Volume 4 / Part 2 — APPENDIX.

Young Beichan was in London born, He was a man of hie degree; He past thro' monie kingdoms great, Until he cam unto Grand Turkie. He view'd the fashions of that land,5 Their way of worship viewed he; But unto onie of their stocks He wadna sae much as bow a knee: Which made him to be taken straight, And brought afore their hie jurie;10 The savage Moor did speak upricht, And made him meikle ill to dree. In ilka shoulder they've bor'd a hole, And in ilka hole they've put a tree; They've made him to draw carts and wains,15 Till he was sick and like to dee. But young Beichan was a Christian born, And still a Christian was he; Which made them put him in prison strang, And cauld and hunger sair to dree;20 And fed on nocht but bread and water, Until the day that he mot dee. In this prison there grew a tree, And it was unco stout and strang; Where he was chained by the middle,25 Until his life was almaist gane. The savage Moor had but ae dochter, And her name it was Susie Pye; And ilka day as she took the air, The prison door she passed bye.30 But it fell ance upon a day, As she was walking, she heard him sing; She listen'd to his tale of woe, A happy day for young Beichan! "My hounds they all go masterless,35 My hawks they flee frae tree to tree, My youngest brother will heir my lands, My native land I'll never see." "O were I but the prison-keeper, As I'm a ladie o' hie degree,40 I soon wad set this youth at large, And send him to his ain countrie." She went away into her chamber, All nicht she never clos'd her ee; And when the morning begoud to dawn,45 At the prison door alane was she. She gied the keeper a piece of gowd, And monie pieces o' white monie, To tak her thro' the bolts and bars; The lord frae Scotland she lang'd to see;—50 She saw young Beichan at the stake, Which made her weep maist bitterlie. "O hae ye got onie lands," she says, "Or castles in your ain countrie? It's what wad ye gie to the ladie fair55 Wha out o' prison wad set you free?" "It's I hae houses, and I hae lands, Wi' monie castles fair to see, And I wad gie a' to that ladie gay, Wha out o' prison wad set me free."60 The keeper syne brak aff his chains, And set Lord Beichan at libertie:— She fill'd his pockets baith wi' gowd, To tak him till his ain countrie. She took him frae her father's prison,65 And gied to him the best o' wine; And a brave health she drank to him; "I wish, Lord Beichan, ye were mine! "It's seven lang years I'll mak a vow, And seven lang years I'll keep it true;70 If ye'll wed wi' na ither woman, It's I will wed na man but you." She's tane him to her father's port, And gien to him a ship o' fame:— "Farewell, farewell, my Scottish lord,75 I fear I'll ne'er see you again." Lord Beichan turn'd him round about, And lowly, lowly, loutit he:— "Ere seven lang years come to an end, I'll tak you to mine ain countrie."80 * * * * Then when he cam to Glasgow town, A happy, happy man was he; The ladies a' around him thrang'd, To see him come frae slaverie. His mother she had died o' sorrow,85 And a' his brothers were dead but he; His lands they a' were lying waste, In ruins were his castles free. Na porter there stood at his yett Na human creature he could see,90 Except the screeching owls and bats, Had he to bear him companie. But gowd will gar the castles grow, And he had gowd and jewels free; And soon the pages around him thrang'd,95 To serve him on their bended knee. His hall was hung wi' silk and satin, His table rung wi' mirth and glee; He soon forgot the lady fair, That lows'd him out o' slaverie.100 Lord Beichan courted a lady gay, To heir wi' him his lands sae free, Ne'er thinking that a lady fair Was on her way frae Grand Turkie. For Susie Pye could get na rest,105 Nor day nor nicht could happy be, Still thinking on the Scottish Lord, Till she was sick and like to dee. But she has builded a bonnie ship, Weel mann'd wi' seamen o' hie degree;110 And secretly she stept on board, And bid adieu to her ain countrie. But whan she cam to the Scottish shore, The bells were ringing sae merrilie; It was Lord Beichan's wedding day,115 Wi' a lady fair o' hie degree. But sic a vessel was never seen; The very masts were tapp'd wi' gold; Her sails were made o' the satin fine, Maist beautiful for to behold.120 But whan the lady cam on shore, Attended wi' her pages three, Her shoon were of the beaten gowd, And she a lady of great beautie. Then to the skipper she did say,125 "Can ye this answer gie to me— Where are Lord Beichan's lands sae braid? He surely lives in this countrie." Then up bespak the skipper bold,— For he could speak the Turkish tongue,—130 "Lord Beichan lives not far away; This is the day of his wedding." "If ye will guide me to Beichan's yetts, I will ye well reward," said she,— Then she and all her pages went,135 A very gallant companie. When she cam to Lord Beichan's yetts, She tirl'd gently at the pin; Sae ready was the proud porter To let the wedding guests come in.140 "Is this Lord Beichan's house," she says, "Or is that noble lord within?" "Yes, he is gane into the hall, With his brave bride and monie ane." "Ye'll bid him send me a piece of bread,145 Bot and a cup of his best wine; And bid him mind the lady's love That ance did lowse him out o' pyne." Then in and cam the porter bold,— I wat he gae three shouts and three,—150 "The fairest lady stands at your yetts That ever my twa een did see." Then up bespak the bride's mither,— I wat an angry woman was she,— "You micht hae excepted our bonnie bride,155 Tho' she'd been three times as fair as she." "My dame, your daughter's fair enough, And aye the fairer mot she be! But the fairest time that e'er she was, She'll na compare wi' this ladie.160 "She has a gowd ring on ilka finger, And on her mid-finger she has three; She has as meikle gowd upon her head, As wad buy an earldom o' land to thee. "My lord, she begs some o' your bread,165 Bot and a cup o' your best wine, And bids you mind the lady's love That ance did lowse ye out o' pyne." Then up and started Lord Beichan,— I wat he made the table flee,—170 "I wad gie a' my yearlie rent 'Twere Susie Pye come owre the sea." Syne up bespak the bride's mother,— She was never heard to speak sae free,— "Ye'll no forsake my ae dochter,175 Tho' Susie Pye has cross'd the sea?" "Tak hame, tak hame, your dochter, madam, For she is ne'er the waur o' me; She cam to me on horseback riding, And she sall gang hame in chariot free."180 He's tane Susie Pye by the milk-white hand, And led her thro' his halls sae hie: "Ye're now Lord Beichan's lawful wife, And thrice ye're welcome unto me." Lord Beichan prepar'd for another wedding,185 Wi' baith their hearts sae fu' o' glee;— Says, "I'll range na mair in foreign lands, Sin Susie Pye has cross'd the sea. "Fy! gar a' our cooks mak ready; And fy! gar a' our pipers play;190 And fy! gar trumpets gae thro' the toun, That Lord Beichan's wedded twice in a day!"

Sweet William's gane over seas, Some unco lair to learn, And our gude Bailie's ae dochter Is awa to learn the same. In ae braid buik they learned baith,5 In ae braid bed they lay; But when her father cam to know, He gart her come away. "It's you must marry that Southland lord, His lady for to be;10 It's ye maun marry that Southland lord, Or nocht ye'll get frae me." "I must marry that Southland lord, Father, an it be your will; But I'd rather it were my burial day,15 My grave for to fill." She walked up, she walked down, Had nane to mak her moan, Nothing but the pretty bird Sat on the causey stone.20 "If thou could speak, wee bird," she says, "As weel as thou can flee, I would write a lang letter To Will ayont the sea." "What thou wants wi' Will," it says,25 "Thou'll seal it wi' thy ring; Tak a thread o' silk, and anither o' twine, And about my neck it hing." What she wanted wi' Willie She sealed it wi' a ring;30 Took a thread o' silk, anither of twine, About its neck did hing. This bird flew high, this bird flew low, This bird flew owre the sea, Until it entered the same chamber35 Wherein was sweet Willie. This bird flew high, this bird flew low,— Poor bird, it was mista'en,— It loot the letter fa' on Baldie's breast, Instead of sweet William.40 "Here's a letter, William," he says, "I'm sure it's not to me; And gin the morn gin twelve o'clock Your love shall married be." "Come saddle to me my horse," he said,45 "The brown and a' that's speedie, And I'll awa' to Old England, To bring hame my ladie." Awa he gade, awa he rade, Awa wi' meikle speed;50 He lichtit at every twa miles' end, Lichtit and changed his steed. When she entered the church style, The tear was in her e'e; But when she entered the church door,55 A blythe sight did she see. "O hold your hand, you minister, Hold it a little wee, Till I speak wi' the bonnie bride, For she's a friend to me.60 "Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom, Stand off a little wee; Stand off, stand off, you braw bridegroom, For the bride shall join wi' me." Up and spak the bride's father,65 And an angry man was he,— "If I had pistol, powther and lead, And all at my command, It's I would shoot thee stiff and dead, In the place where thou dost stand."70 Up and spoke then sweet William, And a blithe blink from his e'e: "If ye ne'er be shot till I shoot you, Ye'se ne'er be shot for me. "Come out, come out, my foremost man,75 And lift my lady on; Commend me all to my goodmother, At night when you gang home."

