271

THE LORD OF LORN AND THE FALSE STEWARD

A.‘Lord of Learne,’ Percy MS., p. 73; Hales and Furnivall, I, 180.B.‘A pretty ballad of the Lord of Lorn and the Fals Steward.’a.Wood, 401, fol. 95 b.b.Roxburghe, I, 222; Roxburghe Ballads, ed. Chappell, II, 55.c.Pepys, I, 494, No 254.

A.‘Lord of Learne,’ Percy MS., p. 73; Hales and Furnivall, I, 180.

B.‘A pretty ballad of the Lord of Lorn and the Fals Steward.’a.Wood, 401, fol. 95 b.b.Roxburghe, I, 222; Roxburghe Ballads, ed. Chappell, II, 55.c.Pepys, I, 494, No 254.

Also in the Roxburghe collection, III, 534, without printer’s name; Ewing, Nos 264, 265; Crawford, No 716. All the broadsides are of the second half of the seventeenth century.

‘The Lord of Lorne and the false Steward’ was entered, with two other ballads, to Master Walley, 6 October, 1580; ‘Lord of Lorne’ to Master Pavier and others (among 128 pieces), 14 December, 1624. Arber, II, 379; IV, 131.[43]

A.The young Lord of Lorn, when put to school, learns more in one day than his mates learn in three. He returns home earlier than was expected, and delights his father with the information that he can read any book in Scotland. His father says he must now go to France to learn the tongues. His mother is anxious that he should have a proper guardian if he goes, and the ‘child’ proposes the steward, who has impressed him as a man of fidelity. The Lady of Lorn makes the steward a handsome present, and conjures him to be true to her son. If I am not, he answers, may Christ not be true to me. The young lord sails for France, very richly appointed. Once beyond the water, the steward will give the child neither penny to spend nor meat and drink. The child is forced to lie down at some piece of water to quench his thirst; thesteward pushes him in, meaning to drown him. The child offers everything for his life; the steward pulls him out, makes him put off all his fine clothes and don a suit of leather, and sends him to shift for himself, under the name of Poor Disaware. A shepherd takes him in, and he tends sheep on a lonely lea.

The steward sells the child’s clothes, buys himself a suit fit for a lord, and goes a-wooing to the Duke of France’s daughter, calling himself the Lord of Lorn; the duke favors the suit, and the lady is content. The day after their betrothal, the lady, while riding out, sees the child tending his sheep, and hears him mourning. She sends a maid to bring him to her, and asks him questions, which he answers, not without tears. He was born in Scotland, his name is Poor Disaware; he knows the Lord of Lorn, a worthy lord in his own country. The lady invites him to leave his sheep, and take service with her as chamberlain; the child is willing, but her father objects that the lord who has come a-wooing may not like that arrangement. The steward comes upon the scene, and is angry to find the child in such company. When the child gives his name as Poor Disaware, the steward denounces him as a thief who had robbed his own father; but the duke speaks kindly to the boy, and makes him his stable-groom. One day, when he is watering a gelding, the horse flings up his head and hits the child above the eye. The child breaks out, Woe worth thee, gelding! thou hast stricken the Lord of Lorn. I was born a lord and shall be an earl; my father sent me over the sea, and the false steward has beguiled me. The lady happens to be walking in her garden, and hears something of this; she bids the child go on with his song; this he may not do, for he has been sworn to silence. Then sing to thy gelding, and not to me, she says. The child repeats his story, and adds that the steward has been deceiving both her and him for a twelvemonth. The lady declares that she will marry no man but him that stands before her, sends in haste to her father to have her wedding put off, and writes an account of the steward’s treachery to the old lord in Scotland. The old lord collects five hundred friends of high degree, and goes over to France in search of his son. They find him acting as porter at the duke’s palace. The men of worship bow, the serving-men kneel, the old lord lights from his horse and kisses his son. The steward is just then in a castle-top with the duke, and sees what is going on below. Why are those fools showing such courtesy to the porter? The duke fears that this means death for one of them. The castle is beset; the steward is captured, is tried by a quest of lords and brought in guilty, is hanged, quartered, boiled, and burned. The young Lord of Lorne is married to the duke’s daughter.

B.Bis an abridgment of an older copy. The story is the same as inAin all material particulars. The admiration of the schoolmaster and the self-complacency of his pupil inA2, 3,B3, are better justified inBby a stanza which has perhaps dropped out ofA:

There’s nere a doctor in all this realm,For all he goes in rich array,[But] I can write him a lesson soonTo learn in seven years day.

There’s nere a doctor in all this realm,

For all he goes in rich array,

[But] I can write him a lesson soon

To learn in seven years day.

The last six stanzas are not represented inA, and the last two are glaringly modern; but there is a foundation for 62-64 in a romance from which the story is partly taken, the History of Roswall and Lillian.[44]

‘Roswall and Lillian.’ Roswall was son to the king of Naples. Happening one day to be near a prison, he heard three lords, who had been in durance many years for treason, putting up their prayers for deliverance. He was greatly moved, and resolved to help them out. The prison-keys were always hidden for the night under the king’s pillow. Roswall possessed himself of them while his father was sleeping, set the lords free, and replaced the keys. The escape of the prisoners wasreported the next morning, and the king made a vow that whoever had been instrumental to it should be hanged; if he came within the king’s sight, the king would even slay him with his own hands. It soon came to light that the guilty party was none other than the prince. The queen interceded for her son, but the king could not altogether disregard his vow: the prince must be kept out of his sight, and the king promptly decided that Roswall should be sent to reside with the king of Bealm, under charge of the steward, a stalwart knight, to whom the queen promised everything for good service. As the pair rode on their way, they came to a river. The prince was sore athirst, and dismounted to take a drink. The steward seized him by the feet as he bent over the water, and vowed to throw him in unless he would swear an oath to surrender his money and credentials, and become servant where he had been master. To these hard terms Roswall was forced to consign. When they were near the king of Bealm’s palace, the steward dropped Roswall’s company, leaving him without a penny to buy his dinner; then rode to the king, presented letters, and was well received. Roswall went to a little house hard by, and begged for harbor and victuals for a day. The mistress made him welcome. She saw he was from a far country, and asked his name. Dissawar was his name; a poor name, said the old wife, but Dissawar you shall not be, for I will help you. The next day Roswall was sent to school with the dame’s son. He gave his name as Dissawar again to the master; the master said he should want neither meat nor teaching. Roswall had been a remarkable scholar at home. Without doubt he astonished the master, but this is not said, for the story has been abridged here and elsewhere. In about a month, the steward of the king of Bealm, who had observed his beauty, courtesy, and good parts, carried him to the court of Bealm, where Roswall made himself a general favorite. The princess Lillian, only child of the king of Bealm, chose him to be her chamberlain, fell in love with him, and frankly offered him her heart, an offer which Roswall, professing always to be of low degree, gratefully accepted.

At this juncture the king of Bealm sent messengers to Naples proposing marriage between his daughter Lillian and the young prince who had been commended to him. The king of Naples assented to the alliance, and deputed lords and knights to represent him at the solemnity. The king of Bealm proclaimed a joust for the three days immediately preceding the wedding. Lillian’s heart was cold, for she loved none but Dissawar. She told Dissawar that he must joust for his lady; but he said that he had not been bred to such things, and would rather go a-hunting. A-hunting he went, but before he got to work there came a knight in white weed on a white steed, who enjoined him to take horse and armor and go to the jousting, promising that he should find plenty of venison when he came back. Roswall toomed many a saddle, turned the steward’s heels upward, made his way back to the wood, in spite of the king’s order that he should be stopped, resumed his hunting-gear, took the venison, which, according to promise, was waiting for him, and presented himself and it to his lady. The order is much the same on the two succeeding days. A red knight equips Roswall for the joust on the second day, a knight in gold on the third. The steward is, on each occasion, put to shame, and in the last encounter two of his ribs are broken.

When Roswall came back to the wood after the third jousting, the three knights appeared together and informed him that they were the men whom he had delivered from prison, and who had promised to help him if help he ever needed. They bade him have no fear of the steward. Lillian had suspected from the second day that the victor was Roswall, and when he returned to her from his third triumph she intimated that if he would but tell the whole truth to her father their mutual wish would be accomplished. But Roswall kept his counsel—very whimsically, unless it was out of respect to his oath—and Lillian was constrained to speak for herself, for the marriage was to be celebrated on the fourthday. She asked her father in plain terms to give her Dissawar for her husband. The king replied, not unkindly, that she could not marry below her rank, and therefore must take the prince who had been selected for her; and to the steward she was married, however sorely against her will. In the course of the wedding-dinner, the three Neapolitan lords entered the hall, and saluted the king, the queen, and Lillian, but not the bridegroom. The king asked why they did no homage to their prince; they replied that they did not see their prince, went in search of Roswall, and brought him in. The force of the oath, or the consciousness of an obligation, must have been by this time quite extinct, for Roswall divulged the steward’s treacherous behavior, and announced himself as the victor at the jousts. The steward was hanged that same day; then they passed to the kirk and married Roswall and Lillian. There was dancing till supper and after supper, the minstrels played with good will, and the bridal was kept up for twenty days.

