FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[438]make = mate.

[438]make = mate.

IHe.Be it right or wrong, these men amongOn women do complain;Affirming this, how that it isA labour spent in vainTo love them wele; for never a dele[439]They love a man again:For let a man do what he canTheir favour to attain,Yet if a new to them pursue,Their first true lover than[440]Laboureth for naught; for from her thoughtHe is a banished man.IIShe.I say not nay, but that all dayIt is both written and saidThat woman’s faith is, as who saithAll utterly decay’d:But nevertheless, right good witnèssIn this case might be laidThat they love true and continùe:Record the Nut-brown Maid,Which, when her love came her to prove,To her to make his moan,Would not depart; for in her heartShe loved but him alone.IIIHe.Then between us let us discussWhat was all the manereBetween them two: we will alsoTell all the pain in fere[441]That she was in. Now I begin,So that ye me answere:Wherefore all ye that present be,I pray you, give an ear.I am the Knight. I come by night,As secret as I can,Saying,Alas! thus standeth the case,I am a banished man.IVShe.And I your will for to fulfilIn this will not refuse;Trusting to show, in wordès few,That men have an ill use—To their own shame—women to blame,And causeless them accuse.Therefore to you I answer now,All women to excuse:Mine own heart dear, with you what cheer?I pray you, tell anone;For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.VHe.It standeth so: a deed is doWhereof great harm shall grow:My destiny is for to dieA shameful death, I trow;Or else to flee. The t’ one must be.None other way I knowBut to withdraw as an outlàw,And take me to my bow.Wherefore adieu, mine own heart true!None other rede I can[442]:For I must to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.VIShe.O Lord, what is this worldis bliss,That changeth as the moon!My summer’s day in lusty MayIs darked before the noon.I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay,We dèpart not so soon.Why say ye so? whither will ye go?Alas! what have ye done?All my welfàre to sorrow and careShould change, if ye were gone:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.VIIHe.I can believe it shall you grieve,And somewhat you distrain[443];But afterward, your painès hardWithin a day or twainShall soon aslake; and ye shall takeComfort to you again.Why should ye ought? for, to make thought,Your labour were in vain.And thus I do; and pray you to,As hartèly as I can:For I must to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.VIIIShe.Now, sith that ye have showed to meThe secret of your mind,I shall be plain to you again,Like as ye shall me find.Sith it is so that ye will go,I will not live behind.Shall never be said the Nut-brown MaidWas to her love unkind.Make you readỳ, for so am I,Although it were anone:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.IXHe.Yet I you rede to take good heedWhat men will think and say:Of young, of old, it shall be toldThat ye be gone awayYour wanton will for to fulfil,In green-wood you to play;And that ye might for your delightNo longer make delay.Rather than ye should thus for meBe called an ill womànYet would I to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.XShe.Though it be sung of old and youngThat I should be to blame,Theirs be the charge that speak so largeIn hurting of my name:For I will prove that faithful loveIt is devoid of shame;In your distress and heavinessTo part with[444]you the same:And sure all tho[445]that do not soTrue lovers are they none:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.XIHe.I counsel you, Remember howIt is no maiden’s lawNothing to doubt, but to run outTo wood with an outlàw.For ye must there in your hand bearA bow readỳ to draw;And as a thief thus must you liveEver in dread and awe;Whereby to you great harm might grow:Yet had I liever thanThat I had to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.XIIShe.I think not nay but as ye say;It is no maiden’s lore;But love may make me for your sake,As I have said before,To come on foot, to hunt and shoot,To get us meat and store;For so that I your companyMay have, I ask no more.From which to part it maketh my heartAs cold as any stone;For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.XIIIHe.For an outlàw this is the law,That men him take and bind:Without pitie, hangèd to be,And waver with the wind.If I had need (as God forbede!)What socours could ye find?Forsooth, I trow, you and your bowFor fear would draw behind.And no mervail; for little availWere in your counsel than:Wherefore I’ll to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.XIVShe.Right well know ye that women beBut feeble for to fight;No womanhede it is, indeed,To be bold as a knight:Yet in such fear if that ye wereWith enemies day and night,I would withstand, with bow in hand,To grieve them as I might,And you to save; as women haveFrom death men many one:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.XVHe.Yet take good hede; for ever I dredeThat ye could not sustainThe thorny ways, the deep vallèys,The snow, the frost, the rain,The cold, the heat; for dry or wete,We must lodge on the plain;And, us above, no other roofBut a brake bush or twain:Which soon should grieve you, I believe;And ye would gladly thanThat I had