Volume 3 — MINSTRELSY OF THE SCOTTISH BORDER. PART SECOND—CONTINUED. ROMANTIC BALLADS.
Reading edition
FAUSE FOODRAGE.
King Easter has courted her for her lands, King Wester for her fee; King Honour for her comely face, And for her fair bodie. They had not been four months married, As I have heard them tell, Until the nobles of the land Against them did rebel. And they cast kevils[1] them amang, And kevils them between; And they cast kevils them amang, Wha suld gae kill the king. O some said yea, and some said nay, Their words did not agree; Till up and got him, Fause Foodrage, And swore it suld be he. When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' men bound to bed, King Honour and his gaye ladye In a hie chamber were laid. Then up and raise him, Fause Foodrage, When a' were fast asleep, And slew the porter in his lodge, That watch and ward did keep. O four and twenty silver keys Hang hie upon a pin; And aye, as ae door he did unlock, He has fastened it him behind. Then up and raise him, King Honour, Says—"What means a' this din? "Or what's the matter, Fause Foodrage, "Or wha has loot you in?" "O ye my errand weel sall learn, "Before that I depart." Then drew a knife, baith lang and sharp, And pierced him to the heart. Then up and got the queen hersell, And fell low down on her knee: "O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage! "For I never injured thee. "O spare my life, now, Fause Foodrage, "Until I lighter be! "And see gin it be lad or lass, "King Honour has left me wi'." "O gin it be a lass," he says, "Weel nursed it sall be; "But gin it be a lad bairn, "He sall be hanged hie. "I winna spare for his tender age, "Nor yet for his hie hie kin; "But soon as e'er he born is, "He sall mount the gallows pin." O four and twenty valiant knights Were set the queen to guard; And four stood aye at her bour door, To keep both watch and ward. But when the time drew near an end, That she suld lighter be, She cast about to find a wile, To set her body free. O she has birled these merry young men With the ale but and the wine, Until they were as deadly drunk As any wild wood swine. "O narrow, narrow, is this window, "And big, big, am I grown!" Yet, through the might of Our Ladye, Out at it she has gone. She wandered up, she wandered down, She wandered out and in; And, at last, into the very swine's stythe, The queen brought forth a son. Then they cast kevils them amang, Which suld gae seek the queen; And the kevil fell upon Wise William, And he sent his wife for him. O when she saw Wise William's wife, The queen fell on her knee; "Win up, win up, madame!" she says: "What needs this courtesie?" "O out o' this I winna rise, "Till a boon ye grant to me; "To change your lass for this lad bairn, "King Honour left me wi'. "And ye maun learn my gay goss hawk "Right weel to breast a steed; "And I sall learn your turtle dow[2] "As weel to write and read. "And ye maun learn my gay goss hawk "To wield baith bow and brand; "And I sall learn your turtle dow "To lay gowd[3] wi' her hand. "At kirk and market when we meet, "We'll dare make nae avowe, "But—'Dame, how does my gay goss hawk?' "Madame, how does my dow?" When days were gane, and years came on, Wise William he thought lang; And he has ta'en King Honour's son A hunting for to gang. It sae fell out, at this hunting, Upon a simmer's day, That they came by a fair castell, Stood on a sunny brae. "O dinna ye see that bonny castell, "Wi' halls and towers sae fair? "Gin ilka man had back his ain, "Of it ye suld be heir." "How I suld be heir of that castell, "In sooth I canna see; "For it belangs to Fause Foodrage, "And he is na kin to me." "O gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage, "You would do but what was right; "For I wot he kill'd your father dear, "Or ever ye saw the light. "And gin ye suld kill him, Fause Foodrage, "There is no man durst you blame; "For he keeps your mother a prisoner, "And she darna take ye hame." The boy stared wild like a gray goss hawk: Says—"What may a' this mean?" "My boy, ye are King Honour's son, "And your mother's our lawful queen." "O gin I be king Honour's son, "By Our Ladye I swear, "This night I will that traitor slay, "And relieve my mother dear!" He has set his bent bow to his breast, And leaped the castell wa'; And soon he has seized on Fause Foodrage, Wha loud for help 'gan ca'. "O haud your tongue, now, Fause Foodrage! "Frae me ye shanna flee." Syne pierc'd him thro' the fause fause heart, And set his mother free. And he has rewarded Wise William Wi' the best half of his land; And sae has he the turtle dow, Wi' the truth o' his right hand.
NOTES ON FAUSE FOODRAGE.
King Easter has courted her for her lands, King Wester for her fee; King Honour, &c.—P. 4. v. 1.
