FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[327]stown = stolen.[328]kye = kine, cattle.[329]tirlèd = rattled.[330]won = win, get.[331]dreed = suffered.[332]fountain-stone = font.

[327]stown = stolen.

[328]kye = kine, cattle.

[329]tirlèd = rattled.

[330]won = win, get.

[331]dreed = suffered.

[332]fountain-stone = font.

IChilde Waters in his stable stoodStroking his milk-white steed:To him came a fair young ladyAs ever wore woman’s weed.IISays, ‘Christ you save, Childe Waters!’Says, ‘Christ you save and see!My girdle of gold, which was too long,Is now too short for me.III‘And all is with one child of yoursI feel stir at my side:My gown of green, it is too strait;Before it was too wide.’—IV‘If the child be mine, Burd Ellen,’ he said,‘Be mine as you do swear,Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,And make that child your heir.’VShe says, ‘I would rather have one kiss,Childe Waters, of thy mouthThan I would have Cheshire and Lancashire both,That lies by north and south.’—VI‘To-morrow, Ellen, I must rideFar into the north countrye.’—‘Then I will run low by your side:Your foot-page let me be!’—VII‘If you will be my foot-page, Ellen,As you do tell it me,Then you must cut your gown of greenAn inch above your knee.’VIIIChilde Waters leapt on his milk-white steed,And fast away did ride:Burd Ellen has kilted her gay clothing,And ran low by his side.IXAll this long day Childe Waters rode,She barefoot by his side;Yet was he never so courteous a knightAs to say, ‘Burd Ellen, ride.’XHe has ridden, and she has run,And barefoot through the broom;Yet was he never so courteous a knightAs to say, ‘Put on your shoon.’XI‘Ride softly,’ she said, ‘Childe Waters!O why do you ride so fast?The child which is no man’s but yoursMy body it will brast.’XIIHe has ridden on high horseback,And she’s run low beside,Until they came to a wan water—I think men call it Clyde.XIIISays, ‘See’st yon water, Ellen,That flows from bank to brim?’—‘I trust to God, Childe WatersYou will never see me swim.’XIVThe firsten step Burd Ellen stept,The water came to her knee;‘Ochon, alas!’ said Burd Ellen,‘This water’s o’er deep for me!’XVThe neisten step Burd Ellen stept,The water came to her middle;And sighing said Burd Ellen,‘I’ve wetted my golden girdle!’XVIThe thirden step Burd Ellen slept,The water came to her pap;And the bairn that was in her two sidesFor cold began to quake.XVII‘Lie still, lie still, my own dear babe!Ye work your mother woe;Your father that rides on high horsebackCares little for us two.’XVIIIAbout the midst of Clyde-waterThere was a yeard-fast[333]stone:He lightly turn’d his horse aboutAnd took Burd Ellen on.XIXWhen she over the water won,She then came to his knee:Says, ‘How far is it to your lodgin’Where we this night may be?’—XX‘Seest thou not yon castle, Ellen?Of red gold shines the gate:There is twenty-and-four fair ladiesAnd one my worldly mate.XXI‘Seest thou not yon castle, Ellen?Of red gold shines the tower:There is twenty-and-four fair ladies,And one my paramour.XXII‘Seest thou not yon castle, Ellen,That shines so fair to see?There’s a lady in it, Ellen,Will sunder you and me.’—XXIII‘I do see the castle, Childe Waters:Of red gold shines the gate.God give you good then of yourself,And of your worldly mate!XXIV‘I wish no ill to your lady;She ne’er wish’d none to me;But I wish the maid most of your loveDries[334]this and more for thee.XXV‘I wish no ill to your lady;She ne’er comes in my thought;But I wish the maid most of your loveThat dearest has you bought.’—XXVI‘But my hounds shall eat of the bread of wheat,And you of the bread of bran;And you shall curse the heavy hourThat ever your love began.XXVII‘But my horse shall drink of the good red wine,And you of the water wan;And you will sigh and say “Alas,That ever I loved a man!”’—XXVIII‘O, I will drink of the wan water,And eat of the bread of bran;And aye will I bless the happy hourThat ever I loved a man.’XXIXO four-and-twenty gay ladiesWere playing at the ball,But Ellen, the fairest lady,Must bring his steed to stall.XXXAnd four-and-twenty gay ladiesWere playing at the chess,But Ellen, the fairest lady,Must bring his horse to grass.XXXIWhen bells were rung, and mass was sung,And a’ men bound to meat,Burd Ellen was at the bye-tableAmong the foot-men set.XXXII‘O eat and drink, my bonny boy,The white bread and the beer.’—‘The never a bit can I eat or drink,My heart’s so full of fear.’—XXXIII‘O eat and drink, my bonny boy,The white bread and the wine.’—‘O I cannot eat nor drink, master,My heart’s so full of pine[335].’XXXIVBut out and spake Childe Waters’ mother,And a skilly[336]dame was she:‘Where met ye with that little foot-pageThat looks so sad on thee?XXXV‘Sometimes his cheek is rosy red,And sometimes deadly wan;He’s liker a woman big with bairnThan a young lord’s serving-man.’XXXVIAnd then bespake Childe Waters’ sister,And these were the words said she:‘You have the prettiest foot-page, brother,Let him go into chamber with me.’—XXXVII‘It is more meet for a little foot-page,That has run through moss and mire,To take his supper upon his knee,And sit by the kitchen fire,Than to go into chamber with any ladyThat wears so rich attire.XXXVIII‘Rise up, rise up, my bonny boy;Give my horse corn and hay.’—‘O that I will, my master dear,As quickly as I may.’XXXIXShe’s ta’en the hay under her arm,The corn into her hand,And she’s gone to the great stableAs fast as e’er she can.XL‘O room ye round, my bonny brown steeds!O room ye near the wall!For this pain that strikes me through my sidesFull soon will gar me fall.’XLIShe’s lean’d her back against the wall,Strong travail seized her on;And even among the great horse’ feetBurd Ellen brought forth her son.XLIIAnd that beheard Childe Waters’ mother,Sat in her bower alone.‘Rise up, rise up, Childe Waters,’ she said,‘Seek neither hose nor shoon!’XLIIIShe said, ‘Rise up, thou Childe Waters,I think thou’rt a cursèd man;For yonder’s a ghost in thy stableThat grievously doth groan,Or else some woman labours of child,She is so woe-begone.’XLIVBut up then rose Childe Waters,Stay’d neither for hose nor shoon,And he’s doen him to the stable-doorWi’ the clear light of the moon.XLVAnd when he came to the stable-door,Full still there he did stand,That he might hear Burd Ellen,How she made her monand[337].XLVIShe said, ‘Lullabyè, my own dear child!Lùllabye, dear child dear!I would thy father were a king,Thy mother laid on a bier!’—XLVII‘O open the door, Burd Ellen!O open and let me in!I want to see if my steed be fed,Or my greyhounds fit to rin.’—XLVIII‘How can I open, how shall I open,How can I open to thee,When lying amang your great steeds’ feet,Your young son on my knee?’XLIXHe strack the door hard wi’ his foot,And push’d it wi’ his knee;And iron locks and iron barsInto the floor flung he.‘Be not afraid, Burd Ellen,’ he says,‘There’s none comes in but me.’L‘An asking, an asking, Childe Waters,An asking I beg of thee:May the meanest maid about your houseBring a glass o’ water to me!’LIUp he has ta’en his bonny young son,Gar’d wash him wi’ the milk;And up he has taken his fair lady,Gar’d row[338]her in the silk.LII‘Peace now,’ he said, ‘Burd Ellen,And be of good cheer, I pray;Your bridal and your churching bothShall be upon one day.’