to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.XVIShe.Sith I have here been partynereWith you of joy and bliss,I must alsò part of your woeEndure, as reason is:Yet I am sure of one pleasùre,And shortly it is this—That where ye be, me seemeth, pardé,I could not fare amiss.Without more speech I you beseechThat we were shortly gone;For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.XVIIHe.If ye go thyder, ye must consider,When ye have lust to dine,There shall no meat be for to gete,Nether bere, ale, ne wine,Ne shetès clean, to lie between,Made of the thread and twine;None other house, but leaves and boughs,To cover your head and mine.Lo, mine heart sweet, this ill dièteShould make you pale and wan:Wherefore I’ll to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.XVIIIShe.Among the wild deer such an archère,As men say that ye be,Ne may not fail of good vitayleWhere is so great plentè:And water clear of the rivereShall be full sweet to me;With which in hele[446]I shall right weleEndure, as ye shall see;And, or we go, a bed or twoI can provide anone;For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.XIXHe.Lo yet, before, ye must do more,If ye will go with me:As, cut your hair up by your ear,Your kirtle by the knee;With bow in hand for to withstandYour enemies, if need be:And this same night, before daylight,To woodward will I flee.If that ye will all this fulfil,Do it shortly as ye can:Else will I to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.XXShe.I shall as now do more for youThan ’longeth to womanhede;To short my hair, a bow to bear,To shoot in time of need.O my sweet mother! before all otherFor you I have most drede!But now, adieu! I must ensueWhere fortune doth me lead.All this make ye: Now let us flee;The day cometh fast upon:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.XXIHe.Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go,And I shall tell you why—Your appetite is to be lightOf love, I well espy:For, right as ye have said to me,In likewise hardilyYe would answere whosoever it were,In way of companỳ:It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold;And so is a womàn:Wherefore I to the wood will go,Alone, a banished man.XXIIShe.If ye take heed, it is no needSuch words to say to me;For oft ye prayed, and long assayed,Or I loved you, pardè:And though that I of ancestryA baron’s daughter be,Yet have you proved how I you loved,A squire of low degree;And ever shall, whatso befall,To die therefore anone;For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.XXIIIHe.A baron’s child to be beguiled,It were a cursèd deed!To be felàw with an outlaw—Almighty God forbede!Yet better were the poor squyereAlone to forest yede[447]Than ye shall say another dayThat by my cursèd redeYe were betrayed. Wherefore, good maid,The best rede that I can,Is, that I to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.XXIVShe.Whatever befall, I never shallOf this thing be upbraid:But if ye go, and leave me so,Then have ye me betrayed.Remember you wele, how that ye dele;For if ye, as ye said,Be so unkind to leave behindYour love, the Nut-brown Maid,Trust me trulỳ that I shall dieSoon after ye be gone:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.XXVHe.If that ye went, ye should repent;For in the forest nowI have purveyed me of a maidWhom I love more than you:Another more fair than ever ye wereI dare it well avow;And of you both each should be wrothWith other, as I trow:It were mine ease to live in peace;So will I, if I can:Wherefore I to the wood will go,Alone, a banished man.XXVIShe.Though in the wood I understoodYe had a paramour,All this may nought remove my thought,But that I will be your’:And she shall find me soft and kindAnd courteis every hour;Glad to fulfil all that she willCommand me, to my power:For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,Yet would I be that one:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.XXVIIHe.Mine own dear love, I see the proveThat ye be kind and true;Of maid, of wife, in all my life,The best that ever I knew.Be merry and glad; be no more sad;The case is changèd new;For it were ruth that for your truthYe should have cause to rue.Be not dismayed, whatsoever I saidTo you when I began;I will not to the green-wood go;I am no banished man.XXVIIIShe.These tidings be more glad to meThan to be made a queen,If I were sure they should endure;But it is often seenWhen men will break promise they speakThe wordis on the splene[448].Ye shape some wile me to beguile,And steal from me, I ween:Then were the case worse than it was,And I more wo-begone:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.XXIXHe.Ye shall not nede further to drede:I will not disparàgeYou (God defend), sith you descendOf so great a linàge.Now understand: to Westmoreland,Which is my heritage,I will you bring; and with a ring,By way of marriàgeI will you take, and lady make,As shortly as I can:Thus have you won an Earle’s son,And not a banished man.XXXHere may ye see that women beIn love meek, kind, and stable;Let never man reprove them than,Or call them variable;But rather pray God that we mayTo them be comfortable;Which sometime proveth such as He loveth,If they be charitable.For sith men would that women shouldBe meek to them each one;Much more ought they to God obey,And serve but Him alone.

