By Various

Chosen and edited by R. Brimley Johnson

Illustrated By W. C. Cooke In Four Volumes Volume II

1894

Original

CONTENTS

THOMAS THE RHYMER

THE BONNY HIND

KING HENRY

WILLY'S LADY

THE DÆMON LOVER

THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL

CLERK SAUNDERS

LORD DONALD

FINE FLOWERS IN THE VALLEY

YOUNG HUNTING

THE TWA CORBIES

THE DOWIE DENS O' YARROW

GRÆME AND BEWICK

THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW

FAIR ANNIE

THE GAY GOSS-HAWK

BROWN ADAM

THE LAIRD O' LOGIE

JOHNNIE OF BREADISLEE

KINMONT WILLY

THE DROWNED LOVERS

THE TWA BROTHERS

THE LAIRD OF WARISTOUN

YOUNG BEICHAN AND SUSIE

LIZZIE LINDSAY

THE BIRTH OF ROBIN HOOD

THE BARON OF BRACKLEY

CHILD VYET

ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK

THE BONNY HOUSE O' AIRLY

BONNY JAMES CAMPBELL

RICHIE STORY

EPPIE MORRIE

YOUNG AKIN

BONNY ANNIE

THE LAIRD O' DRUM

THE DEATH OF QUEEN JANE

THE GARDENER

JOHNNY SCOTT

KEMP OWYNE

THE WEARY COBLE O' CARGILL

JOHN THOMSON AND THE TURK

LORD DERWENTWATER

THE TWA MAGICIANS

BROWN ROBIN

BLANCHEFLOUR AND JELLYFLORICE

THE EARL OF MAR'S DAUGHTER

THE FAUSE LOVER

THE UNQUIET GRAVE.

PEASANT BALLADS

THE BROKEN TOKEN

YOUNG ROGER OF THE VALLEY

THE GOLDEN GLOVE

SIR ARTHUR AND CHARMING MOLLEE

UNDAUNTED MARY

THE WILTSHIRE WEDDING

THE TREES THEY ARE SO HIGH

GREEN BROOM

BONNY BARBARA ALLAN

AS JOHNNY WALKED OUT

THE BROWN GIRL

THE ROVING JOURNEY-MAN

THYME AND RUE

THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON

THE SIMPLE PLOUGHBOY

ROBBIE TAMSON'S SMIDDIE

CUPID'S GARDEN

KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT

THE KING AND THE COUNTRYMAN

SADDLE TO RAGS

THE WEEK'S WORK

FARMER'S BOY

TOMMY LINN

THE MERMAID

CAPTAIN WARD AND THE RAINBOW

GREENLAND WHALE FISHERY

GOLDEN VANITEE

THE YORKSHIRE HORSE-DEALER

WIDDICOMBE FAIR

LAZARUS

THE GAY LADY THAT WENT TO CHURCH

THOMAS THE RHYMER

True Thomas lay o'er yon grassy bank;

And he beheld a lady gay;

A lady that was brisk and bold,

Come riding o'er the ferny brae.

Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk,

Her mantle o' the velvet fine;

At ilka tett of her horse's mane,

Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

True Thomas, he took off his hat,

And bowed him low down till his knee:

"All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!

For your peer on earth I never did see."

"O no, O no, True Thomas," she says,

"That name does not belong to me;

I am but the Queen of fair Elfland,

And I am come here for to visit thee.

(tett, tuft.)

"Harp and carp, Thomas," she said;

"Harp and carp along wi' me;

And if ye dare to kiss my lips,

Sure of your body I will be."—

"Betide me weal, betide me woe,

That weird shall never daunton me."

Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,

All underneath the Eildon Tree.

"But ye maun go wi' me, now, Thomas;

True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me;

For ye maun serve me seven years,

Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be,"

(Harp and carp, chat.)

She turned about her milk-white steed;

And took true Thomas up behind:

And aye, whene'er her bridle rang,

The steed flew swifter than the wind.

For forty days and forty nights

He wade thro' red blude to the knee,

And he saw neither sun nor moon,

But heard the roaring of the sea.

Original

O they rade on, and farther on;

Until they came to a garden green,

"Light down, light down, ye lady free,

Some of that fruit let me pull to thee."

"O no, O no, True Thomas." she says;

"That fruit maun not be touched by thee,

For a' the plagues that are in hell

Light on the fruit of this country.

