{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_45241/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_45241","id":"gutenberg_45241","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45241","summary":null,"tags":["Ballads, English -- England -- Texts","Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry"],"text":"POPULAR BRITISH BALLADS, ANCIENT AND MODERN\n\nVolume One of Four\n\nEdited by Reginald Brimley Johnson\n\n[Illustration: 0047]\n\n\n\n\nTHE PREFACE\n\n1. The word \"ballad\" is admittedly of very wide significance. Meaning\noriginally \"a song intended as the accompaniment to a dance,\" it was\nafterwards applied to \"a light simple song of any kind\" with a leaning\ntowards the sentimental or romantic; and, in its present use, is defined\nby Dr Murray as \"a simple spirited poem in short stanzas, in which some\npopular story is graphically told.\" Passing over the obsolete sense of\n\"a popular song specially celebrating or scurrilously attacking some\nperson or institution,\" we may note that Dr Johnson calls a ballad\n\"a song,\" and quotes a statement from Watts that it once \"signified a\nsolemn and sacred song as well as a trivial, when Solomon's Song was\ncalled the 'The Ballad of Ballads,' but now it is applied to nothing but\ntrifling verse.\"\n\nBallad-collectors, however, have never strictly regarded any one\nof these definitions, and to me their catholicity seems worthy of\nimitation. I have demanded no more of a ballad than that it should be\na simple spirited narrative; and, though excluding the pure lyrics and\nmetrical romances found in Percy's _Reliques_ or elsewhere, I have\nbeen guided in doubtful cases rather by intuition than by rule. I have\nincluded poems written in every variety of metre except blank verse, and\neven the latter may seem to be represented by Blake's _Fair Elinor_.\n\nMoreover, this is a collection of poems, not of archaeological specimens\nor verses on great historic events; and the ballads have been chosen\naccording to my judgment of their artistic merits.\n\n2. Vols. I. and II. contain the best traditionary ballads of England and\nScotland, with a small group of Peasant Ballads still sung in country\ndistricts. Vols. III. and IV. contain selected modern experiments in the\nart of ballad-writing by English, Scotch, and Welsh poets, with a mixed\ngroup of Irish ballads; those on foreign or classical subjects being in\neach case excluded.\n\na. The text of the old ballads has been carefully prepared from the\nbest authorities, and the spelling is modernised so far as can be\ndone without injuring the rhythm or accentuation. Brief historical or\nexplanatory notes are printed in the Table of Contents, and obsolete\nterms are explained in footnotes.\n\nNo attempt has been made to settle disputed dates of composition, but\nthe ballads are arranged in groups according to the collection (e.g.\nPercy's _Reliques_, Scott's _Minstrelsy_, etc.) in which they were first\nincluded, and thus brought before the notice of the literary public.\nThe groups are arranged according to the dates of publication of the\ncollections.\n\nb. For the Peasant Ballads one text is seldom more authoritative than\nanother, and minor differences have to be settled by personal judgment.\nThe versions here offered, have, in many cases, been prepared from those\npopular in different parts of England. They are believed to represent\nthe most poetical form of the songs which were the favourites of the\nelder generation, and which are being now superseded by the shorter\nand more sensational effusions of the music-hall. They are arranged\naccording to their subjects.\n\nc. The modern ballads are arranged chronologically, according to the\ndates of birth of their authors, and are intended to be, so far as\npossible, representative of our best poets. Parodies and dialect poems\nhave been purposely omitted, because they form classes by themselves and\nare essentially different in spirit from both the traditionary and the\nliterary ballads. This restriction does not involve the omission of all\npoems with humorous subjects or treatment.\n\nBy calling these ballads \"modern\" I do not wish to imply that every one\nof them was written later than those in Vols. I. and II., since it\nis practically certain that some of the Peasant group belong to this\ncentury. They are modern in the sense of being literary productions by\nknown authors, which were offered to the public in a printed form from\nthe first.\n\nd. Irish ballads, written in English, are comparatively modern, but\nthey belong to the traditionary manner and, whether the work of\nballad-mongers or of poets, need not be separated from the few\ntranslations from the Irish which have been thought suitable for this\ncollection. They too are arranged chronologically.\n\ne. A similar group of Welsh ballads was projected, but after a careful\ninvestigation of the principal periodicals and collections, and some\ncorrespondence with students of Welsh literature, I have concluded that,\nfor English readers at least, there exist but few Welsh ballads of any\nmerit; and that the poetic genius of the nation could not be fairly\nrepresented by such a selection.\n\n3. a. Every student of our old ballads owes an immeasurable debt of\ngratitude to Professor F. J. Child, whose monumental collections * have\ncovered the entire field. I have naturally followed his guidance in\nthe choice of texts and used his transcripts from manuscripts, having\nreceived his cordial permission to do so, in letters of kind advice and\nsympathy.\n\n     * \"English and Scottish Ballads,\" in 8 vols. (Houghton,\n     Mifflin & Co.); \"The English and Scottish Ballads\"--in the\n     course of publication--Parts i.-viii. having already\n     appeared (Houghton, Mifflin & Co.).\n\nMy thanks are also due to Dr Furnivall and Professor Hales for answers\nto questions and permission to follow their reprint of _The Percy\nFolio_; to Professor Skeat for the use of his transcript of _The Hunting\nof the Cheviot_; to Mr W. C. Hazlitt for a portion of an old copy of\n_Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William Cloudesl\u00e8_; and to the\nCouncil of the Folk-lore Society for the version of the _Unquiet Grave_\nwhich appeared in their _Record_.\n\nb. In the preparation of the Peasant group I have received great\nassistance from the Rev. S. Baring-Gould, who has generously put at my\ndisposal the results of his life-long studies in this subject, given me\nadvice and information at every turn, and allowed me the free use of\nall his own manuscript and printed material. Without his help and\nencouragement this part of the work could never have been completed.\n\nMy thanks are also due to numerous members of the Folk-lore Society,\nboth in London and the provinces, among whom I would particularly\nmention Miss C. S. Burne, author of _Shropshire Folk-lore_, and Mrs\nBalfour of Northumberland.\n\nI have received much assistance also from Miss Lucy E. Broadwood, who\nhas united with Mr J. A. Fuller-Maitland and the Leadenhall Press, Ltd.,\nin permitting me to reprint from her _English County Songs_.\n\nFor replies to various questions on these subjects I am indebted to\nMessrs A. T. Quiller-Couch, W. E. A. Axon, Edward Peacock, the Rev. J.\nC. Atkinson, Judge Hughes, Miss Field, and Miss G. Chanter. Messrs G.\nBell & Sons have kindly allowed me to reprint \"Sir Arthur and charming\nMollee\" from their _Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry\nof England_.\n\nc. For the use of copyright matter my thanks are further due to Messrs\nMacmillan & Co., the publishers of Charles Kingsley, and Miss Rossetti;\nto Messrs Smith, Elder & Co., of Robert Browning; to Messrs Chatto &\nWindus, of G. W. Thombury; to Messrs Elis & Elvey, of D. G. Rossetti;\nMessrs Ward, Lock & Bowden, of Henry Kingsley; Messrs Kegan Paul & Co.,\nof Mrs Hamilton-King; Messrs Messina & Co., Melbourne, of A. L. Gordon;\nand Mr C. Baxter, the agent of Mr R. L. Stevenson.\n\nI am also indebted to Sir George Young, Bart., for information\nconcerning W. M. Praed; to. Mr Sebastian Evans; Mrs W. B. Scott; Mrs\nDobell; Dr George MacDonald; Miss Jean Ingelow and her publishers,\nMessrs Longmans, Green & Co.; Mrs Isa Craig Knox; Mrs Calverly; Dr\nGarnett; Mrs Cory and the publisher of the late William Cory, Mr George\nAllen; Mr A. C. Swinburne; Madame Darmsteter; Miss Grant; Mr Ernest\nRhys; Mr R. Buchanan; Mr John Davidson; Mr Rudyard Kipling and his\npublishers, Messrs Methuen & Co., and Messrs Thacker & Co.; and Miss G.\nChanter.\n\nHaving found every endeavour vain to discover the address of the Misses\nHawker, I have ventured to reprint _The Doom of St Madron_, by the late\nR. S. Hawker, without their permission, the publishers, Messrs Kegan\nPaul & Co., offering no objection so far as they are concerned. From the\nworks of Tennyson, Mr Wm. Morris, and a few others, I should have made\nselections, had not the permission been, to my great regret, withheld.\n\nd. In the preparation of the Irish group I have been very materially\nassisted by Mr Alfred Percival Graves, who has advised my selection\nand given me the free use of all his own work; and by Mr David J.\nO'Donoghue, author of the _Dictionary of the Poets and Poetry of\nIreland_, who has devoted much time to supplying me with information\nof all kinds, and directing me to the work of comparatively unknown\nauthors.\n\nFor the use of copyright matter I am also indebted to Mrs Allingham;\nto Professor E. F. Savage-Armstrong, for his own work, and that of his\nbrother, the late Edward J. Armstrong; to Lady Ferguson; Miss Emily H.\nHickey; Mr Michael Hogan; Mr Wm. Winter and Messrs C. Scribner & Sons,\nfor a poem by Fitzjames O'Brien; Messrs Routledge & Sons for poems by S.\nLover; to Mr T. D. Sullivan, M.P.; Mrs K. Tynan (Hinkson); Mr Aubrey de\nVere and his publishers, Messrs Macmillan & Co.; Mr W. B. Yeats; and Dr\nSigerson.\n\nFinally, I have to thank Mr Theodore Watts and Mr Alfred H. Miles,\neditor of _The Poets and Poetry of the Century_, for information on\ncertain questions of copyright.\n\nR. Brimley Johnson.\n\nLlandaff House, Cambridge,\n\nAugust 3rd, 1894.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE RAVENS\n\n\n|There were three ravens sat on a tree,\n\n     _Downe, a downe, hay downe, hay downe_,\n\nThere were three ravens sat on a tree,\n\n     _With a downe,\n\nThere were three ravens sat on a tree,\n\nThey were as black as they might be,\n\n     _With a downe, derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe.\n\n\n\nThe one of them said to his mate,\n\n\"Where shall we our breakfast take?\"--\n\n\n\n\"Down in yonder green field,\n\nThere lies a knight slain under his shield.\n\n\n\n\"His hounds they lie down at his feet,\n\nSo well they can their master keep.\n\n\n\n His hawks they flie so eagerly,\n\nThere's no fowl dare him come nigh.\"\n\n\n\nDown there comes a fallow doe,\n\nAs great with young as she might go.\n\n\n\nShe lift up his bloody head,\n\nAnd kist his wounds that were so red.\n\n\n\nShe got him up upon her back,\n\nAnd carried him to earthen lake.\n\n\n\nShe buried him before the prime,\n\nShe was dead herself ere even-song time.\n\n\n\nGod send every gentleman,\n\nSuch hawks, such hounds, and such a leman.\n\n\n\n(_lake_, grave.)\n\n[Illustration: 0048]\n\n[Illustration: 0049]\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD\n\n\n|As it fell one holy-day, _hay down_,\n\n     As many be in the year,\n\nWhen young men and maids together did go\n\n     Their matins and mass to hear,\n\n\n\nLittle Musgrave came to the church door,\n\n     The priest was at private mass;\n\nBut he had more mind of the fair women,\n\n     Then he had of our lady's grace.\n\n\n\nThe one of them was clad in green,\n\n     Another was clad in pall;\n\nAnd then came in my lord Barnards wife,\n\n     The fairest amonst them all.\n\n\n\nShe cast an eye on little Musgrave,\n\n     As bright as the summer sun,\n\nAnd then bethought this little Musgrave,\n\n     \"This lady's heart have I won.\"\n\n\n\nQuoth she, \"I have loved thee, little Musgrave,\n\n     Full long and many a day:\"\n\n\"So have I loved you, fair lady,\n\n     Yet never word durst I say.\"\n\n\n\n\"I have a bower at Bucklesfordbery,\n\n     Full daintily it is dight;\n\nIf thou wilt wend thither, thou little Musgrave,\n\n     Thou's lig in mine arms all night.\"\n\n\n\nQuoth he, \"I thank ye, fair lady,\n\n     This kindness thou showest to me;\n\nBut whether it be to my weal or woe,\n\n     This night I will lig with thee.\"\n\n\n\nWith that he heard a little tiny page,\n\n     By his lady's coach as he ran:\n\n\"Allthough I am my lady's footpage,\n\n     Yet I am lord Barnard's man.\n\n\n\n\"My lord Barnard shall know of this,\n\n     Whether I sink or swim:\"\n\nAnd ever where the bridges were broke,\n\n     He laid him down to swim.\n\n\n\n\"Asleep, or wake! thou lord Barnard,\n\n     As thou art a man of life;\n\nFor little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordbery,\n\n     Abed with thy own wedded wife.\"\n\n\n\n\"If this be true, thou little tiny page,\n\n     This thing thou tellest to me,\n\nThen all the land in Bucklesfordbery\n\n     I freely will give to thee.\n\n\n\n\"But if it be a lie, thou little tiny page,\n\n     This thing thou tellest to me,\n\nOn the highest tree in Bucklesfordbery\n\n     Then hanged shalt thou be.\"\n\n\n\nHe called up his merry men all:--\n\n     \"Come saddle me my steed;\n\nThis night must I to Bucklesfordbery,\n\n     For I never had greater need.\"\n\n\n\nAnd some of them whistl'd, and some of them sung,\n\n     And some these words did say,\n\nAnd ever when my lord Barnard's horn blew,\n\n     \"Away, Musgrave, away!\"\n\n\n\n\"Methinks I hear the thresel-cock,\n\n     Methinks I hear the jay;\n\nMethinks I hear my Lord Barnard,--\n\n     And I would I were away.\"\n\n\n\n(_thresel-cock_, thrush.)\n\n\"Lie still, lie still, thou little Musgrave,\n\n     And huggell me from the cold;\n\n'Tis nothing but a shephard's boy,\n\n     A driving his sheep to the fold.\n\n\n\n\"Is not thy hawk upon a perch?\n\n     Thy steed eats oats and hay,\n\nAnd thou a fair lady in thine arms,--\n\n     And wouldst thou be away?\"\n\n\n\nWith that my lord Barnard came to the door,\n\n     And lit a stone upon;\n\nHe plucked out three silver keys,\n\n     And he open'd the doors each one.\n\n\n\nHe lifted up the coverlet,\n\n     He lifted up the sheet;\n\n\"How now, how now, thou little Musgrave,\n\nDoest thou find my lady sweet?\"\n\n\n\n\"I find her sweet,\" quoth little Musgrave,\n\n     \"The more 'tis to my pain;\n\nI would gladly give three hundred pounds\n\n     That I were on yonder plain.\"\n\n\n\n\"Arise, arise, thou little Musgrave,\n\n     And put thy cloth\u00e9s on;\n\nIt shall ne'er be said in my country,\n\n     I have killed a naked man.\n\n\n\n\"I have two swords in one scabbard,\n\n     Full dear they cost my purse;\n\nAnd thou shalt have the best of them,\n\n     And I will have the worse.\"\n\n\n\nThe first stroke that little Musgrave stroke,\n\n     He hurt Lord Barnard sore;\n\nThe next stroke that Lord Barnard stroke,\n\n     Little Musgrave ne'er struck more.\n\n\n\nWith that bespake this fair lady,\n\n     In bed whereas she lay;\n\n\"Although thou'rt dead, thou little Musgrave,\n\n     Yet I for thee will pray;\n\n\n\n\"And wish well to thy soul will I,\n\n     So long as I have life;\n\nSo will I not for thee, Barnard,\n\n     Although I am thy wedded wife.\"\n\n\n\nHe cut her paps from off her breast,\n\n     Great pity it was to see,\n\nThat some drops of this lady's heart's blood\n\n     Ran trickling down her knee.\n\n\n\n\"Woe worth you, woe worth, my merry men all,\n\n     You were ne er born for my good;\n\nWhy did you not offer to stay my hand,\n\n     When ye saw me wax so wood!\n\n\n\n\"For I have slain the bravest sir knight\n\n     That ever rode on steed;\n\nSo have I done the fairest lady\n\n     That ever did woman's deed.\n\n\n\n\"A grave, a grave,\" Lord Barnard cried,\n\n     To put these lovers in;\n\nBut lay my lady on the upper hand,\n\n     For she came of the better kin,\"\n\n[Illustration: 0054]\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWA SISTERS\n\n\n|There was twa sisters in a bowr,\n\n     _Edinburgh, Edinburgh_,\n\nThere was twa sisters in a bow'r,\n\n_Stirling for aye_,\n\nThere was twa sisters in a bowr,\n\nThere came a knight to be their wooer,\n\n     _Bonny Saint Johnston stands upon Tay_.\n\n\n\nHe courted the eldest wi' glove an' ring,\n\nBut he loved the youngest above a' thing.\n\n\n\nHe courted the eldest wi' brooch an' knife,\n\nBut loved the youngest as his life;\n\n\n\nThe eldest she was vexed sair,\n\nAn' much envied her sister fair;\n\n\n\nInto her bower she could not rest,\n\nWi' grief an' spite she almost brast.\n\n\n\nUpon a morning fair an' clear\n\nShe cried upon her sister dear:\n\n\n\nO sister come to yon sea-stran',\n\nAnd see our father's ships come to lan'.\n\n\n\nShe's ta'en her by the milk-white han',\n\nAnd led her down to yon sea-stran'.\n\n\n\nThe youngest stood upon a stane,\n\nThe eldest came an' threw her in;\n\n\n\nShe took her by the middle sma',\n\nAn' dash'd her bonny back to the jaw;\n\n\n\nO sister, sister, take my han',\n\nAn I'se make you heir to a' my lan'.\n\n\n\nO sister, sister, take my middle,\n\nAnd ye's get my gold and my golden girdle.\n\n\n\n(_jaw,_ wave.)\n\nO sister, sister, save my life,\n\nAnd I swear I'se never be nae man's wife.\n\n\n\n\"Foul fa the han' that I should take,\n\nIt twin'd me an' my wardle's make.\"\n\n\n\n\"Your cherry cheeks and yallow hair,\n\nGars me gae maiden for evermair.\"\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0056]\n\nSometimes she sank, an' sometimes she swam,\n\nTill she cam down yon bonny mill dam;\n\n\n\nO out it came the miller's son,\n\nAn' saw the fair maid swimmin' in.\n\n\n\n\"O father, father, draw your dam!\n\nHere's either a mermaid, or a swan.\"\n\n\n\nThe miller quickly drew the dam,\n\nAn' there he found a drown'd woman;\n\n\n\n(_twin'd_, deprived). _wardles make_, life-mate.)\n\nYou couldna see her yallow hair,\n\nFor gold and pearl that were sae rare;\n\n\n\nYou couldna see her middle sma,\n\nFor golden girdle that was sae braw;\n\n\n\nYe couldna see her fingers white\n\nFor golden rings that was sae gryte.\n\n\n\nAnd by there came a harper fine,\n\nThat harped to the king at dine.\n\n\n\nWhen he did look that lady upon,\n\nHe sigh'd and made a heavy moan;\n\n\n\nHe's taen three locks o' her yallow hair,\n\nAnd wi' them strung his harp sae fair.\n\n\n\nThe first tune he did play and sing\n\nWas--\"Farewell to my father the king.\"\n\n\n\nThe nexten tune that he played syne\n\nWas--\"Farewell to my mother the queen.\"\n\n\n\nThe lasten tune that he play'd then\n\nWas--\"Wae to my sister, fair Ellen!\"\n\n\n\n(_gryte_, great.)\n\n[Illustration: 0057]\n\n\n\n\nTHE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT\n\nTHE FIRST FIT.\n\n\n|The Perse out of Northumberland,\n\n     And a vow to God made he,\n\nThat he would hunt in the mountains\n\n     Of Cheviot within days three,\n\nIn the magger of dought\u00e8 Douglas,\n\n     And all that ever with him be.\n\n\n\nThe fattest harts in all Cheviot\n\n     He said he would kill, and carry them away:\n\n\"By my faith,\" said the doughty Douglas again,\n\n     \"I will let that hunting if that I may.\"\n\n\n\nThen the Perse out of Banborowe came,\n\n     With him a mighty meany;\n\nWith fifteen hundrith archers bold of blood and bone,\n\n     They were chosen out of shires three.\n\n\n\nThis began on a Monday at morn,\n\n     In Cheviot the hillys so he;\n\nThe child may rue that is un-born,\n\n     It was the more pity.\n\n\n\n(_in the magger_, in the maugre--i.e. in spite of. _let_, hinder.\n\n_meany_, company. _so he_, so high.)\n\nThen the wyld thorow the wood\u00e8s went,\n\n     On every syd\u00eb shear;\n\nGreyhounds thorow the grevis glent,\n\n     For to kill their deer.\n\n\n\nThus began in Cheviot the hills abone,\n\n     Early on a Monnyn day;\n\nBy that it drew to the hour of noon,\n\n     A hundrith fat harts dead there lay.\n\n\n\nThey blew a mort upon the bent,\n\n     They sembled on syd\u00ebs shear;\n\n(_byckarte_, hurried, _bent_, plain. _wyld_,deer. _shear_, at once.\n\n_grevis_, groves, _glent_, glanced, _sembled shear_, assembled together.\n\n_blew a mort_, sounded a horn for the dead.)\n\nThe drivers thorow the wood\u00e8s went,\n\n     For to raise the deer;\n\nBowmen byckarte upon the bent\n\n     With their broad arrows clear.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0059]\n\nTo the quarry then the Perse went,\n\n     To see the brittling of the deer.\n\n\n\nHe said, \"It was the Douglas promise\n\n     This day to meet me here;\n\nBut I wist he would fail, verament:\"\n\n     A great oath the Perse swear.\n\n\n\nAt the last a squire of Northumberland\n\n     Looked at his hand full nigh;\n\nHe was ware o* the doughty Douglas coming,\n\n     With him a mighty meany;\n\n\n\nBoth with spear, bille, and brand;\n\n     It was a mighty sight to see;\n\nHardier men, both of heart nor hand,\n\n     Were not in Christiant\u00e8.\n\n\n\nThere were twenty hundrith spear-men good,\n\n     Withowt\u00e8 any fail;\n\nThey were born along by the water o' Twyde,\n\n     Ith' bounds of Tividale.\n\n\n\n\"Leave of the brittling of the deer,\" he said,\n\n     \"And to your bows look ye take good heed;\n\nFor never sith ye were on your mothers born\n\n     Had ye never so mickle need.\"\n\n\n\n(_brittling_, cutting up. _ware_, aware. _meany_, company.\n\n_bille_, battle-axe. _sith_, since.)\n\nThe doughty Douglas on a steed\n\n     He rode all his men beforne;\n\nHis armour glittered as did a glede;\n\n     A bolder bairn was never born.\n\n\n\n\"Tell me whose men ye are,\" he says,\n\n     \"Or whose men that ye be:\n\nWho gave you leave to hunt in this Cheviot chase,\n\n     In the spite of mine and me?\"\n\n\n\nThe first man that ever him an answer made,\n\n     It was the good lord Perse:\n\n\"We will not tell thee whose men we are,\" he says,\n\n\"Nor whose men that we be;\n\nBut we will hunt here in this chase,\n\n     In the spite of thine and of thee.\n\n\n\n\"The fattest harts in all Cheviot\n\n     We have killed, and cast to carry them a-way:\"\n\n\"Be my troth,\" said the doughty Douglas again,\n\n     \"Therefore the one of us shall die this day.\"\n\n\n\nThen said the doughty Douglas\n\n     Unto the lord Perse:\n\n\"To kill all these guiltless men,\n\n     Alas, it were great pity!\n\n(_glede_, burning gold. _cast_, intend.)\n\n\"But, Perse, thou art a lord of land,\n\n     I am an Earl called within my contre -,\n\nLet all our men upon a party stand,\n\n     And do the battle of thee and of me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now Cristes corpse on his crown,\" said the lord Perse,\n\n     \"Whosoever there-to says nay;\n\nBy my troth, doughty Douglas,\" he says,\n\n     \"Thou shalt never see that day.\n\n\n\n\"Neither in England, Scotland, nor France,\n\n     Nor for no man of a woman born,\n\nBut, and fortune be my chance,\n\n     I dare meet him, one man for one.\"\n\n\n\nThen bespake a squire of Northumberland,\n\n     Richard Wytharyngton was him name;\n\n\"It shall never be told in South-England,\" he says,\n\n     \"To king Harry the fourth for shame.\n\n\n\n\"I wot you bin great lordes twa,\n\n     I am a poor squire of land;\n\nI will never see my captain fight on a field,\n\n     And stand myself, and look\u00e8 on,\n\nBut while I may my weapon wield,\n\n     I will not [fail] both heart and hand.\"\n\n\n\nThat day, that day, that dreadfull day!\n\n     The first fit here I find;\n\nAnd you will hear any more a' the hunting a' the Cheviot,\n\n     Yet is there more behind.\n\n\n\nThe English men had their bows yebent,\n\n     Their hearts were good enough;\n\nThe first of arrows that they shot off,\n\n     Seven score spear-men they slough.\n\n\n\nYet bides the Earl Douglas upon the bent,\n\n     A captain good enough,\n\nAnd that was seen\u00e8 verament,\n\n     For he wrought home both woe and wouche.\n\n\n\nThe Douglas parted his host in three,\n\n     Like a cheffe chieftan of pride,\n\nWith sure spears of mighty tree,\n\n     They come in on every side:\n\n\n\nThrough our English archery\n\n     Gave many a wound full wide;\n\nMany a doughty they gard to die,\n\n     Which gained them no pride.\n\n\n\n(_find,_ end. And, if. _slough_, slew. wouche, injury. _tree_, wood. _gard_, made.)\n\n\n\nTHE SECOND FIT.\n\n\n|The English men let their bows be,\n\n     And pulled out brands that were bright;\n\nIt was a heavy sight to see\n\n     Bright swords on basnets light.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0064]\n\nThorow rich mail and maniple,\n\n     Many sterne the stroke down straight;\n\nMany a freyke that was full free,\n\n     There under foot did light.\n\n\n\n(_basnets_, helmets. _light,_ alight.\n\n_sterne_, drove. _freyke_, warrior. _free_, noble.)\n\nAt last the Douglas and the Perse met,\n\n     Like to captains of might and of main;\n\nThey swept together till they both swat,\n\n     With swords that were of fine myll\u00e0n.\n\n\n\nThese worth\u00e8 freykes for to fight,\n\n     There-to they were full fain,\n\nTill the blood out of their basnets sprent,\n\n     As ever did hail or rain.\n\n\n\n\"Yield thee, Perse,\" said the Douglas,\n\n     \"And i' faith I shall thee bring\n\nWhere thou shalt have an earl's wages\n\n     Of Jamy our Scottish king.\n\n\n\n\"Thou shalt have thy ransom free,\n\n     I hight thee here this thing,\n\nFor the manfullest man yet art thou,\n\n     That ever I conquered in field fighting.\"\n\n\n\n\"Nay,\" said the lord Perse,\n\n     \"I told it thee beforne,\n\nThat I would never yielded be\n\n     To no man of a woman born.\"\n\n\n\nWith that there cam an arrow hastely,\n\n     Forth of a mighty wane;\n\nIt hath striken the earl Douglas\n\n     In at the breast bane.\n\n\n\n(_myllan_, steel, _sprent_, spurted, _hight,_ promise, _wune_, crowd (?))\n\nThorow liver and lungs, baith\n\n     The sharp arrow is gane,\n\nThat never after in all his life-days,\n\n     He spake mo words but ane:\n\nThat was, \"Fight ye, my merry men, whiles ye may,\n\n     For my life-days ben gane.\"\n\n\n\nThe Perse leaned on his brand,\n\n     And saw the Douglas dee;\n\nHe took the dead man by the hand,\n\n     And said, \"Woe is me for thee!\n\n\n\n\"To have saved thy life, I would have parted with\n\n     My landes for years three,\n\nFor a better man, of heart nor of hand,\n\n     Was not in all the north contre.\"\n\n\n\nOf all that see a Scottish knight,\n\n     Was called Sir Hew the Monggombyrry;\n\nHe saw the Douglas to the death was dight,\n\n     He spended a spear, a trusty tree:--\n\n\n\nHe rode upon a courser\n\n     Through a hundrith archery:\n\nHe never stinted, nor never blane,\n\n     Till he came to the good lord Perse.\n\n\n\n(_dight_, disposed of, __spended, grasped. _blane_. stopped.)\n\nHe set upon the lord Perse\n\n     A dint that was full sore;\n\nWith a sure spear of a mighty tree\n\n     Clean thorow the body he the Pers\u00e8 bare,\n\n\n\nA'the tother side that a man might see\n\n     A large cloth yard and mair:\n\nTwo better captains were not in Christiant\u00e8,\n\n     Than that day slain were there.\n\n\n\nAn archer of Northumberland\n\n     Sae slain was the lord Pers\u00e8;\n\nHe bare a bend-bow in his hand,\n\n     Was made of trusty tree.\n\n\n\nAn arrow, that a cloth yard was lang,\n\n     To th' hard steel haled he;\n\nA dint that was both sad and sore,\n\n     He set on Sir Hewe the Monggomberry.\n\n\n\nThe dint it was both sad and sore,\n\n     That he of Monggomberry set;\n\nThe swan-feathers, that his arrow bore,\n\n     With his heart-blood they were wet.\n\n\n\nThere was never a freyke one foot would flee,\n\n     But still in stour did stand,\n\nHewing on each other, while they might dree,\n\n     With many a baleful brand.\n\n\n\n(_bend-bow,_ bent bow. _freyke_, warrior. _stour_, fight.\n\n_dree_, endure.)\n\nThis battle began in Cheviot\n\n     An hour befor the noon,\n\nAnd when even-song bell was rang,\n\n     The battle was not half done.\n\n\n\nThey took... on eithar hand\n\n     By the light of the moon;\n\nMany had no strength for to stand,\n\n     In Cheviot the hills aboun.\n\n\n\nOf fifteen hundrith archers of England\n\n     Went away but seventy and three;\n\nOf twenty hundrith spear-men of Scotland,\n\n     But even five and fifty:\n\n\n\nBut all were slain Cheviot within;\n\n     They had no strength to stand on high;\n\nThe child may rue that is unborn,\n\n     It was the more pity.\n\n\n\nThere was slain with the lord Perse,\n\n     Sir John of Agerstone,\n\nSir Roger, the hind Hartly,\n\n     Sir William, the bold Hearone.\n\n\n\nSir Jorg, the worth\u00e8 Loumle,\n\n     A knight of great renown,\n\nSir Raff, the rich Rugb\u00e8,\n\n     With dints were beaten down.\n\n\n\nFor Wetharryngton my heart was woe,\n\n     That ever he slain should be;\n\nFor when both his legs were hewn in two,\n\n     Yet he kneeled and fought on his knee.\n\n\n\nThere was slain with the doughty Douglas,\n\n     Sir Hew the Monggomberry,\n\nSir Davy Lydale, that worthy was,\n\n     His sisters son was he:\n\n\n\nSir Charls o' Murr\u00e8 in that place,\n\n     That never a foot would flee;\n\nSir Hew Maxwell, a lord he was,\n\n     With the Douglas did he dee.