Childe Waters in his stable stoodStroking his milk-white steed:To him came a fair young ladyAs ever wore woman’s weed.

Says, ‘Christ you save, Childe Waters!’Says, ‘Christ you save and see!My girdle of gold, which was too long,Is now too short for me.

‘And all is with one child of yoursI feel stir at my side:My gown of green, it is too strait;Before it was too wide.’—

‘If the child be mine, Burd Ellen,’ he said,‘Be mine as you do swear,Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,And make that child your heir.’

She says, ‘I would rather have one kiss,Childe Waters, of thy mouthThan I would have Cheshire and Lancashire both,That lies by north and south.’—

‘To-morrow, Ellen, I must rideFar into the north countrye.’—‘Then I will run low by your side:Your foot-page let me be!’—

‘If you will be my foot-page, Ellen,As you do tell it me,Then you must cut your gown of greenAn inch above your knee.’

Childe Waters leapt on his milk-white steed,And fast away did ride:Burd Ellen has kilted her gay clothing,And ran low by his side.

All this long day Childe Waters rode,She barefoot by his side;Yet was he never so courteous a knightAs to say, ‘Burd Ellen, ride.’

He has ridden, and she has run,And barefoot through the broom;Yet was he never so courteous a knightAs to say, ‘Put on your shoon.’

‘Ride softly,’ she said, ‘Childe Waters!O why do you ride so fast?The child which is no man’s but yoursMy body it will brast.’