It was the young Child Dyring, Wi' his mither rede did he: "I will me out ride Sir Magnus's bride to see." His leave the page takes to-day from his master. "Will thou thee out ride,5 Sir Magnus's bride to see? Sae beg I thee by Almighty God Thou speed thee home to me." His leave, &c. Syne answer'd young Child Dyrè; He rode the bride to meet;10 The silk but and the black sendell Hang down to his horse feet. His leave, &c. All rode they there, the bride-folk, On row sae fair to see, Excepting Sir Svend Dyrè,15 And far about rode he. His leave, &c. It was the young Child Dyrè rode Alone along the strand; The bridle was of the red gold That glitter'd in his hand.20 His leave, &c. 'Twas then proud Lady Ellensborg, And under weed smil'd she; "And who is he, that noble child That rides sae bold and free?" His leave, &c. Syne up and spak the maiden fair25 Was next unto the bride; "It is the young Child Dyrè That stately steed does ride." His leave, &c. "And is't the young Child Dyrè That rides sae bold and free?30 God wot, he's dearer that rides that steed Nor a' the lave to me!" His leave, &c. All rode they there, the bridal train, Each rode his steed to stall; All but Child Dyrè, that look'd whare he35 Should find his seat in the hall. His leave, &c. "Sit whare ye list, my lordings; For me, whate'er betide, Here I shall sickerly sit the day, To hald the sun frae the bride."40 His leave, &c. Then up spak the bride's father, And an angry man was he; "Whaever sits by my dochter the day, Ye better awa' wad be." His leave, &c. "It's I have intill Paris been,45 And well my drift can spell; And ay, whatever I have to say, I tell it best my sell." His leave, &c. "Sooth thou hast intill Paris lear'd A worthless drift to spell,50 And ay, whatever thou hast to say, A rogue's tale thou must tell." His leave, &c. Ben stept he, young Child Dyrè, Nor reck'd he wha might chide; And he has ta'en a chair in hand,55 And set him by the bride. His leave, &c. 'Twas lang i' the night; the bride-folk Ilk ane look'd for his bed; And young Child Dyrè amang the lave Speer'd whare he should be laid.60 His leave, &c. "Without, afore the stair steps, Or laigh on the cawsway stane, And there may lye Sir Dyrè, For ither bed we've nane." His leave, &c. 'Twas ate intill the evening;65 The bride to bed maun ga; And out went he, Child Dyring, To rouse his menyie a'. His leave, &c. "Now busk and d'on your harnass, But and your brynies blae,70 And boldly to the bride-bower Full merrily we'll gae." His leave, &c. Sae follow'd they to the bride-bower That bride sae young and bright, And forward stept Child Dyrè,75 And quenched the marriage light. His leave, &c. The cresset they've lit up again, But and the taper clear, And followed to the bride-bower That bride without a peer.80 His leave, &c. * * * * * * And up Child Dyrè snatch'd the bride, All in his mantle blae, And swung her all so lightly Upon his ambler gray. His leave, &c. They lock'd the bower, they lit the torch,85 'Twas hurry-scurry a', While merrily ay the lovers gay Rode roundly to the shaw. His leave, &c. In Rosen-wood they turn'd about To pray their bridal prayer;90 "Good night and joy, Sir Magnus! For us ye'll see nae mair." His leave, &c. Sae rode he to the green wood, And o'er the meadow green, Till he came to his mither's bower,95 Ere folks to bed were gane. His leave, &c. Out came proud Lady Metelild, In menevair sae free; She welcom'd him, Child Dyring, And his young bride him wi'.100 His leave, &c. Now joys attend Child Dyring, Sae leal but and sae bold; He's ta'en her to his ain castell, His bride-ale there to hold. His leave the page takes to-day frae his master.

Four-and-twenty ladies fair Were playing at the ba', And out cam Barbara Livingston, The flower amang them a'. Out cam Barbara Livingston,5 The flower amang them a';— The lusty Laird of Linlyon Has stoun her clean awa'. "The hielands is no for me, kind sir, The hielands is no for me;10 But if you would my favour win, Ye 'll tak me to Dundee." "The hielands 'll be for thee, my dear, The hielands will be for thee; To the lusty Laird o' Linlyon15 A-married ye shall be." When they cam to Linlyon's yetts, And lichtit on the green, Every ane spak Earse to her,— The tears cam trickling down.20 When they went to bed at nicht, To Linlyon she did say, "Och and alace! a weary nicht, Oh! but it's lang till day." "Your father's steed 's in my stable,25 He 's eating corn and hay, And you 're lying in my twa arms; What need you lang for day?" "If I had paper, pen, and ink, And candle for to see,30 I would write a lang letter To my love in Dundee." They brocht her paper, pen, and ink, And candle for to see, And she did write a lang letter35 To her love in Dundee. When he cam to Linlyon's yetts, And lichtit on the green; But lang or he wan up the stair His love was dead and gane.40 Woe be to thee, Linlyon, An ill death may thou die! Thou might hae ta'en anither woman, And let my lady be.