"But I have a loaf here in my lap,

Likewise a bottle of claret wine,

And now ere we go farther on,

We'll rest a while and ye may dine."

When he had eaten and drunk his fill—

"Lay down your head upon my knee,"

The lady said, "ere we climb yon hill,

And I will shew you ferlies three.

"O see not ye yon narrow road,

So thick beset with thorns and briars?

That is the path of righteousness,

Though after it but few enquires.

"And see ye not that braid braid road,

That lies across that lily leven?

That is the path of wickedness,

Though some call it the road to heaven.

"And see not ye that bonny road,

That winds about the ferny brae?

That is the road to fair Elfiand,

Where you and I this night maun gae.

"But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,

Whatever ye may hear or see;

For, gin ae word you should chance to speak,

Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain country."

(ferlies, marvels. leven, lawn.)

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,

And a pair of shoes of velvet green;

And till seven years were gane and past,

True Thomas on earth was never seen.

THE BONNY HIND

O may she comes, and may she goes,

Down by yon gardens green,

And there she spied a gallant squire

As squire had ever been.

And may she comes, and may she goes,

Down by yon hollin tree,

And there she spied a brisk young squire,

And a brisk young squire was he.

"Give me your green mantle, fair maid,

Give me your maidenhead;

Gif ye winna gie me your green mantle,

Give me your maidenhead!

He has ta'en her by the milk-white hand,

And softly laid her down,

And when he's lifted her up again

Given her a silver kaim.

(even, fine.)

"Perhaps there may be bairns, kind sir,

Perhaps there may be nane;

But if you be a courtier,

You'll tell to me your name."

"I am nae courtier, fair maid,

But new come frae the sea;

I am nae courtier, fair maid,

But when I courteth thee.

"They call me Jack when I'm abroad,

Sometimes they call me John;

But when I'm in my father's bower

Jock Randal is my name."

"Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny lad;

Sae loud's I hear ye lee!

For I'm Lord Randal's yae daughter,

He has nae mair nor me."

"Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny may,

Sae loud's I hear ye lee!

For I'm Lord Randal's yae yae son,

Just now come o'er the sea."

She's putten her hand down by her spare,

And out she's ta en a knife,

And she has put'nt in her heart's bluid,

And ta'en away her life.

(spare, pocket.)

And hes ta en up his bonny sister,

With the big tear in his een,

And he has buried his bonny sister

Among the hollins green.

And syne hes hied him o'er the dale,

His father dear to see:

"Sing O and O for my bonny hind,

Beneath yon hollin tree!"

"What needs you care for your bonny hind?

For it you needna care;

There's aught score hinds in yonder park,

And five score hinds to spare.

"Four score of them are siller-shod,

Of those ye may get three;"

"But O and O for my bonny hind,

Beneath yon hollin tree!"

"What needs you care for your bonny hind?

For it you needna care;

Take you the best, give me the worst,

Since plenty is to spare."

"I carena for your hinds, my Lord,

I carena for your fee;

But O and O for my bonny hind,

Beneath the hollin tree!"

(aught, eight.)

"O were ye at your sisters bower,

Your sister fair to see,

Ye'll think na mair o' your bonny hind,

Beneath the hollin tree."

KING HENRY

Original

Lat never a man a wooing wend,

That lacketh thingés three;

A routh o' gold, an open heart,

And fu' o' courtesy.

As this was seen o' King Henry,

For he lay burd-alane;

And he has ta'en him to a haunted hunt's ha',

Was seven miles frae a town.

(routh, plenty. burd-alane, alone, without a burd or maiden.)

hunt's ha', hunting-lodge.

He's chas'd the dun deer thro' the wood,

And the roe down by the den,

Till the fattest buck in a' the herd

King Henry he has slain.

He's ta'en him to his hunting ha',

For to make bierly cheer;

When loud the wind was heard to sound,

And an earthquake rocked the floor.

And darkness covered a' the hall

Where they sat at their meat;

The gray dogs, youling, left their food

And crept to Henry's feet.

And louder howled the rising wind,

And burst the fastened door;

And in there came a grisly ghost,

Stood stamping on the floor.

Her head hit the roof-tree o' the house,

Her middle ye mot weel span;—

Each frightened huntsman fled the ha';

And left the king alone."