He.Be it right or wrong, these men amongOn women do complain;Affirming this, how that it isA labour spent in vainTo love them wele; for never a dele[439]They love a man again:For let a man do what he canTheir favour to attain,Yet if a new to them pursue,Their first true lover than[440]Laboureth for naught; for from her thoughtHe is a banished man.

She.I say not nay, but that all dayIt is both written and saidThat woman’s faith is, as who saithAll utterly decay’d:But nevertheless, right good witnèssIn this case might be laidThat they love true and continùe:Record the Nut-brown Maid,Which, when her love came her to prove,To her to make his moan,Would not depart; for in her heartShe loved but him alone.

He.Then between us let us discussWhat was all the manereBetween them two: we will alsoTell all the pain in fere[441]That she was in. Now I begin,So that ye me answere:Wherefore all ye that present be,I pray you, give an ear.I am the Knight. I come by night,As secret as I can,Saying,Alas! thus standeth the case,I am a banished man.

She.And I your will for to fulfilIn this will not refuse;Trusting to show, in wordès few,That men have an ill use—To their own shame—women to blame,And causeless them accuse.Therefore to you I answer now,All women to excuse:Mine own heart dear, with you what cheer?I pray you, tell anone;For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.It standeth so: a deed is doWhereof great harm shall grow:My destiny is for to dieA shameful death, I trow;Or else to flee. The t’ one must be.None other way I knowBut to withdraw as an outlàw,And take me to my bow.Wherefore adieu, mine own heart true!None other rede I can[442]:For I must to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.

She.O Lord, what is this worldis bliss,That changeth as the moon!My summer’s day in lusty MayIs darked before the noon.I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay,We dèpart not so soon.Why say ye so? whither will ye go?Alas! what have ye done?All my welfàre to sorrow and careShould change, if ye were gone:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.I can believe it shall you grieve,And somewhat you distrain[443];But afterward, your painès hardWithin a day or twainShall soon aslake; and ye shall takeComfort to you again.Why should ye ought? for, to make thought,Your labour were in vain.And thus I do; and pray you to,As hartèly as I can:For I must to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.

She.Now, sith that ye have showed to meThe secret of your mind,I shall be plain to you again,Like as ye shall me find.Sith it is so that ye will go,I will not live behind.Shall never be said the Nut-brown MaidWas to her love unkind.Make you readỳ, for so am I,Although it were anone:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.Yet I you rede to take good heedWhat men will think and say:Of young, of old, it shall be toldThat ye be gone awayYour wanton will for to fulfil,In green-wood you to play;And that ye might for your delightNo longer make delay.Rather than ye should thus for meBe called an ill womànYet would I to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.

She.Though it be sung of old and youngThat I should be to blame,Theirs be the charge that speak so largeIn hurting of my name:For I will prove that faithful loveIt is devoid of shame;In your distress and heavinessTo part with[444]you the same:And sure all tho[445]that do not soTrue lovers are they none:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.I counsel you, Remember howIt is no maiden’s lawNothing to doubt, but to run outTo wood with an outlàw.For ye must there in your hand bearA bow readỳ to draw;And as a thief thus must you liveEver in dread and awe;Whereby to you great harm might grow:Yet had I liever thanThat I had to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.

She.I think not nay but as ye say;It is no maiden’s lore;But love may make me for your sake,As I have said before,To come on foot, to hunt and shoot,To get us meat and store;For so that I your companyMay have, I ask no more.From which to part it maketh my heartAs cold as any stone;For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.For an outlàw this is the law,That men him take and bind:Without pitie, hangèd to be,And waver with the wind.If I had need (as God forbede!)What socours could ye find?Forsooth, I trow, you and your bowFor fear would draw behind.And no mervail; for little availWere in your counsel than:Wherefore I’ll to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.