\n\n\n\nSo on the morrow they made them biers\n\n     Of birch and hazel so gray;\n\nMany widows with weepng tears\n\n     Came to fetch their makes away.\n\n\n\nTivydale may carp of care,\n\n     Northumberland may make great moan,\n\nFor two such captains as slain were there,\n\n     On the March-party shall never be none.\n\n\n\nWord is commen to Eddenburrow,\n\n     To Jamy the Scottish king,\n\nThat doughty Douglas, lieu-tenant of the Merches\n\n     He lay slain Cheviot with-in.\n\n\n\n(_makes_, husband. _carp_, talk.)\n\nHis handes did he weal and wring,\n\n     He said, \"Alas, and woe is me!\"\n\nSuch an other captain Scotland within,\n\n     He said, i-faith should never be.\n\n\n\nWord is commen to lovely London,\n\n     Till the fourth Harry our king,\n\nThat Lord Pers\u00e8, lieu-tenant of the Marches\n\n     He lay slain Cheviot within.\n\n\n\n\"God have mercy on his soul,\" said king Harry,\n\n     \"Good lord, if thy will it be!\n\nI have a hundrith captains in England,\" he said,\n\n     \"As good as ever was he:\n\nBut Pers\u00e8, and I brook my life,\n\n     Thy death well quit shall be.\"\n\n\n\nAs our noble king made his a-vow,\n\n     Like a noble prince of renown,\n\nFor the death of the lord Pers\u00e8\n\n     He did the battle of Hombyll-down:\n\n\n\nWhere six and thirty Scottish knights\n\n     On a day were beaten down:\n\nGlendale glittered on their armour bright,\n\n     Over castle, tower, and town.\n\n\n\n(_weal,_ wring (?). _brook_, preserve. _quit_, requited.)\n\nThis was the Hunting of the Cheviot;\n\n     That tear began this spurn:\n\nOld men that knowen the ground well enough,\n\n     Call it the battle of Otterburn.\n\n\n\nAt Otterburn began this spurn\n\n     Upon a Monnyn day:\n\nThere was the doughty Douglas slain,\n\n     The Perse never went away.\n\n\n\nThere was never a time on the March-partys\n\n     Sen the Douglas and the Perse met,\n\nBut it was marvel, and the red blude ran not,\n\n     As the rain does in the street.\n\n\n\nJesu Christ our bales bete,\n\n     And to the bliss us bring!\n\nThus was the Hunting of the Cheviot:\n\n     God send us all good ending!\n\n(_tear_, injury (?). _spurn_, retaliation. _sen_, when.\n\n_bales bete_, sufferings better.)\n\n\n[Illustration: 0071]\n\n[Illustration: 0072]\n\n\n\n\nTHE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN\n\n\n|This song's of a beggar who long lost his sight,\n\nAnd had a fair daughter, most pleasant and bright;\n\nAnd many a gallant brave suitor had she,\n\nAnd none was so comely as pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nAnd though she was of complexion most fair,\n\nYet seeing she was but a beggar his heir,\n\nOf ancient housekeepers despised was she,\n\nWhose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nWherefore in great sorrow fair Bessee did say,\n\n\"Good father and mother, let me now go away,\n\nTo seek out my fortune, whatever it be;\"\n\nThis suit then was granted to pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nThis Bessee, that was of a beauty most bright,\n\nThey clad in gray russet, and late in the night\n\nFrom father and mother alone parted she,\n\nWho sighed and sobbed for pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nShe went till she came to Stratford-at-Bow,\n\nThen she knew not whither or which way to go;\n\nWith tears she lamented her sad destiny,\n\nSo sad and so heavy was pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nShe kept on her journey until it was day,\n\nAnd went unto Rumford along the highway;\n\nAnd at the King's Arms entertained was she,\n\nSo fair and well-favoured was pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nShe had not been there one month at an end,\n\nBut master and mistress and all was her friend;\n\nAnd every brave gallant that once did her see\n\nWas straightway in love with pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nGreat gifts they did send her of silver and gold,\n\nAnd in their songs daily her love they extoll'd;\n\nHer beauty was blazed in every degree,\n\nSo fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nThe young men of Rumford in her had their joy;\n\nShe shewed herself courteous, but never too coy,\n\nAnd at their commandment still she would be,\n\nSo fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nFour suitors at once unto her did go,\n\nThey craved her favour, but still she said no;\n\n\"I would not have gentlemen marry with me,\"--\n\nYet ever they honoured pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nNow one of them was a gallant young knight,\n\nAnd he came unto her disguised in the night;\n\nThe second, a gentleman of high degree,\n\nWho wooed and sued for pr\u00e9tty Bessee.\n\n\n\nA merchant of London, whose wealth was not small,\n\nWas then the third suitor, and proper withal;\n\nHer master's own son the fourth man must be,\n\nWho swore he would die for pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\n\"If that thou wilt marry with me,\" quoth the knight,\n\n\"Ill make thee a lady with joy and delight;\n\nMy heart is enthralled in thy fair beauty,\n\nThen grant me thy favour, my pretty Bessee.\"\n\n\n\nThe gentleman said, \"Come marry with me,\n\nIn silks and in velvets my Bessee shall be;\n\nMy heart lies distracted, oh hear me!\" quoth he,\n\n\"And grant me thy love, my dear pretty Bessee.\"\n\n\n\n\"Let me be thy husband,\" the merchant did say,\n\n\"Thou shalt live in London most gallant and gay;\n\nMy ships shall bring home rich jewels for thee,\n\nAnd I will for ever love pretty Bessee.\"\n\n\n\nThen Bessee she sighed, and thus she did say;\n\n\"My father and mother I mean to obey;\n\nFirst get their goodwill, and be faithful to me,\n\nAnd you shall enjoy your dear pretty Bessee.\"\n\n\n\nTo every one of them that answer she made;\n\nTherefore unto her they joyfully said,\n\n\"This thing to fulfill we all now agree;\n\nBut where dwells thy father, my pretty Bessee?\"\n\n\n\n\"My father,\" quoth she, \"is soon to be seen;\n\nThe silly blind beggar of Bednall Green,\n\nThat daily sits begging for charity,\n\nHe is the kind father of pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\n\"His marks and his token are knowen full well;\n\nHe always is led by a dog and a bell;\n\nA poor silly old man, God knoweth, is he,\n\nYet he is the true father of pretty Bessee.\"\n\n\n\n\"Nay, nay,\" quoth the merchant, \"thou art not for me;\"\n\n\"She,\" quoth the innholder, \"my wife shall not be;\"\n\n\"I loathe,\" said the gentleman, \"a beggar's degree,\n\nTherefore, now farewell, my pretty Bessee.\"\n\n\n\n\"Why then,\" quoth the knight, \"hap better or worse,\n\nI weigh not true love by the weight of the purse,\n\nAnd beauty is beauty in every degree;\n\nThen welcome to me, my dear pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\n\"With thee to thy father forthwith I will go.\"\n\n\"Nay, forbear,\" quoth his kinsman, \"it must not be so:\n\nA poor beggar's daughter a lady sha'nt be;\n\nThen take thy adieu of thy pretty Bessee.\"\n\n\n\nAs soon then as it was break of the day,\n\nThe knight had from Rumford stole Bessee away;\n\nThe young men of Rumford, so sick as may be,\n\nRode after to fetch again pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nAs swift as the wind to ride they were seen,\n\nUntil they came near unto Bednall Green,\n\nAnd as the knight lighted most courteously,\n\nThey fought against him for pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nBut rescue came presently over the plain,\n\nOr else the knight there for his love had been slain;\n\nThe fray being ended, they straightway did see\n\nHis kinsman come railing at pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nThen bespoke the Blind Beggar, \"Altho' I be poor,\n\nRail not against my child at my own door;\n\nThough she be not decked in velvet and pearl,\n\nYet I will drop angels with thee for my girl;\n\n\n\n\"And then if my gold should better her birth,\n\nAnd equal the gold you lay on the earth,\n\nThen neither rail you, nor grudge you to see\n\nThe Blind Beggar's daughter a lady to be.\n\n\n\n\"But first, I will hear, and have it well known,\n\nThe gold that you drop it shall be all you own;\"\n\n\"With that,\" they replied, \"contented we be;\"\n\n\"Then here's,\" quoth the beggar, \"for pretty Bessee.\"\n\n\n\nWith that an angel he dropped on the ground,\n\nAnd dropped, in angels, full three thousand pound;\n\nAnd oftentimes it proved most plain,\n\nFor the gentleman's one, the beggar dropped twain.\n\n\n\nSo that the whole place wherein they did sit\n\nWith gold was covered every whit;\n\nThe gentleman having dropt all his store,\n\nSaid, \"Beggar, your hand hold, for I have no more.\n\n\n\n\"Thou hast fulfilled thy promise aright;\"\n\n\"Then marry my girl,\" quoth he to the knight;\n\n\"And then,\" quoth he, \"I will throw you down,\n\nAn hundred pound more to buy her a gown.\"\n\n\n\nThe gentlemen all, who his treasure had seen,\n\nAdmired the Beggar of Bednall Green.\n\nAnd those that had been her suitors before,\n\nTheir tender flesh for anger they tore.\n\n\n\nThus was the fair Bessee matched to a knight,\n\nAnd made a lady in others' despite:\n\nA fairer lady there never was seen\n\nThan the Blind Beggar's daughter of Bednall Green.\n\n\n\nBut of her sumptuous marriage and feast,\n\nAnd what fine lords and ladies there prest,\n\nThe second part shall set forth to your sight,\n\nWith marvellous pleasure, and wished for delight.-\n\n\n\nPART II.\n\n\n|Of a blind beggar's daughter so bright,\n\nThat late was betrothed to a young knight,\n\nAll the whole discourse thereof you did see,\n\nBut now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nIt was in a gallant palace most brave,\n\nAdorned with all the cost they could have,\n\nThis wedding it was kept most sumptuously,\n\nAnd all for the love of pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nAnd all kind of dainties and delicates sweet\n\nWas brought to their banquet, as it was thought meet;\n\nPartridge, and plover, and venison most free,\n\nAgainst the brave wedding of pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nThe wedding thro' England was spread by report,\n\nSo that a great number thereto did resort,\n\nOf nobles and gentles of every degree,\n\nAnd all for the fame of pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\nTo church then away went this gallant young knight,\n\nHis bride followed after, an angel most bright,\n\nWith troops of ladies, the like was ne'er seen,\n\nAs went with sweet Bessee of Bednall Green.\n\n\n\nThis wedding being solemnized then,\n\nWith music performed by skilfullest men,\n\nThe nobles and gentles sat down at that tide,\n\nEach one beholding the beautiful bride.\n\n\n\nBut after the sumptuous dinner was done,\n\nTo talk and to reason a number begun,\n\nAnd of the Blind Beggar's daughter most bright,\n\nAnd what with his daughter he gave to the knight.\n\n\n\nThen spoke the nobles, \"Much marvel have we\n\nThis jolly blind beggar we cannot yet see!\"\n\n\"My lords,\" quoth the bride, \"my father so base\n\nIs loathe with his presence these states to disgrace.\"\n\n\n\n\"The praise of a woman in question to bring,\n\nBefore her own face, is a flattering thing;\n\nBut we think thy father's baseness,\" quoth they,\n\n\"Might by thy beauty be clean put away.\"\n\n\n\nThey no sooner this pleasant word spoke,\n\nBut in comes the beggar in a silken cloak,\n\nA velvet cap and a feather had he,\n\nAnd now a musician, forsooth, he would be.\n\n\n\nAnd being led in, from catching of harm,\n\nHe had a dainty lute under his arm;\n\nSaid, \"Please you to hear any music of me,\n\nA song I will give you of pretty Bessee.\"\n\n\n\nWith that his lute he twanged straightway,\n\nAnd thereon began most sweetly to play,\n\nAnd after a lesson was played two or three,\n\nHe strained out this song most delicately:--\n\n\n\n\"_A beggars daughter did dwell on a green,\n\nWho for her beauty might well be a queen,\n\nA blithe bonny lass, and dainty was she,\n\nAnd many one called her pretty Bessee._\n\n\n\n\"_Her father he had no goods nor no lands,\n\nBut begged for a penny all day with his hands,\n\nAnd yet for her marriage gave thousands three,\n\nYet still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee_.\n\n\n\n\"_And here if any one do her disdain,\n\nHer father is ready with might and with main,\n\nTo prove she is come of noble degree,\n\nTherefore let none flout at my pretty Bessee.\"_\n\n\n\nWith that the lords and the company round\n\nWith a hearty laughter were ready to swound;\n\nAt last said the lords, \"Full well we may see,\n\nThe bride and the bridegrooms beholden to thee.\"\n\n\n\nWith that the fair bride all blushing did rise,\n\nWith crystal water all in her bright eyes;\n\n\"Pardon my father, brave nobles,\" quoth she,\n\n\"That through blind affection thus doats upon me.\n\n\n\n\"If this be thy father,\" the nobles did say,\n\n\"Well may he be proud of this happy day,\n\nYet by his countenance well may we see,\n\nHis birth with his fortune could never agree.\n\n\n\n\"Arid therefore, blind beggar, we pray thee bewray,\n\nAnd look that the truth to us thou dost say,\n\nThy birth and thy parentage what it may be,\n\nE'en for the love thou bearest to pretty Bessee.\"\n\n\n\n\"Then give me leave, ye gentles each one,\n\nA song more to sing and then I'll begone;\n\nAnd if that I do not win good report,\n\nThen do not give me one groat for my sport:--\n\n\n\n\"_When first our king his fame did advance,\n\nAnd sought his title in delicate France,\n\nIn many places great perils past he,\n\nBut then was not born my pretty Bessee._\n\n\n\n\"_And at those wars went over to fight,\n\nMany a brave duke, a lord, and a knight,\n\nAnd with them young Monford of courage so free,\n\nBut then was not born my pretty Bessee._\n\n\n\n\"_And there did young Monford with a blow on the face\n\nLose both his eyes in a very short space;\n\nHis life had been gone away with his sight,\n\nHad not a young woman gone forth in the night_.\n\n\n\n\"_Among the slain men, her fancy did move\n\nTo search and to seek for her own true love,\n\nWho seeing young Monford there gasping to die,\n\nShe saved his life through her charity._\n\n\n\n\"_And then all our victuals in beggars' attire,\n\nAt the hands of good people we then did require;\n\nAt last into England, as now it is seen,\n\nWe came, and remained in Bednall Green._\n\n\n\n\"_And thus we have lived in Fortune's despite,\n\nThough poor, yet contented, with humble delight,\n\nAnd in my old years,  acomfort to me,\n\nGod sent me a daughter called pretty Bessee._\n\n\n\n_\"And thus, ye nobles, my song I do end,\n\nHoping by the same no man to offend;\n\nFull  forty long winters thus I have been,\n\nA silly blind beggar of Bednall Green._\"\n\n\n\nNow when the company every one\n\nDid hear the strange tale he told in his song,\n\nThey were amazed, as well as they might be,\n\nBoth at the blind beggar and pretty Bessee,\n\n\n\nWith that the fair bride they all bid embrace,\n\nSaying, \"You are come of an honourable race;\n\nThy father likewise is of high degree,\n\nAnd thou art right worthy a lady to be.\"\n\n\n\nThus was the feast ended with joy and delight;\n\nA happy bridegroom was made the young knight,\n\nWho lived in great joy and felicity,\n\nWith his fair lady, dear pretty Bessee.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 08084]\n\n\n\n\nSIR ANDREW BARTON\n\nTHE FIRST PART\n\n\n|As it befell in midsummer time,\n\n     When birds sing sweetly on every tree,\n\nOur noble King, King Henry the eighth,\n\n     Over the river of Thames past he.\n\nHe was no sooner over the river,\n\n     Down in a forest to take the air,\n\nBut eighty merchants of London city\n\n     Came kneeling before King Henry there.\n\n\n\n\"O ye are welcome, rich merchants,\n\n     [Good sailors, welcome unto me! ]\"\n\nThey swore by the rood, they were sailors good,\n\n     But rich merchants they could not be.\n\n\"To France nor Flanders dare we not pass,\n\n     Nor Bordeaux voyage we dare not fare;\n\nAnd all for a false robber that lies on the seas,\n\n     Who robs us of our merchant's ware.\"\n\n\n\nKing Henry was stout, and he turned him about,\n\n     And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might,\n\n\"I thought he had not been in the world throughout,\n\n     That durst have wrought England such unright.\"\n\nBut ever they sighed, and said, \"Alas!\"\n\n     Unto King Harry this answer again;\n\n\"He is a proud Scot, that will rob us all,\n\n     If we were twenty ships, and he but one.\"\n\n\n\nThe king lookt over his left shoulder,\n\n     Amongst his lords and barons so free;\n\n\"Have I never lord in all my realm,\n\n     Will fetch yond traitor unto me?\"\n\n\"Yes, that dare I,\" says my Lord Charles Howard;\n\n     Near to the king whereas he did stand;\n\n\"If that your grace will give me leave,\n\n     Myself will be the only man.\"\n\n\n\n\"Thou shalt have six hundred men,\" saith our king;\n\n     \"And choose them out of my realm so free;\n\nBesides mariners, and boys,\n\n     To guide the great ship on the sea.\"\n\n\"I'll go speak with Sir Andrew,\" ssyn Charles, my lord Howard;\n\n     \"Upon the sea,' if he be there,\n\nI will bring him and his ship to shore.\n\n     Or before my prince I will never come near.\"\n\n\n\nThe first of all my lord did call,\n\n     A noble gunner he was one,\n\nThis man was threescore years and ten;\n\n     And Peter Simon was his name.\n\n\"Peter,\" says he, \"I must sail to the sea,\n\n     To seek out an enemy; God be my speed!\n\nBefore all others I have chosen thee,\n\n     Of a hundred gunners thou'st be my head.\"\n\n\n\n\"My lord,\" says he, \"if you have chosen me\n\n     Of a hundred gunners to be the head,\n\nHang me at your main-mast tree,\n\n     If I miss my mark past three pence bread.\"\n\nThe next of all my lord he did call,\n\n     A noble bowman he was one;\n\nIn Yorkshire was this gentleman borne,\n\n     And William Horsley was his name.\n\n\n\n\"Horsley,\" says he, \"I must sail to the sea,\n\n     To seek out an enemy; God be my speed!\n\nBefore all others I have chosen thee;\n\n     Of a hundred bowmen thou'st be my head.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" says he, \"if you have chosen me\n\n     Of a hundred bowmen to be the head,\n\nHang me at your main-mast tree,\n\n     If I miss my mark past twelve pence bread.\"\n\n\n\nWith pikes, and guns, and bowmen bold,\n\n     This noble Howard is gone to the sea;\n\n(_bread_, breadth.)\n\nOn the day before mid-summer even,\n\n     And out at Thames mouth sailed they.\n\nThey had not sailed days three,\n\n     Upon their journey they took in hand,\n\nBut there they met with a noble ship,\n\n     And stoutly made it both stay and stand.\n\n\n\n\"Thou must tell me thy name,\" says Charles, my lord Howard,\n\n     \"Or who thou art, or from whence thou came,\n\nYea, and where thy dwelling is,\n\n     To whom and where thy ship does belong.\"\n\n\"My name,\" says he, \"is Henry Hunt,\n\n     With a pure heart, and a penitent mind;\n\nI and my ship they do belong\n\n     Unto the Newcastle that stands upon Tyne.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now thou must tell me, Harry Hunt,\n\n     As thou hast sailed by day and by night,\n\nHast thou not heard of a stout robber;\n\n     Men calls him Sir Andrew Barton, knight?\"\n\nBut ever he sighed, and said, \"Alas!\n\n     Full well, my lord, I know that wight;\n\nHe robbed me of my merchant's ware,\n\n     And I was his prisoner but yesternight.\n\n\n\n\"As I was sailing upon the sea,\n\n     And [a] Bordeaux voyage as I did fare,\n\nHe clasped me to his hatch-board,\n\n     And robbed me of all my merchant ware.\n\n\n\nAnd I am a man, both poor and bare,\n\n     And every man will have his own of me,\n\nAnd I am bound towards London to fare,\n\n     To complain to my prince Henry.\"\n\n\n\n\"That shall not need,\" says my Lord Howard;\n\n     \"If thou canst let me this robber see,\n\nFor every penny he has taken thee froe\n\n     Thou shalt be rewarded a shilling,\" quoth he.\n\n\"Now God forefend,\" says Henry Hunt,\n\n     \"My lord, you should work so far amiss!\n\nGod keep you out of that traitor's hands!\n\n     For you wot full little what a man he is.\n\n\n\n\"He is brass within, and steel without,\n\n     And beams he bears in his topcastle strong;\n\nHis ship hath ordinance clean round about,\n\n     Besides, my lord, he is very well manned.\n\nHe hath a pinnace, is dearly dight,\n\n     St. Andrew's cross, that is his guide;\n\nHis pinnace bears ninescore men and more,\n\n     Besides fifteen canons on every side.\n\n\n\n\"If you were twenty ships, and he but one,\n\n     Either in hatchboard or in hall,\n\nHe would overcome you every one,\n\n     And if his beams they do down fall.\"\n\n\"This is cold comfort,\" says my lord Howard,\n\n     \"To welcome a stranger thus to the sea:\n\nI'll bring him and his ship to shore,\n\n     Or else into Scotland he shall carry me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Then you must get a noble gunner, my lord,\n\n     That can set well with his eye,\n\nAnd sink his pinnace into the sea,\n\n     And soon then overcome will he be.\n\nAnd when that you have done this,\n\n     If you chance Sir Andrew for to board,\n\nLet no man to his topcastle go\n\n     And I will give you a glass, my lord.\n\n\n\n\"And then you need to fear no Scot,\n\n     Whether you sail by day or by night;\n\nAnd to-morrow by seven of the clock,\n\n     You shall meet with Sir Andrew Barton, knight.\n\nI was his prisoner but yesternight,\n\n     And he hath taken me sworn,\" quoth he;\n\n\"I trust my L[ord] God will me forgive\n\n     And if that oath then broken be.\"\n\n\n\n\"You must lend me six pieces, my lord,\" quoth he,\n\n     \"Into my ship, to sail the sea,\n\nAnd to-morrow by nine of the clock\n\n     Your Honour again then will I see.\"\n\n\n\nAnd the hatch-board where Sir Andrew lay\n\n     Is hatched with gold dearly dight:\n\n\"Now by my faith,\" says Charles, my lord Howard,\n\n     \"Then yonder Scot is a worthy wight.\n\n\nTHE SECOND PART.\n\n\n|Take in your ancients, and your standards,\n\n     Yea that no man shall them see;\n\nAnd put me forth a white willow wand,\n\n     As merchants use to sail the sea.\"\n\n\n\nBut they stirred neither top nor mast *;\n\n     But Sir Andrew they passed by;\n\n\"What English are yonder,\" said Sir Andrew,\n\n     \"That can so little courtesy?\n\n\n\n\"I have been admiral over the sea\n\n     More than these years three,\n\nThere is never an English dog nor Portingall\n\n     Can pass this way without leave of me.\n\nBut now yonder pedlars they are past:\n\n     Which is no little grief to me:\n\nFetch them back,\" says Sir Andrew Barton,\n\n     \"They all shall hang at my main-mast tree.\"\n\n\n\nWith that the pinnace it shot off;\n\n     That my Lord Howard might it well ken;\n\nIt stroke down my lord's fore-mast,\n\n     And killed fourteen of my lord his men.\n\n\"Come hither, Simon,\" says my lord Howard,\n\n     \"Look that thy words be true thou said;\n\nI'll hang thee at my main-mast tree,\n\n     If thou miss thy mark past twelve pence bread.\"\n\n\n\n* i.e. did not salute.\n\nSimon was old, but his heart it was bold;\n\n     He took down a piece and laid it full low,\n\nHe put in chain yards nine,\n\n     Besides other great shot less and more,\n\nWith that he let his gun-shot go;\n\n     So well he settled it with his eye,\n\nThe first sight that Sir Andrew saw,\n\n     He see his pinnace sunk in the sea.\n\n\n\nWhen he saw his pinnace sunk,\n\n     Lord, in his heart he was not well!\n\n\"Cut my ropes! it is time to be gone!\n\n     Ill fetch yond pedlars back mysel'.\"\n\nWhen my lord Howard saw Sir Andrew loose,\n\n     Lord! in his heart that he was fain;\n\n\"Strike on your drums, spread out your\n\nancients,\n\n     Sound out your trumpets, sound out amain.\"\n\n\n\n\"Fight on, my men,\" says Sir Andrew Barton,\n\n     \"Weet, howsoever this gear will sway;\n\nIt is my lord admiral of England,\n\n     Is come to seek me on the sea.\"\n\nSimon had a son, with shot of a gun--\n\n     Well Sir Andrew might it ken;--\n\nHe shot it in at a privy place,\n\n     And killed sixty more of Sir Andrew's men.\n\n\n\n(_ancients_, ensigns. _weet,_ know.\n\n_gear_, business or affair.)\n\nHarry Hunt came in at the other side;\n\n     And at Sir Andrew he shot then;\n\nHe drove down his fore-mast tree,\n\n     And killed eighty more of Sir Andrew's men.\n\n\"I have done a good turn,\" says Harry Hunt;\n\n     \"Sir Andrew is not our king's friend;\n\nHe hoped to have undone me yesternight,\n\n     But I hope I have quit him well in the end.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ever alas!\" said Sir Andrew Barton,\n\n     \"What should a man either think or say?\n\nYonder false thief is my strongest enemy,\n\n     Who was my prisoner but yesterday.\n\nCome hither to me, thou Gordon good,\n\n     And be thou ready at my call,\n\nAnd I will give thee three hundred pound,\n\n     If thou wilt let my beams down fall.\"\n\n\n\nWith that he swarved the main-mast tree,\n\n     So did he it with might and main;\n\nHorsley, with a bearing arrow,\n\n     Stroke the Gordon through the brain;\n\nAnd he fell into the hatches again,\n\n     And sore of this wound that he did bleede:\n\nThen word went through Sir Andrew's men,\n\n     That the Gordon he was dead.\n\n\n\n(_swarved_, sawed (?).)\n\n\"Come hither to me, James Hamilton,\n\n     Thou art my sister's son, I have no more;\n\nI will give [thee] six hundred pound\n\n     If thou wilt let my beams down fall.\n\nWith that he swarved the main-mast tree,\n\n     So did he it with might and main;\n\nHorsley, with another broad arrow,\n\n     Strake the yeoman through the brain.\n\n\n\nThat he fell down to the hatches again,\n\n     Sore of his wound that he did bleed:\n\nCovetousness gets no gain,\n\n     It is very true, as the Welshman said.\n\nBut when he saw his sister's son slain,\n\n     Lord! in his heart he was not well:\n\n\"Go fetch me down my armour of proof,\n\n     For I will to the topcastle mysel'.\n\n\n\n\"Go fetch me down my armour of proof,\n\n     For it is gilded with gold so clear;\n\nGod be with my brother, John of Barton!\n\n     Amongst the Portingalls he did it wear.\n\nBut when he had his armour of proof,\n\n     And on his body he had it on,\n\nEvery man that looked at him,\n\n     Said, gun nor arrow he need fear none.\"\n\n\n\n\"Come hither, Horsley,\" says my lord Howard,\n\n     \"And look your shaft that it go right;\n\nShoot a good shoot in the time of need,\n\n     And for thy shooting thou'st be made a knight.\"\n\n\n\n\"I'll do my best,\" says Horsley then,\n\n     \"Your honour shall see, before I go;\n\nIf I should be hanged at your main-mast,\n\n     I have in my ship but arrows two.\"\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0094]\n\nBut at Sir Andrew he shot then,\n\n     He made sure to hit his mark;\n\nUnder the spole of his right arm\n\n     He smote Sir Andrew quite through the heart.\n\nYet from the tree he would not start,\n\n     But he dinged to it with might and main,\n\nUnder the collar then of his jack\n\n     He stroke Sir Andrew thorough the brain.\n\n\n\n\"Fight on, my men,\" says Si^ Andrew Barton,\n\n     \"I am hurt, but I am not slain;\n\nI'll lay me down and bleed awhile,\n\n     And then I'll rise and fight again.\n\nFight on, my men,\" says Sir Andrew Barton,\n\n     These English dogs they bite so low;\n\nFight on for Scotland and St. Andrew,\n\n     Till you hear my whistle blow.\"\n\n\n\nBut when they could not hear his whistle blow,\n\n     Says Harry Hunt, \"I'll lay my head\n\nYou may board yonder noble ship, my lord,\n\n     For I know Sir Andrew he is dead.\"\n\nWith that they boarded this noble ship,\n\n     So did they it with might and main;\n\nThey found eighteen score Scots alive,\n\n     Besides the rest were maimed and slain.\n\n\n\nMy Lord Howard took a sword in his hand,\n\n     And smote off Sir Andrew's head;\n\nThe Scots stood by did weep and mourn,\n\n     But never a word durst speak or say.\n\nHe caused his body to be taken down\n\n     And over the hatchboard cast into the sea,\n\nAnd about his middle three hundred crowns:\n\n     \"Wheresoever thou lands, it will bury thee.\"\n\n\n\nWith his head they sailed into England again,\n\n     With right good will, and force and main;\n\nAnd the day before new year's even\n\n     Into Thames mouth they came again.\n\n\n\nMy Lord Howard wrote to King Henry's grace,\n\n     With all the news he could him bring;\n\n\"Such a new years gift I have brought to your grace\n\n     As never did subject to any king.\n\n\n\n\"For merchandise and manhood,\n\n     The like is not to be found;\n\nThe sight of these would do you good,\n\n     For you have not the like in your English ground.\"\n\nBut when he heard tell that they were come\n\n     Full royally he welcomed them home:\n\nSir Andrew's ship was the King's new year'sgift;\n\n     A braver ship you never saw none.\n\n\n\nNow hath our king Saint Andrew's ship,\n\n     Beset with pearls and precious stones;\n\nNow hath England two ships of war,\n\n     Two ships of war, before but one.\n\n\"Who holp to this?\" says King Henry,\n\n     \"That I may reward him for his pain.\"\n\n\"Harry Hunt, and Peter Simon,\n\n     William Horsley, and I the same.