HUGHIE THE GRAEME.
Gude Lord Scroope's to the hunting gane,
He has ridden o'er moss and muir;
And he has grippit Hughie the Graeme,
For stealing o' the Bishop's mare.
"Now, good Lord Scroope, this may not be!
"Here hangs a broad sword by my side;
"And if that thou canst conquer me,
"The matter it may soon be tryed."
"I ne'er was afraid of a traitor thief;
"Although thy name be Hughie the Graeme,
"I'll make thee repent thee of thy deeds,
"If God but grant me life and time."
"Then do your worst now, good Lord Scroope,
"And deal your blows as hard as you can!
"It shall be tried, within an hour,
"Which of us two is the better man."
But as they were dealing their blows so free,
And both so bloody at the time,
Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall,
All for to take brave Hughie the Graeme.
Then they hae grippit Hughie the Graeme,
And brought him up through Carlisle town;
The lasses and lads stood on the walls,
Crying, "Hughie the Graeme, thou'se ne'er gae down!"
Then hae they chosen a jury of men,
The best that were in Carlisle[A] town;
And twelve of them cried out at once,
"Hughie the Graeme, thou must gae down!"
Then up bespake him gude Lord Hume,[B]
As he sat by the judge's knee,--
"Twentie white owsen, my gude lord,
"If you'll grant Hughie the Graeme to me."
"O no, O no, my gude Lord Hume!
"For sooth and sae it manna be;
"For, were there but three Graemes of the name,
"They suld be hanged a' for me."
'Twas up and spake the gude Lady Hume,
As she sate by the judge's knee,--
A peck of white pennies, my gude lord judge,
"If you'll grant Hughie the Graeme to me."
"O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume!
"Forsooth and so it mustna be;
"Were he but the one Graeme of the name,
"He suld be hanged high for me."
"If I be guilty," said Hughie the Graeme,
"Of me my friends shall hae small talk;"
And he has loup'd fifteen feet and three,
Though his hands they were tied behind his back.
He looked over his left shoulder,
And for to see what he might see;
There was he aware of his auld father,
Came tearing his hair most piteouslie.
"O hald your tongue, my father," he says,
"And see that ye dinna weep for me!
"For they may ravish me o' my life,
"But they canna banish me fro' heaven hie.'
"Fare ye weel, fair Maggie, my wife!
"The last time we came ower the muir,
"'Twas thou bereft me of my life,
"And wi' the Bishop thou play'd the whore.
"Here, Johnie Armstrang, take thou my sword,
"That is made o' the metal sae fine;
"And when thou comest to the English[C] side,
"Remember the death of Hughie the Graeme."
[Footnote A: _Garlard_--Anc. Songs.]
[Footnote B: _Boles_--Anc. Songs.]
[Footnote C: _Border_--Anc, Songs.]
NOTE ON HUGHIE THE GRAEME.
_And wi' the Bishop thou play'd the whore._--P. 326, v. 9.
Of the morality of Robert Aldridge, bishop of Carlisle, we know but
little; but his political and religious faith were of a stretching and
accommodating texture. Anthony a Wood observes, that there were many
changes in his time, both in church and state; but that the worthy
prelate retained his offices and preferments during them all.
JOHNIE OF BREADISLEE.
AN ANCIENT NITHESDALE BALLAD.
The hero of this ballad appears to have been an outlaw and
deer-stealer--probably one of the broken men residing upon the border.
There are several different copies, in one of which the principal
personage is called _Johnie of Cockielaw_. The stanzas of greatest merit
have been selected from each copy. It is sometimes said, that this
outlaw possessed the old castle of Morton, in Dumfries-shire, now
ruinous:--"Near to this castle there was a park, built by Sir Thomas
Randolph, on the face of a very great and high hill; so artificially,
that, by the advantage of the hill, all wild beasts, such as deers,
harts, and roes, and hares, did easily leap in, but could not get out
again; and if any other cattle, such as cows, sheep, or goats, did
voluntarily leap in, or were forced to do it, _it is doubted_ if their
owners were permitted to get them out again."--_Account of Presbytery
of Penpont, apud Macfarlane's MSS._ Such a park would form a convenient
domain to an outlaw's castle, and the mention of Durrisdeer, a
neighbouring parish, adds weight to the tradition. I have seen, on a
mountain near Callendar, a sort of pinfold, composed of immense rocks,
piled upon each other, which, I was told, was anciently constructed for
the above-mentioned purpose. The mountain is thence called _Uah var_, or
the _Cove of the Giant_.
JOHNIE OF BREADISLEE.
AN ANCIENT NITHISDALE BALLAD.
Johnie rose up in a May morning,
Called for water to wash his hands--
"Gar loose to me the gude graie dogs
"That are bound wi' iron bands,"
When Johnie's mother gat word o' that,
Her hands for dule she wrang--
"O Johnie! for my benison,
"To the grenewood dinna gang!
"Eneugh ye hae o' the gude wheat bread,
"And eneugh o' the blude-red wine;
"And, therefore, for nae venison, Johnie,
"I pray ye, stir frae hame."
But Johnie's busk't up his gude bend bow,
His arrows, ane by ane;
And he has gane to Durrisdeer
To hunt the dun deer down.
As he came down by Merriemass,
And in by the benty line,
There has he espied a deer lying
Aneath a bush of ling.[A]
Johnie he shot, and the dun deer lap,
And he wounded her on the side;
But, atween the water and the brae,
His hounds they laid her pride.
And Johnie has bryttled[B] the deer sae weel,
That he's had out her liver and lungs;
And wi' these he has feasted his bludy hounds,
As if they had been erl's sons.
They eat sae much o' the venison,
And drank sae much o' the blude,
That Johnie and a' his bludy hounds
Fell asleep, as they had been dead.
And by there came a silly auld carle,
An ill death mote he die!
For he's awa to Hislinton,
Where the Seven Foresters did lie.
"What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle,
"What news bring ye to me?"