King Easter and King Wester were probably the petty princes of Northumberland and Westmoreland. In the Complaynt of Scotland, an ancient romance is mentioned, under the title, "How the king of Estmureland married the king's daughter of Westmureland," which may possibly be the original of the beautiful legend of King Estmere, in the Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, Vol. I. p. 62 4th edit. From this it may be conjectured, with some degree of plausibility, that the independent kingdoms of the east and west coast were, at an early period, thus denominated, according to the Saxon mode of naming districts, from their relative positions; as Essex, Wessex, Sussex. But the geography of the metrical romances sets all system at defiance; and in some of these, as Clariodus and Meliades, Estmureland undoubtedly signifies the land of the Easterlings, or the Flemish provinces at which vessels arrived in three days from England, and to which they are represented as exporting wool.—Vide Notes on the Tale of Kempion. On this subject I have, since publication of the first edition, been favoured with the following remarks by Mr Ritson, in opposition to the opinion above expressed:—
"Estmureland and Westmureland have no sort of relation to Northumberland and Westmoreland. The former was never called Eastmoreland, nor were there ever any kings of Westmoreland; unless we admit the authority of an old rhyme, cited by Usher:—
"Here the king Westmer "Slow the king Rothinger."
"There is, likewise, a 'king Estmere, of Spain,' in one of Percy's ballads.
"In the old metrical romance of Kyng Horn, or Horn Child, we find both Westnesse and Estnesse; and it is somewhat singular, that two places, so called, actually exist in Yorkshire at this day. But ness, in that quarter, is the name given to an inlet from a river. There is, however, great confusion in this poem, as Horn is called king sometimes of one country, and sometimes of the other. In the French original, Westir is said to have been the old name of Hirland, or Ireland; which, occasionally at least, is called Westnesse, in the translation, in which Britain is named Sudene; but here, again, it is inconsistent and confused.
"It is, at any rate, highly probable, that the story, cited in the Complaynt of Scotland, was a romance of King Horn, whether prose or verse; and, consequently, that Estmureland and Westmureland should there mean England and Ireland; though it is possible that no other instance can be found of those two names occurring with the same sense."
And they cast kevils them amang.—P. 4. v. 3.
Kevils—Lots. Both words originally meant only a portion, or share, of any thing.—Leges Burgorum, cap. 59, de lot, cut, or kavil. Statuta Gildæ, cap. 20. Nullus emat lanam, &c. nisi fuerit confrater Gildæ, &c. Neque lot neque cavil habeat cum aliquo confratre nostro. In both these laws, lot and cavil signify a share in trade.
Dame, how does my gay goss hawk?—P. 9. v. 1.
This metaphorical language was customary among the northern nations. In 925, king Adelstein sent an embassy to Harald Harfagar, king of Norway, the chief of which presented that prince with an elegant sword, ornamented with precious stones. As it was presented by the point, the Norwegian chief, in receiving it, unwarily laid hold of the hilt. The English ambassador declared, in the name of his master, that he accepted the act as a deed of homage; for, touching the hilt of a warrior's sword was regarded as an acknowledgement of subjection. The Norwegian prince, resolving to circumvent his rival by a similar artifice, suppressed his resentment, and sent, next summer, an embassy to Adelstein, the chief of which presented Haco, the son of Harald, to the English prince; and, placing him on his knees, made the following declaration:—"Haraldus, Normannorum rex, amice te salutat; albamque hunc avem, bene institutam mittit, utque melius deinceps erudias, postulat." The king received young Haco on his knees; which the Norwegian ambassador immediately accepted, in the name of his master, as a declaration of inferiority; according to the proverb, "Is minor semper habetur, qui alterius filium educat."—Pontoppidani Vestigia Danor. Vol. II. p. 67.
FOOTNOTES:
KEMPION.
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED
The tale of Kempion seems, from the names of the personages, and the nature of the adventure, to have been an old metrical romance, degraded into a ballad, by the lapse of time, and the corruption of reciters. The change in the structure of the last verses, from the common ballad stanza, to that which is proper to the metrical romance, adds force to this conjecture.
Such transformations, as the song narrates, are common in the annals of chivalry. In the 25th and 26th cantos of the second book of the Orlando Inamorato, the paladin, Brandimarte, after surmounting many obstacles, penetrates into the recesses of an enchanted palace. Here he finds a fair damsel, seated upon a tomb, who announces to him, that, in order to achieve her deliverance, he must raise the lid of the sepulchre, and kiss whatever being should issue forth. The knight, having pledged his faith, proceeds to open the tomb, out of which a monstrous snake issues forth, with a tremendous hiss. Brandimarte, with much reluctance, fulfils the bizarre conditions of the adventure; and the monster is instantly changed into a beautiful Fairy, who loads her deliverer with benefits. For the satisfaction of those, who may wish to compare the tale of the Italian poet with that of Kempion, a part of the original of Boiardo is given below.[4]
There is a ballad, somewhat resembling Kempion, called the Laidley Worm of Spindleston-heuch, which is very popular upon the borders; but, having been often published, it was thought unnecessary to insert it in this collection. The most common version was either entirely composed, or re-written, by the Reverend Mr Lamb, of Norham.