\n\n\n\n\"Harry Hunt shall have his whistle and chain,\n\n     And all his jewels, whatsoever they be,\n\nAnd other rich gifts that I will not name,\n\n     For his good service he hath done me.\n\n\n\nHorsley, right thou'st be a knight,\n\n     Lands and livings thou shalt have store;\n\nHoward shall be Earl of Nottingham,\n\n     And so was never Howard before.\n\n\n\n\"Now, Peter Simon, thou art old,\n\n     I will maintain thee and thy son;\n\nThou shalt have five hundred pound all in gold,\n\n     For the good service that thou hast done,\"\n\nThen King Henry shifted his room;\n\n     In came the queen and ladies bright,\n\nOther errands had they none\n\n     But to see Sir Andrew Barton, knight.\n\n\n\nBut when they see his deadly face,\n\n     And his eyes were hollow in his head,\n\n\"I would give a hundred pound,\"says King Henry,\n\n     \"The man were alive as he is dead.\n\nYet for the manful part that he hath played,\n\n     Both here and beyond the sea,\n\nHis men shall have half-a-crown a day\n\n     To bring them to my brother, King Jamie.\"\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0097]\n\n[Illustration: 0098]\n\n\n\n\nLORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET\n\n\n|Lord Thomas and fair Annet\n\n     Sate a' day on a hill;\n\nWhan night was come, and sun was set,\n\n     They had not talked their fill.\n\n\n\nLord Thomas said a word in jest,\n\n     Fair Annet took it ill:\n\n\"A' I will never wed a wife\n\n     Against my ain friends will.\"\n\n\n\n\"Gif ye will never wed a wife,\n\n     A wife will ne'er wed ye:\"\n\nSae he is hame to tell his mither.\n\n     And knelt upon his knee.\n\n\n\n\"O rede, O rede, mither,\" he says,\n\n     \"A gude rede gie to me:\n\nO sail I tak the nut-brown bride,\n\n     And let fair Annet be?\"\n\n\n\n\"The nut-brown bride haes gowd and gear,\n\n     Fair Annet she has gat nane;\n\nAnd the little beauty fair Annet haes,\n\n     O it wull soon be gane.\"\n\n\n\n(_rede_, advice.)\n\nAnd he has till his brother gane:\n\n     \"Now, brother, rede ye me;\n\nA', sail I marry the nut-brown bride,\n\n     And let fair Annet be?\"\n\n\n\n\"The nut-brown bride has oxen, brother,\n\n     The nut-brown bride has kye:\n\nI wad hae ye marry the nut-brown bride,\n\n     And cast fair Annet by.\"\n\n\n\n\"Her oxen may die i' the house, billie,\n\n     And her kye into the byre,\n\nAnd I sail hae nothing to mysel',\n\n     But a fat fadge by the fire.\"\n\n\n\nAnd he has till his sister gane:\n\n\"Now sister, red\u00e8 ye me;\n\nO sail I marry the nut-brown bride,\n\n     And set fair Annet free?\"\n\n\n\n\"I'se rede ye tak fair Annet, Thomas,\n\n     And let the brown bride alane;\n\nLest ye should sigh, and say, Alas,\n\n     What is this we brought hame!\"\n\n\n\n\"No, I will tak my mither's counsel,\n\n     And marry me out o' hand;\n\nAnd I will tak the nut-brown bride;\n\n     Fair Annet may leave the land.\"\n\n\n\n(_byre_, cow-house. _fadge,_hag.)\n\nUp then rose fair Annet's father,\n\n     Twa hours or it were day,\n\nAnd he is gane into the bower\n\n     Wherein fair Annet lay.\n\n\n\n\"Rise up, rise up, fair Annet,\" he says,\n\n     \"Put on your silken sheen;\n\nLet us gae to St. Mary's kirk,\n\n     And see that rich weddeen.\"\n\n\n\n\"My maids, gae to my dressing-room,\n\n     And dress to me my hair;\n\nWhere-e er ye laid a plait before,\n\n     See ye lay ten times mair.\n\n\n\n\"My maids, gae to my dressing-room,\n\n     And dress to me my smock;\n\nThe one half is o' the holland fine,\n\n     The other o' needle-work.\"\n\n\n\nThe horse fair Annet rade upon,\n\n     He amblit like the wind;\n\nWi' siller he was shod before,\n\n     Wi' burning gowd behind.\n\n\n\nFour and twanty siller bells\n\n     Were a' tied till his mane,\n\nAnd yae tift o' the norland wind,\n\n     They tinkled ane by ane.\n\n(_sheen_, shoes. _tift_, puff.)\n\nFour and twanty gay gude knights\n\n     Rade by fair Annet's side,\n\nAnd four and twenty fair ladies,\n\n     As gin she had bin a bride.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0101]\n\nAnd whan she cam to Mary's kirk,\n\n     She sat on Mary's stean:\n\nThe cleading that fair Annet had on\n\n     It skinkled in their een.\n\n\n\nAnd whan she cam into the kirk,\n\n     She shimmer'd like the sun;\n\nThe belt that was about her waist,\n\n     Was a' wi' pearls bedone.\n\n\n\n(_skinkled_, sparkled.)\n\nShe sat her by the nut-brown bride,\n\n     And her een they were sae clear,\n\nLord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,\n\n     When fair Annet drew near.\n\n\n\nHe had a rose into his hand,\n\n     He gae it kisses three,\n\nAnd reaching by the nut-brown bride,\n\n     Laid it on fair Annet's knee.\n\n[Illustration: 0102]\n\nUp than spak the nut-brown bride,\n\n     She spak wi' mickle spite;\n\n\"And where gat ye that rose-water,\n\n     That does mak ye sae white?\"\n\n\n\n\"O I did get the rose-water\n\n     Where ye wull ne'er get nane,\n\nFor I did get that very rose-water\n\n     Into my mithers wame.\"\n\n\n\nThe bride she drew a long bodkin\n\n     Frae out her gay head-gear,\n\nAnd strake fair Annet unto the heart,\n\n     That word spak never mair.\n\n\n\nLord Thomas he saw fair Annet wax pale,\n\n     And marvelit what mote be:\n\n(_Wame_, womb.)\n\nBut whan he saw her dear heart's blude,\n\n     A' wood-wroth wexed he.\n\n\n\nHe drew his dagger, that was sae sharp,\n\n     That was sae sharp and meet,\n\nAnd drave it into the nut-brown bride,\n\n     That fell dead at his feet.\n\n[Illustration: 0103]\n\n\"Now stay for me, dear Annet,\" he said,\n\n     \"Now stay, my dear,\" he cried;\n\nThen strake the dagger until his heart,\n\n     And fell dead by her side.\n\n\n\nLord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa',\n\n     Fair Annet within the choir;\n\nAnd o' the tane there grew a birk,\n\n     The other a bonny briar.\n\n\n\nAnd ay they grew, and ay they threw,\n\n     As they wad fain be near;\n\nAnd by this ye may ken right well,\n\n     They were twa lovers dear.\n\n\n\n(_birk_, birch. _threw_, throve.)\n\n\n\n\nLEOFFRICUS\n\n\n|Leoffricus the noble earl,\n\n     Of Chester, as I read,\n\nDid for the city of Coventry\n\n     Many a noble deed;\n\n\n\nGreat privileges for the town\n\n     This nobleman did get,\n\nOf all things did make it so,\n\n     That they toll free did sit,\n\n\n\nSave only that for horses still\n\n     They did some custom pay,\n\nWhich was great charges to the town\n\n     Full long and many a day.\n\n\n\nWherefore his wife, Godiva fair,\n\n     Did of the earl request,\n\nThat therefore he would make it free\n\n     As well as all the rest.\n\n\n\nAnd when the lady long had sued,\n\n     Her purpose to obtain,\n\nAt last her noble Lord she took\n\n     Within a pleasant vein,\n\n\n\nAnd unto him with smiling cheer\n\n     She did forthwith proceed,\n\nIntreating greatly that he would\n\n     Perform that godly deed.\n\n\n\n\"You move me much, fair dame,\" quoth he;\n\n     \"Your suit I fain would shun;\n\nBut what would you perform and do,\n\n     To have the matter done?\"\n\n\n\n\"Why, anything, my lord,\" quoth she,\n\n     \"You will with reason crave,\n\nI will perform it with goodwill\n\n     If I my wish may have.\"\n\n\n\n\"If thou wilt grant one thing,\" he said,\n\n     \"Which I shall now require,\n\nSo soon as it is finished,\n\n     Thou shalt have thy desire.\"\n\n\n\n\"Command what you think good, my lord;\n\n     I will thereto agree\n\nOn that condition, that this town\n\n     In all things may be free.\"\n\n\n\n\"If thou wilt strip thy clothes off,\n\n     And here wilt lay them down,\n\nAnd at noonday on horseback ride,\n\n     Stark naked through the town,\n\n\n\nThey shall be free for evermore.\n\n     If thou wilt not do so,\n\nMore liberty than now they have\n\n     I never will bestow.\"\n\n\n\nThe lady at this strange demand\n\n     Was much abashed in mind;\n\nAnd yet for to fulfil this thing\n\n     She ne'er a whit repined.\n\n\n\nWherefore to all the officers\n\n     Of all the town she sent,\n\nThat they perceiving her good will\n\n     Which for their weal was bent,\n\n\n\nThat on the day that she should ride,\n\n     All persons through the town\n\nShould keep their houses and shut their door,\n\n     And clap their windows down,\n\n\n\nSo that no creature, young nor old,\n\n     Should in the street be seen\n\nTill she had ridden (all about)\n\n     Through all the city clean.\n\n\n\nAnd when the day of riding came,\n\n     No person did her see,\n\nSaving her Lord, after which time\n\n     The town was ever free.\n\n\n\nWilliam and Marjorie\n\nLady Marjorie, Lady Marjorie,\n\n     Sat sewing her silken seam,\n\nAnd by her came a pale, pale ghost,\n\n     Wi' mony a sigh and mane.\n\n\n\n\"Are ye my father, the king?\" she says,\n\n     \"Or are ye my brither John?\n\nOr are ye my true love, sweet William,\n\n     From England newly come?\"\n\n\n\n\"I'm not your father, the king,\" he says,\n\n     \"No, no, nor your brither John;\n\nBut I'm your true love, sweet William,\n\n     From England that's newly come.\"\n\n\n\n\"Have ye brought me any scarlets sae red,\n\n     Or any silks sae fine;\n\nOr have ye brought me any precious things,\n\n     That merchants have for sale?\"\n\n\n\n\"I have not brought you any scarlets sae red,\n\n     No, no, nor the silks sae fine;\n\nBut I have brought you my winding-sheet\n\n     O'er many's the rock and hill.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0108]\n\n\"O Lady Marjorie, Lady Marjorie,\n\n     For faith and charitie,\n\nWill ye give to me my faith and troth,\n\n     That I gave once to thee?\"\n\n\n\n\"O your faith and troth I'll not give thee,\n\n     No, no, that will not I,\n\nUntil I get ae kiss of your ruby lips,\n\n     And in my arms you come lie.\"\n\n\n\n\"My lips they are sae bitter,\" he says,\n\n     \"My breath it is sae strang,\n\nIf you get ae kiss of my ruby lips,\n\n     Your days will not be lang.\n\n\n\n\"The cocks they are crawing, Marjorie,\" he says,--\n\n     \"The cocks they are crawing again;\n\nIt's time the dead should part the quick,--\n\n     Marjorie, I must be gane.\"\n\n\n\nShe followed him high, she followed him low,\n\n     Till she came to yon churchyard green;\n\nO there the grave did open up,\n\n     And young William he lay down.\n\n\n\n\"What three things are these, sweet William,\" she says,\n\n     \"That stands here at your head?\"\n\n\"It's three maidens, Marjorie,\" he says,\n\n     \"That I promised once to wed.\"\n\n\"What three things are these, sweet William,\"she says,\n\n     \"That stands here at your side?\"\n\n\"It is three babes, Marjorie,\" he says,\n\n     \"That these three maidens had.\"\n\n\n\n\"What three things are these, sweet William,\" she says,\n\n     \"That stands here at your feet?\"\n\n\"It is three hell-hounds, Marjorie,\" he says,\n\n     \"That's waiting my soul to keep.\"\n\n\n\nShe took up her white, white hand,\n\n     And she struck him in the breast,\n\nSaying,--\"Have there again your faith and troth\n\n     And I wish your soul gude rest.\"\n\n\n\nThe Gipsy Laddie\n\nThe gipsies came to our good lord's gate,\n\n     And wow but they sang sweetly;\n\nThey sang sae sweet and sae very complete,\n\n     That down came the fair lady.\n\n\n\nAnd she came tripping doun the stair,\n\n     And a' her maids before her;\n\nAs soon as they saw her weel-far'd face,\n\n     They coost the glamour o'er her.\n\n\n\n\"Gae tak frae me this gay mantle,\n\n     And bring to me a plaidie;\n\nFor if kith and kin and a' had sworn,\n\n     I'll follow the gipsy laddie.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0111]\n\n\"Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed,\n\n     And my good lord beside me;\n\nThis night I'll lie in a tennant's barn,\n\n     Whatever shall betide me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Come to your bed,\" says Johnie Faa,\n\n     \"O come to your bed, my deary;\n\nFor I vow and I swear by the hilt of my sword,\n\n     That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.\"\n\n\n\n\"I'll go to bed to my Johnie Faa,\n\n     I'll go to bed to my deary;\n\nFor I vow and I swear, by what passed yestreen,\n\n     That my lord shall nae mair come near me.\n\n\n\n\"I'll mak a hap to my Johnie Faa,\n\n     And I'll mak a hap to my deary;\n\nAnd he's get a' the coat gaes round,\n\n     And my lord shall nae mair come near me.\"\n\n\n\nAnd when our lord came hame at e'en,\n\n     And speir'd for his fair lady,\n\nThe tane she cried, and the other replied,\n\n     \"She's away wi' the gipsy laddie.\"\n\n\n\n\"Gae saddle to me the black black steed,\n\n     Gae saddle and make him ready;\n\nBefore that I either eat or sleep,\n\n     I'll gae seek my fair lady.\"\n\n\n\nAnd we were fifteen weel-made men,\n\n     Altho' we were nae bonny;\n\nAnd we were a' put down for ane,\n\n     A fair young wanton lady.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0113]\n\nWaly, Waly, but Love be Bonny\n\nO waly, waly up the bank,\n\n     And waly, waly down the brae,\n\nAnd waly, waly yon burn side,\n\n     Where I and my love wont to gae.\n\n\n\nI lean'd my back unto an aik,\n\n     I thought it was a trusty tree;\n\nBut first it bow'd, and syne it brak,\n\n     Sae my true love did lightly me!\n\n\n\n(_aik_. oak.)\n\nO waly, waly, but love be bonny,\n\n     A little time, while it is new -,\n\nBut when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld,\n\n     And fades away like morning dew.\n\n\n\nO wherefore should I busk my head?\n\n     Or wherefore should I kame my hair?\n\nFor my true love has me forsook,\n\n     And says he'll never love me mair.\n\n\n\nNow Arthur-Seat shall be my bed,\n\n     The sheets shall ne'er be filed by me:\n\nSaint Anton's well shall be my drink,\n\n     Since my true love has forsaken me.\n\n\n\nMartinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,\n\n     And shake the green leaves off the tree?\n\nO gentle death, when wilt thou come?\n\n     For of my life I am weary.\n\n\n\n'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,\n\n     Nor blawing snaw's inclemency;\n\n'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,\n\n     But my love's heart grown cauld to me.\n\n\n\nWhen we came in by Glasgow town,\n\n     We were a comely sight to see;\n\nMy love was clad in the black velvet,\n\n     And I mysel' in cramasie.\n\n(_filed_, soiled.)\n\nBut had I wist, before I kiss'd,\n\n     That love had been sae ill to win,\n\nI'd lock'd my heart in a case of gold,\n\n     And pinn'd it with a silver pin.\n\n\n\nOh, oh, if my young babe were born,\n\n     And set upon the nurse's knee,\n\nAnd I mysel' were dead and gane!\n\n     For a maid again I'll never be.\n\n\n\nThe Bonny Earl of Murray\n\nYe Highlands, and ye Lawlands,\n\n     O where have you been?\n\nThey have slain the Earl of Murray,\n\n     And they laid him on the green.\n\n\n\n\"Now wae be to thee, Huntly!\n\n     And wherefore did you sae?\n\nI bade you bring him wi' you,\n\n     But forbade you him to slay.\"\n\n\n\nHe was a braw gallant,\n\n     And he rid at the ring;\n\nAnd the bonny Earl of Murray,\n\n     O he might hae been a king.\n\n\n\nHe was a braw gallant,\n\n     And he play'd at the ba;\n\nAnd the bonny Earl of Murray\n\n     Was the flower amang them a.\n\n\n\nHe was a braw gallant,\n\n     And he play'd at the glove;\n\nAnd the bonny Earl of Murray,\n\n     O he was the Queen's love.\n\n\n\nO lang will his lady\n\n     Look o'er the castle Down,\n\nEre she see the Earl of Murray\n\n     Come sounding thro' the town.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0116]\n\n\n\n\nGLASGERION\n\n\n|Glasgerion was a king's own son,\n\n     And a harper he was good;\n\nHe harped in the king's chamber,\n\n     Where cup and candle stood,\n\nAnd so did he in the queens chamber,\n\n     Till ladies waxed wood,\n\nAnd then bespake the king's daughter,\n\n     And these words thus said she.\n\n\n\nSaid \"strike on, strike on, Glasgerion,\n\n     Of thy striking do not blin;\n\nThere's never a stroke comes over thine harp,\n\n     But it glads my heart within.\"\n\n\n\n\"Fair might you fall, lady,\" quoth he,\n\n\"Who taught you now to speak?\n\nI have loved you, lady, seven year;\n\nMy heart I durst ne'er break.\"\n\n\"But come to my bower, my Glasgerion,\n\n     When all men are at rest;\n\nAs I am a lady true of my promise,\n\n     Thou shalt be a welcome guest.\"\n\n\n\nBut home then came Glasgerion,\n\n     A glad man, Lord, was he:\n\nAnd, \"come thou hither, Jack, my boy,\n\n     Come hither unto me.\n\n\n\n\"For the king's daughter of Normandy\n\n     Her love is granted me;\n\nAnd before the cock have crowen\n\n     At her chamber must I be.\"\n\n\n\n(_blin_, stop.)\n\n\"But come you hither, master,\" quoth he,\n\n     \"Lay your head down on this stone;\n\nFor I will waken you, master dear,\n\n     Afore it be time to gone.\"\n\n\n\nBut up then rose that lither lad,\n\n     And did on hose and shoon;\n\nA collar he cast upon his neck,\n\n     He seemed a gentleman.\n\n\n\nAnd when he came to that lady's chamber,\n\n     He tirled upon a pin:\n\nThe lady was true of her promise,\n\n     Rose up and let him in.\n\n\n\nHe did not take the lady gay,\n\n     To bolster nor to bed:\n\nBut down upon her chamber floor,\n\n     Full soon he hath her laid.\n\n\n\nHe did not kiss that lady gay\n\n     When he came nor when he youd:\n\nAnd sore mistrusted that lady gay,\n\n     He was of some churl\u00e8s blood.\n\n\n\nBut home then came that lither lad,\n\n     And did off his hose and shoon;\n\nAnd cast that collar from about his neck:\n\n     He was but a churl\u00e8s son.\n\n\n\n\"Awaken,\" quoth he, \"my master dear,\n\n     I hold it time to be gone.\n\n\n\n(_lither_, naughty. _youd_, went (?))\n\n\"For I have saddled your horse, master,\n\n     Well bridled I have your steed,\n\nHave I not served a good breakfast,\n\n     When time comes I have need.\"\n\nBut up then rose good Glasgerion,\n\n     And did on hose and shoon,\n\nAnd cast a collar about his neck:\n\n     He was a king\u00e9s son.\n\n\n\nAnd when he came to that ladys chamber,\n\n     He tirled upon a pin -,\n\nThe lady was more than true of promise,\n\n     Rose up and let him in.\n\nSays \"whether have you left with me\n\n     Your bracelet or your glove?\n\n\n\nOr are you returned back again\n\n     To know more of my love?\"\n\nGlasgerion swore a full great oath,\n\n     By oak, and ash, and thorn;\n\n\"Lady, I was never in your chamber,\n\n     Sith the time that I was born.\"\n\n\n\n\"O then it was your little foot-page,\n\n     Falsely hath beguiled me:\"\n\nAnd then she pulled forth a little pen-knife,\n\n     That hanged by her knee.\n\n\n\nSays, \"there shall never no churl\u00e8s blood\n\n     Spring within my body.\"\n\n\n\nBut home then went Glasgerion,\n\n     A woe man, good [lord] was he.\n\nSays, \"come hither thou, Jack my boy,\n\n     Come thou hither to me.\n\n\n\n\"For if I had killed a man to-night,\n\n     Jack, I would tell it thee:\n\nBut if I have not killed a man to-night,\n\n     Jack, thou hast killed three.\"\n\n\n\nAnd he pulled out his bright brown sword,\n\n     And dried it on his sleeve,\n\nAnd he smote off that lither lads head,\n\n     And asked no man no leave.\n\n\n\nHe set the sword's point til his breast,\n\n     The pummel till a stone:\n\nThrough that falseness of that lither lad,\n\n     These three lives were all gone.\n\n[Illustration: 0120]\n\n[Illustration: 0121]\n\n\n\n\nFAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM.\n\n\n|As it fell out on a long summer's day,\n\n     Two lovers they sat on a hill;\n\nThey sat together that long summer's day,\n\n     And could not talk their fill.\n\n\"I see no harm by you, Margaret,\n\n     Nor you see none by me;\n\nBefore to-morrow at eight o'clock\n\n     A rich wedding you shall see.\"\n\n\n\nFair Margaret sat in her bower-window,\n\n     Combing her yellow hair;\n\nThere she spied sweet William and his bride,\n\n     As they were a tiding near.\n\n\n\nThen down she laid her ivory comb,\n\n     And braided her hair in twain:\n\nShe went alive out of her bower,\n\n     But ne'er came alive in't again.\n\n\n\nWhen day was gone, and night was come,\n\n     And all men fast asleep,\n\nThen came the spirit of fair Margaret,\n\n     And stood at William's feet.\n\n\n\n\"Are you awake, sweet William?\" she said,\n\n     \"Or, sweet William, are you asleep?\n\nGod give you joy of your gay bride-bed,\n\n     And me of my winding-sheet.\"\n\n\n\nWhen day was come, and night was gone,\n\n     And all men wak'd from sleep,\n\nSweet William to his lady said,\n\n     \"My dear, I have cause to weep.\n\n\n\n\"I dreamt a dream, my dear lady,\n\n     Such dreams are never good:\n\nI dreamt my bower was full of red swine,\n\n     And my bride-bed full of blood.\"\n\n\"Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured lord,\n\n     They never do prove good -,\n\nTo dream thy bower was full of swine,\n\n     And thy bride-bed full of blood.\"\n\n\n\nHe called up his merry men all,\n\n     By one, by two, and by three;\n\nSaying, \"I'll away to fair Margaret's bower,\n\n     By the leave of my lady.\"\n\n\n\nAnd when he came to fair Margaret's bower,\n\n     He knocked at the ring;\n\nAnd who so ready as her seven brethren,\n\n     To let sweet William in.\n\n\n\nThen he turned up the covering-sheet;\n\n     \"Pray let me see the dead;\n\nMethinks she does look pale and wan,\n\n     She has lost her cherry red.\n\n\n\n\"I'll do more for thee, Margaret,\n\n     Than any of thy kin:\n\nFor I will kiss thy pale wan lips,\n\n     Though a smile I cannot win.\"\n\nWith that bespake the seven brethren,\n\n     Making most piteous mone,\n\n\"You may go kiss your jolly brown bride,\n\n     And let our sister alone.\"\n\n\"If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,\n\n     I do but what is right;\n\nI ne'er made a vow to yonder poor corpse,\n\n     By day, or yet by night.\n\n\n\n\"Deal on, deal on, my merry men all,\n\n     Deal on your cake and your wine:\n\nFor whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day,\n\n     Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine.\"\n\n\n\nFair Margaret died to-day, to-day,\n\n     Sweet William died the morrow:\n\nFair Margaret died for pure true love,\n\n     Sweet William he died for sorrow.\n\n\n\nMargaret was buried in the lower chancel,\n\n     And William in the higher:\n\nOut of her breast there sprang a rose,\n\n     And out of his a briar.\n\n\n\nThey grew till they grew unto the church top,\n\n     And then they could grow no higher;\n\nAnd then they tied in a true lover's knot,\n\n     Which made all the people admire.\n\n\n\nThen came the clerk of the parish,\n\n     As you this truth shall hear,\n\nAnd by misfortune cut them down,\n\n     Or they had now been there.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0125]\n\n\n\n\nEDWARD, EDWARD\n\n\n|Why does your brand sae drap wi' blood\n\n          Edward, Edward?\n\nWhy does your brand sae drap wi' blood\n\n          And why sae sad gang ye oh?\n\n\"Oh I hae killed my hawk sae good,\n\n          Mither, mither:\n\nOh I hae killed my hawk so good,\n\n          And I had no mair but he oh.\"\n\n\n\nYour hawk's blood was never sae red,\n\n          Edward, Edward;\n\nYour hawk's blood was never sae red,\n\n          My dear son I tell thee oh.\n\n\"Oh I hae killed my red-roan steed,\n\n          Mither, mither:\n\nOh I hae killed my red roan steed\n\n          That erst was sae fair and free oh.\"\n\n\n\nYour steed was auld, and ye hae got mair,\n\n          Edward, Edward;\n\nYour steed was auld, and ye hae got mair,\n\n     Some other dule ye dree oh.\n\n\"Oh I hae killed my father dear,\n\n          Mither, mither:\n\nOh I hae killed my father dear,\n\n          Alas! and wae is me oh!\"\n\n\n\nAnd whatten penance will ye dree for that,\n\n          Edward, Edward?\n\nAnd whatten penance will ye dree for that?\n\n          My dear son, now tell me oh.\n\n\"I'll set my feet in yonder boat,\n\n          Mither, mither:\n\nI'll set my feet in yonder boat,\n\n     And I'll fare over the sea oh.\"\n\n\n\nAnd what will ye do wi' your towers and your ha',\n\n          Edward, Edward?\n\nAnd what will ye do wi' your towers and your ha',\n\n          That were sae fair to see oh?\n\n\n\n(_dule ye dree_, woe ye die weeping.)\n\n\"I'll let them stand till they down fa',\n\n          Mither, mither:\n\nI'll let them stand till they down fa',\n\n          For here never mair maun I be oh.\"\n\n\n\nAnd what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,\n\n          Edward, Edward?\n\nAnd what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,\n\n          When ye gang over the sea oh?\n\n\n\n\"The world's room, let them beg through life,\n\n          Mither, mither:\n\nThe world's room, let them beg through life,\n\n          For them never mair will I see oh.\"\n\n\n\nAnd what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,\n\n     Edward, Edward?\n\nAnd what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,\n\n          My dear son, now tell me oh.\n\n\"The curse of hell frae me shall ye bear,\n\n          Mither, mither:\n\nThe curse of hell frae me shall ye bear,\n\n     Sic counsels ye gave to me oh.\"\n\n\n\n\nYOUNG WATERS\n\n\n|About Yule? when the wind blew cool;\n\n     And the round tables began,\n\nA' there is come to our king's court\n\n     Mony a well-favoured man.\n\n\n\nThe queen looked o'er the castle wa,\n\n     Beheld baith dale and down,\n\nAnd then she saw young Waters\n\n     Come riding to the town.\n\n\n\nHis footmen they did rin before,\n\n     His horsemen rade behind;\n\nAne mantle of the burning gowd\n\n     Did keep him frae the wind.\n\n\n\nGowden graith'd his horse before,\n\n     And siller shod behind -,\n\nThe horse young Waters rade upon\n\n     Was fleeter than the wind.\n\n\n\nOut then spake a wily lord,\n\n     Unto the queen said he:\n\n\"O tell me wh' s the fairest face\n\n     Rides in the company?\"\n\n\n\n(_graith'd_, girthed.)\n\n\"I've seen lord, and I've seen laird,\n\n     And knights of high degree,\n\nBut a fairer face than young Waters\n\n     Mine eyen did never see.\"\n\n\n\nOut then spake the jealous king\n\n     And an angry man was he:\n\n\"O if he had been twice as fair,\n\n     You might have excepted me.\"\n\n\n\n\"You're neither laird nor lord,\" she says,\n\n     \"But the king that wears the crown;\n\nThere is not a knight in fair Scotland,\n\n     But to thee maun bow down.\"\n\n\n\nFor a' that she could do or say,\n\n     Appeased he wad nae be;\n\nBut for the words which she had said,\n\n     Young Waters he maun dee.\n\n\n\nThey hae ta'en young Waters,\n\n     And put fetters to his feet;\n\nThey hae ta'en young Waters,\n\n     And thrown him in dungeon deep.\n\n\n\n\"Aft I have ridden thro' Stirling town,\n\n     In the wind but and the weet;\n\nBut I ne'er rade thro' Stirling town\n\n     Wi' fetters at my feet.\n\n\n\n\"Aft have I ridden thro' Stirling town,\n\n     In the wind but and the rain;\n\nBut I ne'er rade thro' Stirling town\n\n     Ne'er to return again.\"\n\n\n\nThey hae ta'en to the heading-hill\n\n     His young son in his cradle;\n\nAnd they hae ta'en to the heading-hill\n\n     His horse but and his saddle.\n\n\n\nThey hae taen to the heading-hill\n\n     His lady fair to see;\n\nAnd for the words the queen had spoke\n\n     Young Waters he did dee.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0130]\n\n\n\n\nCHILDREN IN THE WOOD\n\n\n|Now ponder well, you parents dear,\n\n     These words which I shall write;\n\nA doleful story you shall hear,\n\n     In time brought forth to light.\n\n\n\n(_heading_, beheading.)\n\nA gentleman of good account\n\n     In Norfolk dwelt of late,\n\nWho did in honour far surmount\n\n     Most men of his estate.\n\n\n\nSore sick he was, and like to die,\n\n     No help his life could save;\n\nHis wife by him as sick did lie,\n\n     And both possessed one grave.\n\n\n\nNo love between these two was lost,\n\n     Each was to other kind;\n\nIn love they liv'd, in love they died,\n\n     And left two babes behind:\n\n\n\nThe one a fine and pretty boy,\n\n     Not passing three years old;\n\nThe other a girl more young than he,\n\n     And fram'd in beauty's mould.\n\n\n\nThe father left his little son,\n\n     As plainly doth appear,\n\nWhen he to perfect age should come,\n\nThree hundred pounds a year.\n\n\n\nAnd to his little daughter Jane\n\n     Five hundred pounds in gold,\n\nTo be paid down on marriage-day,\n\n     Which might not be controll'd:\n\nBut if the children chance to die,\n\n     Ere they to age should come,\n\nTheir uncle should possess their wealth\n\n     For so the will did run.\n\n\n\n\"Now, brother,\" said the dying man,\n\n     \"Look to my children dear;\n\nBe good unto my boy and girl,\n\n     No friends else have they here:\n\nTo God and you I recommend\n\n     My children dear this day;\n\nBut little while be sure we have\n\n     Within this world to stay.\n\n\n\n\"You must be father and mother both,\n\n     And uncle all in one;\n\nGod knows what will become of them,\n\n     When I am dead and gone.\"\n\nWith that bespake their mother dear,\n\n     O brother kind,\" quoth she,\n\n\"You are the man must bring our babes\n\n     To wealth or misery:\n\n\n\n\"And if you keep them carefully,\n\n     Then God will you reward;\n\nBut if you otherwise should deal,\n\n     God will your deeds regard.\"\n\nWith lips as cold as any stone,\n\n     They kissed their children small:\n\n\"God bless you both, my children dear;\"\n\n     With that the tears did fall.