There lives a man in Rynie's land, Anither in Auchindore; The bravest lad amo' them a', Was lang Johnny Moir. Young Johnny was an airy blade,5 Fu' sturdy, stout, and strang; The sword that hang by Johnny's side, Was just full ten feet lang. Young Johnny was a clever youth, Fu' sturdy, stout, and wight;10 Just full three yards around the waist, And fourteen feet in hight. But if a' be true they tell me now, And a' be true I hear, Young Johnny's on to Lundan gane,15 The king's banner to bear. He hadna been in fair Lundan But twalmonths twa or three, Till the fairest lady in a' Lundan Fell in love wi' young Johnny.20 This news did sound thro' Lundan town, Till it came to the king, That the muckle Scot had fa'in in love Wi' his daughter, Lady Jean. When the king got word o' that,25 A solemn oath sware he; "This weighty Scott sall strait a rope, And hanged he shall be." When Johnny heard the sentence past, A light laugh then gae he;30 "While I hae strength to yield my blade, Ye darena a' hang me." The English dogs were cunning rogues; About him they did creep, And ga'e him draps o' lodomy35 That laid him fast asleep. Whan Johnny waken'd frae his sleep, A sorry heart had he; His jaws and hands in iron bands, His feet in fetters three.40 "O whar will I get a little wee boy Will work for meat and fee, That will rin on to my uncle, At the foot of Benachie?" "Here am I, a little wee boy,45 Will work for meat and fee, That will rin on to your uncle, At the foot of Benachie." "Whan ye come whar grass grows green, Slack your shoes and rin;50 And whan ye come whar water's strong, Ye'll bend your bow and swim. "And whan ye come to Benachie, Ye'll neither chap nor ca'; Sae well's ye'll ken auld Johnny there,55 Three feet abeen them a'. "Ye'll gie to him this braid letter, Seal'd wi' my faith and troth; And ye'll bid him bring alang wi' him The body, Jock o' Noth."60 "Whan he came whar grass grew green, He slack't his shoes and ran; And whan he came whar water's strong, He bent his bow and swam. And whan he came to Benachie,65 Did neither chap nor ca'; Sae well's he kent auld Johnny there, Three feet abeen them a'. "What news, what news, my little wee boy? Ye never were here before;"70 "Nae news, nae news, but a letter from Your nephew, Johnny Moir. "Ye'll take here this braid letter, Seal'd wi' his faith and troth; And ye're bidden bring alang wi' you75 The body, Jock o' Noth." Benachie lyes very low, The tap o' Noth lyes high; For a' the distance that's between, He heard auld Johnny cry.80 Whan on the plain these champions met, Twa grizly ghosts to see, There were three feet between her brows, And shoulders were yards three. These men they ran ower hills and dales,85 And ower mountains high; Till they came on to Lundan town, At the dawn o' the third day. And whan they came to Lundan town, The yetts were lockit wi' bands;90 And wha were there but a trumpeter, Wi' trumpet in his hands. "What is the matter, ye keepers all, Or what's the matter within, That the drums do beat, and bells do ring,95 And make sic dolefu' din?" "There's naething the matter," the keeper said, "There's naething the matter to thee; But a weighty Scot to strait the rope, And the morn he maun die."100 "O open the yetts, ye proud keepers, Ye'll open without delay;" The trembling keeper smiling said, "O I hae not the key." "Ye'll open the yetts, ye proud keepers,105 Ye'll open without delay; Or here is a body at my back Frae Scotland hae brought the key." "Ye'll open the yetts," says Jock o' Noth, "Ye'll open them at my call;"110 Then wi' his foot he has drove in Three yards braid o' the wall. As they gaed in by Drury-lane, And down by the town's hall; And there they saw young Johnny Moir,115 Stand on their English wall. "Ye're welcome here, my uncle dear, Ye're welcome unto me; Ye'll loose the knot, and slack the rope, And set me frae the tree."120 "Is it for murder, or for theft? Or is it for robberie? If it is for ony heinous crime, There's nae remeid for thee." "It's nae for murder, nor for theft,125 Nor yet for robberie; A' is for the loving a gay lady, They're gaun to gar me die." "O whar's thy sword," says Jock o' Noth, "Ye brought frae Scotland wi' thee?130 I never saw a Scotsman yet, But coud wield a sword or tree." "A pox upo' their lodomy On me had sic a sway; Four o' their men, the bravest four,135 They bore my blade away." "Bring back his blade," says Jock o' Noth, "And freely to him it gie; Or I hae sworn a black Scot's oath, I'll gar five million die."140 "Now whar's the lady?" says Jock o' Noth, "Sae fain I would her see;" "She's lock'd up in her ain chamber, The king he keeps the key." So they hae gane before the king,145 With courage bauld and free; Their armour bright cast sic a light, That almost dim'd his e'e. "O whar's the lady," says Jock o' Noth, "Sae fain as I wou'd her see;150 For we are come to her wedding, Frae the foot o' Benachie." "O take the lady," said the king, "Ye welcome are for me; I never thought to see sic men155 Frae the foot o' Benachie." "If I had ken'd," said Jock o' Noth, "Ye'd wonder'd sae muckle at me, I wou'd hae brought ane larger far By sizes three times three."160 "Likewise if I had thought I'd been Sic a great fright to thee, I'd brought Sir John o' Erskine park; He's thretty feet and three." "Wae to the little boy," said the King,165 "Brought tidings unto thee; Let all England say what they will, High hanged shall he be." "O if ye hang the little wee boy Brought tidings unto me,170 We shall attend his burial, And rewarded ye shall be." "O take the lady," said the king, "And the boy shall be free:" "A priest, a priest," then Johnny cried,175 "To join my love and me." "A clerk, a clerk," the king replied, "To seal her tocher wi' thee." Out it speaks auld Johnny then, These words pronounced he:180 "I wantnae lands and rents at hame, I'll ask nae gowd frae thee; I am possess'd o' riches great, Hae fifty ploughs and three; Likewise fa's heir to ane estate185 At the foot o' Benachie. "Hae ye ony masons in this place, Or ony at your call, That ye may now send some of them, To build your broken wall?"190 "Yes, there are masons in this place, And plenty at my call; But ye may gang frae whence ye came, Never mind my broken wall." They've ta'en the lady by the hand,195 And set her prison free; Wi' drums beating, and fifes playing, They spent the night wi' glee. Now auld Johnny Moir, and young Johnny Moir, And Jock o' Noth, a' three,200 The English lady, and little wee boy, Went a' to Benachie.

It fell about the Lammas time, When flowers were fresh and green, Lizie Baillie to Gartartan went, To see her sister Jean. She meant to go unto that place,5 To stay a little while; But mark what fortune her befell, When she went to the isle. It fell out upon a day, Sheep-shearing at an end,10 Lizie Baillie she walk'd out, To see a distant friend. But going down in a low glen, She met wi' Duncan Græme, Who courted her along the way,15 Likewise convoyed her hame. "My bonny Lizie Baillie, I'll row you in my plaidie, If ye'll gang ower the hills wi' me, And be a Highland ladie."20 "I winna gang alang wi' you; Indeed I maun confess, I can neither milk cow nor ewe, Nor yet can I speak Earse." "O never fear, Lizie," he said,25 "If ye will gang wi' me, All that is into my place, Can speak as gude Scotch as thee. "But for a time we now maun part; I hinna time to tarry;30 Next when we twa meet again, Will be in Castlecarry." When Lizie tarried out her time, Unto her father's came, The very first night she arrived,35 Wha comes but Duncan Græme. Says, "Bonny Lizie Baillie, A gude deed mat ye die; Altho' to me ye brake your tryst, Now I am come for thee."40 "O stay at hame," her father said, "Your mither cannot want thee; And gin ye gang awa' this night, We'll hae a Killycrankie." "My bonny Lizie Baillie,45 O come to me without delay; O wou'd ye hae sae little wit, As mind what odd folks wad say?" She wou'dna hae the Lowlandman, That wears the coat sae blue;50 But she wou'd hae the Highlandman, That wears the plaid and trews. Out it spake her mother then, A sorry heart had she; Says, "Wae be to his Highland face,55 That's taen my lass frae me!"

There were seven Gipsies in a gang, They were both brisk and bonny O, They rode till they came to the Earl of Castle's house, And there they sung so sweetly O. The Earl of Castle's lady came down,5 With her waiting maid beside her O; As soon as her handsome face they saw, They cast the glamour o'er her O. They gave to her a nutmeg brown, Which was of the belinger O;10 She gave to them a far better thing, The ring from off her finger O. The Earl he flang his purse to them, For wow! but they sung bonny O; Gied them red wine and manchet cake,15 And all for the Gipsy laddie O. The Earl wad gae hunt in Maybole woods, For blythsome was the morning O, To hunt the deer wi' the yelping curs, Wi' the huntsman bugle sounding O.20 The Countess went doun to the ha', To hae a crack at them fairly O; "And och," she cried, "I wad follow thee, To the end o' the world or nearly O." He kist the Countess lips sae red,25 And her jimp white waist he cuddled O; She smoothed his beard wi' her luvely hand, And a' for her Gipsy laddie O. "And och," she cried, "that I should love thee, And ever wrong my Earlie O;30 I ken there's glamour in mine e'ee, To follow a Gipsy laddie O." Quo he, "Thou art ane Earl's ladye, And that is kent fu' fairly O; But if thou comest awa wi' me,35 Thou'lt be a queen so rarely O. "I'm Johnny Faa o' Yetholm town, There dwall my min and daddie O; And sweet Countess, I'm nothing less Than King o' the Gipsy laddies O."40 She pull'd off her high heel'd shoes,— They were made of Spanish leather O,— She put on her Highland brogues, To follow the Gipsy laddie O. At night, when my lord came riding home,45 Enquiring for his lady O, The waiting maid made this reply— "She's following the Gipsy laddie O." "O now then," quo' the bonny Earl, "That ever siccan a thing suld be;50 All ye that love, oh never build Your nest upon the topmost tree. "For oh the green leaves they will fall, And roots and branches wither O; But the virtue o' a leal woman,55 I trow wad never swither O. "Go saddle me my mylk white steed, Go saddle it so sadly O, And I will ride out oure the lea, To follow her Gipsy laddie O.60 "Go saddle me my bonny black, And eke my gray cowt quickly O; Gin I hae not Johnny Faa his head, The de'il may claw me tightly O. "Have you been east, or have you been west,65 Or have you been brisk and bonny O, Or have you seen a gay lady Following a Gipsy laddie O?" He rode all the summer's night, And part of the next morning O;70 At length he espied his own wedded wife, She was cold, wet, and weary O. The leddy sabbed, the leddy cried, And wrung her hands sae sadly O; And aye her moan was to the Earl,75 To spare her Gipsy laddie O. "Why did you leave your houses and lands, Or why did you leave your money O, Or why did you leave your own wedded lord, To follow the Gipsy laddie O?"80 "O what care I for houses and lands, Or what care I for money O? So as I have brew'd, so I will drink, So fare you well, my honey O." They marched them to the gallows tree,85 Whilst the Earl stood at the window O; And aye the smile was on his lip, As he thocht on the Gipsy laddie O. There were seven Gipsies in a gang, They were so brisk and bonny O,90 And they're to be hang'd all in a row, For the Earl o' Castle's leddy O.

