FOOTNOTES:
[12] Carknet—A necklace. Thus:
"She threw away her rings and carknet cleen."—Harrison's Translation of Orlando Furioso—Notes on book 37th.
PRINCE ROBERT,
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
FROM THE RECITATION OF A LADY, NEARLY RELATED TO THE EDITOR.
He has wedded her with a ring;
Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye,
But he darna bring her hame.
"Your blessing now grant to me!"
"Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse,
"And you'll get nae blessing frae me."
To fill a glass of wine;
She has called upon her fause steward,
To put rank poison in.
And to her roudes chin;
She has put it to her fause fause mouth,
But the never a drap gaed in.
And to his bonny chin,
He's put it to his cherry lip,
And sae fast the rank poison ran in.
"Your ae son and your heir;
O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother,
"And sons you'll never hae mair.
"That will win hose and shoon,
To run sae fast to Darlinton,
"And bid fair Eleanor come?"
That wad win hose and shoon,—
"O I'll away to Darlinton,
"And bid fair Eleanor come."
And tirled at the pin;
And wha was sae ready as Eleanor's sell
To let the bonny boy in.
"She's made it baith gude and fine;
"Your gude-mother has made ye a gay dinour,
"And ye maun cum till her and dine."
The langest that ever were gane;
But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light,
And she cam linkin'[14] in.
And into Sillertoun ha',
The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning,
And they were weeping a'.
"And where now can he be?
"O where is now my wedded lord?
"For him I canna see."
"And just gane to be laid in the clay;
"Your wedded lord is dead," she says,
"And just gane to be buried the day.
"Ye'se get nae thing frae me;
"Ye'se no get an inch o' his gude broad land,
"Tho' your heart suld burst in three."
"I want nae land frae thee;
"But I'll hae the ring that's on his finger,
"For them he did promise to me."
"Ye'se no get them frae me;
"Ye'se no get the ring that's on his finger,
"An' your heart suld burst in three."
And her face unto a rock;
And there, before the mother's face,
Her very heart it broke.
The tother in Marie's quair;
And out o' the tane there sprang a birk,
And out o' the tother a brier.
The birk but and the brier;
And by that ye may very weel ken
They were twa lovers dear.[15]
FOOTNOTES:
[13] Roudes—Haggard.
[14] Linkin'—Riding briskly.
[15] The last two verses are common to many ballads, and are probably derived from some old metrical romance, since we find the idea occur in the conclusion of the voluminous history of Sir Tristrem. "Ores veitil que de la tumbe Tristan yssoit une belle ronce verte et feuilleue, qui alloit par la chapelle, et descendoit le bout de la ronce sur la tumbe d'Ysseult et entroit dedans." This marvellous plant was three times cut down; but, continues Rusticien de Puise, "Le lendemain estoit aussi belle comme elle avoit cy-devant ètè, et ce miracle ètoit sur Tristan et sur Ysseult a tout jamais advenir."
KING HENRIE.
THE ANCIENT COPY.
This ballad is edited from the MS. of Mrs Brown, corrected by a recited fragment. A modernized copy has been published, under the title of "Courteous King Jamie."—Tales of Wonder, Vol. II. p. 451.
The legend will remind the reader of the "Marriage of Sir Gawain," in the Reliques of Ancient Poetry, and of the "Wife of Bath's Tale," in Father Chaucer. But the original, as appears from the following quotation from Torfœus, is to be found in an Icelandic Saga:
"Hellgius, Rex Daniæ, mœrore ob amissam conjugem vexatus, solus agebat, et subducens se hominum commercio, segregem domum, omnis famulitii impatiens, incolebat. Accidit autem, ut nocte concubia, lamentabilis cujusdam ante fores ejulantis sonus auribus ejus obreperet. Expergefactus igitur, recluso ostio, informe quoddam mulieris simulacrum, "habitu corporis fœdum, veste squalore obsita, pallore, macie frigorisque tyrannide prope modum peremptum, deprehendit; quod precibus obsecratus, ut qui jam miserorum ærumnas ex propria calamitate pensare didicisset, in domum intromisit; ipse lectum petit. At mulier, ne hac quidem benignitate contenta, thori consortium obnixè flagitabat, addens id tanti referre, ut nisi impetraret, omnino sibi moriendum esset. Quod, ea lege, ne ipsum attingeret, concessum est. Ideo nec complexu eam dignatus rex, avertit sese. Cum autem prima luce forte oculos ultro citroque converteret, eximiæ formæ virginem lecto receptam animadvertit; quæ statim ipsi placere cœpit: causam igitur tam repentinæ mutationis curiosius indaganti, respondit virgo, se unam e subterraneorum hominum genere diris novercalibus devotam, tam tetra et execrabili specie, quali primo comparuit, damnatam, quoad thori cujusdam principis socia fieret, multos reges hac de re sollicitasse. Jam actis pro præstito beneficio gratiis, discessum maturans, a rege formæ ejus illecebris capto comprimitur. Deinde petit, si prolem ex hoc congressu progigni contigerit, sequente hyeme, eodem anni tempore, ante fores positam in ædes reciperet, seque ejus patrem profiteri non gravaretur, secus non leve infortunium insecuturum prædixit: a quo præcepto cum rex postea exorbitasset, nec præ foribus jacentem infantem pro suo agnoscere voluisset, ad eum iterum, sed corrugata fronte, accessit, obque violatam fidem acrius objurgatum ab imminente periculo, præstiti olim beneficii gratia, exempturam pollicebatur, ita tamen ut tota ultionis rabies in filium ejus "effusa graves aliquando levitatis illius pænas exigeret. Ex hac tam dissimilium naturarum commixtione, Skulda, versuti et versatilis animi mulier, nata fuisse memoratur; quæ utramque naturam participans prodigiosorum operum effectrix perhibetur."—Hrolffi Krakii, Hist. p. 49, Hafn. 1715.