\n\n\n\nThese speeches then their brother spake\n\n     To this sick couple there:\n\n\"The keeping of your little ones,\n\n     Sweet sister, do not fear.\n\nGod never prosper me nor mine,\n\n     Nor aught else that I have,\n\nIf I do wrong your children dear,\n\n     When you are laid in grave.\"\n\n\n\nThe parents being dead and gone,\n\n     The children home he takes,\n\nAnd brings them straight unto his house,\n\n     Where much of them he makes.\n\nHe had not kept these pretty babes\n\n     A twelvemonth and a day,\n\nBut, for their wealth, he did devise\n\n     To make them both away.\n\n\n\nHe bargain'd with two ruffians strong,\n\n     Which were of furious mood,\n\nThat they should take these children young,\n\n     And slay them in a wood.\n\nHe told his wife an artful tale.\n\n     He would the children send\n\nTo be brought up in fair London,\n\n     With one that was his friend.\n\n\n\nAway then went those pretty babes,\n\n     Rejoicing at that tide,\n\nRejoicing with a merry mind,\n\n     They should on cock-horse ride.\n\nThey prate and prattle pleasantly,\n\n     As they rode on the way,\n\nTo those that should their butchers be,\n\n     And work their lives decay:\n\n\n\nSo that the pretty speech they had,\n\n     Made Murder's heart relent:\n\nAnd they that undertook the deed,\n\n     Full sore did now repent.\n\nYet one of them more hard of heart,\n\n     Did vow to do his charge,\n\nBecause the wretch, that hired him,\n\n     Had paid him very large.\n\n\n\nThe other won't agree thereto,\n\n     So here they fall to strife;\n\nWith one another they did fight,\n\n     About the children's life:\n\nAnd he that was of mildest mood,\n\n     Did slay the other there,\n\nWithin an unfrequented wood;\n\n     The babes did quake for fear!\n\n\n\nHe took the children by the hand,\n\n     Tears standing in their eye,\n\nAnd bad them straightway follow him,\n\n     And look they did not cry:\n\nAnd two long miles he led them on,\n\n     While they for food complain:\n\n\"Stay here,\" quoth he, \"I'll bring you bread,\n\n     When I come back again.\"\n\n\n\nThese pretty babes, with hand in hand,\n\n     Went wandering up and down;\n\nBut never more could see the man\n\n     Approaching from the town:\n\nTheir pretty lips with blackberries,\n\n     Were all besmear'd and dyed,\n\nAnd when they saw the darksome night,\n\n     They sat them down and cried.\n\n\n\nThus wandered these poor innocents,\n\n     Till death did end their grief,\n\nIn one another's arms they died,\n\n     As wanting due relief:\n\nNo burial this pretty pair\n\n     Of any man receives,\n\nTill Robin-red-breast piously\n\n     Did cover them with leaves.\n\n\n\nAnd now the heavy wrath of God,\n\n     Upon their uncle fell;\n\nYea, fearful fiends did haunt his house,\n\n     His conscience felt an hell;\n\nHis barns were fir'd, his goods consum'd,\n\n     His lands were barren made,\n\nHis cattle died within the field,\n\n     And nothing with him stayed.\n\n\n\nAnd in the voyage of Portugal *\n\n     Two of his sons did die;\n\nAnd to conclude, himself was brought\n\n     To want and misery:\n\nHe pawn'd and mortgaged all his land\n\n     Ere seven years came about,\n\nAnd now at length this wicked act\n\n     Did by this means come out:\n\n\n\n*  Percy has 'to ' but Ritson points out that it should be 'of.'\n\nThe fellow, that did take in hand\n\n     These children for to kill,\n\nWas for a robbery judg'd to die,\n\n     Such was God's blessed will:\n\nWho did confess the very truth,\n\n     As here hath been display'd:\n\nTheir uncle having died in gaol,\n\n     Where he for debt was laid.\n\n\n\nYou that executors be made,\n\n     And overseers eke\n\nOf children that be fatherless,\n\n     And infants mild and meek;\n\nTake you example by this thing,\n\n     And yield to each his right,\n\nLest God with such like misery\n\n     Your wicked minds requite.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0136]\n\n\n\n\nHUGH OF LINCOLN\n\n\n|Four and twenty bonny boys\n\n     Were playing at the ba';\n\nAnd by it came him, sweet Sir Hugh,\n\n     And he play'd o'er them a'.\n\n\n\nHe kick'd the ba' with his right foot,\n\nAnd catch'd it wi' his knee;\n\nAnd through-and-through the Jew's window,\n\nHe gar'd the bonny ba' flee.\n\n\n\nHe's done him to the Jew's castle,\n\n     And walk'd it round about;\n\nAnd there he saw the Jew's daughter\n\n     At the window looking out.\n\n\n\n\"Throw down the ba', ye Jew's daughter,\n\n     Throw down the ba' to me!\"\n\n\"Never a bit,\" says the Jew's daughter,\n\n     \"Till up to me come ye.\"\n\n\n\n\"How will I come up? How can I come up?\n\n     How can I come to thee?\n\nFor as ye did to my auld father,\n\n     The same ye'll do to me.\"\n\n\n\n(_gar'd_, made.)\n\nShe's gane till her father's garden,\n\nAnd pu'd an apple, red and green;\n\n'Twas a' to wile him, sweet Sir Hugh,\n\nAnd to entice him in.\n\n\n\nShe's led him in through ae dark door,\n\n     And sae has she through nine;\n\nShe's laid him on a dressing table,\n\n     And stickit him like a swine.\n\n\n\nAnd first came out the thick, thick blood,\n\n     And syne came out the thin;\n\nAnd syne came out the bonny heart's blood;\n\n     There was nae mair within.\n\n\n\nShe's row'd him in a cake o' lead,\n\n     Bade him lie still and sleep;\n\nShe's thrown him in Our Lady's draw well,\n\n     Was fifty fathom deep.\n\n\n\nWhen bells were rung, and mass was sung,\n\n     And a' the bairns came hame,\n\nWhen every lady gat hame her son,\n\n     The Lady Maisry gat nane.\n\n\n\nShe's ta'en her mantle her about,\n\n     Her coffer by the hand;\n\nAnd she's gane out to seek her son,\n\n     And wander'd o'er the land.\n\n(_row'd_, rolled.)\n\nShe's done her to the Jew's castle,\n\n     Where a' were fast asleep;\n\n\"Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh,\n\n     I pray you to me speak.\"\n\n\n\nShe's done her to the Jew's garden,\n\n     Thought he had been gathering fruit;\n\n\"Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh,\n\n     I pray you to me speak.''\n\n\n\nShe near'd Our Lady's deep draw-well,\n\n     Was fifty fathom deep;\n\n\"Where'er ye be, my sweet Sir Hugh,\n\n     I pray you to me speak.''\n\n\n\n\"Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear;\n\n     Prepare my winding sheet;\n\nAnd, at the back o' merry Lincoln,\n\n     The morn I will you meet.\"\n\n\n\nNow Lady Maisry is gane hame;\n\n     Made him a winding sheet;\n\nAnd, at the back o' merry Lincoln,\n\n     The dead corpse did her meet.\n\n\n\nAnd a' the bells o' merry Lincoln,\n\n     Without men's hands were rung;\n\nAnd a' the books o' merry Lincoln,\n\n     Were read without man's tongue;\n\nAnd ne'er was such a burial\n\n     Sin Adam's days begun.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0140]\n\n\n\n\nSIR PATRICK SPENCE\n\n\n|The king sits in Dumferling toun,\n\n     Drinking the blude-red wine:\n\n\"O where will I get guid sailor,\n\n     To sail this ship of mine?\"\n\n\n\nUp and spak an eldern knight,\n\n     Sat at the kings right knee:\n\n\"Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor,\n\n     That sails upon the sea.\"\n\n\n\nThe king has written a braid letter,\n\n     And signed it wi' his hand,\n\nAnd sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,\n\n     Was walking on the sand.\n\n\n\nThe first line that Sir Patrick read,\n\n     A loud laugh laughed he:\n\nThe next line that Sir Patrick read,\n\n     The tear blinded his ee.\n\n\n\n\"O wha is this has done this deed,\n\n     This ill deed done to me;\n\nTo send me out this time o' the year,\n\n     To sail upon the sea?\n\n\n\n\"Mak haste, mak haste, my merry men all,\n\n     Our guid ship sails the morn.\"\n\n\"O say na sae, my master dear,\n\n     For I fear a deadly storm.\n\n\n\n\"Late late yestreen I saw the new moon\n\n     Wi' the auld moon in her arm;\n\nAnd I fear, I fear, my dear master,\n\n     That we will come to harm.\"\n\n\n\nO our Scots nobles were right loath\n\n     To wet their cork-heeled shoon;\n\nBut lang er\u00e8 a the play were playd,\n\n     Their hats they swam aboon.\n\n\n\nO lang, lang, may their ladies sit\n\nWi' their fans into their hand,\n\nOr e'er they see Sir Patrick Spence\n\n     Come sailing to the land.\n\n\n\nO lang, lang, may the ladies stand\n\n     Wi' their gold kems in their hair,\n\nWaiting for their ain dear lords,\n\n     For they'll see them na mair.\n\n\n\n(_shoon_, shoes.)\n\nHalf oer, half oer to Aberdour,\n\n     It's fifty fathom deep:\n\nAnd there lies guid Sir Patrick Spence,\n\n     Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.\n\n\n\n\nCHILD WATERS\n\n\n|Child Waters in his stable stood\n\n     And stroked his milk-white steed;\n\nTo him came a fair yong lady\n\n     As ever did wear womans weed.\n\n\n\nSays, \"Christ you save, good Child Waters,\"\n\n     Says, \"Christ you save and see;\n\nMy girdle of gold which was too long,\n\n     Is now too short for me.\n\n\n\n\"And all is with one child of yours\n\n     I feel stir at my side;\n\n(_weed_, dress.)\n\nMy gown of green it is too straight;\n\n     Before, it was too wide.\"\n\n\n\n\"If the child be mine, fair Ellen,\" he said,\n\n     \"Be mine, as you tell me,\n\nTake you Cheshire and Lancashire both,\n\n     Take them your own to be.\n\n\n\n\"If the child be mine, fair Ellen,\" he said,\n\n     \"Be mine, as you do swear,\n\nTake you Cheshire and Lancashire both,\n\n     And make that child your heir.\"\n\n\n\nShe says, \"I had rather have one kiss,\n\n     Child Waters, of thy mouth,\n\nThan I would have Cheshire and Lancashire both,\n\n     That lies by north and south.\n\n\n\n\"And I had rather have a twinkling,\n\n     Child Waters, of your ee,\n\nThan I would have Cheshire and Lancashire both,\n\n     To take them mine own to be.\"\n\n\n\n\"To morrow, Ellen, I must forth ride\n\n     Far into the north countree;\n\nThe fairest lady that I can find,\n\n     Ellen, must go with me.\"\n\n\n\n\"And ever I pray you, Child Waters,\n\n     Your foot-page let me be.\"\n\n\"If you will my foot-page be, Ellen,\n\n     As you do tell it me,\n\nThen you must cut your gown of green\n\n     An inch above your knee:\n\n\n\n\"So must you do your yellow locks,\n\n     Another inch above your ee;\n\nYou must tell no man what is my name;\n\n     My foot-page then you shall be.\"\n\n\n\nAll this long day Child Waters rode,\n\n     She ran barefoot by his side,\n\nYet he was never so courteous a knight,\n\n     To say, \"Ellen, will you ride?\"\n\n\n\nBut all this day Child Waters rode,\n\n     She ran barefoot through the broom,\n\nYet he was never so courteous a knight,\n\n     As to say, \"put on your shoon.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ride softly,\" she said, \"Child Waters\n\n     Why do you ride so fast?\n\nThe child, which is no man's but yours,\n\n     My body it will burst.\"\n\n\n\nHe says, \"sees thou yonder water, Ellen,\n\n     That flows from bank to brim?\"\n\n\"I trust to God, Child Waters,\" she said,\n\n     \"You will never see me swim.\"\n\n\n\nBut when she came to the water's side,\n\n     She sailed to the chin:\n\n\"Except the Lord of heaven be my speed,\n\n     Now must I learn to swim.\"\n\n\n\nThe salt waters bare up Ellen's clothes,\n\n     Our Lady bare up her chin;\n\nChild Waters was a woe man, good Lord,\n\n     To see fair Ellen swim!\n\n\n\nAnd when she over the water was,\n\n     She then came to his knee:\n\nHe said, \"Come hither, fair Ellen,\n\n     Lo yonder what I see.\n\n\n\n\"Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?\n\n     Of red gold shine the gates:\n\nThere's four and twenty fair ladies,\n\n     The fairest is my worldly make.\n\n\n\n\"Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?\n\n     Of red gold shineth the tower:\n\nThere is four and twenty fair ladies,\n\n     The fairest is my paramour.\"\n\n\n\n\"I do see the hall now, Child Waters,\n\n     That of red gold shineth the gates:\n\nGod give good then of yourself,\n\n     And of your worldly make.\n\n(_make_, mate.)\n\n\"I do see the hall now, Child Waters,\n\n     That of red gold shineth the tower:\n\nGod give good then of yourself,\n\n     And of your paramour.\"\n\n\n\nThere were four and twenty ladies\n\n     Were playing at the ball,\n\nAnd Ellen, was the fairest lady,\n\n     Must bring his steed to the stall.\n\n\n\nThere were four and twenty fair ladies\n\n     Was a playing at the chess,\n\nAnd Ellen, she was the fairest lady,\n\n     Must bring his horse to grass.\n\n\n\nAnd then bespake Child Waters sister,\n\n     And these were the words said she:\n\n\"You have the prettiest foot-page, brother,\n\n     That ever I saw with mine eye.\n\n\n\n\"But that his belly it is so big,\n\n     His girdle goes wondrous high;\n\nAnd ever, I pray you, Child Waters,\n\n     Let him go into the chamber with me.\"\n\n\n\n\"It is more meet for a little foot-page,\n\n     That has run through moss and mire,\n\nTo take his supper upon his knee,\n\n     And sit down by the kitchen fire,\n\nThen to go into the chamber with any lady,\n\n     That wears so [rich] attire.\"\n\n\n\nBut when they had supped every one,\n\n     To bed they took the way:\n\nHe said, \"Come hither, my little foot-page.\n\n     Hearken what I do say.\n\n\n\n\"And go thee down into yonder town,\n\n     And low into the street;\n\nThe fairest lady that thou canst find,\n\n     Hire her in mine arms to sleep;\n\nAnd take her up in thine arms two,\n\n     For filing of her feet.\"\n\n\n\nEllen is gone into the town,\n\n     And low into the street;\n\nThe fairest lady that she could find,\n\n     She hired in his arms to sleep;\n\nAnd took her up in her arms two,\n\n     For filing of her feet.\n\n\n\n\"I pray you now, good Child Waters,\n\n     That I may creep in at your bed's feet;\n\nFor there is no place about this house,\n\nWhere I may say a sleep.\"\n\n\n\nThis [night] and it drove on afterward,\n\n     Till it was near the day,\n\nHe said, \"Rise up, my little foot-page,\n\n     And give my steed corn and hay;\n\nAnd so do thou the good black oats,\n\n     That he may carry me the better away.\"\n\n(_for filing_, to keep clean.)\n\nAnd up then rose fair Ellen,\n\n     And gave his steed corn and hay;\n\nAnd so she did and the good black oats,\n\n     That he might carry him the better away.\n\n\n\nShe leaned her back to the manger side,\n\n     And grievously did groan;\n\nAnd that beheard his mother dear,\n\n     And heard her make her moan.\n\n\n\nShe said, \"Rise up, thou Child Waters,\n\n     I think thou art a cursed man;\n\nFor yonder is a ghost in thy stable,\n\n     That grievously doth groan;\n\nOr else some woman labours of child,\n\n     She is so woe-begone.\"\n\n\n\nBut up then rose Child Waters,\n\n     And did on his shirt of silk;\n\nThen he put on his other clothes,\n\n     On his body as white as milk.\n\nAnd when he came to the stable door,\n\n     Full still that he did stand,\n\nThat he might hear now fair Ellen,\n\n     How she made her monand.\n\n\n\nShe said, \"Lullaby, my own dear child,\n\n     Lullaby, dear child, dear;\n\nI would thy father were a king,\n\n     Thy mother laid on a bier.\"\n\n(_monand_, moaning.)\n\n\"Peace now,\" he said, \"good, fair Ellen,\n\n     And be of good cheer, I thee pray;\n\nAnd the bridal and the churching both\n\n     They shall be upon one day,\"\n\nEarl Richard\n\nEarl Richard once upon a day,\n\n     And all his valiant men so wight,\n\nHe did him down to Barnisdale,\n\n     Where all the land is fair and light.\n\n\n\nHe was aware of a damosel,\n\n     I wot fast on she did her bound,\n\nWith towers of gold upon her head,\n\n     As fair a woman as could be found.\n\n\n\nHe said, \"Busk on you, fair lady,\n\n     The white flowers and the red;\n\nFor I would give my bonnie ship,\n\n     To get your maidenhead.\"\n\n\"I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,\n\n     And drown you in the sea;\n\nFor all this would not mend the miss\n\n     That ye would do to me.\"\n\n\n\n\"The miss is not so great, lady,\n\n     Soon mended it might be.\n\n\"I have four-and-twenty mills in Scotland,\n\n     Stands on the water of Tay;\n\nYou'll have them, and as much flour\n\n     As they'll grind in a day.\"\n\n\n\n\"I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,\n\n     And drown you in the sea;\n\nFor all that would not mend the miss\n\n     That ye would do to me.\"\n\n\"The miss is not so great, lady,\n\n     Soon mended it will be.\n\n\n\n\"I have four-and-twenty milk-white cows,\n\n     All calved in a day;\n\nYou'll have them, and as much hained grass\n\n     As they all on can gae.\"\n\n\n\n\"I wish your bonnie ship rent and rive,\n\n     And drown you in the sea;\n\nFor all that would not mend the miss\n\n     That ye would do to me.\"\n\n\"The miss is not so great, lady,\n\n     Soon mended it might be.\n\n(_hained,_ enclosed.)\n\n\"I have four-and-twenty milk-white steeds,\n\n     All foaled in one year;\n\nYou'll have them, and as much red gold\n\n     As all their backs can bear.''\n\n\n\nShe turned her right and round about,\n\n     And she swore by the mould,\n\n\"I would not be your love,\" said she,\n\n     \"For that church full of gold.\"\n\n\n\nHe turned him right and round about,\n\n     And he swore by the mass,\n\nSays,--\"Lady, ye my love shall be,\n\n     And gold ye shall have less.\"\n\n\n\nShe turned her right and round about,\n\n     And she swore by the moon,\n\n\"I would not be your love,\" says she,\n\n     \"For all the gold in Rome.\"\n\n\n\nHe turned him right and round about,\n\n     And he swore by the moon,\n\nSays,--\"Lady, ye my love shall be,\n\n     And gold ye shall have none.\"\n\n\n\nHe caught her by the milk-white hand,\n\n     And by the grass-green sleeve;\n\nAnd there has taken his will of her,\n\n     Wholly without her leave.\n\n\n\nThe lady frowned and sadly blushed,\n\n     And oh! but she thought shame:\n\nSays,--\"If you are a knight at all,\n\n     You surely will tell me your name.\"\n\n\n\n\"In some places they call me Jack,\n\n     In other some they call me John;\n\nBut when into the Queens Court,\n\n     Oh then Lithcock it is my name.\"\n\n\n\n\"Lithcock! Lithcock!\" the lady said,\n\n     And oft she spelt it over again;\n\n\"Lithcock! its Latin,\" the lady said,\n\n     \"Richard's the English of that name.\"\n\n\n\nThe knight he rode, the lady ran,\n\n     A live long summer's day;\n\nTill they came to the wan water\n\n     That all men do call Tay.\n\n\n\nHe set his horse head to the water,\n\n     Just thro' it for to ride;\n\nAnd the lady was as ready as him\n\n     The waters for to wade.\n\n\n\nFor he had never been as kind-hearted\n\n     As to bid the lady ride;\n\nAnd she had never been so low-hearted\n\n     As for to bid him bide.\n\n\n\nBut deep into the wan water\n\n     There stands a great big stone;\n\nHe turned his wight horse head about,\n\n     Said, \"Lady fair, will ye loup on?\"\n\n\n\nShe's taken the wand was in her hand,\n\n     And struck it on the foam,\n\nAnd before he got the middle stream,\n\n     The lady was on dry land.\n\n\"By help of God and our Lady,\n\nMy help lies not in your hand.\n\n\n\n\"I learned it from my mother dear,--\n\n     Few are there that have learned better-\n\nWhen I come to deep water,\n\n     I can swim thro' like any otter.\n\n\n\n\"I learned it from my mother dear,--\n\n     I find I learned it for my weel;\n\nWhen I come to a deep water,\n\n     I can swim thro' like any eel.\"\n\n\n\n\"Turn back, turn back, you lady fair,\n\n     You know not what I see;\n\nThere is a lady in that castle,\n\n     That will burn you and me.\"\n\n\"Betide me weal, betide me wae,\n\n     That lady I will see.\"\n\n(_wight,_ active.)\n\nShe took a ring from her finger,\n\n     And gave't the porter for his fee:\n\nSays, \"Take you that, my good porter,\n\n     And bid the Queen speak to me.\"\n\n\n\nAnd when she came before the Queen,\n\n     There she fell low down on her knee:\n\nSays, \"There is a knight into your court,\n\n     This day has robbed me.\"\n\n\n\n\"O has he robbed you of your gold,\n\n     Or has he robbed you of your fee?\"\n\n\"He has not robbed me of my gold,\n\n     He has not robbed me of my fee;\n\nHe has robbed me of my maidenhead,\n\nThe fairest flower of my body.\"\n\n\n\n\"There is.no knight in all my court,\n\nThat thus has robbed thee,\n\nBut you'll have the truth of his right hand,\n\n     Or else for your sake he'll die,\n\nTho' it were Earl Richard, my own brother;\n\n     And oh forbid that it be!\"\n\nThen, sighing, said the lady fair,\n\n     \"I wot the same man is he.\"\n\n\n\nThe Queen called on her merry men,\n\n     Even fifty men and three;\n\nEarl Richard used to be the first man,\n\n     But now the hindmost man was he.\n\n\n\nHe's taken out one hundred pounds,\n\n     And told it in his glove:\n\nSays, \"Take you that, my lady fair,\n\n     And seek another love.\"\n\n\"Oh no, oh no,\" the lady cried,\n\n     \"That's what shall never be;\n\nI'll have the truth of your right hand,\n\n     The Queen it gave to me.\"\n\n\n\n\"I wish I had drunk of your water, sister,\n\n     When I did drink your wine;\n\nThat for a carl's fair daughter,\n\n     It does gar me dree all this pine.\"\n\n\"May be I am a carl's daughter,\n\n     And may be never nane;\n\nWhen ye met me in the green wood,\n\n     Why did you not let me alane?\"\n\n\n\n\"Will you wear the short clothes,\n\n     Or will you wear the side;\n\nOr will you walk to your wedding,\n\n     Or will you till it ride?\"\n\n\n\n\"I will not wear the short clothes,\n\n     But I will wear the side;\n\nI will not walk to my wedding,\n\n     But I to it will ride.\"\n\n\n\n(_carl,_ churl, _gar_, make. _dree_, mourn, _pine_, woe. _side_, long.)\n\nWhen he was set upon the horse,\n\n     The lady him bellin',\n\nThen cauld and eerie were the words\n\n     The twa had them between.\n\n\n\nShe said, \"Good e'en, ye nettles tall,\n\n     Just there where ye grow at the dike;\n\nIf the auld carline my mother was here,\n\n     Sae weel's she would your pates pike.\n\n\n\n\"How she would stap you in her poke,\n\n     I wot at that she wadna fail;\n\nAnd boil ye in her auld brass pan,\n\n     And of ye make right good kail.\n\n\n\n\"And she would meal you with millering\n\n     That she gathers at the mill,\n\nAnd make you thick as any dough -,\n\n     And when the pan was brimful,\n\n\"Would mess you up in scuttle dishes,\n\n     Syne bid us sup till we were fou -,\n\nLay down her head upon a poke.\n\n     Then sleep and snore like any sow.\"\n\n\n\n\"Away! away! you bad woman,\n\n     For all your vile words grieveth me;\n\nWhen ye hide so little for yourself,\n\n     I;m sure ye'll hide far less for me.\n\n\n\n(_pike_, pick. _stap_, stuff. _poke_, bag. _kail_, broth.\n\n_scuttle-dish_, wooden platter.)\n\n\"I wish I had drunk your water, sister,\n\n     When that I did drink of your wine -,\n\nSince for a carls fair daughter,\n\n     It aye gars me dree all this pine.\"\n\n\n\n\"May be I am a carl's daughter,\n\n     And may be never nane;\n\nWhen ye met me in the good green wood,\n\n     Why did you not let me alane?\n\n\n\n\"Gude e'en, gude e'en, ye heather berries,\n\n     As ye're growing on yon hill;\n\nIf the auld carline and her bags were here,\n\n     I wot she would get meat her fill.\n\n\n\n\"Late, late at night I knit our pokes,\n\n     With even four-and-twenty knots;\n\nAnd in the morn at breakfast time,\n\n     I'll carry the keys of an earl's locks.\n\n\n\n\"Late, late at night I knit our pokes,\n\n     With even four-and-twenty strings;\n\nAnd if you look to my white fingers,\n\n     They have as many gay gold rings.\"\n\n\n\n\"Away! away! ye ill woman,\n\n     So sore your vile words grieveth me;\n\nWhen you hide so little for yourself,\n\n     I'm sure ye'll hide far less for me.\n\n\n\n\"But if you are a carls daughter,\n\n     As I take you to be,\n\nHow did you get the gay clothing,\n\n     In green wood ye had on thee?\"\n\n\n\n\"My mother she's a poor woman,\n\n     She nursed earls children three;\n\nAnd I got them from a foster sister,\n\n     For to beguile such sparks as thee.\"\n\n\n\n\"But if you be a carl's daughter,\n\n     As I believe you be,\n\nHow did you learn the good Latin,\n\n     In green wood ye spoke to me?\"\n\n\n\n\"My mother she's a mean woman,\n\n     She nursed earl's children three;\n\nI learned it from their chaplain,\n\n     To beguile such sparks as ye.\"\n\n\n\nWhen mass was sung, and bells were rung,\n\n     And all men bound for bed,\n\nThen Earl Richard and this lady\n\n     In ae bed they were laid.\n\n\n\nHe turned his face unto the stock,\n\n     And she hers to the stane;\n\nAnd cauld and dreary was the love\n\n     That was these twa between.\n\n\n\nGreat mirth was in the kitchen,\n\n     Likewise intill the ha';\n\nBut in his bed lay Earl Richard,\n\n     Wiping the tears awa'.\n\n\n\nHe wept till he fell fast asleep,\n\nThen slept till light was come;\n\nThen he did hear the gentlemen\n\nThat talked in the room:\n\n\n\nSaid,--\"Saw ye ever a fitter'match,\n\n     Betwixt the ane and ither;\n\nThe King o' Scotland's fair dochter,\n\nAnd the Queen of England's brither?\"\n\n\"And is she the King o' Scotland's fair dochter?\n\n     This day, oh, weel is me!\n\nFor seven times has my steed been saddled,\n\n     To come to court with thee;\n\nAnd with this witty lady fair,\n\n     How happy must I be!\"\n\n\n\n\nADAM BEL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH,AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLE\n\n\n[Illustration: 0160]\n\n\n|Merry it was in green forest,\n\n     Among the leaves green,\n\nWhere that men walk east and west,\n\n     With bows and arrows keen.\n\n\n\nTo raise the deer out of their den,--\n\n     Such sights hath oft been seen,--\n\nAs by three yeomen of the north country,\n\n     By them it is I mean.\n\n\n\nThe one of them hight Adam Bel,\n\n     The other Clym of the Clough,\n\nThe third was. William of Cloudesle,\n\n     An archer good enough.\n\n\n\nThey were outlawed for venison,\n\n     These yeomen every one;\n\nThey swore them brethren upon a day,\n\n     To English-wood for to gone.\n\n\n\nNow lith and listen, gentlemen,\n\n     That of mirths loveth to hear:\n\nTwo of them were single men,\n\n     The third had a wedded fere.\n\n\n\nWilliam was the wedded man,\n\n     Much more then was his care:\n\nHe said to his brethren upon a day,\n\n     To Carlisle he would fare,\n\n\n\nFor to speak with fair Alice his wife,\n\n     And with his children three.\n\n\"By my troth,\" said Adam Bel,\n\n     \"Not by the counsel of me.\n\n\n\n\"For if ye go to Carlisle, brother.\n\n     And from this wild wood wend,\n\nIf the justice may you take,\n\n     Your life were at an end.\"\n\n\n\n(_hight_, was called. _lith_, listen. _fere_, mate.)\n\n\"If that I come not tomorrow, brother,\n\n     By prime to you again,\n\nTrust not else but that I am take,\n\n     Or else that I am slain.\"\n\n\n\nHe took his leave of his brethren two,\n\n     And to Carlisle he is gone;\n\nThere he knocked at his own window,\n\n     Shortly and anon.\n\n\n\n\"Where be you, fair Alice, my wife,\n\n     And my children three?\n\nLightly let in thine own husband,\n\n     William of Cloudesl\u00e8.\"\n\n\n\n\"Alas!\" then said fair Alice,\n\n     And sighed wondrous sore,\n\n\"This place hath been beset for you,\n\n     This half year and more.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now am I here,\" said Cloudesl\u00e8,\n\n     \"I would that I in were:--\n\nNow fetch us meat and drink enough,\n\n     And let us make good cheer.\"\n\n\n\nShe fetched him meat and drink plenty,\n\n     Like a true wedded wife,\n\nAnd pleased him with that she had,\n\n     Whom she loved as her life.\n\n\n\nThere lay an old wife in that place,\n\n     A little beside the fire,\n\nWhich William had found, of charity,\n\n     More than seven year.\n\n\n\nUp she rose and walked full still,\n\n     Evil mote she sped therefore,\n\nFor she had not set no foot on ground\n\n     In seven year before.\n\n\n\nShe went unto the justice hall,\n\n     As fast as she could hie;\n\n\"This night is come unto this town\n\n     William of Cloudesl\u00e8.\"\n\n\n\nThereof the justice was full fain,\n\n     And so was the sheriff also;\n\n\"Thou shalt not travel hither, dame, for nought,\n\n     Thy meed thou shalt have or thou go.\"\n\n\n\nThey gave to her a right good gown,\n\n     Of scarlet it was, as I heard sayen;\n\nShe took the gift and home she went,\n\n     And couched her down again.\n\n\n\nThey raised the town of merry Carlisle,\n\n     In all the haste that they can,\n\nAnd came thronging to Williams house,\n\n     As fast as they might gone.\n\n\n\n(_found--i.e._ found for, provided for. _still_, quietly)\n\nThere they beset that good yeoman,\n\n     Round about on every side,\n\nWilliam heard great noise of folks,\n\n     That hitherward they hied.\n\n\n\nAlice opened a shot-window,\n\n     And looked all about,\n\nShe was ware of the justice and sheriff both,\n\n     With a full great rout.\n\n\n\n\"Alas! treason,\" cried Alice.\n\n     \"Ever woe may thou be!\n\nGo into my chamber, my husband,\" she said,\n\n     \"Sweet William of Cloudesl\u00e8.\"\n\n\n\nHe took his sword and his buckler,\n\n     His bow and his children three,\n\nAnd went into his strongest chamber,\n\n     Where he thought surest to be.