Her teeth was a' like tether stakes,

Her nose like club or mell;

And I ken naething she 'pear'd to be,

But the fiend that wons in hell.

(bierly, proper. mell, mallet. wons, dwells.)

"Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry;

Some meat ye gie to me."

"And what meats in this house, Lady?

That ye're nae welcome tae?"

"O ye's gae kill your berry-brown steed,

And serve him up to me."

O when he slew his berry-brown steed,

Wow but his heart was sair!

She ate him a' up, skin and bane,

Left naething but hide and hair.

"Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,

Mair meat ye gie to me."

"And what meats in this house, Lady?

That yere nae welcome tae?"

"O ye do kill your good grey-hounds,

And ye bring them a to me."

O when he slew his good grey hounds,

Wow but his heart was sair!

She ate them a' up, ane by ane,

Left naething but hide and hair.

"Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,

Mair meat ye bring to me."

"And what meat's in this house, Lady?

That I hae left to gie?"

"O ye do fell your gay gosshawks,

And ye bring them a' to me."

O when he felled his gay gosshawks,

Wow but his heart was sair!

She ate them a' up, bane by bane,

Left naething but feathers bare.

"Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry;

Some drink ye bring to me."

"O what drink's in this house, Lady,

That ye're nae welcome tae?"

"O ye sew up your horse's hide,

And bring in a drink to me."

And he's sewed up the bloody hide,

And put in a pipe o' wine;

She drank it a' up at ae draught,

Left na ae drap therein.

"A bed, a bed, now, King Henry,

A bed ye mak to me."

"And what's the bed i' this house, Lady,

That ye're nae welcome tae?"

"O ye maun pu' the green heather,

And mak a bed to me."

And pu'd has he the heather green,

And made to her a bed;

And up he's ta en his gay mantle,

And o'er it has he spread.

"Now swear, now swear, ye King Henry,

To take me for your bride,"

"O God forbid," says King Henry,

'"That ever the like betide;

That ever the fiend that wons in hell,

Should streak down by my side."

When day was come, and night was gane,

And the sun shone thro' the ha,

The fairest lady that ever was seen

Lay atween him and the wa'.

"O weel is me!" says King Henry;

"How lang'll this last wi' me?"

And out and spake that lady fair,—

"E en till the day you die.

"For I was witched to a ghastly shape,

All by my stepdame's skill,

Till I should meet wi' a curteous knight,

Would gie me a' my will."

(streak, stretch, lie.)

WILLY'S LADY

Original

Willy's ta en him oer the faem,

Hes wooed a wife, and brought her hame;

Hes wooed her for her yellow hair,

But his mother wrought her mickle care;

And mickle dolour gar'd her dree,

For lighter she can never be;

But in her bower she sits wi' pain,

And Willy mourns oer her in vain.

And to his mother he has gane,

That vile rank witch, o' vilest kind!

He says—"My lady has a cup,

Wi' gowd and silver set about;

This goodly gift shall be your ain,

And let her be lighter o' her young bairn."—

(faem, sea. dree, suffer.)

"Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,

Nor in her bower to shine the brighter:

But she shall die, and turn to clay,

And you shall wed another may."—

"Another may I'll never wed,

Another may I'll ne'er bring hame:"—

But, sighing, says that weary wight—

"I wish my life were at an end!"

"Yet do ye unto your mother again,

That vile rank witch, o' vilest kind!

And say, your lady has a steed,

The like o' him's no in the land o' Leed.

"For he is golden shod before,

And he is golden shod behind;

At ilka tett of that horse's mane,

There's a golden chess, and a bell to ring.

This goodly gift shall be your ain,

And let me be lighter o' my young bairn."—

"Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,

Nor in her bower to shine the brighter;

But she shall die, and turn to clay,

And ye shall wed another may."—

"Another may I'll never wed,

Another may I'll ne'er bring hame:"—

(tett, tuft.)

Willy's Lady

But, sighing, said that weary wight—

"I wish my life were at an end!"—

"Yet do ye unto your mother again,

That vile rank witch, o' vilest kind!