"I bring nae news," said the gray-headed carle,
"Save what these eves did see.
"As I came down by Merriemass,
"And down amang the scroggs,[C]
"The bonniest childe that ever I saw
"Lay sleeping amang his dogs.
"The shirt that was upon his back
"Was o' the Holland fine;
"The doublet which was over that
"Was o' the lincome twine.
"The buttons that were on his sleeve
"Were o' the goud sae gude;
"The gude graie hounds he lay amang,
"Their months were dyed wi' blude."
Then out and spak the First Forester,
The held man ower them a'--
If this be Johnie o' Breadislee,
"Nae nearer will we draw."
But up and spak the Sixth Forester,
(His sister's son was he)
"If this be Johnie o' Breadislee,
"We soon snall gar him die!"
The first flight of arrows the Foresters shot,
They wounded him on the knee;
And out and spak the Seventh Forester,
"The next will gar him die."
Johnie's set his back against an aik,
His fute against a stane;
And he has slain the Seven Foresters,
He has slam them a' but ane.
He has broke three ribs in that ane's side,
But and his collar bane;
He's laid him twa-fald ower his steed,
Bade him cany the tidings hame.
"O is there na a bonnie bird,
"Can sing as I can say;
"Could flee away to my mother's bower,
"And tell to fetch Johnie away?"
The starling flew to his mother's window stane,
It whistled and it sang;
And aye the ower word o' the tune
Was--"Johnie tarries lang!"
They made a rod o the hazel bush,
Another o' the slae-thorn tree,
And mony mony were the men
At fetching our Johnie.
Then out and spak his auld mother,
And fast her tears did fa'--
"Ye wad nae be warned, my son Johnie,
"Frae the hunting to bide awa.
"Aft hae I brought to Breadislee,
"The less gear[D] and the mair,
"But I ne'er brought to Breadislee,
"What grieved my heart sae sair!
"But wae betyde that silly auld carle!
"An ill death shall he die!
"For the highest tree in Merriemass
"Shall be his morning's fee."
Now Johnie's gude bend bow is broke,
And his gude graie dogs are slain;
And his body lies dead in Durrisdeer,
And his hunting it is done.
[Footnote A: _Ling_--Heath.]
[Footnote B: _Brytlled_--To cut up venison. See the ancient ballad of
_Chevy Chace_, v. 8.]
[Footnote C: _Scroggs_--Stunted trees.]
[Footnote D: _Gear_--Usually signifies _goods_, but here _spoil_.]
KATHERINE JANFARIE.
_The Ballad was published in the first edition of this work, under the
title of_ "The Laird of Laminton." _It is now given in a more perfect
state, from several recited copies. The residence of the Lady, and the
scene of the affray at her bridal, is said, by old people, to have been
upon the banks of the Cadden, near to where it joins the Tweed. Others
say the skirmish was fought near Traquair, and_ KATHERINE JANFARIE'S
_dwelling was in the glen, about three miles above Traquair house._
There was a may, and a weel far'd may.,
Lived high up in yon glen;
Her name was Katherine Janfarie,
She was courted by mony men.
Up then came Lord Lauderdale,
Up frae the Lawland border;
And he has come to court this may,
A' mounted in good order.
He told na her father, he told na her mother,
And he told na ane o' her kin;
But he whisper'd the bonnie lassie hersel',
And has her favour won.
But out then cam Lord Lochinvar,
Out frae the English border,
All for to court this bonnie may,
Weil mounted, and in order.
He told her father, he told her mother,
And a' the lave o' her kin;
But he told na the bonnie may hersel',
Till on her wedding e'en.
She sent to the Lord of Lauderdale,
Gin he wad come and see;
And he has sent word back again,
Weel answered she suld be.
And he has sent a messenger
Right quickly through the land,
And raised mony an armed man
To be at his command.
The bride looked out at a high window,
Beheld baith dale and down,
And she was aware of her first true love,
With riders mony a one.
She scoffed him, and scorned him,
Upon her wedding day;
And said--"It was the Fairy court
"To see him in array!
"O come ye here to fight, young lord,
"Or come ye here to play?
"Or come ye here to drink good wine
"Upon the wedding day?"
"I come na here to fight," he said,
"I come na here to play;
"I'll but lead a dance wi' the bonnie bride,
"And mount and go my way."
It is a glass of the blood-red wine
Was filled up them between,
And aye she drank to Lauderdale,
Wha her true love had been.
He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
He's mounted her hie behind himsell,
At her kinsmen spear'd na leave.
"Now take your bride, Lord Lochinvar!
"Now take her if you may!
"But, if you take your bride again,
"We'll call it but foul play."
There were four-and-twenty bonnie boys,
A' clad in the Johnstone grey;[A]
They said they would take the bride again,
By the strong hand, if they may.
Some o' them were right willing men,
But they were na willing a';
And four-and-twenty Leader lads
Bid them mount and ride awa'.
Then whingers flew frae gentles' sides,
And swords flew frae the shea's,
And red and rosy was the blood
Ran down the lily braes.
The blood ran down by Caddon bank,
And down by Caddon brae;
And, sighing, said the bonnie bride--
"O waes me for foul play!"
My blessing on your heart, sweet thing!
Wae to your willfu' will!
There's mony a gallant gentleman
Whae's blude ye have garr'd to spill.
Now a' you lords of fair England,
And that dwell by the English border,
Come never here to seek a wife,
For fear of sic disorder.
They'll haik ye up, and settle ye bye,
Till on your wedding day;
Then gie ye frogs instead of fish,
And play ye foul foul play.
[Footnote A: _Johnstone grey_--The livery of the ancient family of
Johnstone.]
THE LAIRD O' LOGIE
An edition of this ballad is current, under the title of "The Laird of
Ochiltree;" but the editor, since publication of this work, has been
fortunate enough to recover the following more correct and ancient copy,
as recited by a gentleman residing near Biggar. It agrees more nearly,
both in the name and in the circumstances, with the real fact, than the
printed ballad of Ochiltree.