\n\n\n\nFair Alice followed him as a lover true,\n\n     With a pollaxe in her hand;\n\n\"He shall be dead that here cometh in\n\n     This door, while I may stand.\"\n\n\n\nCloudesl\u00e8 bent a well good bow,\n\n     That was of trusty tree,\n\nHe smote the justice on the breast,\n\n     That his arrow burst in three.\n\n(_shot-window_, projecting window.)\n\n\"Gods curse on his heart,\" said William,\n\n     \"This day thy coat did on;\n\nIf it had been no better than mine,\n\n     It had gone near thy bone.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yield thee, Cloudesl\u00e8,\" said the justice,\n\n     \"And thy bow and thy arrows thee fro:\"\n\n\"Gods curse on his heart,\" said fair Alice,\n\n     \"That my husband counselleth so.\"\n\n\n\n\"Set fire on the house,\" said the sheriff,\n\n     \"Sith it will no better be,\n\nAnd we burn therein William,\" he said,\n\n     \"His wife and children three.\"\n\n\n\nThey fired the house in many a place,\n\n     The fire flew up on high;\n\n\"Alas!\" then cried fair Alice,\n\n     \"I see we here shall die.\"\n\n\n\nWilliam opened his back window,\n\n     That was in his chamber on high,\n\nAnd with sheets let his wife down,\n\n     And his children three.\n\n\n\n\"Have here my treasure,\" said William,\n\n     \"My wife and my children three,\n\nFor Christ's love do them no harm,\n\n     But wreak you all on me.\"\n\n\n\nWilliam shot so wondrous well,\n\n     Till his arrows were all ygo,\n\nAnd the fire so fast upon him fell,\n\n     That his bowstring brent in two.\n\n\n\nThe spercles brent and fell him on,\n\n     Good William of Cloudesle!\n\nBut then wax he a woeful man,\n\n     And said, \"this is a coward's death to me.\n\n\n\n\"Liever I had,\" said William,\n\n     \"With my sword in the rout to renne,\n\nThen here among mine ennemies wode,\n\n     Thus cruelly to bren.\"\n\n\n\nHe took his sword and his buckler,\n\n     And among them all he ran;\n\nWhere the people were most in press,\n\n     He smote down many a man.\n\n\n\nThere might no man stand his stroke,\n\n     So fiercely on them he ran;\n\nThen they threw windows and doors on him,\n\n     And so took that good yeoman.\n\n\n\nThere they him bound both hand and foot,\n\n     And in deep dungeon him cast;\n\n\"Now, Cloudesle,\" said the high justice,\n\n     \"Thou shalt be hanged in haste.\"\n\n\n\n(_ygo_, gone, _brent_, burst and burnt, _spercles_, sparks, _renne_, run.\n\n_wode_, fierce. _press_, crowd.)\n\n\"One vow shall I make,\" said the sheriff,\n\n     \"A pair of new gallows shall I for thee make,\n\nAnd the gates of Carlisle shall be shut,\n\n     There shall no man come in thereat.\n\n\n\n\"Then shall not help Clym of the Clough,\n\n     Nor yet shall Adam Bel,\n\nThough they came with a thousand more,\n\n     Nor all the devils in hell.\"\n\n\n\nEarly in the morning the justice uprose,\n\n     To the gates first gan he gone,\n\nAnd commanded to be shut full close\n\n     Lightil\u00e8 everyone.\n\n\n\nThen went he to the market place,\n\n     As fast as he could hie;\n\nA pair of new gallows there did he up set,\n\n     Beside the pillory.\n\n\n\nA little boy stood them among,\n\n     And asked what meaned that gallow tree -,\n\nThey said, \"to hang a good yeoman,\n\n     Called William of Cloudesl\u00e8.\"\n\n\n\nThat little boy was the town swine-herd,\n\n     And kept fair Alice swine,\n\nOft he had seen Cloudesl\u00e8 in the wood,\n\n     And given him there to dine.\n\n\n\n(_lightil\u00e8,_ quickly.)\n\nHe went out at a crevice in the wall,\n\n     And lightly to the wood did gone;\n\nThere met he with these wight young men,\n\n     Shortly and anon.\n\n\n\n\"Alas!\" then said that little boy,\n\n     \"Ye tarry here all too long;\n\nCloudesle is taken and damned to death,\n\n     All ready for to hong.\"\n\n\n\n\"Alas!\" then said good Adam Bel,\n\n     \"That ever we see this day!\n\nHe might here with us have dwelled,\n\n     So oft as we did him pray!\n\n\n\n\"He might have tarried in green forest,\n\n     Under the shadows sheen,\n\nAnd have kept both him and us in rest,\n\n     Out of trouble and teen!\"\n\n\n\nAdam bent a right good bow,\n\n     A great hart soon had he slain;\n\n\"Take that, child,\" he said, \"to thy dinner,\n\n     And bring me mine arrow again.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now go we hence,\" said these wight young men,\n\n     \"Tarry we no longer here;\n\nWe shall him borrow, by God's grace,\n\n     Though we buy it full dear.\"\n\n\n\n(_teen_, woe. _borrow_, rescue.)\n\nTo Carlisle went these good yeomen,\n\n     On a merry morning of May:\n\nHere is a fit of Cloudesl\u00e8,\n\n     And another is for to say.\n\n\n\n[THE SECOND FIT.]\n\n\n|And when they came to merry Carlisle,\n\n     In a fair morning tide,\n\nThey found the gates shut them until,\n\n     Round about on every side.\n\n\n\n\"Alas!\" then said good Adam Bell,\n\n     \"That ever we were made men!\n\nThese gates be shut so wonderly well,\n\n     That we may not come here in.\"\n\n\n\nThen spake him Clym of the Clough,\n\n     \"With a wile we will us in bring;\n\nLet us say we be messengers,\n\n     Straight comen from our king.\"\n\n\n\nAdam said, \"I have a letter written well,\n\n     Now let us wisely work;\n\nWe will say we have the king's seal,\n\n     I hold the porter no clerk.\"\n\n\n\nThen Adam Bel beat on the gate,\n\n     With strokes great and strong;\n\nThe porter heard such noise thereat,\n\n     And to the gate fast he throng.\n\n\n\n(_throng,_ hurried.)\n\n\"Who is there now,\" said the porter,\n\n     \"That maketh all this knocking?\n\n\"We be two messengers,\" said Clym of the Clough,\n\n     \"Be comen straight from our king.\"\n\n\n\n\"We have a letter,\" said Adam Bel,\n\n     \"To the justice we must it bring;\n\nLet us in, our message to do,\n\n     That we were again to our king.\"\n\n\n\n\"Here cometh no man in,\" said the porter,\n\n     \"By Him that died on a tree,\n\nTill a false thief be hanged,\n\n     Called William of Cloudesl\u00e8.\n\n\n\nThen spake the good yeoman Clym of the Clough,\n\n     And swore by Mary free,\n\n\"And if that we stand long without,\n\n     Like a thief hanged shalt thou be.\n\n\n\n\"Lo here we have the kings seal;\n\n     What! lordeyne, art thou wode?\"\n\nThe porter wend it had been so,\n\n     And lightly did off his hode.\n\n\n\n\"Welcome be my lord's seal,\" he said,\n\n     \"For that ye shall come in:\"\n\nHe opened the gate full shortly,\n\n     An evil opening for him.\n\n\n\n(_free_, gracious. _lordeyne_, clown. _wode_, mad.\n\n_wend_, weened, thought. _hode_, hood.)\n\n\"Now are we in,\" said Adam Bel,\n\n     \"Thereof we are full fain,\n\nBut Christ knoweth that harrowed hell,\n\n     How we shall come out again.\"\n\n\n\n\"Had we the keys,\" said Clym of the Clough,\n\n     \"Right well then should we speed;\n\nThen might we come out well enough,\n\n     When we see time and need.\"\n\n\n\nThey called the porter to a council,\n\n     And wrang his neck in two,\n\nAnd cast him in a deep dungeon,\n\n     And took his keys him fro.\n\n\n\n\"Now am I porter,\" said Adam Bel,\n\n     \"See, brother, the keys, have we here;\n\nThe worst porter to merry Carlisle,\n\n     That ye had this hundred year.\n\n\n\n\"And now will we our bows bend,\n\n     Into the town will we go,\n\nFor to deliver our dear brother,\n\n     That liveth in care and woe.\"\n\n\n\n[And thereupon] they bent their bows,\n\n     And looked their strings were round;\n\nThe market place of merry Carlisle,\n\n     They beset in that stound.\n\n\n\nAnd as they looked them beside,\n\n     A pair of new gallows there they see,\n\nAnd the justice with a quest of swearers,\n\n     That had judged Cloudesl\u00e8 there hanged to be.\n\n\n\nAnd Cloudesl\u00e8 himself lay ready in a cart,\n\n     Fast bound both foot and hand,\n\nAnd a strong rope about his neck,\n\n     All ready for to be hanged.\n\n\n\nThe justice called to him a lad,\n\n     Cloudesl\u00e8s clothes should he have,\n\nTo take the measure of that good yeoman,\n\n     And thereafter to make his grave.\n\n\n\n\"I have seen as great a marvel,\" said Cloudesl\u00e8,\n\n     \"As between this and prime,\n\nHe that maketh this grave for me,\n\n     Himself may lie therein.\"\n\n\n\n\"Thou speakest proudly,\" said the justice,\n\n     \"I shall thee hang with my hand:\"\n\nFull well that heard his brethren-two,\n\n     There still as they did stand.\n\n\n\nThen Cloudesl\u00e8 cast his eyen aside,\n\n     And saw his two brethren stand,\n\nAt a corner of the market place,\n\n     With their good bows bent in their hand.\n\n\n\n(_quest,_ jury.)\n\n\"I see good comfort,\" said Cloudesl\u00e8,\n\n     \"Yet hope I well to fare;\n\nIf I might have my hands at will,\n\n     Right little would I care.\"\n\n\n\nThen spake good Adam Bel,\n\n     To Clym of the Clough so free,\n\n\"Brother, see ye mark the justice well,\n\n     Lo yonder ye may him see.\n\n\n\n\"And at the sheriff shoot I will,\n\n     Strongly with an arrow keen;\n\nA better shot in merry Carlisle\n\n     This seven year was not seen.\"\n\n\n\nThey loosed their arrows both at once,\n\n     Of no man had they dread;\n\nThe one hit the justice, the other the sheriff,\n\n     That both their sides gan bleed.\n\n\n\nAll men voided, that them stood nigh,\n\n     When the justice fell down to the ground,\n\nAnd the sheriff fell nigh him by,\n\n     Either had had his deaths wound.\n\nAll the citizens fast gan fly,\n\n     They durst no longer abide;\n\nThen lightly they loosed Cloudesl\u00e8,\n\n     When he with ropes lay tied.\n\n\n\nWilliam stert to an officer of the town,\n\n     His axe out of his hand he wrong,\n\nOn each side he smote them down,\n\n     Him thought he tarried all too long.\n\n\n\nWilliam said to his brethren two,\n\n     \"This day let us together live and die;\n\nIf ever you have need as I have now,\n\n     The same shall you find by me.\"\n\n\n\nThey shot so well in that tide,\n\n     For their strings were of silk full sure,\n\nThat they kept the streets on every side:\n\n     That battle did long endure.\n\n\n\nThey fought together as brethren true,\n\n     Like hardy men and bold;\n\nMany a man to the ground they threw,\n\n     And many a heart made cold.\n\n\n\nBut when their arrows were all gone,\n\n     Men pressed on them full fast;\n\nThey drew their swords then anon,\n\n     And their bows from them cast.\n\n\n\nThey went lightly on their way,\n\n     With swords and bucklers round;\n\nBy that it was the middle of the day,\n\n     They had made many a wound.\n\n\n\n(_stert,_ rushed. _wrong_, wrung. _sure_, trusty.)\n\nThere was many an out-horn in Carlisle blowen,\n\n     And the bells backward did they ring;\n\nMany a woman said alas,\n\n     And many their hands did wring.\n\n\n\nThe mayor of Carlisle forth come was,\n\n     And with him a full great rout;\n\nThese three yeomen dread him full sore,\n\n     For of their lives they stood in great doubt.\n\n\n\nThe mayor came armed a full great pace,\n\n     With a pollaxe in his hand;\n\nMany a strong man with him was,\n\n     There in that stour to stand.\n\nThe mayor smote at Cloudesle with his bill,\n\n     His buckler he burst in two;\n\nFull many a yeoman with great ill,\n\n     \"Alas, treason!\" they cried for woe.\n\n\"Keep we the gates fast,\" they bad,\n\n\"That these traitors ther\u00e9out not go.\"\n\n\n\nBut all for nought was that they wrought,\n\n     For so fast they down were laid,\n\nTill they all three, that so manfully fought,\n\n     Were gotten without at a braid.\n\n\n\n\"Have here your keys,\" said Adam Bel,\n\n     \"Mine office I here forsake;\n\nIf you do by my couns\u00e8l,\n\n     A new porter do ye make.\"\n\n\n\n(_stour_, battle. _at a braid_, in a moment.)\n\nHe threw the keys there at their heads,\n\n     And bad them evil to thrive,\n\nAnd all that letteth any good yeoman\n\n     To come and comfort his wife.\n\n\n\nThus be these good yeomen gone to the wood,\n\n     As light as leaf on lind;\n\nThey laugh and be merry in their mood,\n\n     Their enemies were far behind.\n\n\n\nWhen they came to English wood,\n\n     Under the try sty tree,\n\nThere they found bows full good,\n\n     And arrows full great plenty.\n\n\n\n\"So God me help,\" said Adam Bel,\n\n     And Clym of the Clough so free,\n\n\"I would we were now in merry Carlisle,\n\n     Before that fair meany.\"\n\n\n\nThey set them down and made good cheer,\n\n     And eat and drank full well:\n\nHere is a fit of these wight young men,\n\n     And another I shall you tell.\n\n\n\n(_letteth,_ hindereth. _lind,_ tree.\n\n_trysty tree_, trysting tree. _meany_, company.)\n\n\n\n[THE THIRD FIT.]\n\n\n|As they sat in English-wood,\n\n     Under their trysty tree,\n\nThem thought they heard a woman weep,\n\n     But her they might not see.\n\n\n\nSore then sighed the fair Alice,\n\n     And said, \"Alas that ever I saw this day!\n\nFor now is my dear husband slain,\n\n     Alas and well a way!\n\n\n\n\"Might I have spoken with his dear brethren,\n\n     Or with either of them twain,\n\n[To let them know what him befell]\n\n     My heart were out of pain!\"\n\n\n\nCloudesl\u00e8 walked a little beside,\n\n     And looked under the greenwood lind;\n\nHe was ware of his wife and children three,\n\n     Full woe in heart and mind.\n\n\n\n\"Welcome, wife,\" then said William,\n\n     \"Under this try sty tree;\n\nI had weened yesterday, by sweet saint John,\n\n     Thou should me never have see.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now well is me,\" she said, \"that ye be here,\n\n     My heart is out of woe:\"\n\n\"Dame,\" he said, \"be merry and glad,\n\n     And thank my brethren two.\"\n\n\n\n\"Hereof to speak,\" said Adam Bel,\n\n     \"I-wis it is no boot;\n\nThe meat that we must sup withal\n\n     It runneth yet fast on foot.\"\n\n\n\nThen went they down into a laund,\n\n     These noble archers all three,\n\nEach of them slew a hart of grice,\n\n     The best they could there see.\n\n[Illustration: 0178]\n\n\"Have here the best, Alice, my wife,\"\n\n     Said William of Cloudesl\u00e8,\n\n\"Because ye so boldly stood by me,\n\n     When I was slain full nigh.\n\n\n\nThen went they to supper,\n\n     With such meat as they had,\n\nAnd thanked God of their fortune;\n\n     They were both merry and glad.\n\n\n\n(_laund_, glade. _grice_, grey.)\n\nAnd when they had supped well,\n\n     Certain without any lease,\n\nCloudesle said, \"We will to our king,\n\n     To get us a charter of peace.\n\n\n\n\"Alice shall be at sojourning,\n\n     In a nunnery here beside;\n\nMy two sons shall with her go,\n\n     And there they shall abide.\n\n\n\n\"Mine eldest son shall go with me,\n\n     For him have I no care,\n\nAnd he shall bring you word again\n\n     How that we do fare.\"\n\n\n\nThus be these yeomen to London gone,\n\n     As fast as they might hie,\n\nTill they came to the kings palace,\n\n     Where they would needs be.\n\n\n\nAnd when they came to the king's court,\n\n     Unto the palace gate,\n\nOf no man would they aske no leave,\n\n     But boldly went in thereat.\n\n\n\nThey pressed prestly into the hall,\n\n     Of no man had they dread;\n\nThe porter came after and did them call,\n\n     And with them began to chide.\n\n\n\n(_lease_, lies. _prestly,_ quickly.)\n\nThe usher said, \"Yeomen, what would ye have?\n\n     I pray you tell me;\n\nYou might thus make officers shent:\n\n     Good sirs, of whence be ye?\"\n\n\n\n\"Sir, we be outlaws of the forest,\n\n     Certain without any lease,\n\nAnd hither we be come to our king,\n\n     To get us a charter of peace.\"\n\n\n\nAnd when they came before the king,\n\n     As it was the law of the land,\n\nThey kneeled down without letting,\n\n     And each held up his hand.\n\n\n\nThey said, \"Lord, we beseech thee here,\n\n     That ye will grant us grace,\n\nFor we have slain your fat fallow deer,\n\n     In many a sundry place.\"\n\n\n\n\"What be your names?\" then said our king,\n\n     \"Anon that you tell me:\"\n\nThey said, \"Adam Bel, Clym of the Clough,\n\n     And William of Cloudesl\u00e8.\"\n\n\n\n\"Be ye those thieves,\" then said our king,\n\n     \"That men have told of to me?\n\nHere to God I make a vow,\n\n     Ye shall be hanged all three.\n\n\n\n(_shent_, disgraced.)\n\nYe shall be dead without mercy,\n\n     As I am king of this land.\"\n\nHe commanded his officers everyone\n\n     Fast on them to lay hand.\n\n\n\nThere they took these good yeomen,\n\n     And arrested them all three:\n\n\"So may I thrive,\" said Adam Bel,\n\n     \"This game liketh not me.\n\n\n\n\"But, good lord, we beseech you now,\n\n     That you grant us grace,\n\nInsomuch as we be to you comen,\n\n     Or else that we may fro you pass,\n\n\n\n\"With such weapons as we have here,\n\n     Till we be out of your place;\n\nAnd if we live this hundreth year,\n\n     We will ask you no grace.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ye speak proudly,\" said the king,\n\n     \"Ye shall be hanged all three:\"\n\n\"That were great pity,\" then said the queen,\n\n     \"If any grace might be.\n\n\n\n\"My lord, when I came first into this land,\n\n     To be your wedded wife,\n\nThe first boon that I would ask,\n\n     Ye would grant it me belife;\n\n(_belife_, at once.)\n\n\"And I asked never none till now,\n\n     Therefore, good lord, grant it me.\"\n\n\"Now ask it, madam,\" said the king,\n\n     \"And granted shall it be.\"\n\n\n\n\"Then, my good lord, I you beseech,\n\n     These yeomen grant ye me:\"\n\n\"Madam, ye might have asked a boon\n\n     That should have been worth them all three.\n\n\n\n\"Ye might have asked towers and towns,\n\n     Parks and forests plenty.\"\n\n\"None so pleasant to me pay,\" she said,\n\n     \"Nor none so lief to me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Madam, sith it is your desire,\n\n     Your asking granted shall be;\n\nBut I had liefer have given you\n\n     Good market towns three.\"\n\n\n\nThe queen was a glad woman,\n\n     And said, \"Lord, gramercy;\n\nI dare undertake for them,\n\n     That true men shall they be.\n\n\n\n\"But, good lord, speak some merry word,\n\n     That comfort they may see.\"\n\n\"I grant you grace,\" then said our king,\n\n     \"Wash, fellows, and to meat go ye.\"\n\n\n\nThey had not setten but a while,\n\n     Certain without leasing,\n\nThere came messengers out of the north,\n\n     With letters to our king.\n\n\n\nAnd when they came before the king,\n\n     They kneeled down upon their knee,\n\nAnd said, \"Lord, your officers greet you well,\n\n     Of Carlisle in the north countr\u00e8.\"\n\n\n\n\"How fares my justice,\" said the king,\n\n     \"And my sheriff also?\"\n\n\"Sir, they be slain, without leasing,\n\n     And many an officer moe.\"\n\n\n\n\"Who hath them slain?\" said the king,\n\n     \"Anon thou tell me:\"\n\n\"Adam Bel, and Clym of the Clough,\n\n     And William of Cloudesl\u00e8.\"\n\n\n\n\"Alas for ruth!\" then said our king,\n\n     \"My heart is wondrous sore;\n\nI had liefer than a thousand pound,\n\n     I had known of this before.\n\n\n\n\"For I have granted them grace,\n\n     And that forthinketh me,\n\nBut had I known all this before,\n\n     They had been hanged all three.\"\n\n\n\n(_leasing_, lying. _forthinketh_, repenteth.)\n\nThe king opened the letter anon,\n\n     Himself he read it thro,\n\nAnd found how these three outlaws had slain\n\n     Three hundred men and moe.\n\n\n\nFirst the justice and the sheriff,\n\n     And the mayor of Carlisle town;\n\nOf all the constables and catchpolls\n\n     Alive were left not one.\n\n\n\nThe bailiffs and the beadle both,\n\n     And the sergeants of the law,\n\nAnd forty fosters of the fee,\n\n     These outlaws had yslaw,\n\n\n\nAnd broke his parks, and slain his deer;\n\n     Over all they chose the best;\n\nSo perilous outlaws as they were,\n\n     Walked not by east nor west.\n\n\n\nWhen the king this letter had read,\n\n     In his heart he sighed sore;\n\n\"Take up the table anon,\" he bad,\n\n     \"For I may eat no more.\"\n\n\n\nThe king called his best archers,\n\n     To the butts with him to go;\n\n\"I will see these fellows shoot,\" he said,\n\n     \"In the north have wrought this woe.\"\n\n\n\n(_catchpolls_, bumbailiffs. _fosters_, foresters.\n\n_of the fee_, in the pay of the king. _yslaw_, slain.)\n\nThe kings bowmen busk them blithe,\n\n     And the queen's archers also,\n\nSo did these three wight yeomen,\n\n     With them they thought to go.\n\n\n\nThere twice or thrice they shot about,\n\n     For to essay their hand;\n\nThere was no shot these yeomen shot,\n\n     That any prick might them stand.\n\n\n\nThen spake William of Cloudesl\u00e8,\n\n     \"By Him that for me died,\n\nI hold him never no good archer\n\n     That shooteth at butts so wide.\"\n\n\n\n\"Whereat?\" then said our king,\n\n     \"I pray thee tell me:\"\n\n\"At such a butt, sir,\" he said,\n\n     \"As men use in my countre.\"\n\n\n\nWilliam went into a field,\n\n     And his two brethren with him,\n\nThere they set up two hazel rods,\n\n     Twenty score paces between.\n\n\n\n\"I hold him an archer,\" said Cloudesl\u00e8,\n\n     \"That yonder wand cleaveth in two:\n\n\"Here is none such,\" said the king,\n\n     \"Nor none that can so do.\"\n\n\n\n(_busk_, make ready. _prick_, peg in target)\n\n\"I shall essay, sir,\" said Cloudesl\u00e8,\n\n     \"Or that I farther go:\"\n\nCloudesl\u00e8, with a bearing arrow,\n\n     Clave the wand in two.\n\n\n\n\"Thou art the best archer,\" then said the king,\n\n     \"Forsooth that ever I see\n\n\"And yet for your love,\" said William,\n\n     \"I will do more maistry.\n\n\n\n\"I have a son is seven year old,\n\n     He is to me full dear;\n\nI will him tie to a stake,\n\n     All shall see that be here;\n\n\n\n\"And lay an apple upon his head,\n\n     And go six score paces him fro,\n\nAnd I myself, with a broad arrow,\n\n     Shall cleave the apple in two.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now haste thee,\" then said the king,\n\n     \"By Him that died on a tree;\n\nBut if thou do not as thou hast said,\n\n     Hanged shalt thou be.\n\n\n\n\"And thou touch his head or gown,\n\nIn sight that men may see,\n\nBy all the saints that be in heaven,\n\nI shall hang you all three.\"\n\n\n\n(_maistry_, mastery.)\n\n\"That I have promised,\" said William,\n\n     \"I will it never forsake;\"\n\nAnd there even before the king,\n\n     In the earth he drove a stake,\n\n\n\nAnd bound thereto his eldest son,\n\n     And bad him stand still thereat,\n\nAnd turned the child's face fro him,\n\n     Because he should not start.\n\n\n\nAn apple upon his head he set,\n\n     And then his bow he bent;\n\nSix score paces they were out met,\n\n     And thither Cloudesle went.\n\n\n\nThere he drew out a fair broad arrow,\n\n     His bow was great and long,\n\nHe set that arrow in his bow,\n\n     That was both stiff and strong.\n\n\n\nHe prayed the people that was there,\n\n     That they would still stand,\n\n\"For he that shooteth for such a wager,\n\n     Behoveth a stedfast hand.\"\n\n\n\nMuch people prayed for Cloudesl\u00e8,\n\n     That his life saved might be,\n\nAnd when he made him ready to shoot,\n\n     There was many a weeping eye.\n\n\n\n(_met_, meted, measured.)\n\nThus Cloudesl\u00e8 cleft the apple in two,\n\n     That many a man might see;\n\n\"Over God's forbode,\" said the king,\n\n     \"That thou shoot at me!\n\n\n\n\"I give thee xviii. pence a day,\n\n     And my bow shalt thou bear,\n\nAnd over all the north count re,\n\n     I make thee chief rider,\"\n\n\n\n\"And I give thee xvii. pence a day,\" said the queen,\n\n     \"By God and by my fay;\n\nCome fetch thy payment when thou wilt,\n\n     No man shall say thee nay.\n\n\n\n\"William, I make thee a gentleman,\n\n     Of clothing and of fee,\n\nAnd thy two brethren yeomen of my chamber,\n\n     For they are so seemly to see.\n\n\n\n\"Your son, for he is tender of age,\n\n     Of my wine-cellar shall he be,\n\nAnd when he cometh to man's estate,\n\n     Better avaunced shall he be.\n\n\n\n\"And, William, bring me your wife,\" saidthe queen,\n\n     \"Me longeth her sore to see;\n\nShe shall be my chief gentlewoman,\n\n     To govern my nursery.\"\n\n\n\n(_fay_, faith.\n\n_Over God's forbode_, on God's prohibition, i.e. God forbid.)\n\nThe yeomen thanketh them full courteously,\n\n     And said, \"To some bishop will we wend,\n\nOf all the sins that we have done\n\n     To be assoiled at his hand.\"\n\n\n\nSo forth be gone these good yeomen,\n\n     As fast as they might hie,\n\nAnd after came and dwelled with the king,\n\n     And died good men all three.\n\n\n\nThus endeth the lives of these good yeomen,\n\n     God send them eternal bliss,\n\nAnd all that with hand bow shooteth,\n\n     That of heaven may never miss.\n\n(_assoiled_, absolved.)\n\n[Illustration: 00189]\n\n\n\n\nTHE BRAVE EARL BRAND\n\n\n[Illustration: 0190]\n\n\n|O did you ever hear o' brave Earl Bran?\n\n     Ay lally, o lilly lally!\n\nHe courted the king's daughter of fair England,\n\n     All i' the night sae early.\n\n\n\nShe was scarcely fifteen years of age,\n\nTill sae boldly she came to his bed-side.\n\n\n\n\"O, Earl Bran, fain wad I see\n\nA pack of hounds let loose on the lea.\"\n\n\n\n\"O lady, I have no steeds but one,\n\nAnd thou shalt ride, and I will run.\"\n\n\n\n\"O Earl Bran, my father has two,\n\nAnd thou shalt have the best of them a'.\"\n\n\n\nThey have ridden o'er moss and moor,\n\nAnd they met neither rich nor poor,\n\nUntil they met with old Carl Hood,\n\nHe comes for ill, but never for good.\n\n\n\n\"Earl Bran, if ye love me,\n\nSeize this old carl, and gar him die.\"\n\n\n\n\"O lady fair, it wad be sair,\n\nTo slay an old man that has grey hair.\n\n\n\n\"O lady fair, I'll no do sae,\n\nI'll gie him a pound, and let him gae.\"\n\n\n\n\"O where hae ye ridden this lee lang day,\n\nAnd where hae ye stolen this lady away?\"\n\n\n\n\"I have not ridden this lee lang day,\n\nNor yet have I stolen this lady away.\n\n\n\n\"She is my only, my sick sister,\n\nWhom I have brought from Winchester.\"\n\n\n\n\"If she be sick, and like to dead,\n\nWhy wears she the ribbon sae red?\n\n\n\n\"If she be sick, and like to die,\n\nThen why wears she the gold on high?\"\n\n\n\nThen he came to this lady's gate,\n\nSae rudely as he rapped at it.\n\n\n\n\"O where's the lady of this ha'?\"\n\n\"She's out with her maids to play at the ba'.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ha, ha, ha! ye are a' mista'en;\n\nGae count your maidens o'er again.\n\n\n\n\"I saw her far beyond the moor,\n\nAway to be the Earl o' Bran's whore.\"\n\n\n\nThe father armed fifteen of his best men,\n\nTo bring his daughter back again.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0192]\n\nO'er her left shoulder the lady looked then;\n\n\"O Earl Bran, we both are ta'en.\"\n\n\n\n\"If they come on me ane by ane,\n\nYou may stand by and see them slain.\"\n\n\n\n\"But if they come on me one and all,\n\nYou may stand by and see me fall.\"\n\n\n\nThey have come on him ane by ane,\n\nAnd he has killed them all but ane.\n\n\n\nAnd that ane came behind his back,\n\nAnd he's gi en him a deadly whack.\n\n\n\nBut for a' sae wounded as Earl Bran was,\n\nHe has set his lady on her horse.\n\n\n\nThey rode till they came to the water o' Doune,\n\nAnd then he alighted to wash his wounds.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0193]\n\n\"O Earl Bran, I see your heart's blood!\"\n\n\"Tis but the gleat o' my scarlet hood.\"\n\n\n\nThey rode till they came to his mother's gate,\n\nAnd sae rudely as he rapped at it.\n\n\n\n\"O my son's slain, my son's put down,\n\nAnd a' for the sake of an English loon.\"\n\n\n\n(_ghat_, gleam.)\n\n\"O say not sae, my dear mother,\n\nBut marry her to my youngest brother.\n\n\n\n\"This has not been the death o' ane,\n\nBut it's been that of fair seventeen.\"\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0194]\n\n\n\n\nTHE NUTBROWN MAID\n\n\n|Be it right or wrong, these men among\n\n     On women do complain,\n\nAffirming this, how that it is\n\n     A labour spent in vain\n\nTo love them weel, for never a deal\n\n     They love a man again:\n\nFor let a man do what he can\n\n     Their favour to attain,\n\nYet if a new do them pursue,\n\n     Their first true lover than\n\nLaboureth for nought, and from her thought\n\n     He is a banished man.\"\n\n\n\n(_deal_, bit. _than_, then.)\n\n\"I say not nay, but that all day\n\n     It is both writ and said,\n\nThat woman's faith is, as who saith,\n\n     All utterly decayed:\n\nBut nevertheless, right good witness\n\n     In this case might be laid,\n\nThat they love true, and continue,--\n\n     Record _the nutbrown maid_;\n\nWhich from her love, when her to prove\n\n     He came to make his moan,\n\nWould not depart, for in her heart\n\n     She loved but him alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"Then between us let us discuss\n\n     What was all the manner\n\nBetween them two; we will also\n\n     Tell all the pain and fear\n\nThat she was in; now I begin,\n\n     See that ye me answer:\n\nWherefore [all] ye that present be,\n\n     I pray you give an ear.\n\nI am the knight, I come by night,\n\n     As secret as I can,\n\nSaying 'Alas! thus standeth the case,\n\n     I am a banished man! '\"\n\n\n\n\"And I your will for to fulfill\n\n     In this will not refuse,\n\nTrusting to shew, in words few,\n\n     That men have an ill use,\n\nTo their own shame, women to blame,\n\n     And causeless them accuse:\n\nTherefore to you I answer now,\n\n     All women to excuse,\n\n'Mine own heart dear, with you what cheer?