Roswall and Lillian belongs with a group of popular tales of which the original seems to have been characterized by all or many of the following marks: (1) the son of a king liberates a man whom his father has imprisoned; (2) the penalty for so doing is death, and to save his life the prince is sent out of the country, attended by a servant; (3) the servant forces the prince to change places and clothes with him; (4) presents himself at a king’s court as prince, and in his assumed quality is in a fair way to secure the hand of the king’s daughter; (5) the true prince, figuring the while as a menial (stable-groom, scullion, gardener’s lad), is successful, by the help of the man whom he has liberated, in a thrice-repeated contention (battle, tourney, race), or task, after which he is in a position to make known his rank and history; (6) the impostor is put to death, and the prince (who has, perhaps, in his humbler capacity, already attracted her notice and regard) marries the princess.[45]

Two Slavic tales, a Bosnian and a Russian, come as near as any to the story of our romance.

A king who has caught a wild man shuts him up, and denounces death to any one that shall let him out. The king’s son’s bedroom is just over the place in which the wild man is confined. The prince cannot bear to hear the continual wailings which come up, and he sets the prisoner free. The prince confesses what he has done; the king is persuaded by his advisers to banish his son rather than to enforce the penalty which he had decreed; the prince is sent off to a distant kingdom, attended by a servant. One day the prince was seized with thirst while travelling, and wished to get a drink from a well; but there was nothing to draw water with, and he ordered his servant to let him down to the surface of the water, holding him the while by the legs. This was done; but when the prince had drunk to his satisfaction, the servant refused to draw him up until he had consented to change places and clothes, and had sworn besides to keep the matter secret. When they arrived at the court of the king designated by the father, the sham prince was received with royal honors, and the true prince had to consort with servants.... After a time, the king, wishing to marry off his daughter, proclaimed a three days’ race, open to all comers, the prize to be a golden apple, and any competitor who should win the apple each of the three days to have the princess. Our prince had fallen in love with the young lady, and was most desirous to contend. The wild man had already helped him in emergencies here passed over, and did not fail him now. He provided his deliverer with fine clothes and a fine horse. The prince carried off the apple at each of the races, but disappeared as soon as he had the prize in hand. All the efforts of the king to find out the victor wereto no purpose, but one day the princess met the prince in his serving-man’s dress, and saw the apples shining from his breast. She told her father. The prince did not feel himself bound to further secrecy; he told everything; the king gave him the princess, and the servant was properly disposed of.[46]

Ivan, the tsar’s son, releases from confinement Bulat, a robber, whom the tsar has kept in prison three and thirty years. Bulat tells Ivan to call him by name in case of future need, and he will not fail to appear. Ivan travels in foreign countries with his servant, and feeling thirsty of a warm day tells his servant to get him water from a deep well to which they have come; Ivan will hold him by a rope tied firmly about him, so that he can go down into the well without danger. The servant represents that he is the heavier of the two, too heavy for his master to hold, and that for this reason it would be better for Ivan himself to go for the water. Ivan is let down into the well, and having drunk his fill calls to his servant to draw him up. The servant refuses to draw him up unless Ivan will swear to give him a certificate in writing that he is master, and Ivan servant. The paper is given; they change clothes, and proceed on their journey, and come to Tsar Pantui’s kingdom. Here the servant is received as a tsar’s son, and when he tells Tsar Pantui that the object of his coming is to woo his daughter, the tsar complies with much pleasure. Ivan, at the servant’s suggestion, is put to low work in the kitchen. Before long the kingdom is invaded, and the tsar calls upon his prospective son-in-law to drive off the enemy, for which service he shall receive the princess, but without it, not. The false Ivan begs the true Ivan to take the invaders in hand, and he assents without a word. Ivan calls for Bulat: one attacks the hostile army on the right, the other on the left, and in an hour they lay a hundred thousand low. Ivan returns to his kitchen. A second invasion, and a third, on a larger and larger scale, ensue, and Ivan and Bulat repulse the enemy with greater and greater loss. Ivan each time goes back to his kitchen; his servant has all the glory, and after the third and decisive victory marries the princess. Ivan gets permission from the cook to be a spectator at the wedding-banquet. The tsar’s daughter, it must now be observed, had overheard the conference between the pseudo-prince and Ivan, and even that between Ivan and Bulat, and had hitherto, for inscrutable reasons, let things take their course. But when she saw Ivan looking at the feast from behind other people, she knew him at once, sprang from the table, brought him forward, and said, This is my real bridegroom and the savior of the kingdom; after which she entered into a full explanation, with the result that the servant was shot, and Ivan married to the tsar’s daughter.[47]

Other tales of the same derivation, but deficient in some points, are: (A.) Radloff, Proben der Volkslitteratur der türkischen Stämme Süd-Sibiriens, IV, 385, ‘Der Peri.’ (B.) Straparola, Piacevoli Notti, v, 1 (‘Guerrino, son of the king of Sicily’). (C.) Grimms, K.- und Hausmärchen, No 136, II, 242, ed. 1857, ‘Der Eisenhaus.’ (D.) Sommer, Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus Sachsen und Thüringen, p. 86, No 2, ‘Der eiserne Mann.’ (E.) Milenowsky, Volksmärchen aus Böhmen, p. 147, ‘Vom wilden Manne.’[48]

(1) The son of a king liberates a prisoner (peri, wild or iron man),A-E. (The keys are under his mother’s pillow,B,C.) (2) The prince goes to another kingdom,A-Dwith attendance,Ewithout. (3) His attendant forces the prince to change places and clothes, onlyA. (Advantage is taken of the helplessness of the hero when let down into the well to force exchange of parts, in the ServianTales of Dj. K. Stefanović, 1871, p. 39, No 7, Jagić, Archiv, I, 271; Meyer, Albanian Tales, No 13, in Archiv für Litteraturgeschichte, XII, 137; Franzisci, Cultur-Studien in Kärnten, p. 99, and, nearly the same, Dozon, Contes Albanais, No 12, p. 83.) (5) The hero, serving as kitchen-boy or gardener’s lad,C,D,E, defeats an invading army,C,D,E, wins a prize three successive days,C,E, is successful in three tasks,A,B; and all these feats are performed by the help of the prisoner whom he set free. The variation of the color of armor and horses occurs inC,E, an extremely frequent trait in tales and romances; see Ward, Catalogue of Romances, etc., 734 f., Lengert, XVII, 361. (Very striking in the matter of the tournaments is the resemblance of the romance of Ipomedon to Roswall and Lillian. Ipomedon, like Roswall, professes not to have been accustomed to such things, and pretends to go a-hunting, is victorious three successive days in a white, red, black suit, on a white, bay, black steed, vanishes after the contest, and presently reappears as huntsman, with venison which a friend had been engaged in securing for him.) (6) The treacherous attendant is put to death,A. The hero of course marries the princess in all the tales.

The points in the romance which are repeated in the ballad are principally these: The young hero is sent into a foreign country under the care of his father’s steward. The steward, by threatening to drown him while he is drinking at a water-side, forces him to consent to an exchange of positions, and strips him of his money; then passes himself off as his master’s son with a noble personage, who eventually fixes upon the impostor as a match for his only daughter. The young lord, henceforth known as Dissawar,[49]is in his extremity kindly received into an humble house, from which he soon passes into the service of the lady whose hand the steward aspires to gain. The lady bestows her love upon Dissawar, and he returns her attachment. In the upshot they marry, the false steward having been unmasked and put to death.

What is supplied in the ballad to make up for such passages in the romance as are omitted is, however, no less strictly traditional than that which is retained. Indeed, were it not for the name Dissawar, the romance might have been plausibly treated, not as the source of the ballad, but simply as a kindred story; for the exquisite tale of ‘The Goose Girl’ presents every important feature of ‘The Lord of Lorn,’ the only notable difference being that the young lord in the ballad exchanges parts with the princess in the tale, an occurrence of which instances have been, from time to time, already indicated.