In the year 1592, Francis Stuart, earl of Bothwell, was agitating his
frantic and ill-concerted attempts against the person of James VI.,
whom he endeavoured to surprise in the palace of Falkland. Through the
emulation and private rancour of the courtiers, he found adherents even
about the king's person; among whom, it seems, was the hero of our
ballad, whose history is thus narrated in that curious and valuable
chronicle, of which the first part has been published under the title
of "The Historie of "King James the Sext," and the second is now in the
press.
"In this close tyme it fortunit, that a gentelman, callit Weymis of
Logye, being also in credence at court, was delatit as a traffekker with
Frances Erle Bothwell; and he being examinat before king and counsall,
confessit his accusation to be of veritie, that sundrie tymes he had
spokin with him, expresslie aganis the king's inhibitioun proclamit in
the contrare, whilk confession he subscryvit with his hand; and because
the event of this mater had sik a succes, it sall also be praysit be
my pen, as a worthie turne, proceiding frome honest chest loove and
charitie, whilk suld on na wayis be obscurit from the posteritie for the
gude example; and therefore I have thought gude to insert the same for a
perpetual memorie.
"Queen Anne, our noble princess, was servit with dyverss gentilwemen
of hir awin cuntrie, and naymelie with are callit Mres Margaret
Twynstoun,[A] to whome this gentilman, Weymes of Logye, bure great
honest affection, tending to the godlie band of marriage, the whilk was
honestlie requytet be the said gentilwoman, yea evin in his greatest
mister; for howsone she understude the said gentilman to be in distress,
and apperantlie be his confession to be puueist to the death, and she
having prevelege to ly in the queynis chalmer that same verie night of
his accusation, whare the king was also reposing that same night, she
came forth of the dur prevelie, bayth the prencis being then at quyet
rest, and past to the chalmer, whare the said gentilman was put
in custodie to certayne of the garde, and commandit thayme that
immediatelie he sould be broght to the king and queyne, whareunto thay
geving sure credence, obeyit. Bot howsone she was cum bak to the chalmer
dur, she desyrit the watches to stay till he sould cum furth agayne, and
so she closit the dur, and convoyit the gentilman to a windo', whare she
ministrat a long corde unto him to convoy himself doun upon; and sa,
be hir gude cheritable help, he happelie escapit be the subteltie of
loove."
[Footnote A: Twynelace, according to Spottiswoode.]
THE LAIRD O' LOGIE.
I will sing, if ye will hearken,
If ye will hearken unto me;
The king has ta'en a poor prisoner,
The wanton laird o' young Logie.
Young Logie's laid in Edinburgh chapel;
Carmichael's the keeper o' the key;
And may Margaret's lamenting sair,
A' for the love of young Logie.
"Lament, lament na, may Margaret,
"And of your weeping let me be;
"For ye maun to the king himsell,
"To seek the life of young Logie."
May Margaret has kilted her green cleiding,
And she has curl'd back her yellow hair--
"If I canna get young Logie's life,
"Fareweel to Scotland for evermair."
When she came before the king,
She knelit lowly on her knee--
"O what's the matter, may Margaret?
"And what needs a' this courtesie?"
"A boon, a boon, my noble liege,
"A boon, a boon, I beg o' thee!
"And the first boon that I come to crave,
"Is to grant me the life of young Logic."
"O na, O na, may Margaret,
"Forsooth, and so it manna be;
"For a' the gowd o' fair Scotland
"Shall not save the life of young Logie."
But she has stown the king's redding kaim,[A]
Likewise the queen her wedding knife;
And sent the tokens to Carmichael,
To cause young Logic get his life.
She sent him a purse o' the red gowd,
Another o' the white monie;
She sent him a pistol for each hand,
And bade him shoot when he gat free.
When he came to the tolbooth stair,
There he let his volley flee;
It made the king in his chamber start,
E'en in the bed where he might be.
"Gae out, gae out, my merrymen a',
"And bid Carmichael come speak to me;
"For I'll lay my life the pledge o' that,
"That yon's the shot o' young Logie."
When Carmichael came before the king,
He fell low down upon his knee;
The very first word that the king spake,
Was--"Where's the laird of young Logie?"
Carmichael turn'd him round about,
(I wot the tear blinded his eye)
"There came a token frae your grace,
"Has ta'en away the laird frae me."
"Hast thou play'd me that, Carmichael?"
"And hast thou play'd me that?" quoth he;
"The morn the justice court's to stand,
"And Logic's place ye maun supply."
Carmichael's awa to Margaret's bower,
Even as fast as he may drie--
"O if young Logie be within,
"Tell him to come and speak with me!"
May Margaret turned her round about,
(I wot a loud laugh laughed she)
"The egg is chipped, the bird is flown,
"Ye'll see na mair of young Logie."
The tane is shipped at the pier of Leith,
The tother at the Queen's Ferrie;
And she's gotten a father to her bairn,
The wanton laird of young Logie.
[Footnote A: _Redding kain_--Comb for the hair.]
NOTE ON THE LAIRD O' LOGIE.
_Carmichael's the keeper o' the key._--P. 344. v. 2.
Sir John Carmichael of Carmichael, the hero of the ballad, called the
Raid of the Reidswair, was appointed captain of the king's guard in
1588, and usually had the keeping of state criminals of rank.
A LYKE-WAKE DIRGE.
This is a sort of charm, sung by the lower ranks of Roman Catholics, in
some parts of the north of England, while watching a dead body, previous
to interment. The tune is doleful and monotonous, and, joined to the
mysterious import of the words, has a solemn effect. The word _sleet_,
in the chorus, seems to be corrupted from _selt_, or salt; a quantity of
which, in compliance with a popular superstition, is frequently placed
on the breast of a corpse.