\n\n     I pray you tell anon:\n\nFor in my mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.'\"\n\n\n\n\"It standeth so: a deed is do\n\n     Whereof much harm shall grow.\n\nMy destiny is for to die\n\n     A shameful death, I trow,\n\nOr else to flee,--the one must be:\n\n     None other way I know,\n\nBut to withdraw as an outlaw,\n\n     And take me to my bow.\n\nWherefore, adieu, my own heart true,\n\n     None other red I can;\n\nFor I must to the green wood go,\n\n     Alone, a banished man.\"\n\n\"O Lord, what is this world\u00e9s bliss\n\n     That changeth as the moon!\n\nMy summer's day in lusty May\n\n     Is darked before the noon.\n\nI hear you say Farewell: nay, nay,\n\n     We depart not so soon.\n\nWhy say ye so? Whither will ye go?\n\n     Alas, what have ye done?\n\n(_red_, plan. _darked_, darkened.)\n\nAll my welfare to sorrow and care\n\n     Should change, if ye were gone:\n\nFor in my mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"I can believe it shall you grieve,\n\n     And somewhat you distrain;\n\nBut afterward your pain\u00e9s hard,\n\n     Within a day or twain,\n\nShall soon aslake, and ye shall take\n\n          Comfort to you again.\n\nWhy should ye nought? for, to make thought\n\nYour labour were in vain:\n\nAnd thus I do, and pray you, too,\n\n     As heartily as I can:\n\nFor I must to the green wood go,\n\n     Alone, a banished man.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now sith that ye have shewed to me\n\n     The secret of your mind,\n\nI shall be plain to you again,\n\n     Like as ye shall me find:\n\nSith it is so that ye will go,\n\n     I will not leave behind;\n\nShall never be said the Nutbrown Maid\n\n     Was to her love unkind.\n\nMake you ready, for so am I,\n\n     Although it were anon;\n\nFor in my mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yet I you rede to take good heed\n\n     What men will think and say -,\n\nOf young and old it shall be told,\n\n     That ye be gone away\n\nYour wanton will for to fulfil,\n\n     In green wood you to play;\n\nAnd that ye might from your delight\n\n     No longer make delay.'\n\nRather than ye should thus for me\n\n     Be called an ill woman,\n\nYet would I to the green wood go\n\n     Alone, a banished man.\"\n\n\n\n\"Though it be sung of old and young\n\n     That I should be to blame,\n\nTheirs be the charge that speak so large\n\n     In hurting of my name.\n\nFor I will prove that faithful love\n\n     It is devoid of shame,\n\nIn your distress and heaviness,\n\n     To part with you the same;\n\nAnd sure all tho that do not so,\n\n     True lovers are they none;\n\nBut in my mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"I counsel yow remember how\n\n     It is no maiden's law,\n\nNothing to doubt, but to renne out\n\n     To wood with an outlaw.\n\n(_tho_, those. _renne_, run.)\n\nFor ye must there in your hand bear\n\n     A bow to bear and draw,\n\nAnd as a thief thus must ye live,\n\n     Ever in dread and awe;\n\nBy which to yow great harm might grow;--\n\n     Yet had I liefer than\n\nThat I had to the greenwood go\n\n     Alone, a banished man.\"\n\n\n\n\"I think not nay; but, as ye say,\n\n     It is no maiden's lore;\n\nBut love may make me for your sake,\n\n     As ye have said before,\n\nTo come on foot, to hunt and shoot\n\n     To get us meat and store;\n\nFor so that I your company\n\n     May have, I ask no more;\n\nFrom which to part, it maketh mine heart\n\n     As cold as any stone:\n\nFor in my mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"For an outlaw this is the law,\n\n     That men him take and bind,\n\nWithout pity hanged to be,\n\n     And waver with the wind.\n\nIf I had need, as God forbid,\n\n     What rescue could ye find?\n\nFor sooth, I trow, you and your bow\n\n     Should draw for fear behind:\n\nAnd no merveil; for little avail\n\n     Were in your counsel than;\n\nWherefore I to the wood will go\n\n     Alone, a banished man.\"\n\n\n\n\"Full well know ye that women be\n\n     Full feeble for to fight;\n\nNo womanhead is it indeed,\n\n     To be bold as a knight.\n\nYet in such fear if that ye were,\n\n     Among enemies day and night,\n\nI would withstand, with bow in hand,\n\n     To grieve them as I might,\n\nAnd you to save, as women have,\n\n     From death many one:\n\nFor in my mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yet take good heed; for ever I dread\n\n     That ye could not sustain\n\nThe thorny ways, the deep vallies,\n\n     The snow, the frost, the rain,\n\nThe cold, the heat; for, dry or wet,\n\n          We must lodge on the plain;\n\nAnd us above none other rove\n\n     But a brake bush or twain;\n\nWhich soon should grieve you, I believe,\n\n     And ye would gladly than\n\nThat I had to the greenwood go\n\n     Alone, a banished man.\"\n\n\n\n(_than_, then. _rove_, roof.)\n\n\"Sith I have here been partinere\n\n     With you of joy and bliss,\n\nI must also part of your woe\n\n     Endure, as reason is;\n\nYet am I sure of one pleasure,\n\n     And shortly, it is this;\n\nThat where ye be, meseemth, perde,\n\n     I could not fare amiss.\n\nWithout more speech, I you beseech\n\n     That we were soon agone;\n\nFor in My mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"If ye go thither, ye must consider,\n\n     When ye have lust to dine,\n\nThere shall no meat be for to get,\n\n     Nor drink, beer, ale, ne wine;\n\nNe sheet\u00e9s clean to lie between,\n\n     Made of thread and twine:\n\nNone other house but leaves and boughs\n\n     To cover your head and mine.\n\nLo, mine heart sweet, this ill diet\n\n     Should make you pale and wan:\n\nWherefore I to the wood will go\n\n     Alone, a banished man.\"\n\n\n\n\"Among the wild deer such an archer\n\n     As men say that ye be\n\nNe may not fail of good vitail,\n\n     Where is so great plenty;\n\n(_partinere_, partner. _vitail_, victual)\n\nAnd water clear of the river\n\n     Shall be full sweet to me,\n\nWith which in hele I shall right weel\n\n     Endure, as ye shall see:\n\nAnd ere we go, a bed or two\n\n     I can provide anon;\n\nFor in my mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"Lo, yet before, ye must do more,\n\n     If ye will go with me,\n\nAs cut your hair up by your ear,\n\n     Your kirtle by the knee;\n\nWith bow in hand, for to withstand\n\n     Your enemies, if need be;\n\nAnd this same night, before daylight,\n\n     To woodward will I flee;\n\nAnd [if] ye will all this fulfill,\n\n     Do it shortly as ye can:\n\nElse will I to the greenwood go\n\n     Alone, a banished man.\"\n\n\n\n\"I shall as now do more for you\n\n     Than longeth to womanhood,\n\nTo short my hair, a bow to bear,\n\n     To shoot in time of need:\n\nO my sweet mother, before all other,\n\n     For you have I most dread!\n\nBut now, adieu! I must ensue\n\n     Where fortune doth me lead.\n\n(_hele_, health.)\n\nAll this make ye; now let us flee;\n\n     The day comes fast upon;\n\nFor in my mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go;\n\n     And I shall tell you why;\n\nYour appetite is to be light\n\n     Of love, I well espy:\n\nFor right as ye have said to me,\n\nI     n like wise, hardily,\n\nYe would answer, who so ever it were,\n\n     In way of company.\n\nIt is said of old, soon hot, soon cold,\n\n     And so is a woman;\n\nWherefore I to the wood will go\n\n     Alone, a banished man.\"\n\n\n\n\"If ye take heed, it is no need\n\n     Such words to say by me;\n\nFor oft ye prayed, and long assayed,\n\n     Or I you loved, perde.\n\nAnd though that I of ancestry\n\n     A baron's daughter be,\n\nYet have you proved how I you loved,\n\n     A squire of low degree;\n\nAnd ever shall, what so befall,\n\n     To die therefore anon;\n\nFor in my mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"A baron's child to be beguiled,\n\n     It were a cursed deed!\n\nTo be fellow with an outlaw,\n\n     Almighty God forbid!\n\nYet better were the poor squire\n\n     Alone to forest yede,\n\nThan ye shall say another day,\n\n     That by [my] wicked deed\n\nYe were betrayed; wherefore, good maid,\n\n     The best red that I can\n\nIs that I to the green wood go\n\n     Alone, a banished man.\"\n\n\n\n\"Whatsoever befall, I never shall\n\n     Of this thing you upbraid;\n\nBut if ye go, and leave me so,\n\n     Then have ye me betrayed.\n\nRemember you weel, how that ye deal,\n\n     For if ye, as ye said,\n\nBe so unkind to leave behind\n\n     Your love, the Nutbrown Maid,\n\nTrust me truly, that I shall die,\n\n     Soon after ye be gone;\n\nFor in my mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"If that ye went, ye should repent,\n\n     For in the forest now\n\nI have purveyed me of a maid\n\n     Whom I love more than you:\n\n(_yede_, went. _red_, advice.)\n\nAnother fairer than ever ye were,\n\n     I dare it well avow;\n\nAnd of you both each should be wroth\n\n     With other, as I trow.\n\nIt were mine ease to live in peace;\n\n     So will I, if I can;\n\nWherefore I to the wood will go\n\n     Alone, a banished man.\"\n\n\n\n\"Though in the wood I understood\n\n     Ye had a paramour,\n\nAll this may nought remove my thought,\n\n     But that I will be your;\n\nAnd she shall find me soft and kind\n\n     And courteous every hour,\n\nGlad to fulfill all that she will\n\n     Command me to my power;\n\nFor had ye, lope, an hundred moe\n\n     Yet would I be that one.\n\nFor in my mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"Mine own dear love, I see the prove\n\n     That ye be kind and true;\n\nOf maid and wife, in all my life,\n\n     The best that ever I knew.\n\nBe merry and glad, be no more sad,\n\n     The case is changed new;\n\nFor it were ruth that for your truth\n\n     You should have cause to rue.\n\n(_lo'e,_ love.)\n\nBe not dismayed: whatsoever I said\n\n     To you when I began,\n\nI will not to the green wood go;\n\n     I am no banished man.\"\n\n\n\n\"This tidings be more glad to me\n\n     Than to be made a queen,\n\nIf I were sure they should endure,\n\n     But it is often seen,\n\nWhen men will break promise, they speak\n\n     The word\u00e9s on the spleen.\n\nYe shape some wile me to beguile,\n\n     And steal fro me, I ween;\n\nThen were the case worse than it was,\n\n     And I more woe-begone;\n\nFor in my mind, of all mankind\n\n     I love but you alone.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ye shall not need further to dread:\n\n     I will not disparage\n\nYou, God defend! sith you descend\n\n     Of so great a lineage.\n\nNow understand, to Westmoreland,\n\n     Which is my heritage,\n\nI will you bring, and with a ring,\n\n     By way of marriage,\n\nI will you take, and lady make,\n\n     As shortly as I can:\n\nThus have ye won an earl\u00e9s son,\n\n     And not a banished man.\"\n\n\n\nHere may ye see that women be\n\n     In love meek, kind, and stable:\n\nLet never man reprove them than,\n\n     Or call them variable;\n\nBut rather pray God, that we may\n\n     To them be comfortable,\n\nWhich sometime proveth such as loveth,\n\n     If they be charitable;\n\nFor sith men would that women should\n\n     Be meek to them each one,\n\nMuch more ought they to God obey,\n\n     And serve but Him alone.\n\n[Illustration: 0207]\n\n[Illustration: 0208]\n\n\n\n\nROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE\n\n\n|When shaws been sheen, and shrads full fair,\n\n     And leaves both large and long,\n\nIt is merry walking in the fair forr\u00e8st,\n\n     To hear the small bird's song.\n\nThe woodweel sang, and would not cease,\n\n     Among the leaves o' line;\n\nAnd it is by two wight yeomen,\n\n     By dear God, that I mean.  *\n\n(_shaws_ wood. _sheen,_ bright.\n\n_shrad,_ an opening in a wood. _line,_ tree.)\n\n*  The lost stanza probably states that Robin Hood is having a dream.\n\n\"Methought they did me beat and bind,\n\n     And took my bow me fro;\n\nIf I be Robin alive in this land,\n\n     I'll be wroken on them two.\"\n\n\n\n\"Swevens are swift, master,\" quoth John,\n\n     \"As the wind that blows o'er a hill;\n\nFor if it be never so loud this night,\n\n     To-morrow it may be still.\"\n\n\n\n\"Busk ye, boun ye, my merry men all,\n\n     For John shall go with me,\n\nFor I'll go seek yond wight yeomen,\n\n     In greenwood where they be.\"\n\n\n\nThey cast on their gowns of green,\n\n     A shooting gone are they;\n\nUntil they came to the merry greenwood,\n\n     Where they had gladdest be;\n\n\n\nThere were they ware of [a] wight yeoman,\n\n     His body leaned to a tree.\n\nA sword and a dagger he wore by his side,\n\n     Had been many a mans bane;\n\nAnd he was clad in his capull hide,\n\n     Top and tail and mane.\n\n\n\n(_wroken_, revenged. _swevens_, dreams.\n\n_boun_, make ready. _capull_, horse.)\n\n\"Stand you still, master,\" quoth Little John,\n\n     \"Under this trusty tree,\n\nAnd I will go to yond wight yeoman,\n\n     To know his meaning truly.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ah! John, by me thou sets no store,\n\n     And that's a farley thing:\n\n'How oft send I my men before,\n\n     And tarry myself behind?\n\n\n\n\"It is no cunning a knave to ken,\n\n     And a man but hear him speak;\n\nAnd it were not for bursting of my bow,\n\n     John, I would thy head break.\"\n\n\n\nBut often words they breeden bale,\n\n     That parted Robin and John;\n\nJohn is gone to Barnesdale;\n\n     The gates he knows each one.\n\n\n\nAnd when he came to Barnesdale,\n\n     Great heaviness there he had,\n\nHe found two of his own fellows,\n\n     Were slain both in a slade.\n\n\n\nAnd Scarlet a-foot flying was\n\n     Over stocks and stone,\n\nFor the sheriff with seven score men\n\n     Fast after him is gone.\n\n\n\n(_farley_, strange. _bale_, mischief or sorrow. _slade_, valley.)\n\n\"Yet one shot I'll shoot,\" says Little John,\n\n     \"With Christ his might and main;\n\nI'll make yond fellow that flies so fast,\n\n     To be both glad and fain.\"\n\n\n\nJohn bent up a good yew bow,\n\n     And fettled him to shoot:\n\nThe bow was made of a tender bough,\n\n     And fell down to his foot.\n\n\n\n\"Woe worth thee, wicked wood,\" said Little John,\n\n     \"That ere thou grew on a tree!\n\nFor this day thou art my bale,\n\n     My boot when thou should be.\"\n\n\n\nThis shot it was but loosely shot,\n\n     The arrow flew in vain,\n\nAnd it met one of the sheriffs men,\n\n     Good William a Trent was slain.\n\n\n\nIt had been better for William a Trent\n\n     To have been upon a gallow,\n\nThan for to lie in the greenwood\n\n     There slain with an arrow.\n\n\n\nAnd it is said, when men be met\n\n     Six can do more than three,\n\nAnd they have taen Little John,\n\n     And bound him fast to a tree.\n\n\n\n(_fettled_, made ready.)\n\n\"Thou shalt be drawn by dale and down,\" quoth the sheriff,\n\n     \"And hanged high on a hill;\"\n\n\"But thou may fail,\" quoth John,\n\n     \"If it be Christs own will.\"\n\n\n\nLet us leave talking of Little John,\n\n     For he is bound fast to a tree,\n\nAnd talk of Guy and Robin Hood,\n\n     In the green wood where they be.\n\n\n\nHow these two yeomen together they met,\n\n     Under the leaves of line,\n\n     To see what merchandise they made,\n\nEven at that same time.\n\n\n\n\"Good morrow, good fellow,\" quoth Sir Guy,\n\n     \"Good morrow, good fellow,\" quoth he:\n\n\"Methinks by this bow thou bears in thy hand,\n\n     A good archer thou seems to be.\n\n\n\n\"I am wilful of my way,\" quoth Sir Guy,\n\n     \"And of my morning tide:\"\n\n\"I'll lead thee through the wood,\"quoth Robin,\n\n     \"Good fellow, I'll be thy guide.\"\n\n\n\n\"I seek an outlaw,\" quoth Sir Guy,\n\n     \"Men call him Robin Hood:\n\nI'd rather meet with him upon a day,\n\n     Than forty pound of gold.\"\n\n\n\n(_line_, tree.)\n\n\"If you two met, it would be seen whether were better,\n\n     Afore ye did part away;\n\nLet us some other pastime find,\n\n     Good fellow, I thee pray.\n\n\n\n\"Let us some masteries make,\n\n     And we will walk in the woods even;\n\nWe may chance meet with Robin Hood\n\n     Here at some unset steven.\"\n\n\n\nThey cut them down two summer shrogs,\n\n     Which grew both under a briar,\n\nAnd set them threescore rood in twin,\n\n     To shoot the pricks full near.\n\n\n\n\"Lead on, good fellow,\" said Sir Guy,\n\n     \"Lead on, I do bid thee;\"\n\n\"Nay, by my faith,\" quoth Robin Hood,\n\n     \"The leader thou shalt be.\"\n\n\n\nThe first good shot that Robin led\n\n     Did not shoot an inch the prick fro';\n\nGuy was an archer good enough,\n\n     But he could ne er shoot so.\n\n\n\n(_unset steven_, unappointed time.\n\n_shrogs_, shrubs.\n\n_in twin_, apart.)\n\nThe second shot Sir Guy shot,\n\n     He shot within the garland;\n\nBut Robin Hood shot it better than he,\n\n     For he clove the good prick-wand.\n\n\n\n\"God's blessing on thy heart,\" says Guy,\n\n     \"Good fellow, thy shooting is good;\n\nFor an thy heart be as good as thy hand\n\n     Thou were better then Robin Hood.\n\n\n\n\"Tell me thy name, good fellow,\" quoth Guy,\n\n     \"Under the leaves of line;\"\n\n\"Nay, by my faith,\" quoth good Robin,\n\n     \"Till thou have told me thine.\"\n\n\n\n\"I dwell by dale and down,\" quoth Guy,\n\n     \"And I have done many a cursed turn;\n\nAnd he that calls me by my right name,\n\n     Calls me Guy of good Gisborne.\"\n\n\n\n\"My dwelling is in the wood,\" says Robin,\n\n     \"By thee I set right nought:\n\nI am Robin Hood of Barn\u00e9sdale,\n\n     A fellow thou has long sought.\"\n\n\n\nHe that had neither been a kith nor kin\n\n     Might have seen a full fair fight,\n\nTo see how together these yeomen went\n\n     With blades both brown and bright:\n\n\n\nTo have seen how these yeomen together fought\n\n     Two hours of a summers day,\n\nIt was neither Guy nor Robin Hood\n\n     That fettled them to fly away.\n\n\n\nRobin was reachless on a root,\n\n     And stumbled at that tide;\n\nAnd Guy was quick and nimble withal,\n\n     And hit him o'er the left side.\n\n\"Ah, dear Lady,\" said Robin Hood,\n\n     \"Thou art both mother and may;\n\nI think it was never man's destiny\n\n     To die before his day.\"\n\n\n\nRobin thought on our lady dear,\n\n     And soon leapt up again,\n\nAnd thus he came with an awkward stroke,\n\n     Good Sir Guy he hath slain.\n\n\n\nHe took Sir Guy's head by the hair,\n\n     And sticked it on his bow's end:\n\n\"Thou hast been traitor all thy life,\n\n     Which thing must have an end.\"\n\n\n\nRobin pulled forth an Irish knife,\n\n     And nicked Sir Guy in the face,\n\nThat he was never on woman born\n\n     Could tell who Sir Guy was.\n\n\n\n(_reachless_, reckless.)\n\nSays, \"Lie there, lie there, good Sir Guy,\n\n     And with me be not wroth;\n\nIf thou have had the worse strokes at my hand,\n\n     Thou shalt have the better cloth.\"\n\n\n\nRobin did off his gown of green,\n\n     [On] Sir Guy he did it throw,\n\nAnd he put on that capull hide,\n\n     That clad him top to toe.\n\n\n\n\"The bow, the arrows, and little horn,\n\n     And with me now I'll bear;\n\nFor I will go to Barnesdale,\n\n     To see how my men do fare.\"\n\n\n\nRobin Hood set Guy's horn to his mouth,\n\n     And a loud blast in it he did blow:\n\nThat beheard the sheriff of Nottingham,\n\n     As he leaned under a lowe.\n\n\n\n\"Hearken, hearken,\" said the sheriff,\n\n     \"I heard no tidings but good,\n\nFor yonder I hear Sir Guy's horn blow,\n\n     For he hath slain Robin Hood.\n\n\n\n\"For yonder I hear Sir Guys horn blow,\n\n     It blows so well in tide,\n\nFor yonder comes that wight yeoman,\n\n     Clad in his capull hide.\n\n\n\n(_lowef_, small hill.)\n\n\"Come hither, thou good Sir Guy,\n\n     Ask of me what thou wilt:\"\n\n\"I'll have none of thy gold,\" says Robin Hood,\n\n     \"Nor I'll none of it have.\n\n\n\n\"But now I have slain the master,\" he said,\n\n     \"Let me go strike the knave;\n\nThis is all the reward I ask,\n\n     Nor no other will I have.\"\n\n\n\n\"Thou art a madman,\" said the sheriff,\n\n     \"Thou shouldest have had a knight's fee;\n\nSeeing thy asking hath been so bad,\n\n     Well granted it shall be.\"\n\n\n\nBut Little John heard his master speak,\n\n     Well he knew that was his steven;\n\n\"Now shall I be loosed,\" quoth Little John,\n\n     \"With Christ's might in heaven.\"\n\n\n\nBut Robin he hied him towards Little John,\n\n     He thought he would loose him belive:\n\nThe sheriff and all his company\n\n     Fast after him did drive.\n\n\n\n\"Stand aback, stand aback,\" said Robin,\n\n     \"Why draw you me so near?\n\nIt was never the use in our country,\n\n     Ones shrift another should hear.\"\n\n\n\n(_steven_, voice. _belive_, quickly.)\n\nBut Robin pulled forth an Irish knife,\n\n     And loosed John hand and foot,\n\nAnd gave him Sir Guy's bow in his hand,\n\n     And bade it be his boot.\n\n\n\nBut John took Guy's bow in his hand,\n\n     His arrows were rusty by the root:\n\nThe sheriff saw Little John draw a bow,\n\n     And fettle him to shoot.\n\n\n\nTowards his house in Nottingham\n\n     He fled full fast away,\n\nAnd so did all his company,\n\n     Not one behind did stay.\n\n\n\nBut he could neither so fast go,\n\n     Nor away so fast run,\n\nBut Little John with an arrow broad\n\n     Did cleave his heart in twin.\n\n\n\n\nOLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE\n\n\n|God let never so old a man\n\n     Marry so young a wife,\n\nAs did old Robin of Portingale;\n\n     He may rue all the days of his life.\n\n(_fettle_, make ready.)\n\nFor the mayor's daughter of Lynn, God wot,\n\n     He chose her to his wife,\n\nAnd thought to have lived in quietness,\n\n     With her all the days of his life.\n\n\n\nThey had not in their wed-bed laid,\n\n     Scarcely were both on sleep,\n\nBut up she rose, and forth she goes,\n\n     To Sir Gyles, and fast can weep.\n\n\n\nSays, \"Sleep you, wake you, fair Sir Gyles?\n\n     Or be you not within?\n\n[Sleep you, wake you, fair Sir Gyles,\n\n     Arise and let me in.\"]\n\n\n\n\"But I am waking, sweet,\" he said,\n\n     \"Lady, what is your will?\"\n\n\"I have unbethought me of a wile\n\n     How my wed lord we shall spill.\n\n\n\n\"Four and twenty knights,\" she says,\n\n     \"That dwells about this town,\n\nE en four and twenty of my next cousins\n\n     Will help to ding him down.\"\n\n\n\nWith that beheard his little footpage,\n\n     As he was watering his master's steed;\n\n     [And for his master's sad peril]\n\nHis very heart did bleed.\n\n\n\n(_ding_, knock.)\n\nHe mourned, sighed, and wept full sore;\n\nI swear by the holy rood,\n\nThe tears he for his master wept\n\nWere blend water and blood.\n\n\n\nWith that beheard his dear master\n\nAs [he] in his garden sat:\n\nSays, \"Ever alack, my little page,\n\nWhat causes thee to weep?\n\n\n\n\"Hath any one done to thee wrong,\n\n     Any of thy fellows here?\n\nOr is any of thy good friends dead,\n\n     Which makes thee shed such tears?\n\n\n\n\"Or, if it be my head cook's-man,\n\nGrieved again he shall be:\n\nNor no man within my house\n\nShall do wrong unto thee.\"\n\n\n\n\"But it is not your head cook's-man,\n\n     Nor none of his degree:\n\nBut, for to-morrow ere it be noon\n\n     You are deemed to die:\n\n\n\n\"And of that thank your head steward,\n\n     And after, your gay lady.\"\n\n\"If it be true, my little foot-page,\n\n     I'll make thee heir of all my land.\"\n\n\n\n(_deemed_, doomed.)\n\n\"If it be not true, my dear master,\n\n     God let me never the:\"\n\n\"If it be not true, thou little foot-page,\n\n     A dead corse shalt thou be.\"\n\n\n\nHe called down his head cooks-man,\n\n     Cook in kitchen supper to dress:\n\n\"All and anon, my dear master,\n\n     Anon at your request.\"\n\n\n\n\"And call you down my fair lady\n\n     This night to sup with me.\"\n\n\n\nAnd down then came that fair lady,\n\n     Was clad all in purple and pall:\n\nThe rings that were upon her fingers,\n\n     Cast light thorow the hall.\n\n\n\n\"What is your will, my own wed lord?\n\n     What is your will with me?\"\n\n\"I am sick, fair lady,\n\n     Sore sick and like to die.\"\n\n\n\n\"But and you be sick, my own wed lord,\n\n     So sore it grieveth me:\n\nBut my five maidens and myself\n\n     Will go and make your bed.\n\n\n\n\"And at the wakening of your first sleep,\n\n     You shall have a hot drink made;\n\nAnd at the wakening of your next sleep\n\n     Your sorrows will have a slake.\"\n\n\n\n(_the_, prosper.)\n\nHe put a silk coat on his back,\n\n     Was thirteen inches fold;\n\nAnd put a steel cap upon his head,\n\n     Was gilded with good red gold.\n\n\n\nAnd he laid a bright brown sword by his side,\n\n     And another at his feet:\n\nAnd full well knew old Robin then\n\n     Whether he should wake or sleep.\n\n\n\nAnd about the middle time of the night,\n\n     Came twenty-four good knights;\n\nSir Gyles he was the foremost man,\n\n     So well he knew that gin.\n\n\n\nOld Robin with a bright brown sword,\n\n     Sir Gyles' head he did win;\n\nSo did he all those twenty-four\n\nNever a one went quick out [agen].\n\n\n\nNone but one little foot-page,\n\n     Crept forth at a window of stone;\n\nAnd he had two arms when he came in,\n\n     And [when he went out he had none].\n\n\n\nUp then came that lady gay,\n\n     With torches burning bright;\n\nShe thought to have brought Sir Gyles a drink,\n\n     But she found her own wed knight.\n\n\n\n(_gin_, trick.)\n\nAnd the first thing that this lady stumbled upon\n\n     Was of Sir Gyles his foot'\n\nSays, \"Ever alack, and woe is me!\n\n     Here lies my sweet heart-root.\"\n\n\n\nAnd the second thing that this lady stumbled on\n\n     Was of Sir Gyles his head;\n\nSays, \"Ever alack, and woe is me!\n\n     Here lies my true love dead.\"\n\n\n\nHe cut the paps beside her breast,\n\n     And bade her wish her will;\n\nAnd he cut the ears beside her head\n\n     And bade her wish on still.\n\n\n\nMickle is the man's blood I have spent,\n\n     To do thee and me some good;\n\nSays, \"Ever alack, my fair lady,\n\n     I think that I was wood!\"\n\n\n\nHe called then up his little foot-page,\n\n     And made him heir of all his land;\n\nAnd he shope the cross on his right shoulder,\n\n     Of the white flesh and the red,\n\nAnd he went him into the holy land,\n\n     Whereas Christ was quick and dead.\n\n\n\n(_shope_, shaped, cut. _wood_, mad.)\n\n[Illustration: 08224]\n\n\n\n\nCAPTAIN CAR, OR EDOM O' GORDON.\n\n\n|It befell at Martinmas\n\n     When weather waxed cold,\n\nCaptain Car said to his men,\n\n     \"We must go take a hold.\"\n\n\n\nSick, sick, and too-too sick,\n\n     And sick and like to die;\n\nThe sickest night that ever I abode,\n\n     God Lord have mercy on me.\n\n\n\n\"Hail, master, and whither you will,\n\n     And whither ye like it best.\"\n\n\"To the castle of Craickernbrough;\n\n     And there we will take our rest.\n\n\n\n\"I know where is a gay castle,\n\n     Is builded of lime and stone,\n\nWithin there is a gay lady,\n\n     Her lord is ridden and gone.\"\n\n\n\nThe lady she leaned on her castle-wall,\n\n     She looked up and down;\n\nThere was she ware of an host of men,\n\n     Come riding to the town.\n\n\n\n\"See now, my merry men all,\n\n     And see you what I see;\n\nYonder I see an host of men,\n\n     I muse who they be.\"\n\n\n\nShe thought he had been her wed lord,\n\n     As he comed riding home;\n\nThen was it traitor Captain Car,\n\n     The lord of Ester-town.\n\n\n\nThey were no sooner at supper set,\n\n     Then after said the grace,\n\nOr Captain Car and all his men\n\n     Were light about the place.\n\n\n\n\"Give over this house, thou lady gay,\n\n     And I will make thee a band;\n\nTo-night thou shall lie within my arms,\n\n     To-morrow thou shall heir my land.\"\n\n\n\nThen bespake the eldest son,\n\n     That was both white and red,\n\n\"O mother dear, give over your house,\n\n     Or else we shall be dead.\"\n\n\n\n\"I will not give over my house,\" she saith,\n\n     \"Not for fear of my life;\n\nIt shall be talked throughout the land,\n\n     The slaughter of a wife.\n\n\n\n\"Fetch me my pestilet,\n\nAnd charge me my gun,\n\nThat I may shoot at yonder bloody butcher,\n\n     The lord of Ester-town.\"\n\n\n\nStiffly upon her wall she stood,\n\n     And let the pellets flee,\n\nBut then she missed the bloody butcher,\n\n     And she slew other three.\n\n\n\n\"[I will] not give over my house,\" she saith,\n\n     \"Neither for lord nor loon,\n\nNor yet for traitor Captain Car,\n\n     The lord of Ester-town.\n\n\n\n(_band_, bond. _pestilet_, pistols.)\n\n\"I desire of Captain Car,\n\n     And all his bloody band,\n\nThat he would save my eldest son,\n\n     The heir of all my land.\"\n\n\n\n\"Lap him in a sheet,\" he saith,\n\n     \"And let him down to me,\n\nAnd I shall take him in my arms,\n\n     His warrant shall I be.\"\n\n\n\nThe captain said unto himself,\n\n     With speed before the rest;\n\nHe cut his tongue out of his head,\n\n     His heart out of his brest.\n\n\n\nHe lapt them in a handerchief,\n\n     And knit it of knots three,\n\nAnd cast them over the castle-wall\n\n     At that gay lady.\n\n\n\n\"Fie upon thee, Captain Car,\n\n     And all thy bloody band,\n\nFor thou hast slain my eldest son,\n\n     The heir of all my land.\"\n\n\n\nThen bespake the youngest son,\n\n     That sat on the nurses knee,\n\nSaith, \"Mother gay, give over your house,\n\n     It smouldereth me.