In ‘Die Gänsemagd,’ Grimms, No 89, II, 13, ed. 1857, a princess is sent by her mother to be wedded to a bridegroom in a distant kingdom, with no escort but a maid. Distressed with thirst, the princess orders her maid to get down from her horse and fetch her a cup of water from a stream which they are passing. The maid refuses; she will no longer be servant, and the princess has to lie down and drink from the stream. So a second and a third time: and then the servant forces her mistress, under threat of death, to change horses and clothes, and to swear to keep the matter secret at the court to which they are bound. There the maid is received as princess, while the princess is put to tending geese with a boy. The counterfeit princess, fearing that her mistress’s horse, Falada, may tell what he has observed, induces the young prince to cut off Falada’s head. The princess has the head nailed up on a gate through which she passes when she takes out the geese, and every morning she addresses Falada with a sad greeting, and receives a sad return. The goose-boy tells the old king of this, and the next day the king hides behind the gate and hears whatpasses between the goose-girl and Falada. The king asks an explanation of the goose-girl when she comes back in the evening, but the only answer he elicits is that she has taken an oath to say nothing. Then the king says, If you will not tell me your troubles, tell them to the stove; and the princess creeps into the oven and pours out all her grief: how she, a king’s daughter, has been made to change places with her servant, and the servant is to marry the bridegroom, and she reduced to tend geese. All this the king hears from outside of the room through the stovepipe, and he loses no time in repeating it to his son. The false maid is dragged through the streets in a barrel stuck full with nails, and the princess married to the prince to whom she had been contracted.

The passage in the ballad in which the Lord of Lorn relates to the gelding, within hearing of the duke’s daughter, the injuries which he had sworn to conceal has, perhaps, suffered some corruption, though quibbling as to oaths is not unknown in ballads. The lady should be believed to be out of earshot, as the king is thought to be by the goose-girl. Unbosoming one’s self to an oven or stove is a decidedly popular trait; “the unhappy and the persecuted betake themselves to the stove, and to it bewail their sufferings, or confide a secret which they may not disclose to the world.”[50]An entirely similar passage (but without an oath to secrecy) occurs in Basile’s Pentamerone,II, 8, where a girl who has been shamefully maltreated by her uncle’s wife tells her very miserable story to a doll, and is accidentally overheard by the uncle. The conclusion of the tale is quite analogous to that of the goose-girl.

Percy MS., p. 73, Hales and Furnivall, I, 180.