The mythologic ideas of the dirge are common to various creeds. The
Mahometan believes, that, in advancing to the final judgment seat, he
must traverse a bar of red-hot iron, stretched across a bottomless
gulph. The good works of each true believer, assuming a substantial
form, will then interpose betwixt his feet and this _"Bridge of Dread;"_
but the wicked, having no such protection, must fall headlong into the
abyss.--D'HERBELOT, _Bibiotheque Orientale_.
Passages, similar to this dirge, are also to be found in _Lady Culross's
Dream_, as quoted in the second Dissertation prefixed by Mr Pinkerton
to his _Select Scottish Ballads_, 2 vols. The dreamer journeys towards
heaven, accompanied and assisted by a celestial guide:
Through dreadful dens, which made my heart aghast,
He bare me up when I began to tire.
Sometimes we clamb o'er craggy mountains high.
And sometimes stay'd on uglie braes of sand:
They were so stay that wonder was to see;
But, when I fear'd, he held me by the hand.
Through great deserts we wandered on our way--
Forward we passed on narrow bridge of trie,
O'er waters great, which hediously did roar.
Again, she supposes herself suspended over an infernal gulph:
Ere I was ware, one gripped me at the last,
And held me high above a naming fire.
The fire was great; the heat did pierce me sore;
My faith grew weak.; my grip was very small;
I trembled fast; my fear grew more and more.
A horrible picture of the same kind, dictated probably by the author's
unhappy state of mind, is to be found in Brooke's _Fool of Quality_. The
dreamer, a ruined female, is suspended over the gulph of perdition by
a single hair, which is severed by a demon, who, in the form of her
seducer springs upwards from the flames.
The Russian funeral service, without any allegorical imagery, expresses
the sentiment of the dirge in language alike simple and noble.
"Hast thou pitied the afflicted, O man? In death shalt thou be pitied.
Hast thou consoled the orphan? The orphan will deliver thee.
Hast thou clothed the naked? The naked will procure thee
protection."--RICHARDSON'S _Anecdotes of Russia._
But the most minute description of the _Brig o' Dread_, occurs in the
legend of _Sir Owain_, No. XL. in the MS. Collection of Romances, W.
4.1. Advocates' Library, Edinburgh; though its position is not the same
as in the dirge, which may excite a suspicion that the order of the
stanzas in the latter has been transposed. Sir Owain, a Northumbrian
knight, after many frightful adventures in St Patrick's purgatory, at
last arrives at the bridge, which, in the legend, is placed betwixt
purgatory and paradise:
The fendes han the knight ynome,
To a stinkand water thai ben ycome,
He no seigh never er non swiche;
It stank fouler than ani hounde.
And maui mile it was to the grounde.
And was as swart as piche.
And Owain seigh ther ouer ligge
A swithe strong naru brigge:
The fendes seyd tho;
"Lo! sir knight, sestow this?
"This is the brigge of paradis,
"Here ouer thou must go.
"And we the schul with stones prowe,
"And the winde the schul ouer blow,
"And wirche the full wo;
"Thou no schalt tor all this unduerd,
"Bot gif thou falle a midwerd,
"To our fewes[A] mo.
"And when thou art adown yfalle,
"Than schal com our felawes alle,
"And with her hokes the hede;
"We schul the teche a newe play:
"Thou hast served ous mani a day,
"And into helle the lede."
Owain biheld the brigge smert,
The water ther under blac and swert,
And sore him gan to drede:
For of othing he tok yeme,
Never mot, in sonne beme,
Thicker than the fendes yede.
The brigge was as heigh as a tour,
And as scharpe as a rasour,
And naru it was also;
And the water that ther ran under,
Brend o' lighting and of thonder,
That thoght him michel wo.
Ther nis no clerk may write with ynke,
No no man no may bithink,
No no maister deuine;
That is ymade forsoth ywis.
Under the brigge of paradis,
Halvendel the pine.
So the dominical ous telle,
That is the pure entrae of helle,
Seine Poule berth witnesse;[A]
Whoso falleth of the brigge adown,
Of him nis no redempcioun,
NoГ®ther more nor lesse.
The fendes seyd to the knight tho,
"Ouer this brigge might thou nowght go,
"For noneskines nede;
"Fle peril sorwe and wo,
"And to that stede ther thou com fro,
"Wel fair we schul the lede."
Owain anon be gan bithenche,
Fram hou mani of the fendes wrenche,
God him saved hadde;
He sett his fot opon the brigge,
No feld he no scharpe egge,
No nothing him no drad.
When the fendes yseigh tho,
That he was more than half ygo,
Loude thai gun to crie;
"Alias! alias! that he was born!
"This ich night we have forlorn
"Out of our baylie."
[Footnote A: _Fewes_--Probably contracted for fellows.]
[Footnote B: The reader will probably search St Paul in vain, for the
evidence here referred to.]
The author of the _Legend of Sir Owain_, though a zealous catholic, has
embraced, in the fullest extent, the Talmudic doctrine of an earthly
paradise, distinct from the celestial abode of the just, and serving as
a place of initiation, preparatory to perfect bliss, and to the beatific
vision.--See the Rabbi Menasse ben Israel, in a treatise called
_Nishmath Chajim_, i.e. The Breath of Life.
THE DOWIE DENS OF YARROW.
NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.
This ballad, which is a very great favourite among the inhabitants of
Ettrick Forest, is universally believed to be founded in fact. The
editor found it easy to collect a variety of copies; but very difficult,
indeed, to select from them such a collated edition, as may, in any
degree, suit the taste of "these more light and giddy-paced times."
Tradition places the event, recorded in the song, very early; and it
is probable that the ballad was composed soon afterwards, although
the language has been gradually modernized, in the course of
its transmission to us, through the inaccurate channel of oral
tradition.--The bard does not relate particulars, but barely the
striking outlines of a fact, apparently so well known when he wrote,
as to render minute detail as unnecessary, as it is always tedious and
unpoetical.
