidy Brithers,' Motherwell's MS., p. 199.F.'Clerk Saunders,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 83.G.'Clerk Sandy,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 160.

A.'Clerk Sanders,' Herd's MSS, I, 177, II, 49.

B.'Clerk Saunders,' Herd's MSS, I, 163, II, 46.

C.'Clerk Saunders,' Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p. 233.

D.'Lord Saunders,' Motherwell's MS., p. 196.

E.'The Seven Bluidy Brithers,' Motherwell's MS., p. 199.

F.'Clerk Saunders,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 83.

G.'Clerk Sandy,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 160.

'Clerk Saunders' was first given to the world in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 33, 1802, and was there said to be "taken from Mr Herd's MS., with several corrections from a shorter and more imperfect copy in the same volume, and one or two conjectural emendations in the arrangement of the stanzas." Sir Walter arranged his ballad with much good taste, but this account of his dealing with Herd's copies is very far from precisely accurate.A, the longer of these, does not end, as here printed, with Margret's refusal to be comforted, a rather unsufficing conclusion it must be owned. The story is continued by annexing the ballad of 'Sweet William's Ghost,' the lack of which inBmakes Scott call that version imperfect. This sequel, found also inF, is omitted here, and will be given in the proper place.[101]Jamieson's,F, as well as Scott's, is a made-up copy, "the stanzas where the seven brothers are introduced" having been "enlarged from two fragments, which, although very defective in themselves, furnished lines which, when incorporated with the text, seemed to improve it." About one half ofGis taken from Herd's MSS, with trivial alterations. The ghostly visitation at the end blends 'Proud Lady Margaret' with 'Sweet William's Ghost,' and this conclusion, not being worth transferring, has been allowed to stand.[102]The dream inE13 may be derived from 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William.'

The austerities vowed inD13-15,E17-20, found also inA20-22,G23-25, make a very satisfactory termination to the tragedy, and supply a want that may be felt inB, and inAas it stands here. The like are found in 'The Clerk's Twa Sons o Owsenford,' 'Bonny Bee Ho'm,' 'Lord Livingston,' 'The Weary Coble o Cargill,' and 'The Lowlands of Holland.' Also in the French ballad of 'La Biche Blanche,' where a brother, having unwittingly been the death of his sister, who was maid by day but hind by night, vows himself to a seven years' penance:

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