He has ridden on high horseback,And she’s run low beside,Until they came to a wan water—I think men call it Clyde.

Says, ‘See’st yon water, Ellen,That flows from bank to brim?’—‘I trust to God, Childe WatersYou will never see me swim.’

The firsten step Burd Ellen stept,The water came to her knee;‘Ochon, alas!’ said Burd Ellen,‘This water’s o’er deep for me!’

The neisten step Burd Ellen stept,The water came to her middle;And sighing said Burd Ellen,‘I’ve wetted my golden girdle!’

The thirden step Burd Ellen slept,The water came to her pap;And the bairn that was in her two sidesFor cold began to quake.

‘Lie still, lie still, my own dear babe!Ye work your mother woe;Your father that rides on high horsebackCares little for us two.’

About the midst of Clyde-waterThere was a yeard-fast[333]stone:He lightly turn’d his horse aboutAnd took Burd Ellen on.

When she over the water won,She then came to his knee:Says, ‘How far is it to your lodgin’Where we this night may be?’—

‘Seest thou not yon castle, Ellen?Of red gold shines the gate:There is twenty-and-four fair ladiesAnd one my worldly mate.

‘Seest thou not yon castle, Ellen?Of red gold shines the tower:There is twenty-and-four fair ladies,And one my paramour.

‘Seest thou not yon castle, Ellen,That shines so fair to see?There’s a lady in it, Ellen,Will sunder you and me.’—

‘I do see the castle, Childe Waters:Of red gold shines the gate.God give you good then of yourself,And of your worldly mate!

‘I wish no ill to your lady;She ne’er wish’d none to me;But I wish the maid most of your loveDries[334]this and more for thee.

‘I wish no ill to your lady;She ne’er comes in my thought;But I wish the maid most of your loveThat dearest has you bought.’—

‘But my hounds shall eat of the bread of wheat,And you of the bread of bran;And you shall curse the heavy hourThat ever your love began.

‘But my horse shall drink of the good red wine,And you of the water wan;And you will sigh and say “Alas,That ever I loved a man!”’—

‘O, I will drink of the wan water,And eat of the bread of bran;And aye will I bless the happy hourThat ever I loved a man.’

O four-and-twenty gay ladiesWere playing at the ball,But Ellen, the fairest lady,Must bring his steed to stall.

And four-and-twenty gay ladiesWere playing at the chess,But Ellen, the fairest lady,Must bring his horse to grass.

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,And a’ men bound to meat,Burd Ellen was at the bye-tableAmong the foot-men set.

‘O eat and drink, my bonny boy,The white bread and the beer.’—‘The never a bit can I eat or drink,My heart’s so full of fear.’—

‘O eat and drink, my bonny boy,The white bread and the wine.’—‘O I cannot eat nor drink, master,My heart’s so full of pine[335].’

But out and spake Childe Waters’ mother,And a skilly[336]dame was she:‘Where met ye with that little foot-pageThat looks so sad on thee?

‘Sometimes his cheek is rosy red,And sometimes deadly wan;He’s liker a woman big with bairnThan a young lord’s serving-man.’

And then bespake Childe Waters’ sister,And these were the words said she:‘You have the prettiest foot-page, brother,Let him go into chamber with me.’—

‘It is more meet for a little foot-page,That has run through moss and mire,To take his supper upon his knee,And sit by the kitchen fire,Than to go into chamber with any ladyThat wears so rich attire.

‘Rise up, rise up, my bonny boy;Give my horse corn and hay.’—‘O that I will, my master dear,As quickly as I may.’

She’s ta’en the hay under her arm,The corn into her hand,And she’s gone to the great stableAs fast as e’er she can.

‘O room ye round, my bonny brown steeds!O room ye near the wall!For this pain that strikes me through my sidesFull soon will gar me fall.’

She’s lean’d her back against the wall,Strong travail seized her on;And even among the great horse’ feetBurd Ellen brought forth her son.

And that beheard Childe Waters’ mother,Sat in her bower alone.‘Rise up, rise up, Childe Waters,’ she said,‘Seek neither hose nor shoon!’

She said, ‘Rise up, thou Childe Waters,I think thou’rt a cursèd man;For yonder’s a ghost in thy stableThat grievously doth groan,Or else some woman labours of child,She is so woe-begone.’

But up then rose Childe Waters,Stay’d neither for hose nor shoon,And he’s doen him to the stable-doorWi’ the clear light of the moon.

And when he came to the stable-door,Full still there he did stand,That he might hear Burd Ellen,How she made her monand[337].