When I fell sick, an' very sick, An' very sick, just like to die, A gentleman of good account He cam on purpose to visit me; But his blackie whispered in my lord's ear,5 He was owre lang in the room wi' me. "Gae little page, an' tell your lord, Gin he will come and dine wi' me, I'll set him on a chair of gold, And serve him on my bended knee."10 The little page gaed up the stair,— "Lord Douglass, dine wi' your ladie: She'll set ye on a chair of gold, And serve you on her bended knee." "When cockle shells turn silver bells,15 When wine drieps red frae ilka tree, When frost and snaw will warm us a', Then I'll cum down an' dine wi' thee." But whan my father gat word o' this, O what an angry man was he!20 He sent fourscore o' his archers bauld To bring me safe to his countrie. When I rose up then in the morn, My goodly palace for to lea', I knocked at my lord's chamber door,25 But ne'er a word wad he speak to me. But slowly, slowly, rose he up, And slowly, slowly, cam he down, And when he saw me set on my horse, He caused his drums and trumpets soun.30 "Now fare ye weel my goodly palace, And fare ye weel, my children three; God grant your father grace to love you, Far more than ever he loved me." He thocht that I was like himsel,35 That had a woman in every hall; But I could swear by the heavens clear, I never loved man but himsel. As on to Embro' town we cam, My guid father he welcomed me;40 He caused his minstrels meet to sound,— It was nae music at a' to me. "Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear, Leave off your weeping, let it be; For Jamie's divorcement I'll send over;45 Far better lord I'll provide for thee." "O haud your tongue, my father dear, And of such talking let me be; For never a man shall come to my arms, Since my lord has sae slighted me."50 O an' I had ne'er crossed the Tweed, Nor yet been owre the river Dee, I might hae staid at Lord Orgul's gate, Where I wad hae been a gay ladie. The ladies they will cum to town,55 And they will cum and visit me; But I'll set me down now in the dark, For ochanie! who'll comfort me? An' wae betide ye, black fastness, Ay, and an ill deid may ye die!60 Ye was the first and foremost man Wha parted my true lord and me.

"I lay sick, and very sick, And I was bad, and like to die, A friend o' mine cam to visit me;— And Blackwood whisper'd in my lord's ear, That he was owre lang in chamber wi' me.5 "O what need I dress up my head, Nor what need I kaim doun my hair, Whan my gude lord has forsaken me, And says he will na love me mair! "But O! an my young babe was born,10 And set upon some nourice knee, And I mysel war dead and gane,— For a maid again I'll never be."— "Na mair o' this, my dochter dear, And of your mourning let abee;15 For a bill of divorce I'll gar write for him, A mair better lord I'll get for thee." "Na mair o' this, my father dear, And of your folly let abee; For I wad na gie ae look o' my lord's face,20 For a' the lords in the haill countrie. "But I'll cast off my robes o' red, And I'll put on my robes o' blue; And I will travel to some other land, To see gin my love will on me rue.25 "There sall na wash come on my face, There sall na kaim come on my hair; There sall neither coal nor candle licht Be seen intil my bouer na mair. "O! wae be to thee Blackwood,30 And an ill death may ye die, For ye've been the haill occasion Of parting my lord and me."

The Provost's dochter went out a walking, A may's love whiles is easie won; She heard a puir prisoner making his meane, And she was the fair flow'r o' Northumberland. "Gif onie ladie wad borrow me5 Out into this prison strang, I wad make her a ladie o' hie degree, For I am a gret lard in fair Scotland." She has dune her to her father's bed-stock, A may's love whiles is easie won!10 She has stown the keys o' monie braw lock, And she has lows'd him out o' prison strang. She has dune her to her father's stable, A may's love whiles is easie won! She has tane out a steed, baith swift and able,15 To carry them baith to fair Scotland. Whan they cam to the Scottish corss, A may's love whiles is easie won! "Ye brazen-faced hure, licht aff o' my horse, And go, get ye back to Northumberland."20 Whan they cam to the Scottish muir, A may's love whiles is easie won! "Get aff o' my horse, ye brazen-fac'd hure, So, go, get ye back to Northumberland." "O pity on me! O pity!" said she,25 "O that my love was so easie won! Have pity on me, as I had upon thee, Whan I lows'd ye out o' prison strang." "O how can I hae pity on thee? O why was your love sae easie won?30 Whan I hae a wife and children three, Mair worthy than a' in Northumberland." "Cook in your kitchen I will be,— O that my love was sae easie won! And serve your lady maist reverentlie,35 For I darna gang back to Northumberland." "Cook in my kitchen, ye sall not be,— Why was your love so easie won? For I will hae na sic servants as thee, So, get ye back to Northumberland.40 But laith was he the lassie to tyne, A may's love whiles is easie won! He hired an auld horse, and fee'd an auld man, To carry her back to Northumberland. Whan she cam her father afore,45 A may's love whiles is easie won! She fell at his feet on her knees sae low,— She was the fair flow'r o' Northumberland. "O dochter, dochter, why was ye bauld, O why was your love sae easie won!50 To be a Scot's hure in your fifteen year auld, And ye the fair flow'r o' Northumberland!" Her mother on her sae gentlie smil'd,— "O that her love was sae easie won! She's na the first that the Scots hae beguil'd,55 And she's still the fair flow'r o' Northumberland. "She shanna want gowd, she shanna want fee, Although her love was easie won; She shanna want gowd to gain a man wi', And she'll still be the fair flow'r o' Northumberland."60