1It was the worthy Lord of Learen,He was a lord of a hie degree;He had noe more children but one sonne,He sett him to schoole to learne curtesie.2Lear[n]ing did soe proceed with that child,I tell you all in veretie,He learned more vpon one dayThen other children did on three,3And then bespake the schoole-master,Vnto the Lordof Learne said hee,I thinke thou be some stranger borne,For the holy gost remaines with thee.4He said, I am noe stranger borne,Forsooth, master, I tell it to thee;It is a gift of Almighty GodWhich he hath giuen vnto mee.5The schoole-masterturnd him round about,His angry mind he thought to asswage,For the child cold answer him soe quicklie,And was of soe tender yeere of age.6The child he caused a steed to be brought,A golden bridle done him vpon;He tooke his leaue of his schoolfellows,And home the child that he is gone.7And when he came before his father,He ffell low downe vpon his knee:‘My blessing, father, I wold aske,If Christ wold grant you wold gine it me.’8‘Now God thee blesse, my sonne and my heire,His servant in heauenthat thou may bee!What tydings hast thou brought me, child,Thou art comen home so soone to mee?’9‘Good tydings, father, I haue you brought,Goo[d tydings] I hope it is to thee;The booke is not in all S[c]ottlandeBut I can reade it before your eye.’10A ioyed man his father was,Euen the worthy Lordof Learne:‘Thou shalt goe into Ffrance, my child,The speeches of all strange lands to learne.’11But then bespake the child his mother,The Lady of Learne and then was shee;Saies, Who must be his well good guide,When he goes into that strange country?12And then bespake that bonnie child,Vntill his father tenderlie;Saies, Father, I’le haue the hend steward,For he hath beene true to you and mee.13The lady to concell the steward did take,And counted downe a hundred pound there;Saies, Steward, be true to my sonne and my heire,And I will giue thee mickle mere.14‘If I be not true to my master,’ he said,‘Christ himselfe be not trew to mee!If I be not true to my lord and master,An ill deaththat I may die!’15The Lordof Learne did apparell his childWith bruche, and ringe, and many a thinge;The apparrell he had his body vppon,Thé say was worth a squier’s liuinge.16The parting of the younge Lordof LearneWith his ffather, his mother, his ffellows deere,Wold haue made a manis hart for to change,If a Iew borne that he were.17The wind did serue, and thé did sayleOver the sea into Ffrance land;He vsed the child soe hardlie,He wold let him haue neuer a penny to spend.18And meate he wold let the child haue none,Nor mony to buy none, trulie;The boy was hungry and thirsty both;Alas! it was the more pitty.19He laid him downe to drinke the waterThat was soe low beneathe the brime;He [that] was wont to haue drunke both ale and wineThen was faine of the water soe thinne.20And as he was drinking of the waterThat ran soe low beneath the brime,Soe ready was the false stewardTo drowne the bonny boy therin.21‘Haue mercy on me, worthy steward!My life,’ he said, ‘lend it to mee,And allthat I am heire vpon,’Saies, ‘I will giue vnto thee.’22Mercy to him the steward did take,And pulld the child out of the brime;Euer alacke, the more pittye!He tooke his clothes euen from him.23Saies, Doe thou me of that veluett gowne,The crimson hose beneath thy knee,And doe me of thy cordiuant shoone,Are buckled with the gold soe free.24‘Doe thou me off thy sattin doublett,Thy shirtband wrought with glistering gold,And doe mee off thy golden chaine,About thy necke soe many a fold.25‘Doe thou me off thy veluett hat,With fether inthat is soe ffine;All vnto thy silken shirt,That’s wrought with many a golden seam.’26The child before him naked stood,With skin as white as lilly flower;For [t]his worthy lords bewtieHe might haue beene a ladye’s paramoure.27He put vpon him a lether cote,And breeches of the same beneath the knee,And sent that bony child him froe,Service for to craue, truly.28He pulld then forth a naked swordThat hange full low then by his side;‘Turne thy name, thou villaine,’ he said,‘Or else this sword shall be thy guide.’29‘What must be my name, worthy steward?I pray thee now tell it me:’‘Thy name shalbe Pore Disaware,To tend sheepe on a lonelye lee.’30The bonny child he went him froe,And looked to himselfe, truly;Saw his apparrell soe simple vppon;O Lord! he weeped tenderlye.31Vnto a shepard’s housethat childe did goe,And said, Sir, God you saue and see!Doe you not want a servant-boy,To tend your sheepe on a lonelie lee?32‘Where was thou borne?’ the shepard said,‘Where, my boy, or in what country?’‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I was borne in fayre Scottland,That is soe farr beyond the sea.’33‘I haue noe child,’ the shepard sayd;‘My boy, thoust tarry and dwell with mee;My liuinge,’ he sayd, ‘and all my goods,I’le make thee heire [of] after mee.’34And then bespake the shepard’s wife,To the Lordof Learne thus did she say;‘Goe thy way to our sheepe,’ she said,‘And tend them well both night and day.’35It was a sore office, O Lord, for himThat was a lord borne of a great degree!As he was tending his sheepe alone,Neither sport nor play cold hee.36Let vs leaue talking of the Lordof Learne,And let all such talking goe;Let vs talke more of the false steward,That caused the child all this woe.37He sold this Lordof Learne’s his clothesFor fiue hundred pound to his pay [there],And bought himselfe a suite of apparrellMight well beseeme a lordto weare.38When hethat gorgeous apparrell bought,That did soe finelie his body vppon,He laughed the bony child to scorneThat was the bonny Lordof Learne.39He laughedthat bonny boy to scorne;Lord! pitty it was to heare;I haue herd them say, and soe haue you too,That a man may buy gold to deere.40Whenthat he had allthat gorgeous apparrell,That did soe finelie his body vpon,He went a woing to the Duke’s daughter of France,And called himselfe the Lordof Learne.41The Duke of Ffrance heard tell of this,To his placethat worthy lordwas come, truly;He entertaind him with a quart of red Renish wi[ne],Saies, Lordof Learne, thou art welcome to me.42Then to supperthat they were sett,Lords and ladyes in their degree;The steward was sett next the Duke of France;An vnseemlye sight it was to see.43Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance,Vnto the Lordof Leearne said hee there,Sayes, Lordof Learne, if thou’le marry my daught[er],I’le mend thy liuing fiue hundred pound a yeere.44Then bespakethat lady fayre,Answered her ffather soe alone,That shee would be his marryed wiffeIf he wold make her lady of Learne.45Then hand in hand the steward her he tooke,And plightthat lady his troth alone,That she shold be his marryed wiffe,And he wold make her the ladie of Learne.46Thusthat night it was gone,The other day was come, truly;The lady wold see the robucke run,Vp hills and dales and forrest free.47Then shee was ware of the younge Lordof LearneTending sheepe vnder a bryar, trulye,. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .48And thus shee called vnto her maids,And held her hands vp thus an hie;Sayes, Feitch me yond shepard’s boy,I’le know why he doth mourne, trulye.49When he came beforethat lady fayer,He fell downe vpon his knee;He had beene so well brought vppHe needed not to learne curtesie.50‘Where wast thou borne, thou bonny boy?Where or in what countrye?’‘Madam, I was borne in faire Scottland,That is soe farr beyond the sea.’51‘What is thy name, thou bonny boy?I pray thee tell it vnto mee;’‘My name,’ he sayes, ‘is Poore Disaware,That tends sheepe on a lonely lee.’52‘One thing thou must tell mee, bonny boy,Which I must needs aske of thee,Dost not thou know the young Lordof Learne?He is comen a woing into France to me.’53‘Yes,that I doe, madam,’ he said,And then he wept most tenderlie;‘The Lordof Learne is a worthy lord,If he were at home in his oune country.’54‘What ayles thee to weepe, my bonny boy?Tell me or ere I part thee froe:’‘Nothing but for a friend, madam,That’s dead from me many a yeere agoe.’55A loud laughter the ladie lought,O Lord! shee smiled wonderous hie:‘I haue dwelled in France since I was borne;Such a shepard’s boy I did neuer see.56‘Wilt thou not leaue thy sheepe, my child,And come vnto service vnto mee?And I will giue thee meate and fee,And my chamberlaine thou shalt bee.’57‘Then I will leaue my sheepe, madam,’ he sayd,‘And come into service vnto thee,If you will giue me meate and fee,Your chamberlainethat I may bee.’58When the lady came before her father,Shee fell low downe vpon her knee;‘Grant me, father,’ the lady said,‘This boy my chamberlaine to be.’59‘But O nay, nay,’ the duke did say,‘Soe my daughter it may not bee;The lordthat is come a woing to youWill be offended with you and mee.’60Then came downe the false steward,Which called himselfe the Lordof Learne, trulie;When he looked that bonny boy vpon,An angry man i-wis was hee.61‘Where was thou borne, thou vagabond?Where?’ he sayd, ‘and in what country?’Says, I was borne in fayre Scotland,That is soe far beyond the sea.62‘What is thy name, thou vagabond?Haue done qu[i]cklie, and tell it to me;’‘My name,’ he sayes, ‘is Poore Disaware,I tend sheep on the lonelie lee.’63‘Thou art a theefe,’ the steward said,‘And soe in the end I will prooue thee;’. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .64Then be-spake the ladie fayre,‘Peace, Lord of Learne! I doe pray thee;Ffor if noe loue you show this child,Noe favor can you haue of mee.’65‘Will you beleeue me, lady faire,When the truth I doe tell yee?Att Aberdonie, beyond the sea,His father he robbed a hundred three.’66But then bespake the Duke of FranceVnto the boy soe tenderlie;Saies, Boy, if thou loue harsses well,My stable-groome I will make thee.67And thusthatthat did passe vpponTill the twelve monthes did draw to an ende;The boy applyed his office soe wellEuery man became his freind.68He went forth earlye one morningTo water a gelding at the water soe free;The gelding vp, and with his headHe hitt the child aboue his eye.69‘Woe be to thee, thou gelding,’ he sayd,‘And to the marethat foled thee!Thou hast striken the Lordof LearneA litle tinye aboue the eye.70‘First night after I was borne, a lordI was,An earle after my father doth die;My father is the worthy Lordof Learne,And child he hath noe more but mee;He sent me over the sea with the false steward,And thus that he hath beguiled mee.’71The lady [wa]s in her garden greene,Walking with her mayds, trulye,And heard the boy this mourning make,And went to weeping, trulie.72‘Sing on thy song, thou stable groome,I pray thee doe not let for mee,And as I am a true ladieI wilbe trew vnto thee.’73‘But nay, now nay, madam!’ he sayd,‘Soethat it may not bee;I am tane sworne vpon a booke,And forsworne I will not bee.’74‘Sing on thy song to thy gelding,And thou doest not sing to mee;And as I am a true ladieI will euer be true vnto thee.’75He sayd, Woe be to thee, gelding,And to the marethat foled thee!For thou hast strucken the Lordof LearneA litle aboue mine eye.76First night I was borne, a lord I was,An earle after my father doth dye;My father is the good Lordof Learne,And child he hath noe other but mee;My father sent me over [the sea] with the false steward,And thusthat he hath beguiled mee.77‘Woe be to the steward, lady,’ he sayd,‘Woe be to him verrily!He hath beene about this twelve months dayFor to deceiue both thee and mee.78‘If you doe not my councell keepe,That I haue told you with good intent,And if you doe it not well keepe,Ffarwell! my life is at an ende.’79‘I wilbe true to thee, Lordof Learne,Or else Christ be not soe vnto me;And as I am a trew ladye,I’le neuer marry none but thee.’80Shee sent in for her father, the Duke,In all the speedthat ere might bee;‘Put of my wedding, father,’ shee said,‘For the loue of God, this monthës three.81‘Sicke I am,’ the ladye said,‘O sicke, and verry like to die!Put of my wedding, father Duke,Ffor the loue of God, this monthës three.’82The Duke of France put of this weddingOf the steward and the lady monthës three,For the ladie sicke shee was,Sicke, sicke, and like to die.83Shee wrote a letter with her owne hand,In all the speedethat euer might bee;Shee sent [it] over into Scottland,That is soe ffarr beyond the sea.84When the messenger came beffore the old Lordof Learne,He kneeled low downe on his knee,And he deliuered the letter vnto him,In all the speedthat euer might bee.85[The] first looke he looked the letter vpon,Lo! he wept full bitterly;The second looke he looked it vpon,Said, False steward, woe be to thee!86When the Ladye of Learne these tydings heard,O Lord! shee wept soe biterlye:‘I told you of this, now good my lord,When I sent my child into that wild country.’87‘Peace, Lady of Learne,’ the lord did say,‘For Christ his loue I doe pray thee;And as I am a christian man,Wroken vpon himthat I wilbe.’88He wrote a letter with his owne hand,In all the speedethat ere might bee;He sent it into the lords in Scottland,That were borne of a great degree.89He sent for lords, he sent for knights,The best that were in the countrye,To go with him into the land of France,To seeke his sonne inthat strange country.90The wind was good, and they did sayle,Fiue hundred men into France land,There to seekethat bonny boyThat was the worthy Lordof Learne.91They sought the country through and through,Soe farr to the Duke’s place of Ffrance land;There they were ware ofthat bonny boy,Standing with a porter’s staffe in his hand.92Then the worshippfull, thé did bowe,The serving-men fell on their knee,They cast their hatts vp into the ayreFor ioythat boythat they had seene.93The Lordof Learne then he light downe,And kist his child both cheeke and chinne,And said, God blesse thee, my sonne and my heire!The blisse of heauenthat thou may winne!94The false steward and the Duke of FranceWere in a castle-topp, trulie;‘What fooles are yond,’ says the false steward,‘To the porter makes soe lowe curtesie?’95Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance,Calling my Lordof Learne, trulie;He sayd, I doubt the day be comeThat either you or I must die.96Thé sett the castle round about,A swallow cold not haue flone away;And there thé tooke the false stewardThat the Lordof Learne did betray.97And when they had taken the false steward,He fell lowe downe vpon his knee,And craued mercy of the Lordof LearneFor the villanous dedd he had done, trulye.98‘Thou shalt haue mercy,’ said the Lordof Learne,‘Thou vile traitor, I tell to thee,As the lawes of the realme they will thee beare,Wether it bee for thee to liue or dye.’99A quest of lordsthat there was chosen,To goe vppon his death, trulie;There thé iudged the false steward,Whether he was guiltie, and for to dye.100The forman of the iury he came in,He spake his words full lowd and hie;Said, Make thee ready, thou false steward,For now thy death it drawes full nie.101Sayd he, If my death it doth draw nie,God forgiue me all I haue done amisse!Where isthat lady I haue loued soe longe?Before my death to giue me a kisse.102‘Away, thou traitor!’ the lady said,‘Auoyd out of my company!For thy vild treason thou hast wrought,Thou had need to cry to God for mercye.’103First they tooke him and h[a]ngd him halfe,And let him downe before he was dead,And quartered him in quarters many,And sodde him in a boyling lead.104And then they tooke him out againe,And cutten all his ioynts in sunder,And burnte him eke vpon a hyll;I-wis thé did him curstlye cumber.105A loud laughter the lady laught,O Lord! she smiled merrylie;She sayd, I may praise my heauenly kingThat euer I seene this vile traytor die.106Then bespake the Duke of France,Vnto the right Lordof Learne sayd he there;Says, Lordof Learne, if thou wilt marry my daught[er]I’le mend thy liuing fiue hundred a yeere.107But then bespakethat bonie boy,And answered the Duke quicklie,I had rather marry your daughter with a ring of go[ld]Then all the goldthat ere I blinket on with mine eye.108But then bespake the old Lordof Learne,To the Duke of France thus he did say,Seeing our children doe soe well agree,They shalbe marryed ere wee goe away.109The Lady of Learne shee was sent forThroughout Scottland soe speedilie,To see these two children sett vppIn their seats of gold full royallye.

