259LORD THOMAS STUART
Maidment’s North Countrie Garland, p. 1.
Maidment’s North Countrie Garland, p. 1.
Maidment’s North Countrie Garland, p. 1.
Lord Thomas Stuart has married a young countess, and has given her Strathbogie and Aboyne for a morning-gift. The lady has a desire to see these places. As they are on their way thither (from Edinburgh), her husband is attacked with a pain which obliges him to turn back; he tells her to ride on, and she seems so to do. The pain proves to be beyond the skill of leeches. Lord Thomas begs his father to see that his wife gets what he has given her. He dies; the horses turn wild in the stables, the hounds howl on the leash. Lady Stuart has the usual dream (No 74,A8,B11, etc.). She comes back wringing her hands; she knows by the horses that are standing about the house that the burial is preparing.
1Thomas Stuart was a lord,A lord of mickle land;He used to wear a coat of gold,But now his grave is green.2Now he has wooed the young countess,The Countess of Balquhin,An given her for a morning-giftStrathboggie and Aboyne.3But women’s wit is aye willful,Alas that ever it was sae!She longed to see the morning-giftThat her gude lord to her gae.4When steeds were saddled an weel bridled,An ready for to ride,There came a pain on that gude lord,His back, likewise his side.5He said, Ride on, my lady fair,May goodness be your guide!For I’m sae sick an weary thatNo farther can I ride.6Now ben did come his father dear,Wearing a golden band;Says, Is there nae leech in EdinburghCan cure my son from wrang?7‘O leech is come, an leech is gane,Yet, father, I’m aye waur;There’s not a leech in EdinbroCan death from me debar.8‘But be a friend to my wife, father,Restore to her her own;Restore to her my morning-gift,Strathboggie and Aboyne.9‘It had been gude for my wife, father,To me she’d born a son;He would have got my land an rents,Where they lie out an in.10‘It had been gude for my wife, father,To me she’d born an heir;He would have got my land an rents,Where they lie fine an fair.’11The steeds they strave into their stables,The boys could’nt get them bound;The hounds lay howling on the leech,Cause their master was behind.12‘I dreamed a dream since late yestreen,I wish it may be good,That our chamber was full of swine,An our bed full of blood.’13I saw a woman come from the West,Full sore wringing her hands,And aye she cried, Ohon, alas!My good lord’s broken bands.14As she came by my good lord’s bower,Saw mony black steeds an brown:‘I’m feared it be mony unco lordsHavin my love from town!’15As she came by my gude lord’s bower,Saw mony black steeds an grey:‘I’m feared it’s mony unco lordsHavin my love to the clay!’
1Thomas Stuart was a lord,A lord of mickle land;He used to wear a coat of gold,But now his grave is green.2Now he has wooed the young countess,The Countess of Balquhin,An given her for a morning-giftStrathboggie and Aboyne.3But women’s wit is aye willful,Alas that ever it was sae!She longed to see the morning-giftThat her gude lord to her gae.4When steeds were saddled an weel bridled,An ready for to ride,There came a pain on that gude lord,His back, likewise his side.5He said, Ride on, my lady fair,May goodness be your guide!For I’m sae sick an weary thatNo farther can I ride.6Now ben did come his father dear,Wearing a golden band;Says, Is there nae leech in EdinburghCan cure my son from wrang?7‘O leech is come, an leech is gane,Yet, father, I’m aye waur;There’s not a leech in EdinbroCan death from me debar.8‘But be a friend to my wife, father,Restore to her her own;Restore to her my morning-gift,Strathboggie and Aboyne.9‘It had been gude for my wife, father,To me she’d born a son;He would have got my land an rents,Where they lie out an in.10‘It had been gude for my wife, father,To me she’d born an heir;He would have got my land an rents,Where they lie fine an fair.’11The steeds they strave into their stables,The boys could’nt get them bound;The hounds lay howling on the leech,Cause their master was behind.12‘I dreamed a dream since late yestreen,I wish it may be good,That our chamber was full of swine,An our bed full of blood.’13I saw a woman come from the West,Full sore wringing her hands,And aye she cried, Ohon, alas!My good lord’s broken bands.14As she came by my good lord’s bower,Saw mony black steeds an brown:‘I’m feared it be mony unco lordsHavin my love from town!’15As she came by my gude lord’s bower,Saw mony black steeds an grey:‘I’m feared it’s mony unco lordsHavin my love to the clay!’