She.Right well know ye that women beBut feeble for to fight;No womanhede it is, indeed,To be bold as a knight:Yet in such fear if that ye wereWith enemies day and night,I would withstand, with bow in hand,To grieve them as I might,And you to save; as women haveFrom death men many one:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.Yet take good hede; for ever I dredeThat ye could not sustainThe thorny ways, the deep vallèys,The snow, the frost, the rain,The cold, the heat; for dry or wete,We must lodge on the plain;And, us above, no other roofBut a brake bush or twain:Which soon should grieve you, I believe;And ye would gladly thanThat I had to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.

She.Sith I have here been partynereWith you of joy and bliss,I must alsò part of your woeEndure, as reason is:Yet I am sure of one pleasùre,And shortly it is this—That where ye be, me seemeth, pardé,I could not fare amiss.Without more speech I you beseechThat we were shortly gone;For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.If ye go thyder, ye must consider,When ye have lust to dine,There shall no meat be for to gete,Nether bere, ale, ne wine,Ne shetès clean, to lie between,Made of the thread and twine;None other house, but leaves and boughs,To cover your head and mine.Lo, mine heart sweet, this ill dièteShould make you pale and wan:Wherefore I’ll to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.

She.Among the wild deer such an archère,As men say that ye be,Ne may not fail of good vitayleWhere is so great plentè:And water clear of the rivereShall be full sweet to me;With which in hele[446]I shall right weleEndure, as ye shall see;And, or we go, a bed or twoI can provide anone;For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.Lo yet, before, ye must do more,If ye will go with me:As, cut your hair up by your ear,Your kirtle by the knee;With bow in hand for to withstandYour enemies, if need be:And this same night, before daylight,To woodward will I flee.If that ye will all this fulfil,Do it shortly as ye can:Else will I to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.

She.I shall as now do more for youThan ’longeth to womanhede;To short my hair, a bow to bear,To shoot in time of need.O my sweet mother! before all otherFor you I have most drede!But now, adieu! I must ensueWhere fortune doth me lead.All this make ye: Now let us flee;The day cometh fast upon:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go,And I shall tell you why—Your appetite is to be lightOf love, I well espy:For, right as ye have said to me,In likewise hardilyYe would answere whosoever it were,In way of companỳ:It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold;And so is a womàn:Wherefore I to the wood will go,Alone, a banished man.

She.If ye take heed, it is no needSuch words to say to me;For oft ye prayed, and long assayed,Or I loved you, pardè:And though that I of ancestryA baron’s daughter be,Yet have you proved how I you loved,A squire of low degree;And ever shall, whatso befall,To die therefore anone;For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.A baron’s child to be beguiled,It were a cursèd deed!To be felàw with an outlaw—Almighty God forbede!Yet better were the poor squyereAlone to forest yede[447]Than ye shall say another dayThat by my cursèd redeYe were betrayed. Wherefore, good maid,The best rede that I can,Is, that I to the green-wood go,Alone, a banished man.

She.Whatever befall, I never shallOf this thing be upbraid:But if ye go, and leave me so,Then have ye me betrayed.Remember you wele, how that ye dele;For if ye, as ye said,Be so unkind to leave behindYour love, the Nut-brown Maid,Trust me trulỳ that I shall dieSoon after ye be gone:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.If that ye went, ye should repent;For in the forest nowI have purveyed me of a maidWhom I love more than you:Another more fair than ever ye wereI dare it well avow;And of you both each should be wrothWith other, as I trow:It were mine ease to live in peace;So will I, if I can:Wherefore I to the wood will go,Alone, a banished man.

She.Though in the wood I understoodYe had a paramour,All this may nought remove my thought,But that I will be your’:And she shall find me soft and kindAnd courteis every hour;Glad to fulfil all that she willCommand me, to my power:For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,Yet would I be that one:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.Mine own dear love, I see the proveThat ye be kind and true;Of maid, of wife, in all my life,The best that ever I knew.Be merry and glad; be no more sad;The case is changèd new;For it were ruth that for your truthYe should have cause to rue.Be not dismayed, whatsoever I saidTo you when I began;I will not to the green-wood go;I am no banished man.

She.These tidings be more glad to meThan to be made a queen,If I were sure they should endure;But it is often seenWhen men will break promise they speakThe wordis on the splene[448].Ye shape some wile me to beguile,And steal from me, I ween:Then were the case worse than it was,And I more wo-begone:For, in my mind, of all mankindI love but you alone.