She said, ‘Lullabyè, my own dear child!Lùllabye, dear child dear!I would thy father were a king,Thy mother laid on a bier!’—

‘O open the door, Burd Ellen!O open and let me in!I want to see if my steed be fed,Or my greyhounds fit to rin.’—

‘How can I open, how shall I open,How can I open to thee,When lying amang your great steeds’ feet,Your young son on my knee?’

He strack the door hard wi’ his foot,And push’d it wi’ his knee;And iron locks and iron barsInto the floor flung he.‘Be not afraid, Burd Ellen,’ he says,‘There’s none comes in but me.’

‘An asking, an asking, Childe Waters,An asking I beg of thee:May the meanest maid about your houseBring a glass o’ water to me!’

Up he has ta’en his bonny young son,Gar’d wash him wi’ the milk;And up he has taken his fair lady,Gar’d row[338]her in the silk.

‘Peace now,’ he said, ‘Burd Ellen,And be of good cheer, I pray;Your bridal and your churching bothShall be upon one day.’

FOOTNOTES:[333]yeard-fast = fast in earth.[334]Dries = endures.[335]pine = pain.[336]skilly = wise, knowledgeable.[337]monand = moaning.[338]row = wrap.

[333]yeard-fast = fast in earth.

[334]Dries = endures.

[335]pine = pain.

[336]skilly = wise, knowledgeable.

[337]monand = moaning.

[338]row = wrap.

IChilde Maurice hunted the Silver Wood,He whistled and he sang:‘I think I see the woman yonderThat I have lovèd lang.’IIHe callèd to his little man John,‘You don’t see what I see;For yonder I see the very first womanThat ever lovèd me.’IIIHe says, ‘Come hither, my little man John,That I pay meat and fee,For thou shalt go to John Steward’s wifeAnd greet her well from me;IV‘And as it falls as many timesAs knots be knit in a kell[339],Or merchantmen go to leeve[340]LondònTo buy ware or to sell;V‘And as it falls as many timesAs any heart can think,Or school-masters are in any schoolWriting with pen and ink.VI‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he says,‘Lined wi’ the silver-gris[341];Bid her to come to Silver WoodTo speak with Childe Maurice.VII‘And here is a ring, a ring,’ he says,‘A ring of the precious stone:He prays her come to Silver WoodAnd ask the leave of none.’—VIII‘Well do I love your errand, master,But better I love my life.Would ye have me go to John Steward’s castle,To tryst away his wife?’—IX‘Do not I give you meat?’ he says,‘Do not I give you fee?How daur you stop my errandWhen that I bid you flee?’XThis little man John one while he yode[342],Another while he ran;Until he came to John Steward’s castleI wis he never blan[343].XIHe ask’d no porter’s leave, but ranUp hall and bower free,And when he came to John Steward’s wife,Says, ‘God you save and see!XII‘I come, I am come from Childe Maurice—A message unto thee!And Childe Maurice he greets you well,And ever so well from me,XIII‘And as it falls as oftentimesAs knots be knit in a kell,Or merchantmen go to leeve LondònTo buy ware or to sell;XIV‘And as oftentimes he greets you wellAs any heart can think,Or schoolmasters are in any schoolWriting with pen and ink.XV‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he says,‘Lined wi’ the silver-gris;Ye’re bidden to come to Silver WoodTo speak with Childe Maurice.XVI‘And here is a ring, a ring of gold,Set wi’ the precious stone:He prays you to come to Silver WoodAnd ask the leave of none.’—XVII‘Now peace, now peace, thou little man John,For Christ’s sake I pray thee!For gif my lord heard one o’ thy wordsThou must be hangèd hie!’XVIIIO aye she stampèd with her footAnd winkèd with her e’e;But for all that she could say or doForbidden he would not be.XIX‘It’s surely to my bower-woman,It cannot be to me!’—‘Nay, I brought it to John Steward’s lady,And I trow that thou art she.’XXOut then spake the wily nurse,Wi’ the bairn just on her knee:‘If this be come from Childe MauriceIt’s dear welcome to me.’—XXI‘Thou liest, thou liest, thou wily nurse,So loud as I hear thee lie!I brought it to John Steward’s lady,And I trow thou be not she.’XXIIThen up and rose him John Steward,And an angry man was he:‘Did I think there was a lord in the worldMy lady loved but me!’XXIIIHe struck the table wi’ his foot,And kepp’d[344]it with his knee,Till silver cup and ezar[345]dishIn flinders they did flee.XXIVHe call’d unto his horse-keeper,‘Make ready you my steed!’So did he to his chamberlain,‘Go fetch my lady’s weed[346]!’XXVO he dress’d himself in the holland smock,[The mantle and the snood],And he cast a lease[347]upon his back,And he rode to Silver Wood.XXVIAnd when he came to Silver Wood,No body saw he thereBut Childe Maurice upon a blockCombing his yellow hair.XXVIIChilde Maurice sat in Silver Wood,He whistled and he sang:‘I think I see the woman comeThat I have lovèd lang.’XXVIIIBut then stood up him Childe MauriceHis mother to help from horse:‘O alas, alas!’ says Childe Maurice,‘My mother was ne’er so gross!’XXIX‘No wonder, no wonder,’ John Steward he said,‘My lady loved thee well,For the fairest part of my bodyIs blacker than thy heel.’XXXJohn Steward had a little brown swordThat hung low down by his knee;He has cut the head off Childe MauriceAnd the body put on a tree.XXXIAnd he prick’d the head on his sword’s point,Went singing there beside,And he rode till he came to the castleWhereas his lady ly’ed[348].XXXIIAnd when he came to his lady—Look’d o’er the castle-wall—He threw the head into her lap,Saying ‘Lady, tak’[349]the ball!’XXXIIISays, ‘Dost thou know Childe Maurice’ head,If that thou dost it see?And lap it soft, and kiss it oft,For thou loved’st him better than me.’XXXIVBut when she look’d on Childe Maurice’ headShe ne’er spake words but three:‘I never bare no child but one,And you have slain him, trulye.’XXXVAnd she has taken the bloody headAnd kiss’d it, cheek and chin:‘I was once as full o’ Childe MauriceAs the hip is o’ the stane.XXXVI‘I got him in my mother’s bowerWi’ mickle sin and shame;I brought him up in the good greenwoodUnder the shower and rain.’XXXVIIAnd she has taken her Childe MauriceAnd kiss’d him, mouth and chin:‘O better I love my Childe MauriceThan all my royal kin!’XXXVIII‘Woe be to thee!’ John Steward he said,And a woe, woe man was he;‘For if you had told me he was your sonHe had never been slain by me.’XXXIXSays, ‘Wicked be my merry men all,I gave meat, drink and cloth!But could they not have holden meWhen I was in all that wrath?’