\"\n\n\n\n\"I would give my gold,\" she saith,\n\n     \"And so I would my fee,\n\nFor a blast of the western wind\n\n     To drive the smoke from thee.\n\n\n\n\"Fie upon thee, John Hamilton,\n\n     That ever I paid thee hire,\n\nFor thou hast broken my castle-wall,\n\n     And kindled in the fire.\"\n\n\n\nThe lady gat to her close parlor,\n\n     The fire fell about her head;\n\nShe took up her children three,\n\n     Saith, \"Babes, we are all dead.\"\n\n\n\nThen bespake the high steward,\n\n     That is of high degree;\n\nSaith, \"Lady gay, you are enclosed,\n\n     Whether ye fight or flee.\"\n\n\n\nLord Hamilton dreamed in his dream,\n\n     In Carvall where he lay,\n\n     His hall was all of fire,\n\nHis lady slain or day.\n\n\n\n\"Busk and boun, my merry men all,\n\n     Even and go ye with me,\n\nFor I dreamed that my hall was on fire\n\n     My lady slain or day.\"\n\n\n\n(_or day_, before day.)\n\nHe busked him and bouned him,\n\n     And like a worthy knight,\n\nAnd when he saw his hall burning,\n\n     His heart was no deal light.\n\n\n\nHe set a trumpet till his mouth,\n\n     He blew as it pleased his grace;\n\nTwenty score of Hamiltons\n\n     Was light about the place.\n\n\n\n\"Had I known as much yesternight\n\n     As I do to-day,\n\nCaptain Car and all his men\n\n     Should not have gone so quite [away|.\n\n\n\n\"Fie upon thee, Captain Car,\n\n     And all thy bloody band;\n\nThou hast slain my lady gay,\n\n     More worth then all thy land.\n\n\n\n\"If thou had ought any ill will,\" he saith,\n\n     \"Thou should have taken my life,\n\nAnd have saved my children three,\n\n     All and my lovesome wife.\"\n\n\n\n(_bouned_, prepared.)\n\n\n\n\nTHE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE\n\n\n|It fell about the Lammas tide,\n\n     When the muir-men win their hay,\n\nThe doughty Douglas bouned him to ride\n\n     Into England, to drive a prey.\n\n\n\nHe chose the Gordons and the Graemes,\n\n     With them the Lindsays, light and gay;\n\nBut the Jardines wad not with him ride,\n\n     And they rue it to this day.\n\n\n\nAnd he has burn'd the dales of Tyne,\n\n     And part of Bambroughshire;\n\nAnd three good towers on Reidswire fells,\n\n     He left them all on fire.\n\n\n\nAnd he march'd up to Newcastle,\n\n     And rode it round about;\n\n\"O wha's the lord of this castle,\n\n     Or wha's the lady o't?\"\n\n\n\nBut up spake proud Lord Percy then,\n\n     And O but he spake high!\n\n\"I am the lord of this castle,\n\n     My wife's the lady gay.\"\n\n\n\n(_muir_, moor. _win_, make.)\n\n\"If thou'rt the lord of this castle,\n\n     Sae weel it pleases me!\n\nFor, ere I cross the Border fells,\n\n     The tane of us shall die.\"\n\n\n\nHe took a lang spear in his hand,\n\n     Shod with the metal free,\n\nAnd for to meet the Douglas there,\n\n     He rode right furiously.\n\n\n\nBut O how pale his lady look'd,\n\n     Frae aff the castle wa,\n\nWhen down before the Scottish spear\n\n     She saw proud Percy fa'.\n\n\n\n\"Had we twa been upon the green,\n\n     And never an eye to see,\n\nI wad hae had you, flesh and fell;\n\n     But your sword sall gae wi' me.\"\n\n\n\n\"But gae ye up to Otterbourne,\n\n     And wait there day\u00e9s three;\n\nAnd if I come not ere three day\u00e9s end,\n\n     A fause knight ca' ye me.\"\n\n\n\n\"The Otterbourne's a bonnie burn;\n\n     'Tis pleasant there to be;\n\nBut there is nought at Otterbourne,\n\n     To feed my men and me.\n\n\n\n(_free_, precious.)\n\n\"The deer rins wild on hill and dale,\n\n     The birds fly wild from tree to tree;\n\nBut there is neither bread nor kale,\n\n     To fend my men and me.\n\n\n\n\"Yet I will stay at Otterbourne,\n\n     Where you shall welcome be;\n\nAnd if ye come not at three days end,\n\n     A fause lord I'll ca' thee.\"\n\n\n\n\"Thither will I come,\" proud Percy said,\n\n     \"By the might of Our Lady!\"\n\n\"There will I bide thee,\" said the Douglas,\n\n     \"My troth I plight to thee.\"\n\n\n\nThey lighted high on Otterbourne,\n\n     Upon the bent sae brown;\n\nThey lighted high on Otterbourne,\n\n     And threw their pallions down.\n\n\n\nAnd he that had a bonnie boy,\n\n     Sent out his horse to grass;\n\nAnd he that had not a bonnie boy,\n\n     His ain servant he was.\n\n\n\nBut up then spake a little page,\n\n     Before the peep of dawn--\n\n\"O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,\n\n     For Percy's hard at hand.\"\n\n\n\n(_kale_, broth. _fend_, keep, support.\n\n_bent_, field. _pallions_, pavilions, tents.)\n\n\"Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud!\n\n     Sae loud I hear ye lie:\n\nFor Percy had not men yestreen\n\n     To dight my men and me.\n\n\n\n\"But I have dream'd a dreary dream,\n\n     Beyond the 'Isle of Sky;\n\nI saw a dead man win a fight,\n\n     And I think that man was I.\"\n\n\n\nHe belted on his guid braid sword,\n\n     And to the field he ran;\n\nBut he forgot the helmet good,\n\n     That should have kept his brain.\n\n\n\nWhen Percy wi' the Douglas met,\n\n     I wat he was fu' fain;\n\nThey swakked their swords, till sair they swat,\n\n     And the blood ran down like rain.\n\n\n\nBut Percy with his guid braid sword,\n\n     That could so sharply wound,\n\nHas wounded Douglas on the brow,\n\n     Till he fell to the ground.\n\n\n\nThen he called on his little foot-page,\n\n     And said--\"Run speedily,\n\nAnd fetch my ain dear sister's son,\n\n     Sir Hugh Montgomery.\n\n\n\n(_swakked_, smote.)\n\n\"My nephew good,\" the Douglas said,\n\n     \"What recks the death of ane!\n\nLast night I dream'd a dreary dream,\n\n     And I ken the day's thy ain.\n\n\n\n\"My wound is deep; I fain would sleep;\n\n     Take thou the vanguard of the three,\n\nAnd hide me by the bracken bush,\n\n     That grows on yonder lily lea.\n\n\n\n\"O bury me by the bracken bush,\n\n     Beneath the blooming briar,\n\nLet never living mortal ken\n\n     That ere a kindly Scot lies here.\"\n\n\n\nHe lifted up that noble lord,\n\n     Wi' the saut tear in his ee;\n\nHe hid him in the bracken bush,\n\n     That his merry-men might not see.\n\n\n\nThe moon was clear, the day drew near,\n\n     The spears in flinders flew,\n\nBut mony a gallant Englishman\n\n     Ere day the Scotsmen slew.\n\n\n\nThe Gordons good, in English blood\n\n     They steeped their hose and shoon;\n\nThe Lindsays flew like fire about,\n\n     Till all the fray was done.\n\n\n\n(_finders_, fragments.)\n\n[Illustration: 0235]\n\nThe Percy and Montgomery met,\n\n     That either of other were fain;\n\nThey swapped swords, and they twa swat,\n\n     And aye the blood ran down between.\n\n\n\n\"Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy,\" he said,\n\n     \"Or else I vow I'll lay thee low!\"\n\n\"To whom must I yield,\" quoth Earl Percy,\n\n     \"Now that I see it must be so?\"\n\n\n\n\"Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loon,\n\n     Nor yet shalt thou yield to me;\n\nBut yield thee to the bracken bush,\n\n     That grows upon yon lily lea.\"\n\n\n\n\"I will not yield to a bracken bush,\n\n     Nor yet will I yield to a briar;\n\nBut I would yield to Earl Douglas,\n\n     Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were here.\"\n\n\n\nAs soon as he knew it was Montgomery,\n\n     He struck his swords point in the ground;\n\nThe Montgomery was a courteous knight,\n\n     And quickly took him by the hand.\n\n\n\nThis deed was done at the Otterbourne,\n\n     About the breaking of the day;\n\nEarl Douglas was buried at the bracken bush\n\n     And the Percy led captive away.\n\n\n\n(_swapped_, smote.)\n\n\n\n\nTHE BONNY LASS OF ANGLESEY\n\n\n|Our king he has a secret to tell,\n\n     And ay well keepit it must be;\n\nThe English lords are coming down\n\n     To dance and win the victory.\n\n\n\nOur king has cried a noble cry,\n\n     And ay well keepit it must be:\n\n\"Gar saddle ye, and bring to me\n\n     The bonny lass of Anglesey.\"\n\n\n\nUp she starts, as white as the milk,\n\n     Between him and his company:\n\n\"What is the thing I hae to ask,\n\n     If I should win the victory?\"\n\n\n\n\"Fifteen ploughs but and a mill\n\n     I gie thee till the day thou die,\n\nAnd the fairest knight in a' my court\n\n     To chuse thy husband for to be.\"\n\n\n\nShe's taen the fifteen lord[s] by the hand,\n\n     Saying, \"Will ye come dance with me?\"\n\nBut on the morn at ten o'clock\n\n     They gave it o'er most shamefully.\n\n\n\nUp then raise the fifteenth lord--\n\n     I wat an angry man was he--\n\nLaid by frae him his belt and sword,\n\n     And to the floor gaed manfully.\n\n\n\nHe said, \"My feet shall be my dead\n\nBefore she win the victory;\"\n\nBut before't was ten o'clock at night\n\n     He gaed it o'er as shamefully.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WEE WEE MAN\n\n\n|As I was walking all alone,\n\n     Atween a water and a wa',\n\nAnd there I spied a wee wee man,\n\n     He was the least that ere I saw.\n\n\n\nHis legs were scarce a shathmont's length,\n\n     And thick and thimber was his thigh;\n\nBetween his brows there was a span,\n\n     And between his shoulders there was three.\n\n\n\nHe took up a mickle stane,\n\n     And he flang't as far as I could see;\n\nThough I had been a Wallace wight,\n\n     I couldna liften't to my knee.\n\n\n\n(_shathmont_, six inches.)\n\n\"O wee wee man, but thou be strang!\n\n     Oh, tell me where thy dwelling be?\"\n\n\"My dwelling's down at yon bonnie bower,\n\n     O will ye go with me and see?\"\n\n\n\nOn we lap, and awa' we rade,\n\n     Till we came to yon bonny green;\n\nWe lighted down for to bait our horse,\n\n     And out there cam a lady fine;\n\n\n\nFour and twenty at her back,\n\n     And they were a' clad out in green;\n\nThough the King of Scotland had been there,\n\n     The warst o' them might hae been his queen.\n\n\n\nOn we lap, and awa' we rade,\n\n     Till we came to yon bonny ha';\n\nWhere the roof was o* the beaten gowd,\n\n     And the floor was o' the crystal a'.\n\n\n\nWhen we cam to the stair foot\n\n     Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma';\n\nBut in the twinkling of an eye,\n\n     My wee wee man was clean awa.\n\n\n\n(_lap_, leapt. _jimp_, slender.)\n\n\n\n\nCLERK COLVILL, OR THE MERMAID\n\n\n|Clerk Colvill and his lusty dame\n\n     Were walking in the garden green;\n\nThe belt around her stately waist\n\n     Cost Clerk Colvill of pounds fifteen.\n\n\n\n\"O promise me now, Clerk Colvill,\n\n     Or it will cost ye muckle strife,\n\nRide never by the wells of Slane,\n\n     If ye wad live and brook your life.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now speak nae mair, my lusty dame,\n\n     Now speak nae mair of that to me:\n\nDid I ne'er see a fair woman,\n\n     But I wad sin with her body?\"\n\n\n\nHe's ta'en leave o' his gay lady,\n\n     Nought minding what his lady said,\n\nAnd he's rode by the wells of Slane,\n\n     Where washing was a bonny maid.\n\n\n\n\"Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid,\n\n     That wash sae clean your sark of silk;\"\n\n\"And weel fa' you, fair gentleman,\n\n     Your body whiter than the milk.\"\n\n\n\n(_brook_, preserve. _sark_, skirt.)\n\nThen loud, loud cried the Clerk Colvill,\n\n     \"Omy head it pains me sair;\"\n\n\"Then take, then take,\" the maiden said,\n\n\"And frae my sark you'll cut a gare.\"\n\n\n\nThen she's gi'ed him a little bane-knife,\n\nAnd frae her sark he cut a share;\n\nShe's tied it round his whey-white face,\n\nBut ay his head it ached mair.\n\n\n\nThen louder cried the Clerk Colvill,\n\n     \"O sairer, sairer aches my head;\"\n\n\"And sairer, sairer ever will,\"\n\n     The maiden cries, \"till you be dead.\"\n\n\n\nOut then he drew his shining blade,\n\n     Thinking to stick her where she stood;\n\nBut she was vanish'd to a fish,\n\n     And swam far off, a fair mermaid.\n\n\n\n\"O mother, mother, braid my hair;\n\n     My lusty lady, make my bed;\n\nO brother, take my sword and spear,\n\n     For I have seen the false mermaid.\"\n\n\n\n(_gare_, gore. _bane_, bone.)\n\n\n\n\nLADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT\n\n\n|Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing,\n\n     _Aye as the gowans grow gay;_\n\nThere she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn,\n\n     _The first morning in May._\n\n\n\n\"If I had yon horn that I hear blawing,\n\n     And yon elf-knight to sleep in my bosom.\"\n\n\n\nThis maiden had scarcely these words spoken,\n\nTill in at her window the elf-knight has luppen.\n\n\n\n\"It's a very strange matter, fair maiden,\" said he,\n\n\"I canna blaw my horn, but ye call on me.\"\n\n\n\n\"But will ye go to yon greenwood side,\n\nIf ye canna' gang, I will cause you to ride.\"\n\n\n\nHe leapt on a horse, and she on another,\n\nAnd they rode on to the greenwood together.\n\n\n\n\"Light down, light down, lady Isabel,\" said he,\n\n\"We are come to the place where ye are to die.\"\n\n\n\n\"Hae mercy, hae mercy, kind sir, on me,\n\nTill ance my dear father and mother I see.\"\n\n\n\n(_gowans_ flowers.)\n\n[Illustration: 0243]\n\n\"Seven king's-daughters here hae I slain,\n\nAnd ye shall be the eight o' them.\"\n\n\n\n\"O sit down a while lay your head on my knee,\n\nThat we may hae some rest before that I die.\"\n\n\n\nShe strok'd him sae fast, the nearer he did creep,\n\nWi' a sma' charm she lull'd him fast asleep.\n\n\n\nWi' his ain sword belt sae fast as she ban' him,\n\nWith his ain dag-dirk sae sair as she dang him.\n\n\n\n\"If seven kings' daughters here ye ha'e slain,\n\nLie ye here, a husband to them a'.\"\n\n\n\n\nFAIR JANET\n\n\n|Ye maun gang to your father, Janet,\n\n     Ye maun gang to him soon;\n\nYe maun gang to your father, Janet,\n\n     In case that his days are dune!\"\n\n\n\nJanet's awa' to her father,\n\n     As fast as she could hie;\n\n\"O what's your will wi' me, father?\n\n     O what's your will wi' me?\"\n\n\n\n(_ban'_, bound. _dag-dirk_, dagger. _dang_, struck.)\n\n\"My will wi' you, Fair Janet,\" he said,\n\n     \"It is both bed and board;\n\nSome say that ye lo'e Sweet Willie,\n\n     But ye maun wed a French lord.\"\n\n\n\n\"A French lord maun I wed, father?\n\n     A French lord maun I wed?\n\nThen, by my sooth,\" quo' Fair Janet,\n\n     \"He's ne'er enter my bed.\"\n\n\n\nJanet's awa' to her chamber,\n\n     As fast as she could go;\n\nWha's the first ane that tapped there,\n\n     But Sweet Willie her jo!\n\n\n\n\"O we maun part this love, Willie,\n\n     That has been lang between;\n\nThere's a French lord coming o'er the sea\n\n     To wed me wi' a ring;\n\n\n\nThere's a French lord coming o'er the sea,\n\n     To wed and tak me hame.\"\n\n\"If we maun part this love, Janet,\n\n     It causeth mickle woe;\n\nIf we maun part this love, Janet,\n\n     It makes me into mourning go.\"\n\n\n\n\"But ye maun gang to your three sisters,\n\n     Meg, Marion, and Jean;\n\nTell them to come to Fair Janet,\n\n     In case that her days are dune.\"\n\n\n\nWillie's awa to his three sisters,\n\n     Meg, Marion, and Jean;\n\n\"O haste, and gang to Fair Janet,\n\n     I fear that her days are dune.\"\n\n\n\nSome drew to them their silken hose,\n\n     Some drew to them their shoon,\n\nSome drew to them their silk mantles,\n\n     Their coverings to put on;\n\nAnd they re awa to Fair Janet,\n\n     By the high light o' the moon.\n\n\n\n\"O I have born this babe, Willie,\n\n     Wi' mickle toil and pain;\n\nTake hame, take hame, your babe, Willie,\n\n     For nurse I dare be nane.\"\n\n\n\nHe's tane his young son in his arms,\n\n     And kissed him cheek and chin,--\n\nAnd he's awa' to his mother's bower,\n\n     By the high light o' the moon.\n\n\n\n\"O open, open, mother,\" he says,\n\n     \"O open, and let me in;\n\nThe rain rains on my yellow hair,\n\n     And the dew drops o'er my chin,--\n\nAnd I hae my young son in my arms,\n\n     I fear that his days are dune.\"\n\n\n\nWith her fingers lang and sma'\n\n     She lifted up the pin;\n\nAnd with her arms lang and sma\n\n     Received the baby in.\n\n\n\n\"Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie,\n\n     And comfort your fair lady;\n\nFor where ye had but ae nourice,\n\n     Your young son shall hae three.\"\n\n\n\nWillie he was scarce awa,\n\n     And the lady put to bed,\n\nWhen in and came her father dear:\n\n     \"Make haste, and busk the bride.\"\n\n\n\n\"There's a sair pain in my head, father,\n\n     There's a sair pain in my side;\n\nAnd ill, O ill, am I, father,\n\n     This day for to be a bride.\n\n\n\n\"O ye maun busk this bonny bride,\n\n     And put a gay mantle on;\n\nFor she shall wed this auld French lord,\n\n     Gin she should die the morn.\"\n\n\n\nSome put on the gay green robes,\n\n     And some put on the brown;\n\nBut Janet put on the scarlet robes,\n\n     To shine foremost through the town.\n\n\n\n(_busk_, dress.)\n\nAnd some they mounted the black steed,\n\n     And some mounted the brown;\n\nBut Janet mounted the milk-white steed,\n\n     To ride foremost through the town.\n\n\n\n\"O wha will guide your horse, Janet?\n\n     O wha will guide him best?\"\n\n\"O wha but Willie, my true love,\n\n     He kens I lo'e him best!\"\n\n\n\nAnd when they cam to Mary's kirk,\n\n     To tie the haly ban,\n\nFair Janet's cheek looked pale and wan,\n\n     And her colour ga'ed and cam.\n\n\n\nWhen dinner it was past and done,\n\n     And dancing to begin,\n\n\"O we'll go take the bride's maidens,\n\n     And we'll go fill the ring.\"\n\n\n\nO ben then cam the auld French lord,\n\n     Saying, \"Bride, will ye dance with me?\"\n\n\"Awa', awa', ye auld French Lord,\n\n     Your face I downa see.\"\n\n\n\nO ben then cam now Sweet Willie,\n\n     He cam with ane advance:\n\n\"O I'll go tak the bride's maidens,\n\n     And we'll go tak a dance.\"\n\n\n\n(_downa_, cannot.)\n\n\"I've seen ither days wi' you, Willie,\n\n     And so has mony mae;\n\nYe would hae danced wi' me mysel',\n\n     Let a my maidens gae.\"\n\n\n\nO ben then cam now Sweet Willie,\n\n     Saying, \"Bride, will ye dance wi' me?\"\n\n\"Aye, by my sooth, and that I will,\n\n     Gin my back should break in three.\"\n\n\n\n[And she's taen Willie by the hand,\n\n     The tear blinded her e'e;\n\n\"O I wad dance wi' my true love,\n\nTho' bursts my heart in three!\"]\n\n\n\nShe hadna turned her through the dance,\n\n     Through the dance but thrice,\n\nWhan she fell doun at Willie's feet,\n\n     And up did never rise!\n\n\n\n[She's ta'en her bracelet frae her arm,\n\n     Her garter frae her knee:\n\n\"Gie that, gie that, to my young son;\n\n     He'll ne'er his mother see.\"]\n\n\n\nWillie's ta'en the key of his coffer,\n\n     And gi'en it to his man;\n\n\"Gae hame, and tell my mother dear,\n\n     My horse he has me slain;\n\nBid her be kind to my young son,\n\n     For father he has nane.\"\n\n\n\n[\"Gar deal, gar deal the bread,\" he cried,\n\n     \"Gar deal, gar deal the wine;\n\nThis day has seen my true love's death,\n\n     This night shall witness mine.\"]\n\n\n\nThe tane was buried in Mary's kirk,\n\n     And the tither in Mary's quire:\n\nOut of the tane there grew a birk,\n\n     And the tither a bonny briar.\n\n\n\n(_tane_, one. _tither_, other.)\n\n[Illustration: 0250]\n\n\n\n\nFAIR HELEN\n\nPART SECOND.\n\n\n|I wish I were where Helen lies,\n\nNight and day on me she cries;\n\nO that I were where Helen lies,\n\n          On fair Kirconnell Lee!\n\n\n\nCurst be the heart that thought the thought,\n\nAnd curst the hand that fired the shot,\n\nWhen in my arms burd Helen dropt,\n\n          And died to succour me!\n\n\n\nO think na ye my heart was sair,\n\nWhen my love dropt down and spak nae mair,\n\nThere did she swoon wi' mickle care,\n\n          On fair Kirconnell Lee.\n\n\n\nAs I went down the water side,\n\nNone but my foe to be my guid\u00e7,\n\nNone but my foe to be my guide,\n\n          On fair Kirconnell Lee;\n\n\n\nI lighted down my sword to draw,\n\nI hacked him in pieces sma,\n\nI hacked him in pieces sma',\n\n          For her sake that died for me.\n\n(_burd_, maid.)\n\nO Helen fair, beyond compare!\n\nI'll make a garland of thy hair,\n\nShall bind my heart for evermair,\n\n          Until the day I die.\n\n\n\nO that I were where Helen lies!\n\nNight and day on me she cries;\n\nOut of my bed she bids me rise,\n\n          Says, \"Haste and come to me!\"--\n\n\n\nO Helen fair! O Helen chaste!\n\nIf I were with thee, I were blest,\n\nWhere thou lies low, and takes thy rest,\n\n          On fair Kirconnell Lee.\n\n\n\nI wish my grave were growing green,\n\nA winding-sheet drawn ower my een,\n\nAnd I in Helen's arms lying,\n\n          On fair Kirconnell Lee.\n\n\n\nI wish I were where Helen lies!\n\nNight and day on me she cries -,\n\nAnd I am weary of the skies,\n\n          For her sake that died for me.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0253]\n\n\n\n\nTHE CRUEL BROTHER\n\n\n|There was three ladies play'd at the ba',\n\n     _With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay;_\n\nThere came a knight, and play'd o'er them a,\n\n     _As the primrose spreads so sweetly._\n\n\n\nThe eldest was baith tall and fair,\n\nBut the youngest was beyond compare.\n\n\n\nThe midmost had a gracefu' mien,\n\nBut the youngest look'd like beauty's queen.\n\n\n\nThe knight bow'd low to a' the three,\n\nBut to the youngest he bent his knee.\n\n\n\nThe lady turned her head aside,\n\nThe knight he woo'd her to be his bride.\n\n\n\nThe lady blush'd a rosy red,\n\nAnd said, \"Sir knight, I'm too young to wed.\"\n\n\n\n\"O lady fair, give me your hand,\n\nAnd I'll mak you lady of a' my land.\"\n\n\n\n\"Sir knight, ere you my favour win,\n\nYe maun get consent frae a' my kin.\"\n\n\n\nHe has got consent frae her parents dear,\n\nAnd likewise frae her sisters fair.\n\n\n\nHe has got consent frae her kin each one,\n\nBut forgot to speir at her brother John.\n\n\n\nNow, when the wedding day was come,\n\nThe knight would take his bonny bride home,\n\n\n\nAnd many a lord and many a knight,\n\nCame to behold that lady bright.\n\n\n\nAnd there was nae man that did her see,\n\nBut wished himself bridegroom to be.\n\n\n\nHer father dear led her down the stair,\n\nAnd her sisters twain they kiss'd her there.\n\n\n\nHer mother dear led her through the close,\n\nAnd her brother John set her on her horse.\n\n\n\nShe lean'd her o er the saddle-bow,\n\nTo give him a kiss ere she did go.\n\n\n\nHe has taen a knife, baith lang and sharp,\n\nAnd stabb'd that bonny bride to the heart.\n\n\n\n(_speir_, ask.)\n\nShe hadna ridden half thro' the town,\n\nUntil her heart's blood stained her gown.\n\n\n\n\"Ride saftly on,\" said the best young man,\n\n\"For I think our bonny bride looks pale and wan.\"\n\n\n\n\"O lead me gently up yon hill,\n\nAnd I'll there sit down, and make my will.\"\n\n\n\n\"O what will you leave to your father dear?\"\n\n\"The silver-shod steed that brought me here.\"\n\n\n\n\"What will you leave to your mother dear?\"\n\n\"My velvet pall and silken gear.\"\n\n\n\n\"And what will you leave to your sister Ann?\"\n\n\"My silken scarf, and my gowden fan.\"\n\n\n\n\"What will ye leave to your sister Grace?\"\n\n\"My bloody clothes to wash and dress.\"\n\n\n\n\"What will ye leave to your brother John?\"\n\n\"The gallows-tree to hang him on.\"\n\n\n\n\"What will ye leave to your brother John's wife?\"\n\n\"The wilderness to end her life.\"\n\n\n\nThis fair lady in her grave was laid,\n\nAnd a mass was o'er her said.\n\n\n\nBut it would have made your heart right sair,\n\nTo see the bridegroom rive his hair.\n\n\n\n(_rive_, tear.)\n\n\n\n\nLAMKIN\n\n\n|It's Lamkin was a mason good\n\n     As ever built with stane,\n\nHe built Lord Wearies castle,\n\n     But payment gat he nane.\n\n\n\n\"O pay me, Lord Wearie;\n\n     Come pay me my fee.\"\n\n\"I canna pay you Lamkin,\n\n     For I maun gang o'er the sea.\"\n\n\n\n\"O pay me now, Lord Wearie;\n\n     Come, pay me out o' hand.\"\n\n\"I canna pay you, Lamkin,\n\n     Unless I sell my land.\"\n\n\n\n\"O gin ye winna pay me,\n\nI here sall mak a vow,\n\nBefore that ye come hame again,\n\nYe sall ha'e cause to rue.\"\n\n\n\nLord Wearie got a bonny ship,\n\nTo sail the saut sea faem;\n\nBade his lady weel the castle keep,\n\nAy till he should come hame.\n\n\n\n(_faem_, foam.)\n\nBut the nourice was a fause limmer\n\n     As e'er hung on a tree;\n\nShe laid a plot wi' Lamkin,\n\n     When her lord was o'er the sea.\n\n\n\nShe laid a plot wi' Lamkin,\n\nWhen the servants were awa';\n\nLet him in at a little shot window,\n\nAnd brought him to the ha.\n\n\n\n\"O where's a' the men o' this house,\n\nThat ca' me Lamkin?\"\n\n\"They're at the barn well thrashing,\n\n'Twill be lang ere they come in.\"\n\n\n\n\"And where's the women o' this house,\n\nThat ca' me Lamkin?\"\n\n\"They're at the far well washing;\n\n'Twill be lang ere they come in.\"\n\n\n\n\"And where's the bairns o' this house,\n\nThat ca' me Lamkin?\"\n\n\"They're at the school reading;\n\n'Twill be night or they come hame.\"\n\n\n\n\"O where's the lady o' this house,\n\nThat ca's me Lamkin?\"\n\n\"She's up in her bower sewing,\n\nBut we soon can bring her down.\"\n\n\n\n(_nourice_, nurse.  _limmer_, wretch.  _shot-window_, projecting window.)\n\nThen Lamkin's tane a sharp knife,\n\n     That hang down by his gair,\n\nAnd he has gi'en the bonny babe\n\n     A deep wound and a sair.\n\n\n\nThen Lamkin he rocked,\n\n     And the fause nourice sang,\n\nTill frae ilka bore o' the cradle\n\n     The red blood out sprang.\n\n\n\nThen out it spak the lady,\n\n     As she stood on the stair,\n\n\"What ails my bairn, nourice,\n\n     That he's greeting sae sair?\n\n\n\n\"O still my bairn, nourice;\n\n     O still him wi' the pap!\"\n\n\"He winna still, lady,\n\n     For this, nor for that.\"\n\n\n\n\"O still my bairn, nourice;\n\n     O still him wi' the wand!\"\n\n\"He winna still, lady,\n\n     For a' his fathers land.\"\n\n\n\n\"O still my bairn, nourice,\n\n     O still him wi' the bell!\"\n\n\"He winna still, lady,\n\n     Till ye come down yoursel'.\"\n\n\n\n(_gair,_ skirt. _bore_, hole. _greeting_, crying.)\n\nO the firsten step she steppit,\n\n     She steppit on a stane;\n\nBut the neisten step she steppit,\n\n     She met him, Lamkin.\n\n\n\n\"O mercy, mercy, Lamkin!\n\n     Ha'e mercy upon me!\n\nThough you've ta'en my young son's life,\n\n     Ye may let mysel' be.\"\n\n\n\n\"O sall I kill her, nourice?\n\n     Or sall I lat her be?\"\n\n\"O kill her, kill her, Lamkin,\n\n     For she ne'er was good to me.\"\n\n\n\n\"O scour the basin, nourice,\n\n     And mak it fair and clean,\n\nFor to keep this lady's heart's blood,\n\n     For she's come o' noble kin.\"\n\n\n\n\"There need nae basin, Lamkin;\n\n     Let it run through the floor;\n\nWhat better is the heart's blood\n\n     O' the rich than o' the poor?\"\n\n\n\nBut ere three months were at an end,\n\n     Lord Wearie came again -,\n\nBut dowie dowie was his heart\n\n     When first he came hame.\n\n(_dowie_, gloomy.)\n\n\"O wha's blood is this,\" he says,\n\n     \"That lies in the ch\u00e2mer?\"\n\n\"It is your lady's heart's blood;\n\n     Tis as clear as the lamer.\"\n\n\n\n\"And wha's blood is this,\" he says,\n\n     \"That lies in my ha'?\"\n\n\"It is your young son's heart's blood;\n\n     'Tis the clearest ava'.\"\n\n\n\nO sweetly sang the black-bird\n\n     That sat upon the tree;\n\nBut sairer grat Lamkin,\n\n     When he was condemn'd to die.\n\n\n\nAnd bonny sang the mavis\n\n     Out o' the thorny brake;\n\nBut sairer grat the nourice,\n\n     When she was tied to the stake.\n\n\n\n\nCOSPATRICK\n\n\n|Cospatrick has sent o'er the faem;\n\nCospatrick brought his lady hame;\n\nAnd fourscore ships have come her wi',\n\nThe lady by the green-wood tree.\n\n\n\n(_lamer_, amber. _faem_, sea.)\n\nThere were twal' and twal' wi' baken bread,\n\nAnd twal' and twal' wi' gowd sae red,\n\nAnd twal' and twal' wi' bouted flour,\n\nAnd twal* and twal' wi' the paramour.\n\n\n\nSweet Willy was a widow's son,\n\nAnd at her stirrup he did run;\n\nAnd she was clad in the finest pall,\n\nBut aye she let the tears down fall.\n\n\n\n\"O is your saddle set awry?\n\nOr rides your steed for you ower high?\n\nOr are you mourning, in your tide,\n\nThat you should be Cospatrick's bride?\"\n\n\n\n\"I am not mourning, at this tide,\n\nThat I should be Cospatrick's bride;\n\nBut I am sorrowing in my mood,\n\nThat I should leave my mother good.\n\n\n\n\"But, gentle boy, come tell to me,\n\nWhat is the custom of thy country?\"--\n\n\"The custom thereof, my dame,\" he says,\n\n\"Will ill a gentle lady please.\n\n\n\n\"Seven king's daughters has our lord wedded,\n\nAnd seven king's daughters has our lord bedded;\n\nBut he's cutted their breasts ' frae their breast-bane,\n\nAnd sent them mourning hame again.\n\n\n\n(_twal'_ twelve. _bouted_, bolted. _tide_, time.)\n\n\"Yet, gin you're sure that you're a maid,\n\nYe may gae safely to his bed;\n\nBut gif o' that ye be na sure,\n\nThen hire some damsel o' your bower.\"--\n\n\n\nThe lady's call'd her bour maiden,\n\nThat waiting was into her train;\n\n\"Five thousands merks I'll gie to thee,\n\nTo sleep this night with my lord for me.\"--\n\n\n\nWhen bells were rung, and mass was sayen,\n\nAnd a' men unto bed were gane,\n\nCospatrick and the bonny maid,\n\nInto a chamber they were laid.\n\n\n\n\"Now, speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed,\n\nAnd speak, thou sheet, enchanted web;\n\nAnd speak up, my bonny brown sword, that winna lie,\n\nIs this a true maiden that lies by me?