1It was the worthy Lord of Learen,He was a lord of a hie degree;He had noe more children but one sonne,He sett him to schoole to learne curtesie.

It was the worthy Lord of Learen,

He was a lord of a hie degree;

He had noe more children but one sonne,

He sett him to schoole to learne curtesie.

2Lear[n]ing did soe proceed with that child,I tell you all in veretie,He learned more vpon one dayThen other children did on three,

Lear[n]ing did soe proceed with that child,

I tell you all in veretie,

He learned more vpon one day

Then other children did on three,

3And then bespake the schoole-master,Vnto the Lordof Learne said hee,I thinke thou be some stranger borne,For the holy gost remaines with thee.

And then bespake the schoole-master,

Vnto the Lordof Learne said hee,

I thinke thou be some stranger borne,

For the holy gost remaines with thee.

4He said, I am noe stranger borne,Forsooth, master, I tell it to thee;It is a gift of Almighty GodWhich he hath giuen vnto mee.

He said, I am noe stranger borne,

Forsooth, master, I tell it to thee;

It is a gift of Almighty God

Which he hath giuen vnto mee.

5The schoole-masterturnd him round about,His angry mind he thought to asswage,For the child cold answer him soe quicklie,And was of soe tender yeere of age.

The schoole-masterturnd him round about,

His angry mind he thought to asswage,

For the child cold answer him soe quicklie,

And was of soe tender yeere of age.

6The child he caused a steed to be brought,A golden bridle done him vpon;He tooke his leaue of his schoolfellows,And home the child that he is gone.

The child he caused a steed to be brought,

A golden bridle done him vpon;

He tooke his leaue of his schoolfellows,

And home the child that he is gone.

7And when he came before his father,He ffell low downe vpon his knee:‘My blessing, father, I wold aske,If Christ wold grant you wold gine it me.’

And when he came before his father,

He ffell low downe vpon his knee:

‘My blessing, father, I wold aske,

If Christ wold grant you wold gine it me.’

8‘Now God thee blesse, my sonne and my heire,His servant in heauenthat thou may bee!What tydings hast thou brought me, child,Thou art comen home so soone to mee?’

‘Now God thee blesse, my sonne and my heire,

His servant in heauenthat thou may bee!

What tydings hast thou brought me, child,

Thou art comen home so soone to mee?’

9‘Good tydings, father, I haue you brought,Goo[d tydings] I hope it is to thee;The booke is not in all S[c]ottlandeBut I can reade it before your eye.’

‘Good tydings, father, I haue you brought,

Goo[d tydings] I hope it is to thee;

The booke is not in all S[c]ottlande

But I can reade it before your eye.’

10A ioyed man his father was,Euen the worthy Lordof Learne:‘Thou shalt goe into Ffrance, my child,The speeches of all strange lands to learne.’

A ioyed man his father was,

Euen the worthy Lordof Learne:

‘Thou shalt goe into Ffrance, my child,

The speeches of all strange lands to learne.’

11But then bespake the child his mother,The Lady of Learne and then was shee;Saies, Who must be his well good guide,When he goes into that strange country?

But then bespake the child his mother,

The Lady of Learne and then was shee;

Saies, Who must be his well good guide,

When he goes into that strange country?

12And then bespake that bonnie child,Vntill his father tenderlie;Saies, Father, I’le haue the hend steward,For he hath beene true to you and mee.

And then bespake that bonnie child,

Vntill his father tenderlie;

Saies, Father, I’le haue the hend steward,

For he hath beene true to you and mee.

13The lady to concell the steward did take,And counted downe a hundred pound there;Saies, Steward, be true to my sonne and my heire,And I will giue thee mickle mere.

The lady to concell the steward did take,

And counted downe a hundred pound there;

Saies, Steward, be true to my sonne and my heire,

And I will giue thee mickle mere.

14‘If I be not true to my master,’ he said,‘Christ himselfe be not trew to mee!If I be not true to my lord and master,An ill deaththat I may die!’

‘If I be not true to my master,’ he said,

‘Christ himselfe be not trew to mee!

If I be not true to my lord and master,

An ill deaththat I may die!’

15The Lordof Learne did apparell his childWith bruche, and ringe, and many a thinge;The apparrell he had his body vppon,Thé say was worth a squier’s liuinge.

The Lordof Learne did apparell his child

With bruche, and ringe, and many a thinge;

The apparrell he had his body vppon,

Thé say was worth a squier’s liuinge.

16The parting of the younge Lordof LearneWith his ffather, his mother, his ffellows deere,Wold haue made a manis hart for to change,If a Iew borne that he were.

The parting of the younge Lordof Learne

With his ffather, his mother, his ffellows deere,

Wold haue made a manis hart for to change,

If a Iew borne that he were.

17The wind did serue, and thé did sayleOver the sea into Ffrance land;He vsed the child soe hardlie,He wold let him haue neuer a penny to spend.

The wind did serue, and thé did sayle

Over the sea into Ffrance land;

He vsed the child soe hardlie,

He wold let him haue neuer a penny to spend.

18And meate he wold let the child haue none,Nor mony to buy none, trulie;The boy was hungry and thirsty both;Alas! it was the more pitty.

And meate he wold let the child haue none,

Nor mony to buy none, trulie;

The boy was hungry and thirsty both;

Alas! it was the more pitty.

19He laid him downe to drinke the waterThat was soe low beneathe the brime;He [that] was wont to haue drunke both ale and wineThen was faine of the water soe thinne.

He laid him downe to drinke the water

That was soe low beneathe the brime;

He [that] was wont to haue drunke both ale and wine

Then was faine of the water soe thinne.

20And as he was drinking of the waterThat ran soe low beneath the brime,Soe ready was the false stewardTo drowne the bonny boy therin.

And as he was drinking of the water

That ran soe low beneath the brime,

Soe ready was the false steward

To drowne the bonny boy therin.

21‘Haue mercy on me, worthy steward!My life,’ he said, ‘lend it to mee,And allthat I am heire vpon,’Saies, ‘I will giue vnto thee.’

‘Haue mercy on me, worthy steward!

My life,’ he said, ‘lend it to mee,

And allthat I am heire vpon,’

Saies, ‘I will giue vnto thee.’

22Mercy to him the steward did take,And pulld the child out of the brime;Euer alacke, the more pittye!He tooke his clothes euen from him.

Mercy to him the steward did take,

And pulld the child out of the brime;

Euer alacke, the more pittye!

He tooke his clothes euen from him.

23Saies, Doe thou me of that veluett gowne,The crimson hose beneath thy knee,And doe me of thy cordiuant shoone,Are buckled with the gold soe free.

Saies, Doe thou me of that veluett gowne,

The crimson hose beneath thy knee,

And doe me of thy cordiuant shoone,

Are buckled with the gold soe free.

24‘Doe thou me off thy sattin doublett,Thy shirtband wrought with glistering gold,And doe mee off thy golden chaine,About thy necke soe many a fold.

‘Doe thou me off thy sattin doublett,

Thy shirtband wrought with glistering gold,

And doe mee off thy golden chaine,

About thy necke soe many a fold.

25‘Doe thou me off thy veluett hat,With fether inthat is soe ffine;All vnto thy silken shirt,That’s wrought with many a golden seam.’

‘Doe thou me off thy veluett hat,

With fether inthat is soe ffine;

All vnto thy silken shirt,

That’s wrought with many a golden seam.’