There was a maid, richly array'd, In robes were rare to see; For seven years and something mair, She serv'd a gay ladie. But being fond o' a higher place,5 In service she thought lang; She took her mantle her about, Her coffer by the band. And as she walk'd by the shore side, As blythe's a bird on tree,10 Yet still she gaz'd her round about, To see what she could see. At last she spied a little castle, That stood near by the sea; She spied it far, and drew it near,15 To that castle went she. And when she came to that castle, She tirled at the pin; And ready stood a little wee boy To lat this fair maid in.20 "O who's the owner of this place, O porter boy, tell me?" "This place belongs unto a queen O' birth and high degree." She put her hand in her pocket,25 And ga'e him shillings three; "O porter bear my message well, Unto the queen frae me." The porter's gane before the queen, Fell low down on his knee;30 "Win up, win up, my porter boy, What makes this courtesie?" "I ha'e been porter at your yetts, My dame, these years full three, But see a ladie at your yetts,35 The fairest my eyes did see." "Cast up my yetts baith wide and braid, Lat her come in to me; And I'll know by her courtesie, Lord's daughter if she be."40 When she came in before the queen, Fell low down on her knee; "Service frae you, my dame, the queen, I pray you grant it me." "If that service ye now do want,45 What station will ye be? Can ye card wool, or spin, fair maid, Or milk the cows to me?" "No, I can neither card nor spin, Nor cows I canno' milk;50 But sit into a lady's bower, And sew the seams o' silk." "What is your name, ye comely dame? Pray tell this unto me: "O Blancheflour, that is my name,55 Born in a strange countrie." "O keep ye well frae Jellyflorice; My ain dear son is he; When other ladies get a gift, O' that ye shall get three."60 It wasna tald into the bower, Till it went thro' the ha', That Jellyflorice and Blancheflour Were grown ower great witha'. When the queen's maids their visits paid,65 Upo' the gude Yule day, When other ladies got horse to ride, She boud take foot and gae. The queen she call'd her stable groom, To come to her right seen;70 Says, "Ye'll take out yon wild waith steed, And bring him to the green. "Ye'll take the bridle frae his head, The lighters frae his e'en; Ere she ride three times roun' the cross,75 Her weel days will be dune." Jellyflorice his true love spy'd, As she rade roun' the cross; And thrice he kiss'd her lovely lips, And took her frae her horse.80 "Gang to your bower, my lily flower, For a' my mother's spite; There's nae other amang her maids, In whom I take delight. "Ye are my jewel, and only ane,85 Nane's do you injury; For ere this-day-month come and gang, My wedded wife ye'se be."

Chil Ether and Lady Maisry Were baith born at ae birth; They lov'd each other tenderlie, Boon every thing on earth. "They ley likes na the summer shower,5 Nor girse the mornin' dew, Better, dear Lady Maisry, Than Chil Ether loves you." "The bonny doo likes na its mate, Nor babe at breast its mither,10 Better, my dearest Chil Ether, Than Maisry loves her brither." But he needs gae to gain renown, Into some far countrie; And Chil Ether has gaen abroad,15 To fight in Paynimie. And he has been in Paynimie A twalvemonth and a day; But never nae tidings did there come, Of his welfare to say.20 Then she's ta'en ship, awa' to sail, Out ower the roaring faem; A' for to find him, Chil Ether, And for to bring him hame. She hadna sail'd the sea a month,25 A month but barely three, Until she landit on Ciper's shore, By the meen-licht sae lie. Lady Maisry did on her green mantle, Took her purse in her hand,30 And call'd to her her mariners, Syne walk'd up thro' the land. She walked up, sae did she down, Till she came till castell high; There she sat down on the door stane,35 And weepit bitterlie. Then out it spake a sweet, sweet voice, Out ower the castell wa', "Now isna that Lady Maisry That makes sic a dolefu' fa'?40 "But gin that be Lady Maisry, Lat her make mirth and glee; For I'm her brother, Chil Ether, That loves her tenderlie. "But gin that be Lady Maisry,45 Lat her take purse in hand; And gang to yonder castell wa',— They call it Gorinand. "Spier for the lord o' that castell, Gie'm dollars thirty-three;50 Tell him to ransom Chil Ether, That loves you tenderlie." She's done her up to that castell, Paid down her gude monie; And sae she's ransom'd Chil Ether,55 And brought him hame her wi'.

When two lovers love each other weel, Great sin it were them to twinn; And this I speak from young Bearwell; He loved a lady ying, The Mayor's daughter of Birktoun-brae,5 That lovely leesome thing. One day when she was looking out, When washing her milk-white hands, Then she beheld him young Bearwell, As he came in the sands.10 Says,—"Wae 's me for you, young Bearwell, Such tales of you are tauld; They 'll cause you sail the salt sea so far As beyond Yorkisfauld." "O shall I bide in good green wood,15 Or stay in bower with thee?" * * * * * * * * * * * * "The leaves are thick in good green wood, Would hold you from the rain; And if you stay in bower with me, You will be taken and slain.20 "But I caused build a ship for you, Upon Saint Innocent's day; I 'll bid Saint Innocent be your guide, And Our Lady, that meikle may. You are a lady's first true love;25 God carry you weel away!" Then he sailed east and he sailed west, By many a comely strand; At length a puff of northern wind Did blow him to the land.30 When he did see the king and court, Were playing at the ba'; Gave him a harp into his hand, Says,—"Stay, Bearwell, and play." He had not been in the king's court35 A twelvemonth and a day, Till there came lairds and lords enew, To court that lady gay. They wooed her with broach and ring, They nothing could keep back;40 The very charters of their lands Into her hands they pat. She 's done her down to Heyvalin, With the light of the mune: Says,—"Will ye do this deed for me,45 And will ye do it sune? "Will ye go seek him young Bearwell, On seas wherever he be? And if I live and bruik my life, Rewarded ye shall be."50 "Alas, I am too young a skipper, So far to sail the faem; But if I live and bruik my life, I 'll strive to bring him hame." So he has sail'd east and then sail'd west,55 By many a comely strand; Till there came a blast of northern wind, And blew him to the land. And there the king and all his court Were playing at the ba';60 Gave him a harp into his hand, Says,—"Stay, Heyvalin, and play." He has tane up the harp in hand, And unto play went he; And young Bearwell was the first man65 In all that companie.

Seven years the king he staid Into the land of Spain, And seven years true Thomas was His daughter's chamberlain. But it fell ance upon a day5 The king he did come home; She beked and she benjed ben, And did him there welcome. "What aileth you, my daughter, Janet, You look sae pale and wan?10 There is a dreder in your heart, Or else ye love a man." "There is no dreder in my heart, Nor do I love a man; But it is for your long byding15 Into the land of Spain." "Ye'll cast aff your bonny brown gown, And lay it on a stane; And I'll tell you, my jelly Janet, If ever ye loved a man."20 She's cast off her bonny brown gown, And laid it on a stane; Her belly was big, her twa sides high, Her colour it was quite gane. "O is it to a man o' might, Janet?25 Or is it till a man that's mean? Or is it to one of my poor soldiers, That I've brought hame frae Spain?" "It's not till a man o' might," she says, "Nor yet to a man that's mean;30 But it is to Thomas o' Winesberry, That cannot langer len'." "O where are all my wall-wight men, That I pay meat and fee; That will gae for him, true Thomas,35 And bring him here to me? For the morn, ere I eat or drink, High hanged shall he be." She's turn'd her right and round about, The tear blindet her e'e;40 "If ye do any ill to true Thomas, Ye'se never get guid o' me." When Thomas came before the king, He glanced like the fire; His hair was like the threads o' gowd,45 His eyes like crystal clear. "It was nae wonder, my daughter, Janet, Altho' ye loved this man; If he were a woman, as he is a man, My bed-fellow he would been.50 "O will ye marry my daughter Janet? The truth's in your right hand; Ye'se hae some o' my gowd, and some o' my gear, And the twalt part o' my land." "It's I will marry your daughter Janet;55 The truth's in my right hand; I'll hae nane o' your gowd, nor nane o' your gear, I've enough in my own land. "But I will marry your daughter Janet, With thirty ploughs and three,60 And four an' twenty bonny breast-mills, All on the water of Dee.

"How brent's your brow, my Lady Elspat? How gouden yellow is your hair? O' a' the maids o' fair Scotland, There's nane like Lady Elspat fair." "Perform your vows, sweet William," she says,5 "The vows which ye ha' made to me; And at the back o' my mither's castell, This night I'll surely meet wi' thee." But wae be to her brother's page, That heard the words thir twa did say;10 He's tald them to her lady mither, Wha wrought sweet William mickle wae. For she has ta'en him, sweet William, And she's gar'd bind him wi' his bow string, Till the red bluid o' his fair body15 Frae ilka nail o' his hand did spring. O it fell ance upon a time That the Lord-justice came to town; Out has she ta'en him, sweet William, Brought him before the Lord-justice boun'.20 "And what is the crime, now, lady," he says, "That has by this young man been dane?" "O he has broken my bonny castell, That was weel biggit wi' lime and stane. "And he has broken my bonny coffers,25 That was weel bandit wi' aiken ban; And he has stown my rich jewels; I wot he has stown them every ane." Then out it spak her Lady Elspat, As she sat by Lord-justice' knee;30 "Now ye hae told your tale, mither, I pray, Lord-justice, ye'll now hear me. "He hasna broken her bonny castell, That was weel biggit wi' lime and stane; Nor has he stown her rich jewels,35 For I wat she has them every ane. "But though he was my first true love, And though I had sworn to be his bride, 'Cause he hadna a great estate, She would this way our loves divide."40 Syne out and spak the Lord-justice, I wat the tear was in his e'e; "I see nae faut in this young man; Sae loose his bands, and set him free. "And tak your love, now, Lady Elspat,45 And my best blessin' you baith upon; For gin he be your first true love, He is my eldest sister's son. "There stands a steed in my stable, Cost me baith gold and white mony;50 Ye's get as mickle o' my free land As he'll ride about in a summer's day."