Childe Maurice hunted the Silver Wood,He whistled and he sang:‘I think I see the woman yonderThat I have lovèd lang.’

He callèd to his little man John,‘You don’t see what I see;For yonder I see the very first womanThat ever lovèd me.’

He says, ‘Come hither, my little man John,That I pay meat and fee,For thou shalt go to John Steward’s wifeAnd greet her well from me;

‘And as it falls as many timesAs knots be knit in a kell[339],Or merchantmen go to leeve[340]LondònTo buy ware or to sell;

‘And as it falls as many timesAs any heart can think,Or school-masters are in any schoolWriting with pen and ink.

‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he says,‘Lined wi’ the silver-gris[341];Bid her to come to Silver WoodTo speak with Childe Maurice.

‘And here is a ring, a ring,’ he says,‘A ring of the precious stone:He prays her come to Silver WoodAnd ask the leave of none.’—

‘Well do I love your errand, master,But better I love my life.Would ye have me go to John Steward’s castle,To tryst away his wife?’—

‘Do not I give you meat?’ he says,‘Do not I give you fee?How daur you stop my errandWhen that I bid you flee?’

This little man John one while he yode[342],Another while he ran;Until he came to John Steward’s castleI wis he never blan[343].

He ask’d no porter’s leave, but ranUp hall and bower free,And when he came to John Steward’s wife,Says, ‘God you save and see!

‘I come, I am come from Childe Maurice—A message unto thee!And Childe Maurice he greets you well,And ever so well from me,

‘And as it falls as oftentimesAs knots be knit in a kell,Or merchantmen go to leeve LondònTo buy ware or to sell;

‘And as oftentimes he greets you wellAs any heart can think,Or schoolmasters are in any schoolWriting with pen and ink.

‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he says,‘Lined wi’ the silver-gris;Ye’re bidden to come to Silver WoodTo speak with Childe Maurice.

‘And here is a ring, a ring of gold,Set wi’ the precious stone:He prays you to come to Silver WoodAnd ask the leave of none.’—

‘Now peace, now peace, thou little man John,For Christ’s sake I pray thee!For gif my lord heard one o’ thy wordsThou must be hangèd hie!’

O aye she stampèd with her footAnd winkèd with her e’e;But for all that she could say or doForbidden he would not be.