26The child before him naked stood,With skin as white as lilly flower;For [t]his worthy lords bewtieHe might haue beene a ladye’s paramoure.

The child before him naked stood,

With skin as white as lilly flower;

For [t]his worthy lords bewtie

He might haue beene a ladye’s paramoure.

27He put vpon him a lether cote,And breeches of the same beneath the knee,And sent that bony child him froe,Service for to craue, truly.

He put vpon him a lether cote,

And breeches of the same beneath the knee,

And sent that bony child him froe,

Service for to craue, truly.

28He pulld then forth a naked swordThat hange full low then by his side;‘Turne thy name, thou villaine,’ he said,‘Or else this sword shall be thy guide.’

He pulld then forth a naked sword

That hange full low then by his side;

‘Turne thy name, thou villaine,’ he said,

‘Or else this sword shall be thy guide.’

29‘What must be my name, worthy steward?I pray thee now tell it me:’‘Thy name shalbe Pore Disaware,To tend sheepe on a lonelye lee.’

‘What must be my name, worthy steward?

I pray thee now tell it me:’

‘Thy name shalbe Pore Disaware,

To tend sheepe on a lonelye lee.’

30The bonny child he went him froe,And looked to himselfe, truly;Saw his apparrell soe simple vppon;O Lord! he weeped tenderlye.

The bonny child he went him froe,

And looked to himselfe, truly;

Saw his apparrell soe simple vppon;

O Lord! he weeped tenderlye.

31Vnto a shepard’s housethat childe did goe,And said, Sir, God you saue and see!Doe you not want a servant-boy,To tend your sheepe on a lonelie lee?

Vnto a shepard’s housethat childe did goe,

And said, Sir, God you saue and see!

Doe you not want a servant-boy,

To tend your sheepe on a lonelie lee?

32‘Where was thou borne?’ the shepard said,‘Where, my boy, or in what country?’‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I was borne in fayre Scottland,That is soe farr beyond the sea.’

‘Where was thou borne?’ the shepard said,

‘Where, my boy, or in what country?’

‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I was borne in fayre Scottland,

That is soe farr beyond the sea.’

33‘I haue noe child,’ the shepard sayd;‘My boy, thoust tarry and dwell with mee;My liuinge,’ he sayd, ‘and all my goods,I’le make thee heire [of] after mee.’

‘I haue noe child,’ the shepard sayd;

‘My boy, thoust tarry and dwell with mee;

My liuinge,’ he sayd, ‘and all my goods,

I’le make thee heire [of] after mee.’

34And then bespake the shepard’s wife,To the Lordof Learne thus did she say;‘Goe thy way to our sheepe,’ she said,‘And tend them well both night and day.’

And then bespake the shepard’s wife,

To the Lordof Learne thus did she say;

‘Goe thy way to our sheepe,’ she said,

‘And tend them well both night and day.’

35It was a sore office, O Lord, for himThat was a lord borne of a great degree!As he was tending his sheepe alone,Neither sport nor play cold hee.

It was a sore office, O Lord, for him

That was a lord borne of a great degree!

As he was tending his sheepe alone,

Neither sport nor play cold hee.

36Let vs leaue talking of the Lordof Learne,And let all such talking goe;Let vs talke more of the false steward,That caused the child all this woe.

Let vs leaue talking of the Lordof Learne,

And let all such talking goe;

Let vs talke more of the false steward,

That caused the child all this woe.

37He sold this Lordof Learne’s his clothesFor fiue hundred pound to his pay [there],And bought himselfe a suite of apparrellMight well beseeme a lordto weare.

He sold this Lordof Learne’s his clothes

For fiue hundred pound to his pay [there],

And bought himselfe a suite of apparrell

Might well beseeme a lordto weare.

38When hethat gorgeous apparrell bought,That did soe finelie his body vppon,He laughed the bony child to scorneThat was the bonny Lordof Learne.

When hethat gorgeous apparrell bought,

That did soe finelie his body vppon,

He laughed the bony child to scorne

That was the bonny Lordof Learne.

39He laughedthat bonny boy to scorne;Lord! pitty it was to heare;I haue herd them say, and soe haue you too,That a man may buy gold to deere.

He laughedthat bonny boy to scorne;

Lord! pitty it was to heare;

I haue herd them say, and soe haue you too,

That a man may buy gold to deere.

40Whenthat he had allthat gorgeous apparrell,That did soe finelie his body vpon,He went a woing to the Duke’s daughter of France,And called himselfe the Lordof Learne.

Whenthat he had allthat gorgeous apparrell,

That did soe finelie his body vpon,

He went a woing to the Duke’s daughter of France,

And called himselfe the Lordof Learne.

41The Duke of Ffrance heard tell of this,To his placethat worthy lordwas come, truly;He entertaind him with a quart of red Renish wi[ne],Saies, Lordof Learne, thou art welcome to me.

The Duke of Ffrance heard tell of this,

To his placethat worthy lordwas come, truly;

He entertaind him with a quart of red Renish wi[ne],

Saies, Lordof Learne, thou art welcome to me.

42Then to supperthat they were sett,Lords and ladyes in their degree;The steward was sett next the Duke of France;An vnseemlye sight it was to see.

Then to supperthat they were sett,

Lords and ladyes in their degree;

The steward was sett next the Duke of France;

An vnseemlye sight it was to see.

43Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance,Vnto the Lordof Leearne said hee there,Sayes, Lordof Learne, if thou’le marry my daught[er],I’le mend thy liuing fiue hundred pound a yeere.

Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance,

Vnto the Lordof Leearne said hee there,

Sayes, Lordof Learne, if thou’le marry my daught[er],

I’le mend thy liuing fiue hundred pound a yeere.

44Then bespakethat lady fayre,Answered her ffather soe alone,That shee would be his marryed wiffeIf he wold make her lady of Learne.

Then bespakethat lady fayre,

Answered her ffather soe alone,

That shee would be his marryed wiffe

If he wold make her lady of Learne.

45Then hand in hand the steward her he tooke,And plightthat lady his troth alone,That she shold be his marryed wiffe,And he wold make her the ladie of Learne.

Then hand in hand the steward her he tooke,

And plightthat lady his troth alone,

That she shold be his marryed wiffe,

And he wold make her the ladie of Learne.

46Thusthat night it was gone,The other day was come, truly;The lady wold see the robucke run,Vp hills and dales and forrest free.

Thusthat night it was gone,

The other day was come, truly;

The lady wold see the robucke run,

Vp hills and dales and forrest free.

47Then shee was ware of the younge Lordof LearneTending sheepe vnder a bryar, trulye,. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .

Then shee was ware of the younge Lordof Learne

Tending sheepe vnder a bryar, trulye,

. . . . . . . .

48And thus shee called vnto her maids,And held her hands vp thus an hie;Sayes, Feitch me yond shepard’s boy,I’le know why he doth mourne, trulye.

And thus shee called vnto her maids,

And held her hands vp thus an hie;

Sayes, Feitch me yond shepard’s boy,

I’le know why he doth mourne, trulye.

49When he came beforethat lady fayer,He fell downe vpon his knee;He had beene so well brought vppHe needed not to learne curtesie.

When he came beforethat lady fayer,

He fell downe vpon his knee;

He had beene so well brought vpp

He needed not to learne curtesie.

50‘Where wast thou borne, thou bonny boy?Where or in what countrye?’‘Madam, I was borne in faire Scottland,That is soe farr beyond the sea.’

‘Where wast thou borne, thou bonny boy?

Where or in what countrye?’

‘Madam, I was borne in faire Scottland,

That is soe farr beyond the sea.’

51‘What is thy name, thou bonny boy?I pray thee tell it vnto mee;’‘My name,’ he sayes, ‘is Poore Disaware,That tends sheepe on a lonely lee.’

‘What is thy name, thou bonny boy?

I pray thee tell it vnto mee;’

‘My name,’ he sayes, ‘is Poore Disaware,

That tends sheepe on a lonely lee.’

52‘One thing thou must tell mee, bonny boy,Which I must needs aske of thee,Dost not thou know the young Lordof Learne?He is comen a woing into France to me.’

‘One thing thou must tell mee, bonny boy,

Which I must needs aske of thee,

Dost not thou know the young Lordof Learne?

He is comen a woing into France to me.’

53‘Yes,that I doe, madam,’ he said,And then he wept most tenderlie;‘The Lordof Learne is a worthy lord,If he were at home in his oune country.’

‘Yes,that I doe, madam,’ he said,

And then he wept most tenderlie;

‘The Lordof Learne is a worthy lord,

If he were at home in his oune country.’