Of all the lords in Scotland fair, And ladies that been so bright of blee, There is a noble lady among them all, And report of her you shall hear by me. For of her beauty she is bright,5 And of her colour very fair, She's daughter to Lord Arundel, Approv'd his parand and his heir. "Ile see this bride," Lord Phenix said, "That lady of so bright a blee,10 And if I like her countenance well, The heir of all my lands she'st be." But when he came the lady before, Before this comely maid came he, "O God thee save, thou lady sweet,15 My heir and parand thou shalt be." "Leave off your suit," the lady said, "As you are a lord of high degree; You may have ladies enough at home, And I have a lord in mine own country:20 "For I have a lover true of mine own, A serving-man of low degree, One Tommy Pots it is his name, My first love, and last that ever shall be." "If that Tom Pots [it] is his name,25 I do ken him right verily; I am able to spend fourty pounds a week, Where he is not able to spend pounds three." "God give you good of your gold," she said, "And ever God give you good of your fee,30 Tom Pots was the first love that ever I had, And I do mean him the last to be." With that Lord Phenix soon was mov'd; Towards the lady did he threat; He told her father, and so it was prov'd,35 How his [fair] daughters mind was set. "O daughter dear, thou art my own, The heir of all my lands to be; Thou shalt be bride to the Lord Phenix, If that thou mean to be heir to me."40 "O father dear, I am your own, And at your command I needs must be, But bind my body to whom you please, My heart, Tom Pots, shall go with thee." Alas! the lady her fondness must leave,45 And all her foolish wooing lay aside; The time is come her friends have appointed, That she must be Lord Phenix bride. With that the lady began to weep; She knew not well then what to say,50 How she might Lord Phenix deny, And escape from marriage quite away. She call'd unto her little foot-page, Saying, "I can trust none but thee; Go carry Tom Pots this letter fair,55 And bid him on Guildford-green meet me: "For I must marry against my mind, Or in faith well proved it shall be; And tell to him I am loving and kind, And wishes him this wedding to see.60 "But see that thou note his countenance well, And his colour, and shew it to me; And go thy way and hie thee again, And forty shillings I will give thee. "For if he smile now with his lips,65 His stomach will give him to laugh at the heart; Then may I seek another true love, For of Tom Pots small is my part. "But if he blush now in his face, Then in his heart he will sorry be;70 Then to his vow he hath some grace, And false to him I'le never be." Away this lacky-boy he ran, And a full speed forsooth went he, Till he came to Strawberry-castle,75 And there Tom Pots came he to see. He gave him the letter in his hand; Before that he began to read, He told him plainly by word of mouth, His love was forc'd to be Lord Phenix bride.80 When he look'd on the letter fair, The salt tears blemished his eye; Says, "I cannot read this letter fair, Nor never a word to see or spy. "My little boy, be to me true,85 Here is five marks I will give thee; And all these words I must peruse; And tell my lady this from me: "By faith and troth she is my own, By some part of promise, so it's to be found;90 Lord Phenix shall not have her night nor day, Except he can win her with his own hand. "On Guildford-green I will her meet; Say that I wish her for me to pray, For there I'le lose my life so sweet,95 Or else the wedding I mean to stay." Away this lackey-boy he ran, Then as fast as he could hie; The lady she met him two miles of the way; Says, "Why hast thou staid so long, my boy?100 "My little boy, thou art but young, It gives me at heart thou'l mock and scorn; Ile not believe thee by word of mouth, Unless on this book thou wilt be sworn." "Now by this book," the boy did say,105 "And Jesus Christ be as true to me, Tom Pots could not read the letter fair, Nor never a word to spy or see. "He says, by faith and troth you are his own, By some part of promise, so it's to be found;110 Lord Phenix shall not have you night nor day, Except he win you with his own hand. "On Guildford-green he will you meet; He wishes you for him to pray, For there he'l lose his life so sweet,115 Or else the wedding he means to stay." "If this be true, my little boy, These tidings which thou tellest to me, Forty shillings I did thee promise, Here is ten pounds I will give thee.120 "My maidens all," the lady said, "That ever wish me well to prove, Now let us all kneel down and pray, That Tommy Pots may win his love. "If it be his fortune the better to win,125 As I pray to Christ in trinity, Ile make him the flower of all his kin, For the young Lord Arundel he shall be."

Let's leave talking of this lady fair, In prayers full good where she may be;130 Now let us talk of Tommy Pots; To his lord and master for aid went he. But when he came Lord Jockey before, He kneeled lowly on his knee; "What news, what news, thou Tommy Pots,135 Thou art so full of courtesie? "What tydings, what tydings, thou Tommy Pots, Thou art so full of courtesie? Thou hast slain some of thy fellows fair, Or wrought to me some villany."140 "I have slain none of my fellows fair, Nor wrought to you no villany, But I have a love in Scotland fair, And I fear I shall lose her with poverty. "If you'l not believe me by word of mouth,145 But read this letter, and you shall see, Here by all these suspitious words That she her own self hath sent to me." But when he had read the letter fair, Of all the suspitious words in it might be,150 "O Tommy Pots, take thou no care, Thou'st never lose her with poverty. "For thou'st have forty pounds a week, In gold and silver thou shalt row, And Harvy town I will give thee,155 As long as thou intend'st to wooe. "Thou'st have forty of thy fellows fair, And forty horses to go with thee, Forty of the best spears I have, And I myself in thy company."160 "I thank you, master," said Tommy Pots, "That proffer is too good for me; But, if Jesus Christ stand on my side, My own hands shall set her free. "God be with you, master," said Tommy Pots,165 "Now Jesus Christ you save and see; If ever I come alive again, Staid the wedding it shall be." "O God be your speed, thou Tommy Pots, Thou art well proved for a man;170 See never a drop of blood thou spil, Nor yonder gentleman confound. "See that some truce with him thou take, And appoint a place of liberty; Let him provide him as well as he can,175 As well provided thou shalt be." But when he came to Guildford-green, And there had walkt a little aside, There he was ware of Lord Phenix come, And Lady Rosamond his bride.180 Away by the bride then Tommy Pots went, But never a word to her he did say, Till he the Lord Phenix came before; He gave him the right time of the day. "O welcome, welcome, thou Tommy Pots,185 Thou serving-man of low degree; How doth thy lord and master at home, And all the ladies in that country?" "My lord and master is in good health, I trust since that I did him see;190 Will you walk with me to an out-side, Two or three words to talk with me? "You are a noble man," said Tom, "And born a lord in Scotland free; You may have ladies enough at home,195 And never take my love from me." "Away, away, thou Tommy Pots; Thou serving-man, stand thou aside; It is not a serving-man this day, That can hinder me of my bride."200 "If I be a serving-man," said Tom, "And you a lord of high degree, A spear or two with you I'le run, Before I'le lose her cowardly. "Appoint a place, I will thee meet,205 Appoint a place of liberty; For there I'le lose my life so sweet, Or else my lady I'le set free." "On Guildford-green I will thee meet; No man nor boy shall come with me."210 "As I am a man," said Tommy Pots, "I'le have as few in my company." And thus staid the marriage was, The bride unmarried went home again; Then to her maids fast did she laugh,215 And in her heart she was full fain. "My maidens all," the lady said, "That ever wait on me this day, Now let us all kneel [lowly] down, And for Tommy Pots let us all pray.220 "If it be his fortune the better to win, As I trust to God in trinity, Ile make him the flower of all his kin, For the young Lord Arundel he shall be."