KING HENRIE.
ANCIENT COPY.
That lacketh thingis thrie:
A rowth o' gold, an open heart,
And fu' o' courtesey.
For he lay burd alane;
And he has ta'en him to a haunted hunt's ha',
Was seven miles frae a toun.
And the roe doun by the den,
Till the fattest buck, in a' the herd,
King Henrie he has slain.
For to make burly cheir;
When loud the wind was heard to sound,
And an earthquake rocked the floor.
Where they sat at their meat:
The gray dogs, youling, left their food,
And crept to Henrie's feet.
And burst the fast'ned door;
And in there came a griesly ghost,
Stood stamping on the floor.
Her middle ye weel mot span:
Each frighted huntsman fled the ha',
And left the king alone.
Her nose like club or mell;
And I ken naething she appeared to be,
But the fiend that wons in hell.
"Sum meat ye gie to me!"
"And what meat's in this house, ladye,
"That ye're na wellcum tee?"[16]
"O ye'se gae kill your berry-brown steed,
"And serve him up to me."
Wow gin his heart was sair!
She eat him a' up, skin and bane,
Left naething but hide and hair.
"Mair meat ye gie to me!"
"And what meat's i' this house, ladye,
"That ye're na wellcum tee?"
"O ye do slay your gude gray houndes,
"And bring them a' to me."
Wow but his heart was sair!
She's ate them a' up, ane by ane,
Left naething but hide and hair.
"Mair meat ye gie to me!"
"And what meat's i' this house, ladye,
"That I hae left to gie?"
"O ye do fell your gay goss-hawks,
"And bring them a' to me."
Wow but his heart was sair!
She's ate them a' up, bane by bane,
Left naething but feathers bare.
"Sum drink ye gie to me!"
"And what drink's in this house, ladye,
"That ye're na wellcum tee?"
"O ye sew up your horse's hide,
"And bring in a drink to me."
And put in a pipe of wine;
She drank it a' up at ae draught,
Left na a drap therein.
"A bed ye mak to me!"
"And what's the bed i' this house, ladye,
"That ye're na wellcum tee?"
"O ye maun pu' the green heather,
"And mak a bed to me."
And made to her a bed;
And up he has ta'en his gay mantle,
And o'er it he has spread.
And the sun shone through the ha',
The fairest ladye, that e'er was seen,
Lay atween him and the wa'.
"How lang will this last wi' me?"
And out and spak that ladye fair,
"E'en till the day ye die.
"All by my stepdame's skill,
"Till I should meet wi' a courteous knight,
"Wad gie me a' my will."
FOOTNOTES:
[16] Tee, for to, is the Buchanshire and Gallovidian pronunciation.
ANNAN WATER.
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
The following verses are the original words of the tune of "Allan Water," by which name the song is mentioned in Ramsay's Tea Table Miscellany. The ballad is given from tradition; and it is said, that a bridge, over the Annan, was built in consequence of the melancholy catastrophe which it narrates. Two verses are added in this edition, from another copy of the ballad, in which the conclusion proves fortunate. By the Gatehope Slack, is perhaps meant the Gate Slack, a pass in Annandale. The Annan, and the Frith of Solway, into which it falls, are the frequent scenes of tragical accidents. The editor trusts he will be pardoned for inserting the following awfully impressive account of such an event, contained in a letter from Dr Currie, of Liverpool, by whose correspondence, while in the course of preparing these volumes for the press, he has been alike honoured and instructed. After stating, that he had some recollection of the ballad which follows, the biographer of Burns proceeds thus: "I once in my early days heard (for it was night, and I could not see) a traveller drowning; not in the Annan itself, but in the Frith of Solway, close by the mouth of that river. The influx of the tide had unhorsed him, in the night, as he was passing the sands from Cumberland. The west wind blew a tempest, and, according to the common expression, brought in the water, three foot a-breast. The traveller got upon a standing net, a little way from the shore. There he lashed himself to the post, shouting for half an hour for assistance—till the tide rose over his head! In the darkness of night, and amid the pauses of the hurricane, his voice, heard at intervals, was exquisitely mournful. No one could go to his assistance—no one knew where he was—the sound seemed to proceed from the spirit of the waters. But morning rose—the tide had ebbed—and the poor traveller was found lashed to the pole of the net, and bleaching in the wind."