The hero of the ballad was a knight of great bravery, called Scott,
who is said to have resided at Kirkhope, or Oakwood castle, and is, in
tradition, termed the Baron of Oakwood. The estate of Kirkhope belonged
anciently to the Scotts of Harden: Oakwood is still their property,
and has been so from time immemorial. The editor was therefore led to
suppose, that the hero of the ballad might have been identified with
John Scott, sixth son of the laird of Harden, murdered in Ettrick
Forest by his kinsmen, the Scotts of Gilmanscleugh (see notes to _Jamie
Telfer_, Vol. I. p. 152). This appeared the more probable, as the common
people always affirm, that this young man was treacherously slain, and
that, in evidence thereof, his body remained uncorrupted for many years;
so that even the roses on his shoes seemed as fresh as when he was first
laid in the family vault at Hassendean. But from a passage in Nisbet's
Heraldry, he now believes the ballad refers to a duel fought at
Deucharswyre, of which Annan's Treat is a part, betwixt John Scott of
Tushielaw and his brother-in-law Walter Scott, third son of Robert of
Thirlestane, in which the latter was slain.
In ploughing Annan's Treat, a huge monumental stone, with an
inscription, was discovered; but being rather scratched than engraved,
and the lines being run through each other, it is only possible to
read one or two Latin words. It probably records the event of the
combat.--The person slain was the male ancestor of the present Lord
Napier.
Tradition affirms, that the hero of the song (be he who he may) was
murdered by the brother, either of his wife, or betrothed bride. The
alleged cause of malice was, the lady's father having proposed to endow
her with half of his property, upon her marriage with a warrior of such
renown. The name of the murderer is said to have been Annan, and the
place of combat is still called Annan's Treat. It is a low muir, on the
banks of the Yarrow, lying to the west of Yarrow Kirk. Two tall unhewn
masses of stone are erected, about eighty yards distant from each other;
and the least child, that can herd a cow, will tell the passenger, that
there lie "the two lords, who were slain in single combat."
It will be, with many readers, the greatest recommendation of these
verses, that they are supposed to have suggested to Mr Hamilton, of
Bangour, the modern ballad, beginning,
"Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride."
A fragment, apparently regarding the story of the following ballad, but
in a different measure, occurs in Mr Herd's MSS., and runs thus:--
"When I look cast, my heart is sair,
"But when I look west, its mair and mair;
"For then I see the braes o' Yarrow,
"And there, for aye, I lost my marrow."
THE DOWIE DENS OF YARROW.
Late at e'en, drinking the wine,
And ere they paid the lawing,
They set a combat them between,
To fight it in the dawing.
"O stay at hame, my noble lord!
"O stay at hame, my marrow!
"My cruel brother will you betray
"On the dowie houms of Yarrow."
"O fare ye weel, my ladye gaye!
"O fare ye weel, my Sarah!
"For I maun gae, though I ne'er return,
"Frae the dowie banks o' Yarrow.
She kissed his cheek, she kaimed his hair,
As oft she had done before, O;
She belted him with his noble brand,
And he's awa' to Yarrow.
As he gaed up the Tennies bank,
I wot he gaed wi' sorrow,
Till, down in a den, he spied nine arm'd men,
On the dowie houms of Yarrow.
"O come ye here to part your land,
"The bonnie forest thorough?
"Or come ye here to wield your brand,
"On the dowie houms of Yarrow?"
"I come not here to part my land,
"And neither to beg nor borrow;
"I come to wield my noble brand,
"On the bonnie banks of Yarrow.
"If I see all, ye're nine to ane;
"And that's an unequal marrow;
"Yet will I fight, while lasts my brand,
"On the bonnie banks of Yarrow."
Four has he hurt, and five has slain,
On the bloody braes of Yarrow,
Till that stubborn knight came him behind,
And ran his bodie thorough.
"Gae hame, gae hame, good-brother[A] John,
"And tell your sister Sarah,
"To come and lift her leafu' lord;
"He's sleepin sound on Yarrow."----
"Yestreen I dream'd a dolefu' dream;
"I fear there will be sorrow!
"I dream'd, I pu'd the heather green,
"Wi' my true love, on Yarrow.
"O gentle wind, that bloweth south,
"From where my love repaireth,
"Convey a kiss from his dear mouth,
"And tell me how he fareth!
"But in the glen strive armed men;
"They've wrought me dole and sorrow;
"They've slain--the comeliest knight they've slain--
"He bleeding lies on Yarrow."
As she sped down yon high high hill,
She gaed wi' dole and sorrow,
And in the den spyed ten slain men,
On the dowie banks of Yarrow.
She kissed his cheek, she kaim'd his hair,
She search'd his wounds all thorough;
She kiss'd them, till her lips grew red,
On the dowie houms of Yarrow.
"Now, haud your tongue, my daughter dear!
"For a' this breeds but sorrow;
"I'll wed ye to a better lord,
"Than him ye lost on Yarrow."
"O haud your tongue, my father dear!
"Ye mind me but of sorrow;
"A fairer rose did never bloom
"Than now lies cropp'd on Yarrow."
[Footnote A: _Good-brother_--Beau-frere, Brother-in-law.]
THE GAY GOSS HAWK.
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
_This Ballad is published, partly from one, under this title, in Mrs_
BROWN'S _Collection, and partly from a MS. of some antiquity,_ penes
Edit.--_The stanzas appearing to possess mo st merit have been selected
from each copy._
"O waly, waly, my gay goss hawk,
"Gin your feathering be sheen!"
"And waly, waly, my master dear,
"Gin ye look pale and lean!
"O have ye tint, at tournament,
"Your sword, or yet your spear?
"Or mourn ye for the southern lass,
"Whom you may not win near?"
"I have not tint, at tournament,
"My sword, nor yet my spear;
"But sair I mourn for my true love,
"Wi' mony a bitter tear.
"But weel's me on ye, my gay goss hawk,
"Ye can baith speak and flee;
"Ye sall carry a letter to my love,
"Bring an answer back to me."