When Tom Pots came home again,225 To try for his love he had but a week; For sorrow, God wot, he need not care, For four days that he fel sick. With that his master to him came, Says, "Pray thee, Tom Pots, tell me if thou doubt Whether thou hast gotten thy gay lady,231 Or thou must go thy love without." "O master, yet it is unknown; Within these two days well try'd it must be; He is a lord, I am but a serving-man,235 I fear I shall lose her with poverty." "I prethee, Tom Pots, get thee on thy feet, My former promises kept shall be; As I am a lord in Scotland fair, Thou'st never lose her with poverty.240 "For thou'st have the half of my lands a year, And that will raise thee many a pound; Before thou shalt out-braved be, Thou shalt drop angels with him on the ground." "I thank you, master," said Tommy Pots,245 "Yet there is one thing of you I would fain; If that I lose my lady sweet, How I'st restore your goods again?" "If that thou win the lady sweet, Thou mayst well forth thou shalt pay me:250 If thou losest thy lady, thou losest enough; Thou shalt not pay me one penny." "You have thirty horses in one close, You keep them all both frank and free; Amongst them all there's an old white horse255 This day would set my lady free. "That is an old horse with a cut tail, Full sixteen years of age is he; If thou wilt lend me that old horse, Then could I win her easily."260 "That's a foolish opinion," his master said, "And a foolish opinion thou tak'st to thee; Thou'st have a better then ever he was, Though forty pounds more it should cost me." "O your choice horses are wild and tough,265 And little they can skill of their train; If I be out of my saddle cast, They are so wild they'l ne'r be tain." "Thou'st have that horse," his master said, "If that one thing thou wilt tell me;270 Why that horse is better than any other, I pray thee, Tom Pots, shew thou to me." "That horse is old, of stomach bold, And well can he skill of his train; If I be out of my saddle cast,275 He'l either stand still, or turn again." "Thou'st have the horse with all my heart, And my plate coat of silver free; An hundred men to stand at thy back, To fight if he thy master be."280 "I thank you master," said Tommy Pots, "That proffer is too good for me; I would not for ten thousand pounds, Have man or boy in my company. "God be with you, master," said Tommy Pots,285 "Now, as you are a man of law, One thing let me crave at your hand; Let never a one of my fellows know. "For if that my fellows they did wot, Or ken of my extremity,290 Except you keep them under a lock, Behind me I'm sure they would not be." But when he came to Guildford-green, He waited hours two or three; There he was ware of Lord Phenix come,295 And four men in his company. "You have broken your vow," said Tommy Pots, "The vow which you did make to me; You said you would bring neither man nor boy, And now has brought more than two or three."300 "These are my men," Lord Phenix said, "Which every day do wait on me; If any of them dare proffer to strike, I'le run my spear through his body." "I'le run no race now," said Tommy Pots,305 "Except now this may be; If either of us be slain this day, The other shall forgiven be." "I'le make that vow with all my heart, My men shall bear witness with me;310 And if thou slay me here this day, In Scotland worse belov'd thou never shalt be." They turn'd their horses thrice about, To run the race so eagerly; Lord Phenix he was fierce and stout,315 And ran Tom Pots through the thick o' th' thigh. He bor'd him out of the saddle fair, Down to the ground so sorrowfully: "For the loss of my life I do not care, But for the loss of my fair lady.320 "Now for the loss of my lady sweet, Which once I thought to have been my wife, I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ride not away, For with thee I would end my life." Tom Pots was but a serving-man,325 But yet he was a doctor good; He bound his handkerchief on his wound, And with some kind of words he stancht his blood. He leapt into his saddle again, The blood in his body began to warm;330 He mist Lord Phenix body fair, And ran him through the brawn of the arm. He bor'd him out of his saddle fair, Down to the ground most sorrowfully; Says, "Prethee, Lord Phenix, rise up and fight,335 Or yield my lady unto me." "Now for to fight I cannot tell, And for to fight I am not sure; Thou hast run me throw the brawn o' the arm, That with a spear I may not endure.340 "Thou'st have the lady with all my heart; It was never likely better to prove With me, or any nobleman else, That would hinder a poor man of his love." "Seeing you say so much," said Tommy Pots,345 I will not seem your butcher to be; But I will come and stanch your blood, If any thing you will give me." As he did stanch Lord Phenix blood, Lord! in his heart he did rejoice;350 "I'le not take the lady from you thus, But of her you'st have another choice. "Here is a lane of two miles long; At either end we set will be; The lady shall stand us among,355 Her own choice shall set her free." "If thou'l do so," Lord Phenix said, "To lose her by her own choice it's honesty; Chuse whether I get her, or go her without, Forty pounds I will give thee."360 But when they in that lane was set, The wit of a woman for to prove, "By the faith of my body," the lady said, "Then Tom Pots must needs have his love." Towards Tom Pots the lady did hie,365 To get behind him hastily; "Nay stay, nay stay," Lord Phenix said, "Better proved it shall be. "Stay you with your maidens here, In number fair they are but three;370 Tom Pots and I will go behind yonder wall, That one of us two be proved to dye." But when they came behind the wall, The one came not the other nigh; For the Lord Phenix had made a vow,375 That with Tom Pots he would never fight. "O give me this choice," Lord Phenix said, "To prove whether true or false she be, And I will go to the lady fair, And tell her Tom Pots slain is he."380 When he came from behind the wall, With his face all bloody as it might be, "O lady sweet, thou art my own, For Tom Pots slain is he. "Now have I slain him, Tommy Pots,385 And given him deaths wounds two or three; O lady sweet, thou art my own; Of all loves, wilt thou live with me?" "If thou hast slain him, Tommy Pots, And given him deaths wounds two or three,390 I'le sell the state of my fathers lands, But hanged shall Lord Phenix be." With that the lady fell in a swound, For a grieved woman, God wot, was she; Lord Phenix he was ready then,395 To take her up so hastily. "O lady sweet, stand thou on thy feet, Tom Pots alive this day may be; I'le send for thy father, Lord Arundel,400 And he and I the wedding will see. "I'le send for thy father, Lord Arundel, And he and I the wedding will see; If he will not maintain you well, Both lands and livings you'st have of me." "I'le see this wedding," Lord Arundel said,405 "Of my daughters luck that is so fair; Seeing the matter will be no better, Of all my lands Tom Pots shall be the heir." With that the lady began for to smile, For a glad woman, God wot, was she;410 "Now all my maids," the lady said, "Example you may take by me. "But all the ladies of Scotland fair, And lasses of England that well would prove, Neither marry for gold nor goods,415 Nor marry for nothing but only love. "For I had a lover true of my own, A serving-man of low degree; Now from Tom Pots I'le change his name, For the young Lord Arundel he shall be."420