He.Ye shall not nede further to drede:I will not disparàgeYou (God defend), sith you descendOf so great a linàge.Now understand: to Westmoreland,Which is my heritage,I will you bring; and with a ring,By way of marriàgeI will you take, and lady make,As shortly as I can:Thus have you won an Earle’s son,And not a banished man.

Here may ye see that women beIn love meek, kind, and stable;Let never man reprove them than,Or call them variable;But rather pray God that we mayTo them be comfortable;Which sometime proveth such as He loveth,If they be charitable.For sith men would that women shouldBe meek to them each one;Much more ought they to God obey,And serve but Him alone.

FOOTNOTES:[439]never a dele = never a bit.[440]than = then.[441]in fere = in company, together.[442]rede I can = counsel I know.[443]distrain = distress.[444]part with = share with.[445]tho = those.[446]hele = health.[447]yede = went.[448]on the splene = in haste.

[439]never a dele = never a bit.

[440]than = then.

[441]in fere = in company, together.

[442]rede I can = counsel I know.

[443]distrain = distress.

[444]part with = share with.

[445]tho = those.

[446]hele = health.

[447]yede = went.

[448]on the splene = in haste.

IKing Easter has courted her for her lands,King Wester for her fee,King Honour for her comely face,And for her fair bodie.IIThey had not been four months married,As I have heard them tell,Until the nobles of the landAgainst them did rebel.IIIAnd they cast kevils[449]them amang,And kevils them between;And they cast kevils them amang,Wha suld gae kill the king.IVO, some said yea, and some said nay,Their words did not agree;Till up and got him, Fause Foodrage,And swore it suld be he.VWhen bells were rung, and mass was sung,And a’ men bound to bed,King Honour and his gay ladyeIn a high chamber were laid.VIThen up and raise him, Fause Foodrage,When a’ were fast asleep,And slew the porter in his lodge,That watch and ward did keep.VIIO four-and-twenty silver keysHang hie upon a pin;And aye, as ae door he did unlock,He has fasten’d it him behin’.VIIIThen up and raise him, King Honour,Says—‘What means a’ this din?Or what’s the matter, Fause Foodrage,Or wha has loot you in?’—IX‘O ye my errand weel sall learn,Before that I depart.’—Then drew a knife, baith lang and sharp,And pierced him to the heart.XThen up and got the Queen hersell,And fell low down on her knee,‘O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!For I never injured thee.XI‘O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!Until I lighter be!And see gin it be lad or lass,King Honour has left me wi’.’—XII‘O gin it be a lass,’ he says,‘Weel nursèd it sall be;But gin it be a lad bairn,He sall be hangèd hie.XIII‘I winna spare for his tender age,Nor yet for his hie hie kin;But soon as e’er he born is,He sall mount the gallows pin.’—XIVO four-and-twenty valiant knightsWere set the Queen to guard;And four stood aye at her bour door,To keep both watch and ward.XVBut when the time drew near an end,That she suld lighter be,She cast about to find a wile,To set her body free.XVIO she has birled these merry young menWith the ale but and the wine,Until they were a’ deadly drunkAs any wild-wood swine.XVII‘O narrow, narrow is this window,And big, big am I grown!’—Yet through the might of Our Ladye,Out at it she is gone.XVIIIShe wander’d up, she wander’d down,She wander’d out and in,And, at last, into the very swine’s stytheThe Queen brought forth a son.XIXThen they cast kevils them amang,Which suld gae seek the Queen;And the kevil fell upon Wise William,And he sent his wife for him.XXO when she saw Wise William’s wife,The Queen fell on her knee:‘Win up, win up, madam!’ she says:‘What needs this courtesie?’—XXI‘O out o’ this I winna rise,Till a boon ye grant to me;To change your lass for this lad bairn,King Honour left me wi’.XXII‘And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawkRight weel to breast a steed;And I sall learn your turtle dow[450]As weel to write and read.XXIII‘And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawkTo wield both bow and brand;And I sall learn your turtle dowTo lay gowd[451]wi’ her hand.XXIV‘At kirk and market when we meet,We’ll dare make nae avowe,But—“Dame, how does my gay goss-hawk?”“Madame, how does my dow?”’XXVWhen days were gane, and years came on,Wise William he thought lang;And he has ta’en King Honour’s sonA-hunting for to gang.XXVIIt sae fell out, at this huntìng,Upon a simmer’s day,That they came by a fair castell,Stood on a sunny brae.XXVII‘O dinna ye see that bonny castell,Wi’ halls and towers sae fair?Gin ilka man had back his ain,Of it you suld be heir.’—XXVIII‘How I suld be heir of that castell,In sooth, I canna see;For it belangs to Fause Foodrage,And he is na kin to me.’—XXIX‘O gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage,You would do but what was right;For I wot he kill’d your father dear,Or ever ye saw the light.XXX‘And gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage,There is no man durst you blame;For he keeps your mother a prisoner,And she darna take ye hame.’—XXXIThe boy stared wild like a gray goss-hawk;Says—‘What may a’ this mean?’—‘My boy, ye are King Honour’s son,And your mother’s our lawful Queen.’—XXXII‘O gin I be King Honour’s son,By Our Ladye I swear,This night I will that traitor slay,And relieve my mother dear!’—XXXIIIHe has set his bent bow to his breastAnd leaped the castell wa’;And soon he has seized on Fause Foodrage,Wha loud for help ’gan ca’.XXXIV‘O haud your tongue, now, Fause Foodrage,Frae me ye shanna flee!’—Syne pierced him through the fause, fause heart,And set his mother free.XXXVAnd he has rewarded Wise WilliamWi’ the best half of his land;And sae has he the turtle dow,Wi’ the truth o’ his right hand.