And say your lady has a girdle,

It's of red gowd unto the middle;

"And aye, at every siller hem

Hang fifty siller bells and ten;

That goodly gift [shall] be her ain,

And let me be lighter o' my young bairn."—

"Of her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,

Nor in her bower to shine the brighter;

For she shall die, and turn to clay,

And you shall wed another may."—

"Another may I'll never wed,

Another may I'll ne'er bring hame:"—

But, sighing, said that weary wight—

"I wish my days were at an end!"—

Then out and spake the Billy Blind,

(He spake aye in good time:)

"Ye do ye to the market-place,

And there ye buy a loaf of wax;

Ye shape it bairn and bairnly like,

And in it twa glassen een ye put;

"And bid her come to your boy's christening,

Then notice weel what she shall do;

And do you stand a little forbye,

And listen weel what she shall say."

[He did him to the market-place,

And there he bought a loaf o' wax;

He shaped it bairn and bairnly like,

And in twa glazen een he pat;

He did him till his mother then,

And bade her to his boy's christening;

And he did stand a little forbye,

And noticed well what she did say.

"O wha has loosed the nine witch knots,

That was amang that lady's locks?

And wha's ta'en out the kaims o' care,

That hang amang that lady's hair?

"And wha's ta'en down the bush o' woodbine,

That hung between her bower and mine?

And wha has kill'd the master kid,

That ran beneath that lady's bed?

And wha has loosed her left foot shee,

And letten that lady lighter be?"

O, Willy's loosed the nine witch knots,

That was amang that lady's locks;

And Willy's ta'en out the kaims o' care,

That hang amang that lady's hair;

(shee, shoe.)

The Dæmon Lover ss'

And Willy's ta'en down the bush o' woodbine,

Hung atween her bower and thine

And Willy has kill'd the master kid,

That ran beneath that lady's bed;

And Willy has loosed her left foot shee,

And letten his lady lighter be;

And now he's gotten a bonny young son,

And mickle grace be him upon.

THE DÆMON LOVER

O where have you been, my long, long love,

This long seven years and more?"—

"O I'm come to seek my former vows

Ye granted me before."—

"O hold your tongue of your former vows,

For they will breed sad strife;

O hold your tongue of your former vows,

For I am become a wife."

He turn'd him right and round about,

And the tear blinded his ee;

"I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground,

If it had not been for thee.

"I might hae had a king's daughter,

Far, far beyond the sea;

I might have had a king's daughter,

Had it not been for love o' thee."—

"If ye might have had a king's daughter,

Yoursel' ye had to blame;

Ye might have taken the king's daughter,

For ye kenned that I was nane."—

["O false are the vows of womankind,

But fair is their false bodie;

I never wad hae trodden on Irish ground,

Had it not been for love o' thee."—]

"If I was to leave my husband dear,

And my two babes also,

O what have you to take me to,

If with you I should go?"—

"I hae seven ships upon the sea,

The eighth brought me to land;

With four-and-twenty bold mariners,

And music on every hand."

She has taken up her two little babes,

Kiss'd them baith cheek and chin;

"O fair ye weel, my ain two babes,

For I'll never see you again."

She set her foot upon the ship,

No mariners could she behold;

But the sails were o' the taffety,

And the masts o' the beaten gold.

She had not sail'd a league, a league,

A league but barely three,

When dismal grew his countenance,

And drumlie grew his ee.

[The masts that were like the beaten gold,

Bent not on the heaving seas;

But the sails, that were o' the taffety,

Fill'd not in the east land-breeze.—]

They had not sailed a league, a league,

A league but barely three,

Until she espied his cloven foot,

And she wept right bitterly.

"O hold your tongue of your weeping," says he,

"Of your weeping now let me be;

I will show you how the lilies grow

On the banks of Italy."—

(drumlie, gloomy.)

"O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills,

That the sun shines sweetly on?"—

"O yon are the hills of heaven," he said,

"Where you will never win."—

"O whaten a mountain is yon," she said,

"All so dreary wi' frost and snow?"—

"O yon is the mountain of hell," he cried,

"Where you and I will go."

[And aye when she turn'd her round about,

Aye taller he seem'd for to be;

Until that the tops o' that gallant ship

Nae taller were than he.

The clouds grew dark, and the wind grew loud,

And the levin fill'd her ee;

And waesome wail'd the snaw-white sprites

Upon the gurlie sea.]

He strack the tap-mast wi' his hand,

The fore-mast wi' his knee;

And he brake that gallant ship in twain,

And sank her in the sea.

(levin, lightning. gurlie, stormy.)

THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL

There lived a wife at Usher's Well,

And a wealthy wife was she,

She had three stout and stalwart sons,

And sent them o'er the sea.

They hadna been a week from her,

A week but barely ane,

When word came to the carline wife,

That her three sons were gane.

They hadna been a week from her,

A week but barely three,

When word came to the carline wife,

That her sons she'd never see.

"I wish the wind may never cease,

Nor fishes in the flood,

Till my three sons come hame to me.

In earthly flesh and blood."—

It fell about the Martinmas,

When nights are lang and mirk,

The carline wife's three sons came home,

And their hats were o' the birk.

It neither grew in syke nor ditch,

Nor yet in ony sheugh;

But at the gates o' Paradise,

That birk grew fair eneugh.

"Blow up the fire, my maidens!

Bring water from the well!

For a my house shall feast this night,

Since my three sons are well."—

And she has made to them a bed,

She's made it large and wide;

And she's ta'en heir mantle her about,

Sat down at the bed-side.

Up then crew the red red cock,

And up and crew the gray;

The eldest to the youngest said,

"'Tis time we were away."—

(syke, marsh, sheugh, furrow.)

The cock he hadna craw'd but once,

And clapp'd his wings at a',

When the youngest to the eldest said,

"Brother, we must awa'—

"The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,

The channerin' worm doth chide;

Gin we be missed out o' our place,

A sair pain we maun bide.

"Fare ye weel, my mother dear!

Fare weel to barn and byre!

And fare ye weel, the bonny lass,

That kindles my mothers fire."

(channerin', fretting.)

CLERK SAUNDERS

Clerk Saunders and may Margaret,

Walked ower yon gravelled green;

And sad and heavy was the love

I wot it fell this twa between.

"A bed, a bed," Clerk Saunders said,

"A bed, a bed for you and me!"—

"Fie na, fie na," the lady said,

"Until the day we married be;

"For in it will come my seven brothers,

And a their torches burning bright;

They'll say—' We hae but ae sister,

And here her lying wi' a knight! '"—

"Yell take the sword from my scabbard,

And lowly, lowly lift the gin;

And you may swear, and your oath to save,

Ye never let Clerk Saunders in.

"Yell take a napkin in your hand,

And yell tie up baith your een;

And you may swear, and your oath to save,

Ye saw na Sandy since late yestreen."

—"Ye'll take me in your armés twa,

Yell carry me ben into your bed,

And ye may swear, and your oath to save,

That in your bower-floor I ne'er tread."

She has ta en the sword frae his scabbard,

And lowly, lowly lifted the gin;

She was to swear, her oath to save,

She never let Clerk Saunders in.

She has ta'en a napkin in her hand,

And she tied up baith her een;

She was to swear, her oath to save,

She saw na him since late yestreen.

(gin, latch.)

She ta'en him in her armés twa

And carried him ben into her bed j

She was to swear her oath to save

He never on her bower-floor tread.

In and came her seven brothers,

And all their torches burning bright;

Says they, "We hae but ae sister,

And see there her lying wi' a knight!"

Out and speaks the first o' them,

"I wot that they hae been lovers dear!"

Out and speaks the next o' them,

"They hae been in love this many a year!"

Out and speaks the third o' them,

"It were great sin this twa to twain!"

Out and speaks the fourth of them,

"It were a sin to kill a sleeping man!"

Out and speaks the fifth of them,

"I wot they'll ne'er be twained by me";

Out and speaks the sixth of them,

"We'll tak our leave and gae our way."

Out and speaks the seventh o' them,

"Altho' there were no man but me;

I bear the brand I'll gar him dee."

Out he has ta'en a bright long brand,

And he has striped it through the straw,

And through and through Clerk Saunders' body

I wot he has gared cold iron gae.

(gar, make.)

Saunders he started, and Margaret she lept

Into his arms where she lay;

And well and wellsome was the night

I wot it was between those twa.

And they lay still and sleeped sound,

Until the day began to daw;

And kindly to him she did say,

"It is time, true love, you were awa'."

They lay still, and sleeped sound,

Until the sun began to sheen;

She looked atween her and the wa,

And dull and drowsy was his een.

She thought it had been a loathsome sweat,

I wot it had fallen these twa between;

But it was the blood of his fair body,

I wot his life-days were na lang.

O Saunders, I'll do for your sake

What other ladies would na thole;

When seven years is come and gone,