54‘What ayles thee to weepe, my bonny boy?Tell me or ere I part thee froe:’‘Nothing but for a friend, madam,That’s dead from me many a yeere agoe.’

‘What ayles thee to weepe, my bonny boy?

Tell me or ere I part thee froe:’

‘Nothing but for a friend, madam,

That’s dead from me many a yeere agoe.’

55A loud laughter the ladie lought,O Lord! shee smiled wonderous hie:‘I haue dwelled in France since I was borne;Such a shepard’s boy I did neuer see.

A loud laughter the ladie lought,

O Lord! shee smiled wonderous hie:

‘I haue dwelled in France since I was borne;

Such a shepard’s boy I did neuer see.

56‘Wilt thou not leaue thy sheepe, my child,And come vnto service vnto mee?And I will giue thee meate and fee,And my chamberlaine thou shalt bee.’

‘Wilt thou not leaue thy sheepe, my child,

And come vnto service vnto mee?

And I will giue thee meate and fee,

And my chamberlaine thou shalt bee.’

57‘Then I will leaue my sheepe, madam,’ he sayd,‘And come into service vnto thee,If you will giue me meate and fee,Your chamberlainethat I may bee.’

‘Then I will leaue my sheepe, madam,’ he sayd,

‘And come into service vnto thee,

If you will giue me meate and fee,

Your chamberlainethat I may bee.’

58When the lady came before her father,Shee fell low downe vpon her knee;‘Grant me, father,’ the lady said,‘This boy my chamberlaine to be.’

When the lady came before her father,

Shee fell low downe vpon her knee;

‘Grant me, father,’ the lady said,

‘This boy my chamberlaine to be.’

59‘But O nay, nay,’ the duke did say,‘Soe my daughter it may not bee;The lordthat is come a woing to youWill be offended with you and mee.’

‘But O nay, nay,’ the duke did say,

‘Soe my daughter it may not bee;

The lordthat is come a woing to you

Will be offended with you and mee.’

60Then came downe the false steward,Which called himselfe the Lordof Learne, trulie;When he looked that bonny boy vpon,An angry man i-wis was hee.

Then came downe the false steward,

Which called himselfe the Lordof Learne, trulie;

When he looked that bonny boy vpon,

An angry man i-wis was hee.

61‘Where was thou borne, thou vagabond?Where?’ he sayd, ‘and in what country?’Says, I was borne in fayre Scotland,That is soe far beyond the sea.

‘Where was thou borne, thou vagabond?

Where?’ he sayd, ‘and in what country?’

Says, I was borne in fayre Scotland,

That is soe far beyond the sea.

62‘What is thy name, thou vagabond?Haue done qu[i]cklie, and tell it to me;’‘My name,’ he sayes, ‘is Poore Disaware,I tend sheep on the lonelie lee.’

‘What is thy name, thou vagabond?

Haue done qu[i]cklie, and tell it to me;’

‘My name,’ he sayes, ‘is Poore Disaware,

I tend sheep on the lonelie lee.’

63‘Thou art a theefe,’ the steward said,‘And soe in the end I will prooue thee;’. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .

‘Thou art a theefe,’ the steward said,

‘And soe in the end I will prooue thee;’

. . . . . . . .

64Then be-spake the ladie fayre,‘Peace, Lord of Learne! I doe pray thee;Ffor if noe loue you show this child,Noe favor can you haue of mee.’

Then be-spake the ladie fayre,

‘Peace, Lord of Learne! I doe pray thee;

Ffor if noe loue you show this child,

Noe favor can you haue of mee.’

65‘Will you beleeue me, lady faire,When the truth I doe tell yee?Att Aberdonie, beyond the sea,His father he robbed a hundred three.’

‘Will you beleeue me, lady faire,

When the truth I doe tell yee?

Att Aberdonie, beyond the sea,

His father he robbed a hundred three.’

66But then bespake the Duke of FranceVnto the boy soe tenderlie;Saies, Boy, if thou loue harsses well,My stable-groome I will make thee.

But then bespake the Duke of France

Vnto the boy soe tenderlie;

Saies, Boy, if thou loue harsses well,

My stable-groome I will make thee.

67And thusthatthat did passe vpponTill the twelve monthes did draw to an ende;The boy applyed his office soe wellEuery man became his freind.

And thusthatthat did passe vppon

Till the twelve monthes did draw to an ende;

The boy applyed his office soe well

Euery man became his freind.

68He went forth earlye one morningTo water a gelding at the water soe free;The gelding vp, and with his headHe hitt the child aboue his eye.

He went forth earlye one morning

To water a gelding at the water soe free;

The gelding vp, and with his head

He hitt the child aboue his eye.

69‘Woe be to thee, thou gelding,’ he sayd,‘And to the marethat foled thee!Thou hast striken the Lordof LearneA litle tinye aboue the eye.

‘Woe be to thee, thou gelding,’ he sayd,

‘And to the marethat foled thee!

Thou hast striken the Lordof Learne

A litle tinye aboue the eye.

70‘First night after I was borne, a lordI was,An earle after my father doth die;My father is the worthy Lordof Learne,And child he hath noe more but mee;He sent me over the sea with the false steward,And thus that he hath beguiled mee.’

‘First night after I was borne, a lordI was,

An earle after my father doth die;

My father is the worthy Lordof Learne,

And child he hath noe more but mee;

He sent me over the sea with the false steward,

And thus that he hath beguiled mee.’

71The lady [wa]s in her garden greene,Walking with her mayds, trulye,And heard the boy this mourning make,And went to weeping, trulie.

The lady [wa]s in her garden greene,

Walking with her mayds, trulye,

And heard the boy this mourning make,

And went to weeping, trulie.

72‘Sing on thy song, thou stable groome,I pray thee doe not let for mee,And as I am a true ladieI wilbe trew vnto thee.’

‘Sing on thy song, thou stable groome,

I pray thee doe not let for mee,

And as I am a true ladie

I wilbe trew vnto thee.’

73‘But nay, now nay, madam!’ he sayd,‘Soethat it may not bee;I am tane sworne vpon a booke,And forsworne I will not bee.’

‘But nay, now nay, madam!’ he sayd,

‘Soethat it may not bee;

I am tane sworne vpon a booke,

And forsworne I will not bee.’

74‘Sing on thy song to thy gelding,And thou doest not sing to mee;And as I am a true ladieI will euer be true vnto thee.’

‘Sing on thy song to thy gelding,

And thou doest not sing to mee;

And as I am a true ladie

I will euer be true vnto thee.’

75He sayd, Woe be to thee, gelding,And to the marethat foled thee!For thou hast strucken the Lordof LearneA litle aboue mine eye.

He sayd, Woe be to thee, gelding,

And to the marethat foled thee!

For thou hast strucken the Lordof Learne

A litle aboue mine eye.

76First night I was borne, a lord I was,An earle after my father doth dye;My father is the good Lordof Learne,And child he hath noe other but mee;My father sent me over [the sea] with the false steward,And thusthat he hath beguiled mee.

First night I was borne, a lord I was,

An earle after my father doth dye;

My father is the good Lordof Learne,

And child he hath noe other but mee;

My father sent me over [the sea] with the false steward,

And thusthat he hath beguiled mee.

77‘Woe be to the steward, lady,’ he sayd,‘Woe be to him verrily!He hath beene about this twelve months dayFor to deceiue both thee and mee.

‘Woe be to the steward, lady,’ he sayd,

‘Woe be to him verrily!

He hath beene about this twelve months day

For to deceiue both thee and mee.

78‘If you doe not my councell keepe,That I haue told you with good intent,And if you doe it not well keepe,Ffarwell! my life is at an ende.’

‘If you doe not my councell keepe,

That I haue told you with good intent,

And if you doe it not well keepe,

Ffarwell! my life is at an ende.’

79‘I wilbe true to thee, Lordof Learne,Or else Christ be not soe vnto me;And as I am a trew ladye,I’le neuer marry none but thee.’

‘I wilbe true to thee, Lordof Learne,

Or else Christ be not soe vnto me;

And as I am a trew ladye,

I’le neuer marry none but thee.’

80Shee sent in for her father, the Duke,In all the speedthat ere might bee;‘Put of my wedding, father,’ shee said,‘For the loue of God, this monthës three.

Shee sent in for her father, the Duke,

In all the speedthat ere might bee;

‘Put of my wedding, father,’ shee said,

‘For the loue of God, this monthës three.

81‘Sicke I am,’ the ladye said,‘O sicke, and verry like to die!Put of my wedding, father Duke,Ffor the loue of God, this monthës three.’

‘Sicke I am,’ the ladye said,

‘O sicke, and verry like to die!