Behold the touchstone of true love, Maudlin the Merchant's Daughter of Bristow towne, Whose firme affection nothing could move; This favour beares the lovely browne. A gallant youth was dwelling by,5 Which many yeares had borne this lady great good will; Shee loved him so faithfully, But all her friends withstood it still. The young man now, perceiving well He could not get nor win the favour of her friends,10 The force of sorrow to expell To view strange countreys hee intends. And now, to take his last farewell Of his true love, his faire and constant Maudlen, With musicke sweete that did excell15 Hee plaies under her window then. "Farewell," quoth he, "mine owne true love, Farewell, my deare, and chiefest treasure of my heart! Through fortune's spight, that false did prove, I am inforc'd from thee to part,20 "Into the land of Italy: There wil I waile, and weary out my dayes in wo; Seeing my true love is kept from mee, I hold my life a mortal fo. "Faire Bristow towne, therefore, adieu,25 For Padua shall bee my habitation now; Although my love doth lodge in thee, To whom alone my heart I vow." With trickling teares this hee did sing, With sighs and sobs descending from his heart full sore: Hee said, when he his hands did wring,31 "Farewell, sweet love, for evermore!" Fair Maudlin, from a window high Beholding her true love with musicke where hee stood, But not a word she durst reply,35 Fearing her parents angry mood. In teares she spent this dolefull night, Wishing (though naked) with her faithfull friend: She blames her friends, and fortune's spight, That wrought their loves such lucklesse end.40 And in her heart shee made a vow Cleane to forsake her country and her kinsfolkes all, And for to follow her true love, To bide all chance that might befall. The night is gone, and the day is come,45 And in the morning very early shee did rise: She gets her downe in a lower roome, Where sundrie seamen she espies. A gallant master amongst them all, (The master of a faire and goodlie ship was he)50 Who there stood waiting in the hall, To speake with her father, if it might be. She kindly takes him by the hand: "Good sir," said shee, "would you speake with any heere?" Quoth he, "Faire maid, therefore I stand:"55 "Then, gentle sir, I pray you draw neere." Into a pleasant parlour by, With hand in hand she brings the seaman all alone; Sighing to him most piteously, She thus to him did make her moane.60 Shee falls upon her tender knee: "Good sir," she said, "now pittie you a woman's woe, And prove a faithfull friend to me, That I my griefe to you may shew." "Sith you repose your trust," he said,65 "To me that am unknowne, and eke a stranger heere, Be you assur'd, most proper maid, Most faithfull still I will appeare." "I have a brother, then," quoth shee, "Whom as my life I love and favour tenderlie:70 In Padua, alas! is he, Full sicke, God wot, and like to die. "And faine I would my brother see, But that my father will not yeeld to let me goe; Wherefore, good sir, be good to mee,75 And unto me this favour shew. "Some ship-boye's garment bring to mee, That I disguis'd may goe away from hence unknowne; And unto sea Ile goe with thee, If thus much favour may be showne."80 "Faire maid," quoth he, "take heere my hand: I will fulfill each thing that you desire, And set you safe in that same land, And in that place that you require." She gave him then a tender kisse,85 And saith, "Your servant, gallant master, will I be, And prove your faithfull friend for this: Sweet master, then, forget not me." This done, as they had both decreed, Soone after (early) before the breake of day,90 He brings her garments then with speed, Wherein she doth her selfe array: And ere her father did arise, Shee meets her master as he walkes in the hall: Shee did attend on him likewise,95 Even till her father did him call. But ere the Merchant made an end Of all the matters to the master he could say, His wife came weeping in with speed, Saying, "Our daughter is gone away!"100 The Merchant, thus amaz'd in mind, "Yonder vile wretch intic'd away my child," quoth he; "But, well I wot, I shall him find At Padua, in Italy." With that bespake the master brave:105 "Worshipfull master, thither goes this pretty youth, And any thing that you would have, He will performe it, and write the truth." "Sweet youth," quoth hee, "if it be so, Beare me a letter to the English merchants there,110 And gold on thee I will bestow: My daughter's welfare I do feare." Her mother takes her by the hand; "Faire youth," qd she, "if there thou dost my daughter see, Let me thereof soone understand,115 And there is twenty crownes for thee." Thus, through the daughter's strange disguise, The mother knew not when shee spake unto her child; And after her master straightway shee hies, Taking her leave with countenance milde.120 Thus to the sea faire Maudlin is gone With her gentle master; God send them a merry wind; Where wee a while must let them alone, Till you the second part doe find.

"Welcome, sweete Maudlin, from the sea,125 Where bitter stormes and tempests doe arise: The plesant bankes of Italy Wee may behold with mortal eyes." "Thankes, gentle master," then quoth shee; "A faithfull friend in sorrow hast thou beene;130 If fortune once doth smile on mee, My thankfull heart shall well bee seene. "Blest be the land that feedes my love! Blest be the place where as his person doth abide! No triall will I sticke to prove,135 Whereby my true love may be tride. "Nowe will I walke with joyful heart, To viewe the towne where as my darlinge doth remaine, And seeke him out in every part, Untill I doe his sight attaine."140 "And I," quoth he, "will not forsake Sweete Maudlin in her sorrow up and downe: In wealth and woe thy part Ile take, And bring thee safe to Padua towne." And after many wearie steps145 In Padua they safely doe arrive at last: For very joy her heart it leapes; She thinkes not of her sorrowes past. Condemned to dye hee was, alas! Except he would from his religion turne;150 But rather then hee would to masse, In fiery flames he vow'd to burne. Now doth Maudlin weepe and waile: Her joy is chang'd to weeping, sorrow, griefe and care; But nothing could her plaints prevaile,155 For death alone must be his share. Shee walkes under the prison walls, Where her true love doth lye and languish in distresse; Most wofully for foode he calls, When hunger did his heart oppresse.160 He sighs and sobs and makes great moane: "Farewell," hee said, "sweete England, now for evermore, And all my friends that have me knowne In Bristow towne with wealth and store. "But most of all farewell," quoth hee,165 "My owne true love, sweet Maudlin, whom I left behind; For never more shall I see thee. Woe to thy father most unkind! "How well were I, if thou wert here, With thy faire hands to close these wretched eyes:170 My torments easie would appeare; My soule with joy shall scale the skies." When Maudlin heard her lover's moane, Her eyes with teares, her heart with sorrow filled was: To speake with him no meanes is knowne,175 Such grievous doome on him did passe. Then she cast off her lad's attire; A maiden's weede upon her back she seemely set; To the judge's house shee did enquire, And there shee did a service get.180 Shee did her duty there so well, And eke so prudently she did her selfe behave, With her in love her master fell; His servant's favour hee doth crave. "Maudlin," quoth hee, "my heart's delight,185 To whom my heart is in affection tied, Breed not my death through thy despight; A faithfull friend I will be tryed. "Grant me thy love, faire maid," quoth hee, "And at my hands require what thou canst devise,190 And I will grant it unto thee, Whereby thy credit may arise." "I have a brother, sir," she said, "For his religion is now condemned to dye: In loathsome prison hee is layd,195 Opprest with griefe and misery. "Grant me my brother's life," shee said, "And to you my love and liking I will give." "That may not be," quoth hee, "faire maid; Except he turne, he cannot live."200 "An English Frier there is," shee said, "Of learning great and passing pure of life, Let him to my brother be sent, And he will finish soone the strife." Her master hearing this request,205 The marriner in frier's weed she did array, And to her love, that lay distrest, Shee did a letter straight convey. When hee had read these gentle lines, His heart was ravished with sudden joy;210 Where now shee was full well hee knew: The frier likewise was not coy; But did declare to him at large The enterprise for him his love had taken in hand. The young man did the frier charge,215 His love should straight depart the land. "Here is no place for her," hee said, "But woefull death and danger of her harmlesse life: Professing truth I was betraid, And fearfull flames must end my strife.220 "For, ere I will my faith deny, And sweare my selfe to follow damned Antichrist, Ile yeeld my body for to die, To live in heaven with the highest." "O sir!" the gentle frier said,225 "For your sweet love recant, and save your wished life. A wofull match," quoth hee, "is made Where Christ is lost to win a wife." When she had wrought all meanes that might To save her friend, and that she saw it would not bee, Then of the judge shee claimed her right,231 To die the death as well as hee. When no perswasion could prevaile, Nor change her mind in any thing that shee had said, She was with him condemned to die,235 And for them both one fire was made. And arme in arme most joyfully These lovers twaine unto the fire they did goe: The marriner most faithfully Was likewise partner of their woe.240 But when the judges understood The faithfull friendship did in them remaine, They saved their lives; and afterward To England sent them home againe. Now was their sorrow turned to joy,245 And faithfull lovers had now their heart's desire: Their paines so well they did imploy, God granted that they did require. And when they were to England come, And in merry Bristow arrived at the last,250 Great joy there was to all and some That heard the dangers they had past. Her gentle master shee desired To be her father, and at the church to give her then: It was fulfilled as shee required,255 Unto the joy of all good men.