‘It’s surely to my bower-woman,It cannot be to me!’—‘Nay, I brought it to John Steward’s lady,And I trow that thou art she.’

Out then spake the wily nurse,Wi’ the bairn just on her knee:‘If this be come from Childe MauriceIt’s dear welcome to me.’—

‘Thou liest, thou liest, thou wily nurse,So loud as I hear thee lie!I brought it to John Steward’s lady,And I trow thou be not she.’

Then up and rose him John Steward,And an angry man was he:‘Did I think there was a lord in the worldMy lady loved but me!’

He struck the table wi’ his foot,And kepp’d[344]it with his knee,Till silver cup and ezar[345]dishIn flinders they did flee.

He call’d unto his horse-keeper,‘Make ready you my steed!’So did he to his chamberlain,‘Go fetch my lady’s weed[346]!’

O he dress’d himself in the holland smock,[The mantle and the snood],And he cast a lease[347]upon his back,And he rode to Silver Wood.

And when he came to Silver Wood,No body saw he thereBut Childe Maurice upon a blockCombing his yellow hair.

Childe Maurice sat in Silver Wood,He whistled and he sang:‘I think I see the woman comeThat I have lovèd lang.’

But then stood up him Childe MauriceHis mother to help from horse:‘O alas, alas!’ says Childe Maurice,‘My mother was ne’er so gross!’

‘No wonder, no wonder,’ John Steward he said,‘My lady loved thee well,For the fairest part of my bodyIs blacker than thy heel.’

John Steward had a little brown swordThat hung low down by his knee;He has cut the head off Childe MauriceAnd the body put on a tree.

And he prick’d the head on his sword’s point,Went singing there beside,And he rode till he came to the castleWhereas his lady ly’ed[348].

And when he came to his lady—Look’d o’er the castle-wall—He threw the head into her lap,Saying ‘Lady, tak’[349]the ball!’

Says, ‘Dost thou know Childe Maurice’ head,If that thou dost it see?And lap it soft, and kiss it oft,For thou loved’st him better than me.’

But when she look’d on Childe Maurice’ headShe ne’er spake words but three:‘I never bare no child but one,And you have slain him, trulye.’

And she has taken the bloody headAnd kiss’d it, cheek and chin:‘I was once as full o’ Childe MauriceAs the hip is o’ the stane.

‘I got him in my mother’s bowerWi’ mickle sin and shame;I brought him up in the good greenwoodUnder the shower and rain.’

And she has taken her Childe MauriceAnd kiss’d him, mouth and chin:‘O better I love my Childe MauriceThan all my royal kin!’

‘Woe be to thee!’ John Steward he said,And a woe, woe man was he;‘For if you had told me he was your sonHe had never been slain by me.’

Says, ‘Wicked be my merry men all,I gave meat, drink and cloth!But could they not have holden meWhen I was in all that wrath?’

FOOTNOTES:[339]kell = hair-net, i. e. give her as many greetings as there are meshes in a net.[340]leeve = lovely.[341]silver-gris = a fur of silver-grey.[342]yode = walked.[343]blan = stopped, stayed.[344]kepp’d = caught.[345]ezar =?for‘mazer,’ maple.[346]weed = clothing.[347]lease = leash, thong.[348]ly’ed = lived.[349]tak’ = take, catch.

[339]kell = hair-net, i. e. give her as many greetings as there are meshes in a net.

[340]leeve = lovely.

[341]silver-gris = a fur of silver-grey.

[342]yode = walked.

[343]blan = stopped, stayed.

[344]kepp’d = caught.

[345]ezar =?for‘mazer,’ maple.

[346]weed = clothing.

[347]lease = leash, thong.

[348]ly’ed = lived.

[349]tak’ = take, catch.