1Thomas Stuart was a lord,A lord of mickle land;He used to wear a coat of gold,But now his grave is green.
1
Thomas Stuart was a lord,
A lord of mickle land;
He used to wear a coat of gold,
But now his grave is green.
2Now he has wooed the young countess,The Countess of Balquhin,An given her for a morning-giftStrathboggie and Aboyne.
2
Now he has wooed the young countess,
The Countess of Balquhin,
An given her for a morning-gift
Strathboggie and Aboyne.
3But women’s wit is aye willful,Alas that ever it was sae!She longed to see the morning-giftThat her gude lord to her gae.
3
But women’s wit is aye willful,
Alas that ever it was sae!
She longed to see the morning-gift
That her gude lord to her gae.
4When steeds were saddled an weel bridled,An ready for to ride,There came a pain on that gude lord,His back, likewise his side.
4
When steeds were saddled an weel bridled,
An ready for to ride,
There came a pain on that gude lord,
His back, likewise his side.
5He said, Ride on, my lady fair,May goodness be your guide!For I’m sae sick an weary thatNo farther can I ride.
5
He said, Ride on, my lady fair,
May goodness be your guide!
For I’m sae sick an weary that
No farther can I ride.
6Now ben did come his father dear,Wearing a golden band;Says, Is there nae leech in EdinburghCan cure my son from wrang?
6
Now ben did come his father dear,
Wearing a golden band;
Says, Is there nae leech in Edinburgh
Can cure my son from wrang?
7‘O leech is come, an leech is gane,Yet, father, I’m aye waur;There’s not a leech in EdinbroCan death from me debar.
7
‘O leech is come, an leech is gane,
Yet, father, I’m aye waur;
There’s not a leech in Edinbro
Can death from me debar.
8‘But be a friend to my wife, father,Restore to her her own;Restore to her my morning-gift,Strathboggie and Aboyne.
8
‘But be a friend to my wife, father,
Restore to her her own;
Restore to her my morning-gift,
Strathboggie and Aboyne.
9‘It had been gude for my wife, father,To me she’d born a son;He would have got my land an rents,Where they lie out an in.
9
‘It had been gude for my wife, father,
To me she’d born a son;
He would have got my land an rents,
Where they lie out an in.
10‘It had been gude for my wife, father,To me she’d born an heir;He would have got my land an rents,Where they lie fine an fair.’
10
‘It had been gude for my wife, father,
To me she’d born an heir;
He would have got my land an rents,
Where they lie fine an fair.’
11The steeds they strave into their stables,The boys could’nt get them bound;The hounds lay howling on the leech,Cause their master was behind.
11
The steeds they strave into their stables,
The boys could’nt get them bound;
The hounds lay howling on the leech,
Cause their master was behind.
12‘I dreamed a dream since late yestreen,I wish it may be good,That our chamber was full of swine,An our bed full of blood.’
12
‘I dreamed a dream since late yestreen,
I wish it may be good,
That our chamber was full of swine,
An our bed full of blood.’
13I saw a woman come from the West,Full sore wringing her hands,And aye she cried, Ohon, alas!My good lord’s broken bands.
13
I saw a woman come from the West,
Full sore wringing her hands,
And aye she cried, Ohon, alas!
My good lord’s broken bands.
14As she came by my good lord’s bower,Saw mony black steeds an brown:‘I’m feared it be mony unco lordsHavin my love from town!’
14
As she came by my good lord’s bower,
Saw mony black steeds an brown:
‘I’m feared it be mony unco lords
Havin my love from town!’
15As she came by my gude lord’s bower,Saw mony black steeds an grey:‘I’m feared it’s mony unco lordsHavin my love to the clay!’
15
As she came by my gude lord’s bower,
Saw mony black steeds an grey:
‘I’m feared it’s mony unco lords
Havin my love to the clay!’