\"--\n\n\n\n\"It is not a maid that you hae wedded,\n\nBut it is a maid that you hae bedded;\n\nIt is a leal maiden that lies by thee,\n\nBut not the maiden that it should be.\"--\n\n\n\nO wrathfully he left the bed,\n\nAud wrathfully his claes on did;\n\nAnd he has ta'en him through the ha',\n\nAnd on his mother he did ca'.\n\n\n\n\"I am the most unhappy man,\n\nThat ever was in Christian land!\n\nI courted a maiden, meek and mild,\n\nAnd I hae gotten naething but a woman wi' child.\"--\n\n\n\n\"O stay, my son, into this ha',\n\nAnd sport ye wi* your merrymen a';\n\nAnd I will to the secret bower,\n\nTo see how it fares wi' your paramour.\"--\n\n\n\nThe carline she was stark and sture,\n\nShe aff the hinges dang the dure;\n\n\"O is your bairn to laird or loon,\n\nOr is it to your father's groom?\"--\n\n\n\n\"O hear me, mother, on my knee,\n\nTill my sad story I tell to thee:\n\nO we were sisters, sisters seven,\n\nWe were the fairest under heaven.\n\n\n\n\"It fell on a summer's afternoon,\n\nWhen a' our toilsome task was done,\n\nWe cast the kevils us amang,\n\nTo see which should to the green-wood gang.\n\n\n\n\"Ohon! alas, for I was youngest,\n\nAnd aye my weird it was the hardest!\n\nThe kevil it on me did fa',\n\nWhilk was the cause of a' my woe.\n\n\n\n(_carline_, old woman. _stark_, strong,  _sture_, big.\n\n_dang_, struck, _dure_, door. _kevils_, lots. _weird_, destiny.)\n\n\"For to the green-wood I maun gae,\n\nTo pu' the red rose and the slae;\n\nTo pu' the red rose and the thyme,\n\nTo deck my mother's bower and mine.\n\n\n\n\"I hadna pu'd a flower but ane,\n\nWhen by there came a gallant hend,\n\nWi* high-coll'd hose and laigh-coll'd shoon,\n\nAnd he seem'd to be some king's son.\n\n\n\n\"And be I a maid, or be I nae,\n\nHe kept me there till the close o' day;\n\nAnd be I a maid, or be I nane,\n\nHe kept me there till the day was done.\n\n\n\n\"He gae me a lock o' his yellow hair,\n\nAnd bade me keep it ever mair;\n\nHe gae me a carknet o' bonny beads,\n\nAnd bade me keep it against my needs.\n\n\n\n\"He gae to me a gay gold ring,\n\nAnd bade me keep it abune a' thing.\"--\n\n\"What did ye wi' the tokens rare,\n\nThat ye gat frae that gallant there?\"--\n\n\n\n\"O bring that coffer unto me,\n\nAnd a' the tokens ye sall see.\"--\n\n\"Now stay, daughter, your bower within,\n\nWhile I gae parley wi' my son.\"--\n\n\n\n(_slae_, sloe. _hend_, handsome, _coll'd_, cut. _laigh_, low. _carknet_, necklace.)\n\nO she has ta'en her thro' the ha,\n\nAnd on her son began to ca;\n\n\"What did ye wi' the bonny beads\n\nI bade you keep against your needs?\n\n\n\n\"What did you wi' the gay gold ring\n\nI bade you keep abune a' thing?\"--\n\n\"I gae them to a lady gay,\n\nI met on green-wood on a day.\n\n\n\n\"But I wad gie a' my halls and towers,\n\nI had that lady within my bowers;\n\nBut I wad gie my very life,\n\nI had that lady to my wife.\"--\n\n\n\n\"Now keep, my son, your halls and towers,\n\nYe have the bright burd in your bowers;\n\nAnd keep, my son, your very life,\n\nYe have that lady to your wife.\"--\n\n\n\nNow, or a month was come and gane,\n\nThe lady bare a bonny son;\n\nAnd 'twas weel written on his breast-bane,\n\n\"Cospatrick is my fathers name.\"\n\n\"O row my lady in satin and silk,\n\nAnd wash my son in the morning milk.\"\n\n\n\n(_burd_, maid. _row_, wrap.)\n\n[Illustration: 0266[\n\n\n\n\nYOUNG TAM LIN.\n\n\n|O I forbid ye, maidens a',\n\n     That wear gowd on your hair,\n\nTo come or gae by Carterhaugh,\n\n     For young Tam Lin is there.\n\n\n\n\"There's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh,\n\n     But they leave him a wad,\n\nEither their rings, or green mantles,\n\n     Or else their maidenhead.\n\n\n\nJanet has kilted her green kirtle,\n\n     A little aboon her knee;\n\nAnd she has braided her yellow hair,\n\n     A little aboon her bree,\n\nAnd she's awa to Carterhaugh,\n\n     As fast as she can hie.\n\n\n\n(_wad_, wager, forfeit. _bree_, brow.)\n\nWhen she came to Carterhaugh,\n\n     Tam Lin was at the well;\n\nAnd there she found his steed standing,\n\n     But away was himsel'.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0267]\n\nShe hadna pu'd a double rose,\n\n     A rose but only twa;\n\nTill up then started Young Tam Lin,\n\n     Says, \"Lady, thou's pu* nae mae.\"\n\n\n\n--\"Why pu's thou the rose, Janet?\n\n     And why breaks thou the wand?\n\nOr why comes thou to Carterhaugh,\n\n     Withouten my command?\"--\n\n\n\n--\"Carterhaugh it is my ain;\n\n     My daddy gave it me;\n\nI'll come and gang by Carterhaugh,\n\n     And ask nae leave at thee.\"\n\n\n\nJanet has kilted her green kirtle,\n\n     A little aboon her knee;\n\nAnd she has snooded her yellow hair,\n\n     A little aboon her bree,\n\nAnd she is to her fathers ha'\n\nAs fast as she can hie.\n\n\n\nFour and twenty ladies fair\n\nWere playing at the ba';\n\nAnd out then came fair Janet,\n\nAnce the flower among them a'.\n\n\n\nFour and twenty ladies fair\n\nWere playing at the chess;\n\nAnd out then came the fair Janet,\n\nAs green as any grass.\n\n\n\nOut then spak an auld gray knight,\n\n     Lay o'er the castle wa,--\n\nAnd says, \"Alas! fair Janet, for thee,\n\n     But we'll be blamed a'!\"--\n\n\n\n\"Haud your tongue, ye auld faced knight!\n\n     Some ill death may ye die;\n\nFather my bairn on whom I will,\n\n     I'll father nane on thee.\"--\n\n\n\nOut then spak her father dear,\n\n     And he spak meek and mild--\n\n\"And ever, alas! sweet Janet,\" he says,\n\n     \"I think thou gaes with child.\"--\n\n\n\n\"And if I gae with child, father,\n\n     Mysel' maun bear the blame;\n\nThere's ne'er a laird about your ha'\n\n     Shall get the bairnie's name.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0269]\n\n\"If my love were an earthly knight,\n\nAs he's an elfin grey,\n\nI wadna gie my ain true love\n\nFor nae lord that ye hae.--\n\n\n\n\"The steed that my true love rides on,\n\nIs lighter than the wind;\n\nWi' siller he is shod before,\n\nWi' burning gowd behind.\"\n\n\n\nJanet has kilted her green kirtle,\n\n     A little aboon her knee,\n\nAnd she has snooded her yellow hair,\n\n     A little aboon her bree.\n\nAnd she's awa to Carterhaugh,\n\n     As fast as she can hie.\n\n\n\nAnd when she came to Carterhaugh,\n\n     Tam Lin was at the well;\n\nAnd there she found his steed standing,\n\n     But away was himsel'.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0270]\n\nShe hadna pu'd a double rose,\n\nA rose but only twa,\n\nTill up then started young Tam Lin,\n\nSays--\"Lady, thou pu's nae mae!\n\n\n\n\"Why pu' ye the rose, Janet,\n\n     Amang the groves sae green,\n\nAnd a' to kill the bonny babe,\n\n     That we gat us between?\"\n\n\n\n\"O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin,\" she says,\n\n     \"For's sake that died on tree,\n\nIf e'er ye was in holy chapel,\n\n     Or Christendom did see?\"--\n\n\n\n[\"The truth I'll tell to thee, Janet,\n\nA word I winna lie;\n\nA knight me got, and a lady me bore,\n\nAs well as they did thee.]\n\n\n\n\"Roxburgh, he was my grandfather,\n\n     Took me with him to bide,\n\nAnd ance it fell upon a day\n\n     That wae did me betide.\n\nAnd ance it fell upon a day,\n\n     A cauld day and a snell,\n\nThat we were frae the hunting come,\n\n     That frae my horse I fell -,\n\nThe Queen of Fairies she caught me,\n\n     In yon green hill to dwell;\n\n\n\n\"And pleasant is the fairy land, Janet,\n\n     But, an eerie tale to tell,\n\nAye, at the end of seven years,\n\n     We pay a teind to hell;\n\nAnd I am sae fair and fu o' flesh,\n\n     I fear 'twill be mysel'.\n\n\n\n(_snell_, keen. _teind_, tithe.)\n\n\"But the night is Hallowe'en, lady,\n\n     The morn is Hallowday;\n\nThen win me, win me, an ye will,\n\n     For well I wot ye may.\n\n\n\n\"Just at the mirk and midnight hour\n\n     The fairy folk will ride;\n\nAnd they that wad their true-love win,\n\n     At Miles Cross they maun bide.\"\n\n\n\n\"But how shall I thee ken, Tam Lin?\n\n     Or how my true love knaw,\n\nAmang so many unco knights,\n\n     The like I never saw?\"\n\n\n\n\"O first let pass the black, lady,\n\nAnd syne let pass the brown;\n\nBut quickly run to the milk-white steed,\n\nPu' ye his rider down.\n\n\n\n\"For I'll  ride on the milk-white steed,\n\n     And ay nearest the town;\n\nBecause I was an earthly knight,\n\n     They gie me that renown.\n\n\n\n\"My right hand will be gloved, lady,\n\n     My left hand will be bare;\n\nCocked up shall my bonnet be,\n\n     And kaimed down shall my hair,\n\nAnd thae's the tokens I gie thee,\n\nNae doubt I will be there.\n\n\n\n(_unco_, strange.)\n\n\"They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,\n\n     Into an esk and adder;\n\nBut hold me fast, and fear me not,\n\n     I am your bairn's father.\n\n\n\n\"They'll turn me to a bear sae grim,\n\n     And then a lion bold;\n\nBut hold me fast, and fear me not,\n\n     As ye shall love your child.\n\n\n\n\"Again they'll turn me in your arms,\n\n     To a red-hot gaud of airn;\n\nBut haud me fast, and fear me not,\n\n     I'll do to you nae harm.\n\n\n\n\"And last they'll turn me in your arms\n\n     Into the burning gleed;\n\nThen throw me into will-water,\n\n     O throw me in wi' speed.\n\n\n\n\"And then I'll be your ain true-love,\n\n     I'll turn a naked knight;\n\nThen cover me wi' your green mantle,\n\n     And cover me out o' sight.\"\n\n\n\nGloomy, gloomy, was the night,\n\n     And eerie was the way,\n\nAs fair Jenny, in her green mantle,\n\n     To Miles Cross she did gae.\n\n\n\n(_esk_, newt. _gaud of airn_, bar of iron. _gleed,_coal.)\n\nAbout the midle o' the night,\n\n     She heard the bridles ring;\n\nThis lady was as glad at that\n\nAs any earthly thing.\n\n[Illustration: 0274]\n\nFirst she let the black pass by,\n\n     And syne she let the brown;\n\nBut quickly she ran to the milk-white steed,\n\n     And pu'd the rider down.\n\n\n\nSae weel she minded what he did say,\n\nAnd young Tam Lin did win;\n\nSyne covered him wi' her green mantle,\n\nAs blithe's a bird in spring.\n\n\n\nOut then spake the Queen o' Fairies,\n\n     Out of a bush o' broom--\n\n\"Them that has gotten young Tam Lin,\n\nHas gotten a stately groom.\"--\n\n\n\nOut then spake the Queen o' Fairies,\n\n     And an angry women was she,\n\n\"Shame betide her ill-fared face,\n\n     And an ill death may she die,\n\nFor she's taen awa' the bonniest knight\n\nIn a my company.\n\n\n\n\"But had I kenn'd, Tam Lin,\" she says,\n\n     \"What now this night I see,\n\nI wad hae taen out thy twa grey een,\n\n     Put in twa een o' tree.\"\n\n\n\n(_tree_, wood.)\n\n\n\n\nTHE BROOMFIELD HILL\n\n\n|There was a knight and a lady bright,\n\n     Had a true tryst at the broom;\n\nThe ane gaed early in the morning,\n\n     The other in the afternoon.\n\n\n\nAnd aye she sat in her mothers bower door,\n\n     And aye she made her mane,\n\n\"O whether should I gang to the Broomfield hill,\n\n     Or should I stay at hame?\n\n\n\n\"For if I gang to the Broomfield hill,\n\n     My maidenhead is gone;\n\nAnd if I chance to stay at hame,\n\n     My love will ca' me mansworn.\"--\n\n\n\nUp then spake a witch-woman,\n\n     Ay from the room aboon;\n\n\"O, ye may gang to Broomfield hill,\n\n     And yet come maiden hame.\n\n\n\n\"For when ye come to the Broomfield hill,\n\n     Yell find your love asleep,\n\nWith a silver belt about his head,\n\n     And a broom-cow at his feet.\n\n\n\n(_mansworn_, perjured. _broom-cow_, bush of broom.)\n\n\"Take ye the blossom of the broom,\n\n     The blossom it smells sweet,\n\nAnd strew it at your true love's head,\n\n     And likewise at his feet.\n\n\n\n\"Take ye the rings off your fingers,\n\n     Put them on his right hand,\n\nTo let him know, when he doth awake,\n\n     His love was at his command.\"--\n\n\n\nShe pu'd the broom flower on Hive-hill,\n\n     And strew'd on's white hals-bane,\n\nAnd that was to be wittering true,\n\n     That maiden she had gane.\n\n\n\n\"O where were ye, my milk-white steed,\n\n     That I hae coft sae dear,\n\nThat wadna watch and waken me,\n\n     When there was maiden here?\"--\n\n\n\n\"I stamped wi' my foot, master,\n\n     And gar'd my bridle ring -,\n\nBut nae kin thing wad waken ye,\n\n     Till she was past and gane.\"--\n\n\n\n\"And wae betide ye, my gay gosshawk,\n\n     That I did love sae dear,\n\nThat wadna watch and waken me,\n\n     When there was maiden here.\"--\n\n\n\n(_hals_ neck. _wittering_, witness.\n\n_coft_, bought. _gar'd,_ made. _kin_ kind of.)\n\n\"I clapped wi' my wings, master,\n\n     And aye my bells I rang,\n\nAnd aye cry'd, Waken, waken, master,\n\n     Before the lady gang.\"--\n\n\n\n\"But haste and haste, my gude white steed,\n\n     To come the maiden till,\n\nOr a' the birds of gude green wood\n\n     Of your flesh shall have their fill.\"--\n\n\n\n\"Ye needna burst your gude white steed,\n\n     Wi' racing oer the howm;\n\nNae bird flies faster through the wood,\n\n     Than she fled through the broom.\"\n\nYoung Johnstone\n\n|Young Johnstone and the young Col'nel\n\n     Sat drinking at the wine:\n\n\"O gin ye wad marry my sister,\n\n     It's I wad marry thine.\"\n\n\n\n\"I wadna marry your sister,\n\n     For a' your houses and land;\n\nBut I'll keep her for my leman,\n\n     When I come o'er the strand.\n\n\n\n(_howm_, flats.)\n\n\"I wadna marry your sister,\n\n     For a' your gowd so gay;\n\nBut I'll keep her for my leman,\n\n     When I come by the way.\"\n\n\n\nYoung Johnstone had a little small sword,\n\n     Hung low down by his gair,\n\nAnd he stabbed it through the young Col'nel\n\n     That word he ne'er spak mair.\n\n\n\nBut he's awa' to his sister's bower,\n\n     He's tirled at the pin:\n\n\"Where hae ye been, my dear brither,\n\n     Sae late a coming in?\"\n\n\"I hae been at the school, sister,\n\n     Learning young clerks to sing.\"\n\n\"I've dreamed a dreary dream this night,\n\n     I wish it may be for good;\n\nThey were seeking you with hawks and hounds,\n\n     And the young Col'nel was dead.\"\n\n\n\n\"Hawks and hounds they may seek me,\n\n     As I trow well they be;\n\nFor I have killed the young Col'nel,\n\n     And thy own true love was he.\"\n\n\n\n(_gair_, skirt.)\n\n'If ye hae killed the young Col'nel,\n\n     O dule and wae is me;\n\nBut I wish ye may be hanged on a high gallows,\n\n     And hae nae power to flee.\"\n\n\n\nAnd he's awa' to his true love's bower,\n\n     He's tirled at the pin:\n\n\"Where hae ye been, my dear Johnstone,\n\n     Sae late a coming in?\"\n\n\n\n\"It's I hae been at the school,\" he says,\n\n     \"Learning young clerks to sing.\"\n\n\"I have dreamed a dreary dream,\" she says,\n\n     \"I wish it may be for good;\n\nThey were seeking you with hawks and hounds,\n\nAnd the young Col'nel was dead.\"\n\n\n\n\"Hawks and hounds they may seek me,\n\n     As I trow well they be;\n\nFor I hae killed the young Col'nel,\n\n     And thy ae brother was he.\"\n\n\"If ye hae killed the young Col'nel,\n\nO dule and wae is me;\n\nBut I care the less for the young Col'nel,\n\n     If thy ain body be free.\n\n\n\n\"Come in, come in, my dear Johnstone,\n\n     Come in and take a sleep;\n\nAnd I will go to my casement,\n\n     And carefully I will thee keep.\"\n\n\n\n(_dule,_ sad.)\n\nHe had not weel been in her bower-door,\n\n     No not for half an hour,\n\nWhen four-and-twenty belted knights\n\n     Came riding to the bower.\n\n\n\n\"Well may you sit and see, Lady,\n\n     Well may you sit and say;\n\nDid you not see a bloody squire\n\n     Come riding by this way?\"\n\n\n\n\"What colour were his hawks?\" she says,\n\n     \"What colour were his hounds?\n\nWhat colour was the gallant steed\n\n     That bore him from the bounds!\"\n\n\n\n\"Bloody, bloody were his hawks,\n\n     And bloody were his hounds;\n\nBut milk-white was the gallant steed\n\n     That bore him from the bounds.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes, bloody, bloody were his hawks,\n\n     And bloody were his hounds;\n\nAnd milk-white was the gallant steed\n\n     That bore him from the bounds.\n\n\n\n\"Light down, light down now, gentlemen,\n\n     And take some bread and wine;\n\nAn the steed be swift that he rides on,\n\n     He's past the brig o' Lyne.\"\n\n\n\n(_An,_ if.)\n\n\"We thank you for your bread, fair Lady,\n\n     We thank you for your wine;\n\nBut I wad gie thrice three thousand pound,\n\n     That bloody knight was ta en.\"\n\n\n\n\"Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone,\n\n     Lie still and take a sleep;\n\nFor thy enemies are past and gone,\n\n     And carefully I will thee keep.\"\n\n\n\nBut young Johnstone had a little wee sword,\n\n     Hung low down by his gair,\n\nAnd he stabbed it in fair Annet's breast,\n\n     A deep wound and a sair.\n\n\n\n\"What aileth thee now, dear Johnstone?\n\n     What aileth thee at me?\n\nHast thou not got my father's gold,\n\n     But and my mither's fee?\"\n\n\n\n\"Now live, now live, my dear Lady,\n\n     Now live but half an hour,\n\nAnd there's no a leech in a' Scotland\n\nBut what shall be in thy bower.\"\n\n\n\n\"How can I live, how shall I live?\n\nYoung Johnstone, do not you see\n\nThe red, red drops o' my bonny heart's blood\n\nRin trinkling down my knee?\n\n\n\n(_trinkling_, trickling.)\n\n\"But take thy harp into thy hand,\n\n     And harp out ower yon plain,\n\nAnd ne'er think mair on thy true love\n\n     Than if she had never been.\"\n\n\n\nHe hadna weel been out o' the stable,\n\n     And on his saddle set,\n\nTill four-and-twenty broad arrows\n\n     Were thrilling in his heart.\n\n\n\n\nJOCK O' THE SIDE\n\n\n|Now Liddesdale has ridden a raid,\n\n     But I wot they had better stayed at hame;\n\nFor Mitchell o' Winfield he is dead,\n\n     And my son Johnnie is prisoner tane.\n\n          With my fa ding diddle, la la low diddle.\n\n\n\nFor Mangerton-House Auld Downie is gane,\n\n     Her coats she has kilted up to her knee;\n\nAnd down the water wi' speed she rins,\n\n     While tears in spates fa fast frae her eye.\n\n\n\n(_spates_, torrents.)\n\nThen up and bespake the Lord Mangerton,\n\n     \"What news, what news, sister Downie, to me?\"\n\n\"Bad news, bad news, my Lord Mangerton'\n\n     Mitchell is kill'd, and tane they hae my son Johnnie.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ne'er fear, sister Downie,\" quo* Mangerton;\n\n     \"I hae yokes of oxen, four and twenty;\n\nMy barns, my byres, and my faulds, a' weel fill'd,\n\n     And I'll part wi' them a', ere Johnnie shall die.\n\n\n\n\"Three men I'll take to set him free,\n\n     Weel harness'd a' wi' best o' steel;\n\nThe English rogues may hear, and dree\n\n     The weight o' their braid-swords to feel.\n\n\n\n\"The Laird's Jock ane, the Laird's Wat twa,\n\n     O Hobie Noble, thou ane maun be;\n\nThy coat is blue, thou hast been true,\n\n     Since England banish'd thee, to me.\"\n\n\n\nNow Hobie was an English man,\n\n     In Bewcastle-dale was bred and born;\n\nBut his misdeeds they were sae great,\n\n     They banish'd him ne'er to return.\n\n\n\nLord Mangerton them orders gave,\n\n     \"Your horses the wrang way maun a' be shod;\n\nLike gentlemen ye must not seem,\n\n     But look like corn-caugers gawn ae road.\n\n\n\n(_byres_, cow-houses. _dree_, suffer. _caugers_, carriers or dealers.)\n\n\"Your armour gude ye maunna show,\n\n     Nor ance appear like men o' weir;\n\nAs country lads be all array'd,\n\n     Wi' branks and brecham on ilk mare.\"\n\n\n\nSae now a' their horses are shod the wrang way,\n\n     And Hobie has mounted his grey sae fine;\n\nJock his lively bay, Wat's on his white horse behind,\n\n     And on they rode for the water o' Tyne.\n\n\n\nAt the Choler-ford they a' light down,\n\n     And there, wi' the help o' the light o' the moon,\n\nA tree they cut, wi' fifteen nags upo' ilk side,\n\n     To climb up the wa' o' Newcastle town.\n\n\n\nBut when they came to Newcastle town,\n\n     And were alighted at the wa',\n\nThey found their tree three ells o'er laigh,\n\n     They found their stick baith short and sma.\n\n\n\nThen up and spake the Laird's ain Jock,\n\n     \"There's naething for't, the gates we maun force;\"\n\nBut when they came the gates unto,\n\n     A proud porter withstood baith men and horse.\n\n\n\n(_weir_, war. _branks_, rope bridles. _brecham_, collar.\n\n_tree_, pole. _nags_, notches. _laigh_, low.)\n\nHis neck in twa I wot they hae wrung,\n\n     Wi' hand or foot he ne'er play'd paw;\n\nHis life and his keys at ance they hae tane,\n\n     And cast his body ahind the wa'.\n\n\n\nNow soon they reach Newcastle jail,\n\n     And to the pris ner thus they call;\n\n\"Sleeps thou, wakes thou, Jock o' the side,\n\n     Or is thou wearied o' thy thrall?\"\n\n\n\nJock answers thus, wi' dolefu' tone--\n\n     \"Aft, aft I wake--I seldom sleep:\n\nBut wha's this kens my name sae weel,\n\n     And thus to hear my waes does seek?\"\n\n\n\nThen up spake the good Lairds Jock,\n\n     \"Neer fear ye now, my billy,\" quo' he;\n\n\"For here's the Laird's Jock, the Laird's Wat,\n\nAnd Hobie Noble, come to set thee free.\"\n\n\n\n\"O hald thy tongue, and speak nae mair,\n\n     And o' thy talk now let me be;\n\nFor if a' Liddisdale were here the night,\n\n     The morn's the day that I maun die.\n\n\n\n\"Full fifteen stane o' Spanish iron,\n\n     They hae laid a' right sair on me;\n\nWi' locks and keys I am fast bound\n\n     Into this dungeon mirk and dreary.\"\n\n\n\n(_ne'er played paw_, never stirred.)\n\n\"Fear ye no that,\" quo' the Laird's Jock -,\n\n     \"A faint heart ne'er won a fair lady;\n\nWork thou within, well work without,\n\n     And I'll be bound we set thee free.\"\n\n\n\nThe first strong door that they came at,\n\nThey loosed it without a key;\n\nThe next chained door that they came at,\n\n     They gar'd it a' in flinders flee.\n\n\n\nThe pris'ner now, upo' his back,\n\n     The Laird's Jock's gotten up fu' high;\n\nAnd down the stair, him, irons and a',\n\n     Wi' nae sma' speed and joy brings he.\n\n\n\n\"Now, Jock, I wot,\" quo' Hobie Noble,\n\n     \"Part o' the weight ye may lay on me;\"\n\n\"I wot weel no!\" quo' the Laird's Jock,\n\n     \"I count him lighter than a flea.\"\n\n\n\nSae out at the gates they a' are gane,\n\n     The pris'ner's set on horseback high;\n\nAnd now wi' speed they've tane the gate,\n\n     While ilk ane jokes fu' wantonly.\n\n\n\n\"O Jock, sae winsomely's ye ride,\n\n     Wi' baith your feet upo' ae side!\n\nSae weel's ye're harness'd, and sae trig,\n\n     In troth, ye sit like ony bride!\"\n\n(_gar'd_, made. _flinders_, splinters. _trig_, trim.)\n\nThe night, thou wot, they didna mind,\n\n     But hied them on fu' merrily,\n\nUntil they came to Choler-ford brae,\n\n     Where the water ran like mountains high.\n\n\n\nBut when they came to Choler-ford,\n\n     There they met with an auld man;\n\nSays--\"Honest man, will the water ride?\n\n     Tell us in haste, if that ye can.\"\n\n\n\n\"I wot weel no,\" quo' the good old man;\n\n     \"Here I hae lived this thirty years and three,\n\nAnd I ne'er yet saw the Tyne sae big,\n\n     Nor rinnin' ance sae like a sea.\"\n\n\n\nThen up and spake the Laird's saft Wat,\n\n     The greatest coward in the company--\n\n\"Now halt, now halt, we needna try't;\n\n     The day is com'd we a' maun die!\"\n\n\n\n\"Poor faint-hearted thief!\" quo' the Laird's ain Jock,\n\n     \"There'll nae man die but he that's fie;\n\nI'll lead ye a' right safely through;\n\n     Lift ye the pris'ner on ahint me.\"\n\n\n\nSae now the water they a' hae tane,\n\n     By anes and twas they a' swam through;\n\n\"Here are we a' safe,\" says the Laird's Jock,\n\n     \"And, poor faint Wat, what think ye now?\"\n\n\n\n(_fie_, predestined.)\n\nThey scarce the ither side had won,\n\n     When twenty men they saw pursue;\n\nFrae Newcastle town they had been sent,\n\n     A' English lads, right good and true.\n\n\n\nBut when the land-sergeant the water saw,\n\n     \"It winna ride, my lads,\" quo' he;\n\nThen out he cries--\"Ye the pris'ner may take,\n\n     But leave the irons, I pray, to me.\"\n\n\n\n\"I wot weel no,\" cry'd the Lairds Jock,\n\n\"I'll keep them a'; shoon to my mare they'll be:\n\nMy good grey mare--for I am sure,\n\n     She's bought them a fu' dear frae thee.\"\n\n\n\nSae now they're away for Liddisdale,\n\n     E'en as fast as they could them hie;\n\nThe pris'ner's brought to his ain fire-side,\n\n     And there o's airns they make him free.\n\n\n\n\"Now, Jock, my billy,\" quo' a' the three,\n\n     \"The day was com'd thou was to die;\n\nBut thou's as weel at thy ain fire-side,\n\n     Now sitting, I think, 'tween thee and me.\"\n\n\n\nThey hae gar'd fill up ae punch-bowl,\n\n     And after it they maun hae anither,\n\nAnd thus the night they a' hae spent,\n\n     Just as they had been brither and brither.\n\n\n\n(_airns,_ irons.)\n\n\n\n\nTHERE WAS A MAID CAME OUT OF KENT\n\n\n|There was a maid came out of Kent,\n\n     Dainty love, dainty love;\n\nThere was a maid came out of Kent,\n\n     Dangerous be:\n\nThere was a maid came out of Kent,\n\nFair, proper, small and gent,\n\nAs ever upon the ground went,\n\n     For so it should be.\n\n\n\nThe Fire of Frendraught\n\nThe reek it rose, and the flame it flew,\n\n     And oh the fire augmented high,\n\nUntil it came to Lord John's chamber-window\n\n     And to the bed where Lord John lay.\n\n\n\n\"O help me, help me, Lady Frennet!\n\n     I never ettled harm to thee;\n\nAnd if my father slew thy lord,\n\n     Forget the deed and rescue me.\"\n\n\n\n(_reek_, smoke. _ettled_, designed.)\n\nHe looked east, he looked west,\n\n     To see if any help was nigh;\n\nAt length his little page he saw,\n\n     Who to his lord aloud did cry.\n\n\n\n\"Loup down, loup down, my master dear!\n\n     What though the window's dreigh and high?\n\nI'll catch you in my arms twa,\n\nAnd never a foot from you I'll flee.\"\n\n\n\n\"How can I loup, you little page,\n\n     How can I leave this window high?\n\nDo you not see the blazing low,\n\n     And my twa legs burnt to my knee?\"\n\n\n\n(_dreigh_, high. _low_, flame.)\n\n[Illustration: 0291]\n\n[Illustration: 0292]\n\n\n\n\nROBIN HOOD'S DEATH AND BURIAL\n\n\n|When Robin Hood and Little John,\n\n          _Down a down, a down, a down._\n\n     Went o'er yon bank of broom,\n\nSaid Robin Hood to Little John,\n\n     \"We have shot for many a pound:\n\n          _Hey down, a down, a down._\n\n\"But I am not able to shoot one shot more,\n\n     My arrows will not flee;\n\nBut I have a cousin lives down below,\n\n     Please God, she will bleed me.\"\n\n\n\nNow Robin is to fair Kirkley gone,\n\n     As fast as he can win;\n\nBut before he came there, as we do hear,\n\n     He was taken very ill.\n\n\n\nAnd when that he came to fair Kirkley-hall,\n\n     He knock'd all at the ring,\n\nBut none was so ready as his cousin herself\n\n     For to let bold Robin in.\n\n\"Will you please to sit down, cousin Robin,\" she said,\n\n     \"And drink some beer with me?\"\n\n\"No, I will neither eat nor drink,\n\n     Till I am blooded by thee.\"\n\n\n\n\"Well, I have a room, cousin Robin,\" she said,\n\n     \"Which you did never see,\n\nAnd if you please to walk therein,\n\n     You blooded by me shall be.\"\n\n\n\nShe took him by the lily-white hand,\n\n     And led him to a private room,\n\nAnd there she blooded bold Robin Hood,\n\n     Whilst one drop of blood would run.\n\n\n\nShe blooded him in the vein of the arm,\n\n     And lock'd him up in the room;\n\nThere did he bleed all the live-long day,\n\n     Until the next day at noon.\n\n\n\nHe then bethought him of a casement door,\n\n     Thinking for to be gone;\n\nHe was so weak he could not leap,\n\n     Nor he could not get down.\n\n\n\nHe then bethought him of his bugle-horn,\n\n     Which hung low down to his knee;\n\nHe set his horn unto his mouth,\n\n     And blew out weak blasts three.\n\n\n\nThen Little John, when hearing him,\n\n     As he sat under the tree,\n\n\"I fear my master is near dead,\n\n     He blows so wearily.\"\n\n\n\nThen Little John to fair Kirkley is gone,\n\n     As fast as he can dri'e;\n\nBut when he came to Kirkley-hall,\n\n     He broke locks two or three:\n\n\n\nUntil he came bold Robin to,\n\n     Then he fell on his knee;\n\n\"A boon, a boon,\" cries Little John,\n\n     \"Master, I beg of thee.\"\n\n\n\n(_dri'e_, drive.)\n\n[Illustration: 0295]\n\n\"What is that boon,\" quoth Robin Hood,\n\n     \"Little John, thou begs of me?\" '\n\n\"It is to burn fair Kirkley-hall,\n\nAnd all their nunnery.\"\n\n\n\n\"Now nay, now nay,\" quoth Robin Hood,\n\n     \"That boon I'll not grant thee;\n\nI never hurt woman in all my life,\n\n     Nor man in woman's company.\n\n\"I never hurt fair maid in all my time,\n\n     Nor at my end shall it be;\n\nBut give me my bent bow in my hand,\n\n     And a broad arrow 111 let flee;\n\nAnd where this arrow is taken up,\n\n     There shall my grave digg'd be.\n\n\n\n\"Lay me a green sod under my head,\n\n     And another at my feet;\n\nAnd lay my bent bow by my side,\n\n     Which was my music sweet;\n\nAnd make my grave of gravel and green,\n\n     Which is most right and meet.\n\n\n\n\"Let me have length and breadth enough,\n\n     With under my head a green sod;\n\nThat they may say, when I am dead,\n\n     Here lies bold Robin Hood.\"\n\n\n\nThese words they readily promis'd him,\n\n     Which did bold Robin please:\n\nAnd there they buried bold Robin Hood,\n\n     Near to the fair Kirkl\u00e8ys.\n\n\n\n[Illustration: 0297]","title":"Popular British Ballads, Ancient and Modern, Vol. 1 (of 4)","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":37890}