Put of my wedding, father Duke,

Ffor the loue of God, this monthës three.’

82The Duke of France put of this weddingOf the steward and the lady monthës three,For the ladie sicke shee was,Sicke, sicke, and like to die.

The Duke of France put of this wedding

Of the steward and the lady monthës three,

For the ladie sicke shee was,

Sicke, sicke, and like to die.

83Shee wrote a letter with her owne hand,In all the speedethat euer might bee;Shee sent [it] over into Scottland,That is soe ffarr beyond the sea.

Shee wrote a letter with her owne hand,

In all the speedethat euer might bee;

Shee sent [it] over into Scottland,

That is soe ffarr beyond the sea.

84When the messenger came beffore the old Lordof Learne,He kneeled low downe on his knee,And he deliuered the letter vnto him,In all the speedthat euer might bee.

When the messenger came beffore the old Lordof Learne,

He kneeled low downe on his knee,

And he deliuered the letter vnto him,

In all the speedthat euer might bee.

85[The] first looke he looked the letter vpon,Lo! he wept full bitterly;The second looke he looked it vpon,Said, False steward, woe be to thee!

[The] first looke he looked the letter vpon,

Lo! he wept full bitterly;

The second looke he looked it vpon,

Said, False steward, woe be to thee!

86When the Ladye of Learne these tydings heard,O Lord! shee wept soe biterlye:‘I told you of this, now good my lord,When I sent my child into that wild country.’

When the Ladye of Learne these tydings heard,

O Lord! shee wept soe biterlye:

‘I told you of this, now good my lord,

When I sent my child into that wild country.’

87‘Peace, Lady of Learne,’ the lord did say,‘For Christ his loue I doe pray thee;And as I am a christian man,Wroken vpon himthat I wilbe.’

‘Peace, Lady of Learne,’ the lord did say,

‘For Christ his loue I doe pray thee;

And as I am a christian man,

Wroken vpon himthat I wilbe.’

88He wrote a letter with his owne hand,In all the speedethat ere might bee;He sent it into the lords in Scottland,That were borne of a great degree.

He wrote a letter with his owne hand,

In all the speedethat ere might bee;

He sent it into the lords in Scottland,

That were borne of a great degree.

89He sent for lords, he sent for knights,The best that were in the countrye,To go with him into the land of France,To seeke his sonne inthat strange country.

He sent for lords, he sent for knights,

The best that were in the countrye,

To go with him into the land of France,

To seeke his sonne inthat strange country.

90The wind was good, and they did sayle,Fiue hundred men into France land,There to seekethat bonny boyThat was the worthy Lordof Learne.

The wind was good, and they did sayle,

Fiue hundred men into France land,

There to seekethat bonny boy

That was the worthy Lordof Learne.

91They sought the country through and through,Soe farr to the Duke’s place of Ffrance land;There they were ware ofthat bonny boy,Standing with a porter’s staffe in his hand.

They sought the country through and through,

Soe farr to the Duke’s place of Ffrance land;

There they were ware ofthat bonny boy,

Standing with a porter’s staffe in his hand.

92Then the worshippfull, thé did bowe,The serving-men fell on their knee,They cast their hatts vp into the ayreFor ioythat boythat they had seene.

Then the worshippfull, thé did bowe,

The serving-men fell on their knee,

They cast their hatts vp into the ayre

For ioythat boythat they had seene.

93The Lordof Learne then he light downe,And kist his child both cheeke and chinne,And said, God blesse thee, my sonne and my heire!The blisse of heauenthat thou may winne!

The Lordof Learne then he light downe,

And kist his child both cheeke and chinne,

And said, God blesse thee, my sonne and my heire!

The blisse of heauenthat thou may winne!

94The false steward and the Duke of FranceWere in a castle-topp, trulie;‘What fooles are yond,’ says the false steward,‘To the porter makes soe lowe curtesie?’

The false steward and the Duke of France

Were in a castle-topp, trulie;

‘What fooles are yond,’ says the false steward,

‘To the porter makes soe lowe curtesie?’

95Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance,Calling my Lordof Learne, trulie;He sayd, I doubt the day be comeThat either you or I must die.

Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance,

Calling my Lordof Learne, trulie;

He sayd, I doubt the day be come

That either you or I must die.

96Thé sett the castle round about,A swallow cold not haue flone away;And there thé tooke the false stewardThat the Lordof Learne did betray.

Thé sett the castle round about,

A swallow cold not haue flone away;

And there thé tooke the false steward

That the Lordof Learne did betray.

97And when they had taken the false steward,He fell lowe downe vpon his knee,And craued mercy of the Lordof LearneFor the villanous dedd he had done, trulye.

And when they had taken the false steward,

He fell lowe downe vpon his knee,

And craued mercy of the Lordof Learne

For the villanous dedd he had done, trulye.

98‘Thou shalt haue mercy,’ said the Lordof Learne,‘Thou vile traitor, I tell to thee,As the lawes of the realme they will thee beare,Wether it bee for thee to liue or dye.’

‘Thou shalt haue mercy,’ said the Lordof Learne,

‘Thou vile traitor, I tell to thee,

As the lawes of the realme they will thee beare,

Wether it bee for thee to liue or dye.’

99A quest of lordsthat there was chosen,To goe vppon his death, trulie;There thé iudged the false steward,Whether he was guiltie, and for to dye.

A quest of lordsthat there was chosen,

To goe vppon his death, trulie;

There thé iudged the false steward,

Whether he was guiltie, and for to dye.

100The forman of the iury he came in,He spake his words full lowd and hie;Said, Make thee ready, thou false steward,For now thy death it drawes full nie.

100

The forman of the iury he came in,

He spake his words full lowd and hie;

Said, Make thee ready, thou false steward,

For now thy death it drawes full nie.

101Sayd he, If my death it doth draw nie,God forgiue me all I haue done amisse!Where isthat lady I haue loued soe longe?Before my death to giue me a kisse.

101

Sayd he, If my death it doth draw nie,

God forgiue me all I haue done amisse!

Where isthat lady I haue loued soe longe?

Before my death to giue me a kisse.

102‘Away, thou traitor!’ the lady said,‘Auoyd out of my company!For thy vild treason thou hast wrought,Thou had need to cry to God for mercye.’

102

‘Away, thou traitor!’ the lady said,

‘Auoyd out of my company!

For thy vild treason thou hast wrought,

Thou had need to cry to God for mercye.’

103First they tooke him and h[a]ngd him halfe,And let him downe before he was dead,And quartered him in quarters many,And sodde him in a boyling lead.

103

First they tooke him and h[a]ngd him halfe,

And let him downe before he was dead,

And quartered him in quarters many,

And sodde him in a boyling lead.

104And then they tooke him out againe,And cutten all his ioynts in sunder,And burnte him eke vpon a hyll;I-wis thé did him curstlye cumber.

104

And then they tooke him out againe,

And cutten all his ioynts in sunder,

And burnte him eke vpon a hyll;

I-wis thé did him curstlye cumber.

105A loud laughter the lady laught,O Lord! she smiled merrylie;She sayd, I may praise my heauenly kingThat euer I seene this vile traytor die.

105

A loud laughter the lady laught,

O Lord! she smiled merrylie;

She sayd, I may praise my heauenly king

That euer I seene this vile traytor die.

106Then bespake the Duke of France,Vnto the right Lordof Learne sayd he there;Says, Lordof Learne, if thou wilt marry my daught[er]I’le mend thy liuing fiue hundred a yeere.

106

Then bespake the Duke of France,

Vnto the right Lordof Learne sayd he there;

Says, Lordof Learne, if thou wilt marry my daught[er]

I’le mend thy liuing fiue hundred a yeere.

107But then bespakethat bonie boy,And answered the Duke quicklie,I had rather marry your daughter with a ring of go[ld]Then all the goldthat ere I blinket on with mine eye.

107

But then bespakethat bonie boy,

And answered the Duke quicklie,

I had rather marry your daughter with a ring of go[ld]

Then all the goldthat ere I blinket on with mine eye.

108But then bespake the old Lordof Learne,To the Duke of France thus he did say,Seeing our children doe soe well agree,They shalbe marryed ere wee goe away.

108

But then bespake the old Lordof Learne,

To the Duke of France thus he did say,

Seeing our children doe soe well agree,

They shalbe marryed ere wee goe away.

109The Lady of Learne shee was sent forThroughout Scottland soe speedilie,To see these two children sett vppIn their seats of gold full royallye.

109

The Lady of Learne shee was sent for

Throughout Scottland soe speedilie,

To see these two children sett vpp

In their seats of gold full royallye.

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