IO wha would wish the wind to blauOr the green leaves fa’ therewith?Or wha would wish a lealer loveThan Brown Adam the Smith?IIBut they hae banish’d Brown Adam,Frae father and frae mither;And they hae banish’d Brown Adam,Frae sister and frae brither.IIIAnd they hae banish’d Brown AdamFrae the flow’r o’ a’ his kin;And he’s biggit[350]a bow’r i’ the good green-woodBetween his ladye and him.IVO it fell once upon a dayBrown Adam he thought long,And he is to the green-woodAs fast as he could gang.VHe has ta’en his bow his arm over,His sword intill his han’,And he is to the good green-woodTo hunt some venison.VIO he’s shot up, and he’s shot downThe bunting on the breer[351];And he’s sent it hame to his ladye,Bade her be of good cheer.VIIO he’s shot up, and he’s shot down,The linnet on the thorn,And sent it hame to his ladye,Said he’d be hame the morn.VIIIWhen he cam’ till his lady’s bow’r-doorHe stood a little forbye,And there he heard a fu’ fause knightTempting his gay ladye.IXO he’s ta’en out a gay gold ringHad cost him mony a poun’;‘O grant me love for love, ladye,And this sall be your own.’—X‘I lo’e Brown Adam well,’ she says,‘I wot sae does he me;I wadna gie Brown Adam’s loveFor nae fause knight I see.’XIOut he has ta’en a purse of goldWas a’ fu’ to the string;‘O grant me love for love, ladye,And a’ this sall be thine.’—XII‘I lo’e Brown Adam well,’ she says,‘An’ I ken sae does he me;An’ I wadna be your light lemanFor mair nor ye could gie.’XIIIThen out he drew his lang, lang bran’,And he’s flash’d it in her e’en:‘Now grant me love for love, lady,Or thro’ you this sall gang.’—XIV‘O,’ sighing said that gay ladye,‘Brown Adam tarries lang!’—Then up and starts him Brown Adam,Says, ‘I’m just to your hand.’XVHe’s gar’d him leave his bow, his bow,He’s gar’d him leave his brand;He’s gar’d him leave a better pledge—Four fingers o’ his right hand.

O wha would wish the wind to blauOr the green leaves fa’ therewith?Or wha would wish a lealer loveThan Brown Adam the Smith?

But they hae banish’d Brown Adam,Frae father and frae mither;And they hae banish’d Brown Adam,Frae sister and frae brither.

And they hae banish’d Brown AdamFrae the flow’r o’ a’ his kin;And he’s biggit[350]a bow’r i’ the good green-woodBetween his ladye and him.

O it fell once upon a dayBrown Adam he thought long,And he is to the green-woodAs fast as he could gang.

He has ta’en his bow his arm over,His sword intill his han’,And he is to the good green-woodTo hunt some venison.

O he’s shot up, and he’s shot downThe bunting on the breer[351];And he’s sent it hame to his ladye,Bade her be of good cheer.

O he’s shot up, and he’s shot down,The linnet on the thorn,And sent it hame to his ladye,Said he’d be hame the morn.

When he cam’ till his lady’s bow’r-doorHe stood a little forbye,And there he heard a fu’ fause knightTempting his gay ladye.

O he’s ta’en out a gay gold ringHad cost him mony a poun’;‘O grant me love for love, ladye,And this sall be your own.’—

‘I lo’e Brown Adam well,’ she says,‘I wot sae does he me;I wadna gie Brown Adam’s loveFor nae fause knight I see.’

Out he has ta’en a purse of goldWas a’ fu’ to the string;‘O grant me love for love, ladye,And a’ this sall be thine.’—

‘I lo’e Brown Adam well,’ she says,‘An’ I ken sae does he me;An’ I wadna be your light lemanFor mair nor ye could gie.’

Then out he drew his lang, lang bran’,And he’s flash’d it in her e’en:‘Now grant me love for love, lady,Or thro’ you this sall gang.’—

‘O,’ sighing said that gay ladye,‘Brown Adam tarries lang!’—Then up and starts him Brown Adam,Says, ‘I’m just to your hand.’

He’s gar’d him leave his bow, his bow,He’s gar’d him leave his brand;He’s gar’d him leave a better pledge—Four fingers o’ his right hand.

FOOTNOTES:[350]biggit = built.[351]breer = briar.

[350]biggit = built.

[351]breer = briar.