"But how sall I your true love find,
"Or how suld I her know?
"I bear a tongue ne'er wi' her spake,
"An eye that ne'er her saw."
"O weel sall ye my true love ken,
"Sae sune as ye her see;
"For, of a' the flowers of fair England,
"The fairest flower is she.
"The red, that's on my true love's cheik,
"Is like blood drops on the snaw;
"The white, that is on her breast bare,
"Like the down o' the white sea-maw.
"And even at my love's bour door
"There grows a flowering birk;
"And ye maun sit and sing thereon
"As she gangs to the kirk.
"And four-and-twenty fair ladyes
"Will to the mass repair;
"But weel may ye my ladye ken,
"The fairest ladye there."
Lord William has written a love letter,
Put it under his pinion gray;
And he is awa' to Southern land
As fast as wings can gae.
And even at that ladye's bour
There grew a flowering birk;
And he sat down and sang thereon
As she gaed to the kirk.
And weel he kent that ladye fair
Amang her maidens free;
For the flower, that springs in May morning,
Was not sae sweet as she.
He lighted at the ladye's yate,
And sat him on a pin;
And sang fu' sweet the notes o' love,
Till a' was cosh[A] within.
And first he sang a low low note,
And syne he sang a clear;
And aye the o'erword o' the sang
Was--"Your love can no win here."
"Feast on, feast on, my maidens a':
"The wine flows you amang:
"While I gang to my shot-window,
"And hear yon bonny bird's sang.
"Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
"The sang ye sung yestreen;
"For weel I ken, by your sweet singing,
"Ye are frae my true love sen'."
O first he sang a merry sang,
And syne he sang a grave;
And syne he peck'd his feathers gray,
To her the letter gave.
"Have there a letter from Lord William;
"He says he's sent ye three:
"He canna wait your love langer,
"But for your sake he'll die."
"Gae bid him bake his bridal bread,
"And brew his bridal ale;
"And I sall meet him at Mary's kirk
"Lang, lang ere it be stale."
The ladye's gane to her chamber,
And a moanfu' woman was she;
As gin she had ta'en a sudden brash,[B]
And were about to die.
"A boon, a boon, my father deir,
"A boon I beg of thee!"
"Ask not that paughty Scottish lord,
"For him you ne'er shall see.
"But, for your honest asking else,
"Wee! granted it shall be."
"Then, gin I die in Southern land,
"In Scotland gar bury me.
"And the first kirk that ye come to,
"Ye's gar the mass be sung;
"And the next kirk that ye come to,
"Ye's gar the bells be rung.
"And, when ye come to St Mary's kirk,
"Ye's tarry there till night."
And so her father pledged his word,
And so his promise plight.
She has ta'en her to her bigly bour
As fast as she could fare;
And she has drank a sleepy draught,
That she had mixed wi' care.
And pale, pale grew her rosy cheek,
That was sae bright of blee,
And she seemed to be as surely dead
As any one could be.
Then spak her cruel step-minnie,
"Take ye the burning lead,
"And drap a drap on her bosome,
"To try if she be dead."
They took a drap o' boiling lead,
They drap'd it on her breast;
"Alas! alas!" her father cried,
"She's dead without the priest."
She neither chatter'd with her teeth,
Nor shiver'd with her chin;
"Alas! alas!" her father cried,
"There is nae breath within."
Then up arose her seven brethren,
And hew'd to her a bier;
They hew'd it frae the solid aik,
Laid it o'er wi' silver clear.
Then up and gat her seven sisters,
And sewed to her a kell;
And every steek that they pat in
Sewed to a siller bell.
The first Scots kirk that they cam to,
They gar'd the bells be rung;
The next Scots kirk that they cam to,
They gar'd the mass be sung.
But when they cam to St Mary's kirk,
There stude spearmen, all on a raw;
And up and started Lord William,
The chieftane amang them a'.
"Set down, set down the bier," he said;
"Let me looke her upon:"
But as soon as Lord William touched her hand,
Her colour began to come.
She brightened like the lily flower,
Till her pale colour was gone;
With rosy cheik, and ruby lip,
She smiled her love upon.
"A morsel of your bread, my lord,
"And one glass of your wine:
"For I hae fasted these three lang days,
"All for your sake and mine.
"Gae hame, gae hame, my seven bauld brothers!
"Gae hame and blaw your horn!
"I trow you wad hae gien me the skaith,
"But I've gien you the scorn.
"Commend me to my grey father,
"That wish'd, my saul gude rest;
"But wae be to my cruel step-dame,
"Gar'd burn me on the breast."
"Ah! woe to you, you light woman!
"An ill death may you die!
"For we left father and sisters at hame
"Breaking their hearts for thee."
[Footnote A: _Cosh_--Quiet.]
[Footnote B: _Brash_--Sickness.]
NOTES ON THE GAY GOSS HAWK.
_The red, that's on my true love's cheik,
Is like blood drops on the snaw._--P. 362. v, 5.
This simile resembles a passage in a MS. translation of an Irish Fairy
tale, called _The Adventures of Faravla, Princess of Scotland, and
Carral O'Daly, Son of Donogho More O'Daly, Chief Bard of Ireland._
"Faravla, as she entered her bower, cast her looks upon the earth, which
was tinged with the blood of a bird which a raven had newly killed;
'Like that snow,' said Faravla, 'was the complexion of my beloved, his
cheeks like the sanguine traces thereon; whilst the raven recals to my
memory the colour of his beautiful locks."
There is also some resemblance, in the conduct of the story, betwixt the
ballad and the tale just quoted. The Princess Faravla, being desperately
in love with Carral O'Daly, dispatches in search of him a faithful
confidant, who, by her magical art, transforms herself into a hawk, and,
perching upon the windows of the bard, conveys to him information of the
distress of the princess of Scotland.
In the ancient romance of _Sir Tristrem_, the simile of the "blood drops
upon snow" likewise occurs:
A bride bright thai ches
As blod open snoweing.