A similar tradition is, by Heywood and Delrio, said to have existed at Basil. A tailor, in an adventurous mood, chose to descend into an obscure cavern, in the vicinity of the city. After many windings, he came to an iron door, through which he passed into a splendid chamber. Here he found, seated upon a stately throne, a lady, whose countenance was surprisingly beautiful, but whose shape terminated in a dragon's train, which wrapped around the chair on which she was placed. Before her stood a brazen chest, trebly barred and bolted; at each end of which lay couched a huge black ban-dog, who rose up, as if to tear the intruder in pieces. But the lady appeased them; and, opening the chest, displayed an immense treasure, out of which she bestowed upon the visitor some small pieces of money, informing him, that she was enchanted by her step-dame, but should recover her natural shape, on being kissed thrice by a mortal. The tailor assayed to fulfil the conditions of the adventure; but her face assumed such an altered, wild, and grim expression, that his courage failed, and he was fain to fly from the place. A kinsman of his, some years after, penetrated into the cavern, with the purpose of repairing a desperate fortune. But, finding nothing but dead men's bones, he ran mad, and died. Sir John Mandeville tells a similar story of a Grecian island.
There are numerous traditions, upon the borders, concerning huge and destructive snakes, and also of a poisonous reptile called a man-keeper; although the common adder, and blind worm, are the only reptiles of that genus now known to haunt our wilds. Whether it be possible, that, at an early period, before the country was drained, and cleared of wood, serpents of a larger size may have existed, is a question which the editor leaves to the naturalist. But, not to mention the fabulous dragon, slain in Northumberland by Sir Bevis, the fame still survives of many a preux chevalier, supposed to have distinguished himself by similar atchievements.
The manor of Sockburne, in the bishopric of Durham, anciently the seat of the family of Conyers, or Cogniers, is held of the bishop by the service of presenting, or showing to him, upon his first entrance into his diocese, an antique sword, or faulchion. The origin of this peculiar service is thus stated in Beckwith's edition of Blount's Ancient Tenures, p. 200.
"Sir Edward Blackett (the proprietor of the manor) now represents the person of Sir John Conyers, who, as tradition says, in the fields of Sockburne, slew, with this faulchion, a monstrous creature, a dragon, a worm, or flying serpent, that devoured men, women, and children. The then owner of Sockburne, as a reward for his bravery, gave him the manor, with its appurtenances, to hold for ever, on condition that he meets the lord bishop of Durham, with this faulchion, on his first entrance into his diocese, after his election to that see.
"And, in confirmation of this tradition, there is painted, in a window of Sockburne church, the faulchion we just now spoke of: and it is also cut in marble, upon the tomb of the great ancestor of the Conyers', together with a dog, and the monstrous worm, or serpent, lying at his feet, of his own killing, of which the history of the family gives the above account.
"When the bishop first comes into his diocese, he crosses the river Tees, either at the ford at Nesham, or Croft-bridge, where the counties of York and Durham divide; at one of which places Sir Edward Blackett, either in person, or by his representative, if the bishop comes by Nesham, rides into the middle of the river Tees, with the ancient faulchion drawn in his hand, or upon the middle of Croft-bridge; and then presents the faulchion to the bishop, addressing him in the ancient form of words; upon which the bishop takes the faulchion into his hand, looks at it, and returns it back again, wishing the lord of the manor his health, and the enjoyment of his estate." The faulchion, above alluded to, has upon its hilt the arms of England, in the reign of King John, and an eagle, supposed to be the ensign of Morcar, earl of Northumberland.—Gough's Camden's Britannia, Vol. III. p. 114. Mr Gough, with great appearance of probability, conjectures, the dragon, engraved on the tomb, to be an emblematical, or heraldric ornament.
The property, called Pollard's Lands, near Bishop Auckland, is held by a similar tenure; and we are informed, in the work just quoted, that "Dr Johnson of Newcastle met the present bishop, Dr Egerton, in September, 1771, at his first arrival there, and presented a faulchion upon his knee, and addressed him in the old form of words, saying,
"My lord, in behalf of myself, as well as of the several other tenants of Pollard's Lands, I do humbly present your lordship with this faulchion, at your first coming here, wherewith, as the tradition goeth, Pollard slew of old a great and venomous serpent, which did much harm to man and beast: and, by the performance of this service, these lands are holden."—Ancient Tenures, p. 201.