IO Jellon Grame sat in Silverwood,He sharp’d his broadsword lang;And he has call’d his little foot-pageAn errand for to gang.II‘Win up, my bonny boy,’ he says,‘As quickly as ye may;For ye maun gang for Lillie FlowerBefore the break of day.’—IIIThe boy has buckled his belt about,And through the green-wood ran;And he came to the ladye’s bowerBefore the day did dawn.IV‘O sleep ye, wake ye, Lillie Flower?The red sun’s on the rain;Ye’re bidden come to Silverwood,But I doubt ye’ll never win hame.’VShe hadna ridden a mile, a mile,A mile but barely three,Ere she came to a new-made graveBeneath a green aik tree.VIO then up started Jellon GrameOut of a bush thereby;‘Light down, light down, now, Lillie Flower,For it’s here that ye maun lye.’VIIShe lighted aff her milk-white steed,And kneel’d upon her knee;‘O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame,For I’m no prepared to die!VIII‘Your bairn, that stirs between my sides,Maun shortly see the light;But to see it weltering in my bloodWould be a piteous sight.’—IX‘O should I spare your life,’ he says,‘Until that bairn were born,Full weel I ken your auld fatherWould hang me on the morn.’—X‘O spare my life now, Jellon Grame!My father ye needna dread!I’ll keep my babe in gude green-wood,Or wi’ it I’ll beg my bread.’—XIHe took nae pity on Lillie Flower,Though she for life did pray;But pierced her through the fair bodyAs at his feet she lay.XIIHe felt nae pity for Lillie Flower,Where she was lying dead;But he felt some for the bonny bairnThat lay weltering in her bluid.XIIIUp has he ta’en that bonny boy,Given him to nurses nine;Three to sleep, and three to wake,And three to go between.XIVAnd he bred up that bonny boy,Call’d him his sister’s son;And he thought nae eye could ever seeThe deed that had been done.XVO so it fell upon a day,When hunting they might be,They rested them in Silverwood,Beneath that green aik tree.XVIAnd many were the green-wood flowersUpon that grave that grew,And marvell’d much that bonny boyTo see their lovely hue.XVII‘What’s paler than the primrose wan?What’s redder than the rose?What’s fairer than the lilye flowerOn this wee know[352]that grows?’—XVIIIO out and answer’d Jellon Grame,And he spak hastilie:‘Your mother was a fairer flower,And lies beneath this tree.XIX‘More pale she was, when she sought my grace,Than primrose pale and wan;And redder than rose her ruddy heart’s blood,That down my broadsword ran.’—XXWi’ that the boy has bent his bow,It was baith stout and lang;And thro’ and thro’ him, Jellon Grame,He gar’d an arrow gang.XXISays,—‘Lie ye there, now, Jellon Grame!My malisoun gang you wi’!The place that my mother lies buried inIs far too good for thee.’

O Jellon Grame sat in Silverwood,He sharp’d his broadsword lang;And he has call’d his little foot-pageAn errand for to gang.

‘Win up, my bonny boy,’ he says,‘As quickly as ye may;For ye maun gang for Lillie FlowerBefore the break of day.’—

The boy has buckled his belt about,And through the green-wood ran;And he came to the ladye’s bowerBefore the day did dawn.

‘O sleep ye, wake ye, Lillie Flower?The red sun’s on the rain;Ye’re bidden come to Silverwood,But I doubt ye’ll never win hame.’

She hadna ridden a mile, a mile,A mile but barely three,Ere she came to a new-made graveBeneath a green aik tree.

O then up started Jellon GrameOut of a bush thereby;‘Light down, light down, now, Lillie Flower,For it’s here that ye maun lye.’

She lighted aff her milk-white steed,And kneel’d upon her knee;‘O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame,For I’m no prepared to die!

‘Your bairn, that stirs between my sides,Maun shortly see the light;But to see it weltering in my bloodWould be a piteous sight.’—

‘O should I spare your life,’ he says,‘Until that bairn were born,Full weel I ken your auld fatherWould hang me on the morn.’—

‘O spare my life now, Jellon Grame!My father ye needna dread!I’ll keep my babe in gude green-wood,Or wi’ it I’ll beg my bread.’—

He took nae pity on Lillie Flower,Though she for life did pray;But pierced her through the fair bodyAs at his feet she lay.

He felt nae pity for Lillie Flower,Where she was lying dead;But he felt some for the bonny bairnThat lay weltering in her bluid.

Up has he ta’en that bonny boy,Given him to nurses nine;Three to sleep, and three to wake,And three to go between.

And he bred up that bonny boy,Call’d him his sister’s son;And he thought nae eye could ever seeThe deed that had been done.

O so it fell upon a day,When hunting they might be,They rested them in Silverwood,Beneath that green aik tree.

And many were the green-wood flowersUpon that grave that grew,And marvell’d much that bonny boyTo see their lovely hue.

‘What’s paler than the primrose wan?What’s redder than the rose?What’s fairer than the lilye flowerOn this wee know[352]that grows?’—

O out and answer’d Jellon Grame,And he spak hastilie:‘Your mother was a fairer flower,And lies beneath this tree.

‘More pale she was, when she sought my grace,Than primrose pale and wan;And redder than rose her ruddy heart’s blood,That down my broadsword ran.’—

Wi’ that the boy has bent his bow,It was baith stout and lang;And thro’ and thro’ him, Jellon Grame,He gar’d an arrow gang.

Says,—‘Lie ye there, now, Jellon Grame!My malisoun gang you wi’!The place that my mother lies buried inIs far too good for thee.’

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