BROWN ADAM.
_There is a copy of this Ballad in Mrs_ BROWN'S _Collection. The Editor
has seen one, printed on a single sheet. The epithet, "Smith," implies,
probably, the sirname, not the profession, of the hero, who seems to
have been an outlaw There is, however, in Mrs_ BROWN'S _copy, a verse
of little merit here omitted, alluding to the implements of that
occupation._
O wha wad wish the wind to blaw,
Or the green leaves fa' therewith?
Or wha wad, wish a lealer love
Than Brown Adam the smith?
But they hae banished him, Brown Adam,
Frae father and frae mother;
And they hae banished him, Brown Adam,
Frae sister and frae brother.
And they hae banished him, Brown Adam,
The flower o' a' his kin;
And he's bigged a hour in gude green-wood
Atween his ladye and him.
It fell upon a summer's day,
Brown Adam he thought lang;
And, for to hunt some venison,
To green-wood he wald gang.
He has ta'en his bow his arm o'er,
His bolts and arrows lang;
And he is to the gude green-wood
As fast as he could gang.
O he's shot up, and he's shot down,
The bird upon the brier;
And he's sent it hame to his ladye,
Bade her be of gude cheir.
O he's shot up, and he's shot down,
The bird upon the thorn;
And sent it hame to his ladye,
Said he'd be hame the morn.
When he cam to his ladye's bour door
He stude a little forbye,
And there he heard a fou fause knight
Tempting his gay ladye.
For he's ta'en out a gay goud ring,
Had cost him mony a poun',
"O grant me love for love, ladye,
"And this shall be thy own."
"I lo'e Brown Adam weel," she said;
"I trew sae does he me:
"I wadna gie Brown Adam's love
"For nae fause knight I see."
Out has he ta'en a purse o' gowd,
Was a' fou to the string,
"O grant me love for love, ladye,
"And a' this shall be thine."
"I lo'e Brown Adam weel," she says;
"I wot sae does he me:
"I wad na be your light leman
"For mair than ye could gie."
Then out he drew his lang bright brand,
And flashed it in her een;
"Now grant me love for love, ladye,
"Or thro' ye this sall gang!"
Then, sighing, says that ladye fair,
"Brown Adam tarries lang!"
Then in and starts him Brown Adam,
Says--"I'm just at your hand."
He's gar'd him leave his bonny bow,
He's gar'd him leave his brand,
He's gar'd him leave a dearer pledge--
Four fingers o' his right hand.
JELLON GRAME.
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
This ballad is published from tradition, with some conjectural
emendations. It is corrected by a copy in Mrs Brown's MS., from which
it differs in the concluding stanzas. Some verses are apparently
modernized.
_Jellon_ seems to be the same name with _Jyllian_ or _Julian_. "Jyl of
Brentford's Testament" is mentioned in Warton's _History of Poetry,-
Vol. II. p. 40. The name repeatedly occurs in old ballads, sometimes as
that of a man, at other times as that of a woman. Of the former is
an instance in the ballad of _"Knight and the Shepherd's
Daughter,"--Reliques of Ancient Poetry,_ Vol. III. p. 72.
Some do call me Jack, sweetheart.
And some do call me _Jille_.
Witton Gilbert, a village four miles west of Durham, is, throughout the
bishopric, pronounced Witton Jilbert. We have also the common name of
Giles, always in Scotland pronounced Jill. For Gille, or Julianna, as
a female name, we have _Fair Gillian_ of Croyden, and a thousand
authorities. Such being the case, the editor must enter his protest
against the conversion of Gil Morrice, into child Maurice, an epithet
of chivalry. All the circumstances in that ballad argue, that the
unfortunate hero was an obscure and very young man, who had never
received the honour of knighthood. At any rate, there can be no reason,
even were internal evidence totally wanting, for altering a well known
proper name, which, till of late years, has been the uniform title of
the ballad.
JELLON GRAME.
O JELLON GRAME sat in Silverwood,[A]
He sharped his broad sword lang;
And he has call'd his little foot page
An errand for to gang.
"Win up, my bonny boy," he says,
"As quickly as ye may;
"For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower
"Before the break of day."
The boy has buckled his belt about,
And thro' the green-wood ran;
And he cam to the ladye's bower
Before 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 cam to a new made grave,
Beneath a green aik tree.
O then up started Jellon Grame,
Out of a bush thereby;
"Light down, light down, now, Lillie Flower,
"For its 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 blood,
"Would be a piteous sight."
"O should I spare your life," he says,
"Until that bairn were born,
"Full weel I ken your auld father
"Would hang me on the morn."
"O spare my life, now, Jellon Grame!
"My father ye need na dread:
"I'll keep my babe in gude green-wood,
"Or wi' it I'll beg my bread."
He took no pity on Lillie Flower,
Tho' she for life did pray;
But pierced her thro' the fair body
As at his feet she lay.
He felt nae pity for Lillie Flower,
Where she was lying dead;
But he felt some for the bonny bairn,
That 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,
Called him his sister's son;
And he thought no eye could ever see
The deed that he had done.
O so it fell, upon a day,
When hunting they might be,
They rested them in Silverwood,
Beneath that green aik tree.
And mony were the green-wood flowers
Upon the grave that grew,
And marvell'd much that bonny boy
To see their lovely hue.
"What's paler than the prymrose wan?
"What's redder than the rose?
"What's fairer than the lilye flower
"On this wee know[B] that grows?"
O out and answered Jellon Grame,
And he spak hastelie--
"Your mother was a fairer flower,
"And lies beneath this tree.
"More pale she was, when she sought my grace,
"Than prymrose pale and wan;
"And redder than rose her ruddy heart's blood,
"That down my broad sword 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 my mother lies buried in
"Is far too good for thee."
[Footnote A: Silverwood, mentioned in this ballad, occurs in a medley
MS song, which seems to have been copied from the first edition of the
Aberdeen caurus, _penes_ John G. Dalyell, esq. advocate. One line only
is cited, apparently the beginning of some song:
Silverwood, gin ye were mine.]