Above the south entrance of the ancient parish church of Linton, in Roxburghshire, is a rude piece of sculpture, representing a knight, with a falcon on his arm, encountering with his lance, in full career, a sort of monster, which the common people call a worm, or snake. Tradition bears, that this animal inhabited a den, or hollow, at some distance from the church, whence it was wont to issue forth, and ravage the country, or, by the fascination of its eyes and breath, draw its prey into its jaws. Large rewards were in vain offered for the destruction of this monster, which had grown to so huge a bulk, that it used to twist itself, in spiral folds, round a green hillock of considerable height, still called Wormeston, and marked by a clump of trees. When sleeping in this place, with its mouth open, popular credulity affirms, that it was slain by the laird of Lariston, a man, brave even to madness, who, coming upon the snake at full gallop, thrust down its throat a peat (a piece of turf dried for fuel), dipt in scalding pitch, and fixed to the point of his lance. The aromatic quality of the peat is said to have preserved the champion from the effects of the monster's poisonous breath, while, at the same time, it clogged its jaws. In dying, the serpent contracted his folds with so much violence, that their spiral impression is still discernible round the hillock where it lay. The noble family of Somerville are said to be descended from this adventurous knight, in memory of whose atchievement, they bear a dragon as their crest.
The sculpture itself gives no countenance to this fine story; for the animal, whom the knight appears to be in the act of slaying, has no resemblance to a serpent, but rather to a wolf, or boar, with which the neighbouring Cheviot mountains must in early times have abounded;[6] and there remain vestiges of another monster, of the same species, attacking the horse of the champion. An inscription, which might have thrown light upon this exploit, is now totally defaced. The vulgar, adapting it to their own tradition, tell us that it ran thus:
The wode laird of Lariestoun Slew the wode worm of Wormiestoune, And wan all Linton paroschine.
It is most probable, that the animal, destroyed by the ancestor of Lord Somerville, was one of those beasts of prey, by which Caledonia was formerly infested; but which, now,
Razed out of all her woods, as trophies hung, Grin high emblazon'd on her children's shields.
Since publishing the first edition of this work, I have found the following account of Somerville's atchievement, in a MS. of some antiquity:
"John Somerville (son to Roger de Somerville, baron of Whichenever, in Staffordshire) was made, by King William (the Lion), his principal falconer, and got from that king the lands and baronie of Linton, in Tiviotdale, for an extraordinarie and valiant action; which, according to the manuscript of the family of Drum, was thus: In the parochen of Lintoun, within the sheriffdom of Roxburgh, there happened to breed a monster, in form of a serpent, or worme; in length, three Scots yards, and somewhat bigger than an ordinarie man's leg, with a head more proportionable to its length than greatness. It had its den in a hollow piece of ground, a mile south-east from Lintoun church; it destroyed both men and beast that came in its way. Several attempts were made to destroy it, by shooting of arrows, and throwing of darts, none daring to approach so near as to make use of a sword or lance. John Somerville undertakes to kill it, and being well mounted, and attended with a stout servant, he cam, before the sun-rising, before the dragon's den, having prepared some long, small, and hard peats (bog-turf dried for fuel), be-dabbed with pitch, rosette, and brimstone, fixed with small wire upon a wheel, at the point of his lance: these, being touched with fire, would instantly break out into flames; and, there being a breath of air, that served to his purpose, about the sun-rising, the serpent, dragon, or worme, so called by tradition, appeared with her head, and some part of her body, without the den; whereupon his servant set fire to the peats upon the wheel, at the top of the lance, and John Somerville, advancing with a full gallop, thrust the same with the wheel, and a great part of the lance, directly into the serpent's mouthe, which wente down its throat, into the belly, and was left there, the lance breaking by the rebounding of the horse, and giving a deadly wound to the dragoun; for which action he was knighted by King William; and his effigies was cut in ston in the posture he performed this actione, and placed above the principal church door of Lintoun, where it is yet to be seen, with his name and sirname: and the place, where this monster was killed, is at this day called, by the common people, who have the foresaid story by tradition, the Wormes Glen. And further to perpetuate this actione, the barons of Lintoun, Cowthally, and Drum, did always carry for crest, a wheel, and thereon a dragoun." Extracted from a genealogical MS. in the Advocates' Library, written about 1680. The falcon on the champion's arm, in the monument, may be supposed to allude to his office of falconer to William of Scotland.