King Easter has courted her for her lands,King Wester for her fee,King Honour for her comely face,And for her fair bodie.

They had not been four months married,As I have heard them tell,Until the nobles of the landAgainst them did rebel.

And they cast kevils[449]them amang,And kevils them between;And they cast kevils them amang,Wha suld gae kill the king.

O, some said yea, and some said nay,Their words did not agree;Till up and got him, Fause Foodrage,And swore it suld be he.

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,And a’ men bound to bed,King Honour and his gay ladyeIn a high chamber were laid.

Then up and raise him, Fause Foodrage,When a’ were fast asleep,And slew the porter in his lodge,That watch and ward did keep.

O four-and-twenty silver keysHang hie upon a pin;And aye, as ae door he did unlock,He has fasten’d it him behin’.

Then up and raise him, King Honour,Says—‘What means a’ this din?Or what’s the matter, Fause Foodrage,Or wha has loot you in?’—

‘O ye my errand weel sall learn,Before that I depart.’—Then drew a knife, baith lang and sharp,And pierced him to the heart.

Then up and got the Queen hersell,And fell low down on her knee,‘O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!For I never injured thee.

‘O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage!Until I lighter be!And see gin it be lad or lass,King Honour has left me wi’.’—

‘O gin it be a lass,’ he says,‘Weel nursèd it sall be;But gin it be a lad bairn,He sall be hangèd hie.

‘I winna spare for his tender age,Nor yet for his hie hie kin;But soon as e’er he born is,He sall mount the gallows pin.’—

O four-and-twenty valiant knightsWere set the Queen to guard;And four stood aye at her bour door,To keep both watch and ward.

But when the time drew near an end,That she suld lighter be,She cast about to find a wile,To set her body free.

O she has birled these merry young menWith the ale but and the wine,Until they were a’ deadly drunkAs any wild-wood swine.

‘O narrow, narrow is this window,And big, big am I grown!’—Yet through the might of Our Ladye,Out at it she is gone.

She wander’d up, she wander’d down,She wander’d out and in,And, at last, into the very swine’s stytheThe Queen brought forth a son.

Then they cast kevils them amang,Which suld gae seek the Queen;And the kevil fell upon Wise William,And he sent his wife for him.

O when she saw Wise William’s wife,The Queen fell on her knee:‘Win up, win up, madam!’ she says:‘What needs this courtesie?’—

‘O out o’ this I winna rise,Till a boon ye grant to me;To change your lass for this lad bairn,King Honour left me wi’.

‘And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawkRight weel to breast a steed;And I sall learn your turtle dow[450]As weel to write and read.

‘And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawkTo wield both bow and brand;And I sall learn your turtle dowTo lay gowd[451]wi’ her hand.