[Footnote B: _Wee know_--Little hillock.]
WILLIE'S LADYE.
ANCIENT COPY.
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
Mr Lewis, in his _Tales of Wonder_, has presented the public with a copy
of this ballad, with additions and alterations. The editor has also seen
a copy, containing some modern stanzas, intended by Mr Jamieson, of
Macclesfield, for publication in his Collection of Scottish Poetry. Yet,
under these disadvantages, the editor cannot relinquish his purpose of
publishing the old ballad, in its native simplicity, as taken from Mrs
Brown of Faulkland's MS.
Those, who wish to know how an incantation, or charm, of the distressing
nature here described, was performed in classic days, may consult the
story of Galanthis's Metamorphosis, in Ovid, or the following passage in
Apuleius: _"Eadem (Saga scilicet quaedam), amatoris uxorem, quod in sibi
dicacule probrum dixerat, jam in sarcinam praegnationis, obsepto utero,
et repigrato faetu, perpetua praegnatione damnavit. Et ut cuncti
numerant, octo annorum onere, misella illa, velut elephantum paritura,
distenditur."_--APUL. Metam. lib. 1.
There is also a curious tale about a count of Westeravia, whom a
deserted concubine bewitched upon his marriage, so as to preclude all
hopes of his becoming a father. The spell continued to operate for
three years, till one day, the count happening to meet with his former
mistress, she maliciously asked him about the increase of his family.
The count, conceiving some suspicion from her manner, craftily answered,
that God had blessed him with three fine children; on which she
exclaimed, like Willie's mother in the ballad, "May Heaven confound
the old hag, by whose counsel I threw an enchanted pitcher into the
draw-well of your palace!" The spell being found, and destroyed, the
count became the father of a numerous family.--_Hierarchie of the
Blessed Angels,_ p. 474.
WILLIE'S LADYE.
Willie's ta'en him o'er the faem,[A]
He's wooed a wife, and brought her hame;
He's wooed her for her yellow hair,
But his mother wrought her meikle care;
And meikle dolour gar'd her drie,
For lighter she can never be;
But in her bower she sits wi' pain,
And Willie mourns o'er her in vain.
And to his mother he has gane,
That vile rank witch, o' vilest kind!
He says--"My ladie has a cup,
Wi' gowd and silver set about,
This gudely gift sall be your ain,
And let her be lighter o' her young bairn."
"Of her young bairn she's never be lighter,
"Nor in her bour to shine the brighter;
"But she sall die, and turn to clay,
"And you shall wed another may."
"Another may I'll never wed,
"Another may I'll never bring hame."
But, sighing, said that weary wight--
"I wish my life were at an end!"
"Yet gae ye to your mother again,
"That vile rank witch, o' vilest kind!
"And say, your ladye has a steed,
"The like o' him's no in the land o' Leed.[B]
"For he is silver shod before,
"And he is gowden shod behind;
"At every tuft of that horse mane,
"There's a golden chess[C], and a bell to ring.
"This gudely gift sall be her ain,
"And let me be lighter o' my young bairn."
"Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,
"Nor in her bour to shine the brighter;
"But she sall die, and turn to clay,
"And ye sall wed another may."
"Another may I'll never wed,
"Another may I'll never bring hame."
But, sighing, said that weary wight--
"I wish my life were at an end!"
"Yet gae ye to your mother again,
"That vile rank witch, o' rankest kind!
"And say, your ladye has a girdle,
"It is a' red gowd to the middle;
"And aye, at ilka siller hem
"Hang fifty siller bells and ten;
"This gudely gift sall be her ain,
"And let me be lighter o' my young bairn."
"Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,
"Nor in your bour to shine the brighter;
"For she sall die, and turn to clay,
"And thou sall wed another may."
"Another may I'll never wed,
"Another may I'll never bring hame."
But, sighing, said that weary wight--
"I wish my days were at an end!"
Then out and spak the Billy Blind,[D]
(He spak ay in a gude time:)
"Yet gae ye to the market-place,
"And there do buy a loaf of wace;[E]
"Do shape it bairn and bairnly like,
"And in it twa glassen een you'll put;
"And bid her your boy's christening to,
"Then notice weel what she shall do;
"And do ye stand a little away,
"To notice weel what she may saye.
* * * * *
[_A stanza seems to be wanting. Willie is supposed to follow
the advice of the spirit.--His mother speaks._]
"O wha has loosed the nine witch knots,
"That were amang that ladye's locks?
"And wha's ta'en out the kaims o' care,
"That were amang that ladye's hair?
"And wha has ta'en downe that bush o' woodbine,
"That hung between her bour and mine?
"And wha has kill'd the master kid,
"That ran beneath that ladye's bed?
"And wha has loosed her left foot shee,
"And let that ladye lighter be?"
Syne, Willy's loosed the nine witch knots,
That were amang that ladye's locks;
And Willy's ta'en out the kaims o' care,
That were into that ladye's hair;
And he's ta'en down the bush o' woodbine,
Hung atween her bour and the witch carline;
And he has kill'd the master kid,
That ran beneath that ladye's bed;
And he has loosed her left foot shee,
And latten that ladye lighter be;
And now he has gotten a bonny son,
And meikle grace be him upon.
[Footnote A: _Faem_--The sea foam.]
[Footnote B: _Land o' Leed_--Perhaps Lydia.]
[Footnote C: _Chess_--Should probably be _jess_, the name of a hawk's
bell.]
[Footnote D: _Billy-Blind_--A familiar genius, or propitious spirit,
somewhat similar to the _Brownie_. He is mentioned repeatedly in Mrs
Brown's Ballads, but I have not met with him any where else, although he
is alluded to in the rustic game of _Bogle_ (i.e. _goblin) Billy-Blind_.
The word is, indeed, used in Sir David Lindsay's plays, but apparently
in a different sense--