ANNAN WATER.
"And my love Annie's wondrous bonny;
"And I am laith she suld weet her feet,
"Because I love her best of ony.
"Gar saddle sune, and make him ready:
"For I will down the Gatehope-slack,
"And all to see my bonny ladye."
He stirr'd him wi' the spur right sairly;
But, or he wan the Gatehope-slack,
I think the steed was wae and weary.
He rade the right gate and the ready;
I trow he would neither stint nor stay,
For he was seeking his bonny ladye.
Through muir and moss, and mony a mire;
His spurs o' steel were sair to bide,
And frae her fore-feet flew the fire.
"Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary,
"Wi' corn and hay ye'se be fed for aye,
"And never spur sall make you wearie."
But when she wan the Annan water,
She could na hae ridden a furlong mair,
Had a thousand merks been wadded[17] at her.
"Put off your boat for gowden monie!
"I cross the drumly stream the night,
"Or never mair I see my honey."
"And not by ae aith, but by many;
"And for a' the gowd in fair Scotland,
"I dare na take ye through to Annie."
Frae bank to brae the water pouring;
And the bonny gray mare did sweat for fear,
For she heard the water kelpy roaring.
The silver buttons glanced bonny;
The waistcoat bursted aff his breast,
He was sae full of melancholy.
I wot he swam both strong and steady;
But the stream was broad, and his strength did fail,
And he never saw his bonny ladye.
"And wae betide the bush of briar!
"It brake into my true love's hand,
"When his strength did fail, and his limbs did tire.
"This night that ye are a drumlie river!
"For over thee I'll build a bridge,
"That ye never more true love may sever."
THE CRUEL SISTER.
This ballad differs essentially from that which has been published in various collections, under the title of Binnorie. It is compiled from a copy in Mrs Brown's MSS., intermixed with a beautiful fragment, of fourteen verses, transmitted to the editor by J. C. Walker, Esq. the ingenious historian of the Irish bards. Mr Walker, at the same time, favoured the editor with the following note:—"I am indebted to my departed friend, Miss Brook, for the foregoing pathetic fragment. Her account of it was as follows: This song was transcribed, several years ago, from the memory of an old woman, who had no recollection of the concluding verses: probably the beginning may also be lost, as it seems to commence abruptly." The first verse and burden of the fragment run thus:—
Hey ho, my Nanny, O;
And you shall be heir of all my land,
While the swan swims bonny, O.
The first part of this chorus seems to be corrupted from the common burden of Hey, Nonny, Nonny, alluded to in the song, beginning, "Sigh no more, ladye." The chorus, retained in this edition, is the most common and popular; but Mrs Brown's copy bears a yet different burden, beginning thus:—
Edinborough, Edinborough;
There were twa sisters sat in a bour,
Stirling for aye;
There were twa sisters sat in a bour,
There cam a knight to be their wooer,
Bonny St Johnston stands upon Tay.
THE CRUEL SISTER.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
There came a knight to be their wooer;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
But he lo'ed the youngest aboon a' thing;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
But he lo'ed the youngest abune his life;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
And sore envied her sister fair;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
"Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?"
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
And led her down to the river strand;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
The eldest came and pushed her in;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
And dashed her bonny back to the jaw,
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
"And ye shall be heir of half my land."
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
"And I'll be heir of all your land;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
"Its twin'd me, and my world's make."
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
"And sweet William shall be your love."
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
"And sweet William shall better be my love."
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
"Garr'd me gang maiden evermair."
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
Until she cam to the miller's dam,
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
"There's either a mermaid, or a milk-white swan."
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
And there he found a drowned woman,
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
For gowd and pearls that were sae rare,
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
Her gowden girdle was sae bra';
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
The sweet pale face he chanced to spy;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
He sighed, and made a heavy moan;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
Whose notes made sad the listening ear;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
And there was the court assembled all;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
And straight it began to play alone;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
"And yonder sits my mother, the queen;
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
"And by him my William sweet and true."
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
Binnorie, O Binnorie;
Was—"Woe to my sister, false Helen!"
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.
THE QUEEN'S MARIE.