‘At kirk and market when we meet,We’ll dare make nae avowe,But—“Dame, how does my gay goss-hawk?”“Madame, how does my dow?”’

When days were gane, and years came on,Wise William he thought lang;And he has ta’en King Honour’s sonA-hunting for to gang.

It sae fell out, at this huntìng,Upon a simmer’s day,That they came by a fair castell,Stood on a sunny brae.

‘O dinna ye see that bonny castell,Wi’ halls and towers sae fair?Gin ilka man had back his ain,Of it you suld be heir.’—

‘How I suld be heir of that castell,In sooth, I canna see;For it belangs to Fause Foodrage,And he is na kin to me.’—

‘O gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage,You would do but what was right;For I wot he kill’d your father dear,Or ever ye saw the light.

‘And gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage,There is no man durst you blame;For he keeps your mother a prisoner,And she darna take ye hame.’—

The boy stared wild like a gray goss-hawk;Says—‘What may a’ this mean?’—‘My boy, ye are King Honour’s son,And your mother’s our lawful Queen.’—

‘O gin I be King Honour’s son,By Our Ladye I swear,This night I will that traitor slay,And relieve my mother dear!’—

He has set his bent bow to his breastAnd leaped the castell wa’;And soon he has seized on Fause Foodrage,Wha loud for help ’gan ca’.

‘O haud your tongue, now, Fause Foodrage,Frae me ye shanna flee!’—Syne pierced him through the fause, fause heart,And set his mother free.

And he has rewarded Wise WilliamWi’ the best half of his land;And sae has he the turtle dow,Wi’ the truth o’ his right hand.

FOOTNOTES:[449]kevils = lots.[450]dow = dove.[451]lay gowd = embroider in gold.

[449]kevils = lots.

[450]dow = dove.

[451]lay gowd = embroider in gold.

IIt was a knight in Scotland born,Follow, my love, come over the strand—Was taken prisoner and left forlorn,Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.IIThen was he cast in prison strong,Follow, my love, come over the strand—Where he could not walk nor lie along,Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.IIIAnd as in sorrow thus he lay,Follow, my love, come over the strand—The Earl’s sweet daughter walk’d that way,And she the faire flower of Northumberland.IVAnd loud to her this knight did crie,Follow, my love, come over the strand—The salt teares standing in his eye,And she the faire flower of Northumberland.V‘Faire lady,’ he said, ‘take pity on me,Follow, my love, come over the strand—And let me not in prison dee[452],And you the faire flower of Northumberland.’—VI‘Faire sir, how should I take pity on thee?Follow, my love, come over the strand—Thou being a foe to our countrie,And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’VII‘Faire lady, I am no foe,’ he said,Follow, my love, come over the strand—‘Through thy sweet love here was I stay’d,For thee, the faire flower of Northumberland.’—VIII‘Why shouldst thou come here for love of me,Follow, my love, come over the strand—Having wife and children in thy countrie?—And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’—IX‘I swear by the blessèd Trinitie,Follow, my love, come over the strand—I have no wife nor children, I,But I’ll make you my ladye in faire Scotland.X‘I swear by Him that was crown’d with thorn,Follow, my love, come over the strand—That I never had wife since the day I was born,But I live a free lord in faire Scotland.’—XIShe stole from her father’s pillow the key,Follow, my love, come over the strand—And soon out of prison she’s set him freeTo wend with her into faire Scotland.XIILikewise much gold she got by sleight,Follow, my love, come over the strand—And all to help this forlorne knightTo wend from her father to faire Scotland.XIIIShe’s led him down to her father’s stable,Follow, my love, come over the strand—And she’s stolen two steeds both wight[453]and able,To carry them on to faire Scotland.XIVThey rode till they came to a water clear,Follow, my love, come over the strand—‘Good Sir, how should I follow you here,And I the faire flower of Northumberland?XV‘The water is rough and wonderful steepe,Follow, my love, come over the strand—And on my saddle I shall not keepe,And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’—XVI‘Fear not the ford, faire lady,’ quoth he,Follow, my love, come over the strand—‘For long I cannot stay for thee,And thou the faire flower of Northumberland.’XVIIFrom top to toe all wet was she:Follow, my love, come over the strand—‘This have I done for love of thee,And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’XVIIIThey rode till they came to a Scottish moss,Follow, my love, come over the strand—He bade her light off from her father’s horse,Says, ‘Go, get you back to Northumberland.XIX‘For I have a wife and children five,Follow, my love, come over the strand—In Edenborrow they be alive,So get thee home to Northumberland.’—XX‘Have pity on me as I had it on thee!Follow, my love, come over the strand—A cook in your kitchen I will be,Even I, the faire flower of Northumberland.XXI‘Or take me by the body so meek,Follow, my love, come over the strand—And throw me in the water so deep,For I darena go back to Northumberland.’XXIIHe turn’d him around and he thought of a plan,Follow, my love, come over the strand—He bought an old horse and he hired an old manTo carry her back to Northumberland.XXIIIWhen she came thro’ her father’s ha’,Follow, my love, come over the strand—She louted[454]her low amongst them a’,She was the faire flower of Northumberland.XXIVDown came her father, he saw her and smiled,Follow, my love, come over the strand—‘You arena the first the false Scots have beguiled,And ye’re aye welcome back to Northumberland!’