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
"In the very time of the General Assembly, there comes to public knowledge a haynous murther, committed in the court; yea, not far from the queen's lap: for a French woman, that served in the queen's chamber, had played the whore with the queen's own apothecary.—The woman conceived and bare a childe, whom, with common consent, the father and mother murthered; yet were the cries of a new-borne childe hearde, searche was made, the childe and the mother were both apprehended, and so was the man and the woman condemned to be hanged in the publicke street of Edinburgh.—The punishment was suitable, because the crime was haynous. But yet was not the court purged of whores and whoredoms, which was the fountaine of such enormities; for it was well known that shame hasted marriage betwixt John Sempill, called the Dancer, and Mary Leringston[20], sirnamed the Lusty. What bruit the Maries, and the rest of the dancers of the court had, the ballads of that age do witnesse, which we, for modestie's sake, omit: but this was the common complaint of all godly and wise men, that, if they thought such a court could long continue, and if they looked for no better life to come, they would have wished their sonnes and daughters rather to have been brought up with fiddlers and dancers, and to have been exercised with flinging upon a floore, and in the rest that thereof followes, than to have been exercised in the company of the godly, and exercised in virtue, which, in that court was hated, and filthenesse not only maintained, but also rewarded; witnesse the abbey of Abercorne, the barony of Auchvermuchtie, and divers others, pertaining to the patrimony of the crown, given in heritage to skippers and dancers, and dalliers with dames. This was the beginning of the regiment of Mary, queen of Scots, and these were the fruits that she brought forth of France.—Lord! look on our miseries! and deliver us from the wickednesse of this corrupt court!"—Knox's History of the Reformation, p. 373-4.
Such seems to be the subject of the following ballad, as narrated by the stern apostle of presbytery. It will readily strike the reader, that the tale has suffered great alterations, as handed down by tradition; the French waiting-woman being changed into Mary Hamilton,[21] and the queen's apothecary, into Henry Darnley. Yet this is less surprising, when we recollect, that one of the heaviest of the queen's complaints against her ill-fated husband, was his infidelity, and that even with her personal attendants. I have been enabled to publish the following complete edition of the ballad, by copies from various quarters; that principally used, was communicated to me, in the most polite manner, by Mr Kirkpatricke Sharpe, of Hoddom, to whom I am indebted for many similar favours.
THE QUEEN'S MARIE.
Wi' ribbons on her hair;
The king thought mair o' Marie Hamilton,
Than ony that were there.
Wi' ribbons on her breast;
The king thought mair o' Marie Hamilton,
Than he listen'd to the priest.
Wi' gluves upon her hands;
The king thought mair o' Marie Hamilton,
Than the queen and a' her lands.
A month, but barely one,
Till she was beloved by a' the king's court,
And the king the only man.
A month, but barely three,
Till frae the king's court Marie Hamilton,
Marie Hamilton durst na be.
To pu' the Abbey tree,
To scale the babe frae Marie's heart;
But the thing it wadna be.
And set it on the sea,—
"Gae sink ye, or swim ye, bonny babe,
"Ye'se get na mair o' me."
And word is to the ha',
And word is to the noble room,
Amang the ladyes a',
That Marie Hamilton's brought-to-bed,
And the bonny babe's mist and awa.
And scarcely fa'n asleep,
When up then started our gude queen,
Just at her bed-feet;
Saying—"Marie Hamilton, where's your babe?
"For I'm sure I heard it greet."
"Think no such thing to be;
"'Twas but a stitch into my side,
"And sair it troubles me."
"Get up, and follow me;
"For I am going to Edinburgh town,
"A rich wedding for to see."
And slowly put she on;
And slowly rode she out the way,
Wi' mony a weary groan.
Her merry maids all in green;
And every town that they cam to,
They took Marie for the queen.
"Ride hooly now wi' me!
"For never, I am sure, a wearier burd
"Rade in your cumpanie."
When she rade on the brown,
That she was ga'en to Edinburgh town,
And a' to be put down.
"Why look ye so on me?
"O, I am going to Edinburgh town,
"A rich wedding for to see."
The corks frae her heels did flee;
And lang or e'er she cam down again,
She was condemned to die.
She laughed loud laughters three;
But when she cam to the gallows foot,
The tears blinded her e'e.
"The night she'll hae but three;
"There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton,
"And Marie Carmichael, and me.
"And put gold upon her hair;
"But now I've gotten for my reward,
"The gallows to be my share;
"And often made her bed;
"But now I've gotten for my reward
"The gallows tree to tread.
"When ye sail ower the faem,
"Let neither my father nor mother get wit,
"But that I'm coming hame.
"That sail upon the sea,
"Let neither my father nor mother get wit
"This dog's death I'm to die.
"And my bold brethren three,
"O, mickle wad be the gude red blude,
"This day wad be spilt for me!
"The day she cradled me,
"The lands I was to travel in,
"Or the death I was to die!"