It was a knight in Scotland born,Follow, my love, come over the strand—Was taken prisoner and left forlorn,Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.

Then was he cast in prison strong,Follow, my love, come over the strand—Where he could not walk nor lie along,Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.

And as in sorrow thus he lay,Follow, my love, come over the strand—The Earl’s sweet daughter walk’d that way,And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

And loud to her this knight did crie,Follow, my love, come over the strand—The salt teares standing in his eye,And she the faire flower of Northumberland.

‘Faire lady,’ he said, ‘take pity on me,Follow, my love, come over the strand—And let me not in prison dee[452],And you the faire flower of Northumberland.’—

‘Faire sir, how should I take pity on thee?Follow, my love, come over the strand—Thou being a foe to our countrie,And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

‘Faire lady, I am no foe,’ he said,Follow, my love, come over the strand—‘Through thy sweet love here was I stay’d,For thee, the faire flower of Northumberland.’—

‘Why shouldst thou come here for love of me,Follow, my love, come over the strand—Having wife and children in thy countrie?—And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’—

‘I swear by the blessèd Trinitie,Follow, my love, come over the strand—I have no wife nor children, I,But I’ll make you my ladye in faire Scotland.

‘I swear by Him that was crown’d with thorn,Follow, my love, come over the strand—That I never had wife since the day I was born,But I live a free lord in faire Scotland.’—

She stole from her father’s pillow the key,Follow, my love, come over the strand—And soon out of prison she’s set him freeTo wend with her into faire Scotland.

Likewise much gold she got by sleight,Follow, my love, come over the strand—And all to help this forlorne knightTo wend from her father to faire Scotland.

She’s led him down to her father’s stable,Follow, my love, come over the strand—And she’s stolen two steeds both wight[453]and able,To carry them on to faire Scotland.

They rode till they came to a water clear,Follow, my love, come over the strand—‘Good Sir, how should I follow you here,And I the faire flower of Northumberland?

‘The water is rough and wonderful steepe,Follow, my love, come over the strand—And on my saddle I shall not keepe,And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’—

‘Fear not the ford, faire lady,’ quoth he,Follow, my love, come over the strand—‘For long I cannot stay for thee,And thou the faire flower of Northumberland.’

From top to toe all wet was she:Follow, my love, come over the strand—‘This have I done for love of thee,And I the faire flower of Northumberland.’

They rode till they came to a Scottish moss,Follow, my love, come over the strand—He bade her light off from her father’s horse,Says, ‘Go, get you back to Northumberland.

‘For I have a wife and children five,Follow, my love, come over the strand—In Edenborrow they be alive,So get thee home to Northumberland.’—

‘Have pity on me as I had it on thee!Follow, my love, come over the strand—A cook in your kitchen I will be,Even I, the faire flower of Northumberland.

‘Or take me by the body so meek,Follow, my love, come over the strand—And throw me in the water so deep,For I darena go back to Northumberland.’

He turn’d him around and he thought of a plan,Follow, my love, come over the strand—He bought an old horse and he hired an old manTo carry her back to Northumberland.

When she came thro’ her father’s ha’,Follow, my love, come over the strand—She louted[454]her low amongst them a’,She was the faire flower of Northumberland.

Down came her father, he saw her and smiled,Follow, my love, come over the strand—‘You arena the first the false Scots have beguiled,And ye’re aye welcome back to Northumberland!’

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