The ballad of Kempion is given chiefly from Mrs Brown's MS., with corrections from a recited fragment.
KEMPION.
"Cum heir, cum heir, ye freely feed, "And lay your head low on my knee; "The heaviest weird I will you read, "That ever was read to gaye ladye. "O meikle dolour sall ye dree, "And aye the salt seas o'er ye'se swim; "And far mair dolour sall ye dree "On Estmere crags, when ye them climb. "I weird ye to a fiery beast, "And relieved sall ye never be, "Till Kempion, the kingis son, "Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss thee." O meikle dolour did she dree, And aye the salt seas o'er she swam; And far mair dolour did she dree On Estmere crags, e'er she them clamb. And aye she cried for Kempion, Gin he would but cum to her hand: Now word has gane to Kempion, That sicken a beast was in his land. "Now, by my sooth," said Kempion, "This fiery beast I'll gang and see." "And, by my sooth," said Segramour, "My ae brother, I'll gang wi' thee." Then bigged hae they a bonny boat, And they hae set her to the sea; But a mile before they reached the shore, Around them she gar'd the red fire flee. "O Segramour, keep the boat afloat, "And lat her na the land o'er near; "For this wicked beast will sure gae mad, "And set fire to a' the land and mair." Syne has he bent an arblast bow, And aim'd an arrow at her head; And swore if she didna quit the land, Wi' that same shaft to shoot her dead. "O out of my stythe I winna rise, "(And it is not for the awe o' thee) "Till Kempion, the kingis son, "Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss me." He has louted him o'er the dizzy crag, And gien the monster kisses ane: Awa she gaed, and again she cam, The fieryest beast that ever was seen. "O out o' my stythe I winna rise, "(And not for a' thy bow nor thee) "Till Kempion, the kingis son, "Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss me." He's louted him o'er the Estmere crags, And he has gien her kisses twa: Awa she gaed, and again she cam, The fieryest beast that ever you saw. "O out of my den I winna rise, "Nor flee it for the fear o' thee, "Till Kempion, that courteous knight, "Cum to the crag, and thrice kiss me." He's louted him o'er the lofty crag, And he has gien her kisses three: Awa she gaed, and again she cam, The loveliest ladye e'er could be! "And by my sooth," says Kempion, "My ain true love (for this is she) "They surely had a heart o' stane, "Could put thee to such misery. "O was it warwolf in the wood? "Or was it mermaid in the sea? "Or was it man, or vile woman, "My ain true love, that mishaped thee?" "It was na warwolf in the wood, "Nor was it mermaid in the sea; "But it was my wicked step-mother, "And wae and weary may she be!" "O a heavier weird[7] shall light her on, "Than ever fell on vile woman; "Her hair shall grow rough, and her teeth grow lang, "And on her four feet shall she gang. "None shall take pity her upon; "In Wormeswood she aye shall won; "And relieved shall she never be, "Till St Mungo[8] come over the sea." And sighing said that weary wight, "I doubt that day I'll never see!"
NOTES ON KEMPION.
On Estmere crags, when ye them climb.—P. 26. v. 2.
If by Estmere crags we are to understand the rocky cliffs of Northumberland, in opposition to Westmoreland, we may bring our scene of action near Bamborough, and thereby almost identify the tale of Kempion with that of the Laidley Worm of Spindleston, to which it bears so strong a resemblance.
I weird ye to a fiery beast.—P. 26. v. 3.
Our ideas of dragons and serpents are probably derived from the Scandinavians. The legends of Regnar Lodbrog, and of the huge snake in the Edda, by whose folds the world is encircled, are well known. Griffins and dragons were fabled, by the Danes, as watching over, and defending, hoards of gold.—Bartholin. de caus. cont. mortis, p. 490. Saxo Grammaticus, lib. 2. The Edda also mentions one Fafner, who, transformed into a serpent, brooded over his hidden treasures. From these authorities, and that of Herodotus, our Milton draws his simile—
As when a Gryphon, through the wilderness, With winged course, o'er hill or moory dale, Pursues the Arimaspian, who, by stealth, Had from his wakeful custody purloin'd The guarded gold. O was it warwolf in the wood?—P. 29. v. 4.
Warwolf, or Lycanthropus, signifies a magician, possessing the power of transforming himself into a wolf, for the purpose of ravage and devastation. It is probable the word was first used symbolically, to distinguish those, who, by means of intoxicating herbs, could work their passions into a frantic state, and throw themselves upon their enemies with the fury and temerity of ravenous wolves. Such were the noted Berserker of the Scandinavians, who, in their fits of voluntary frenzy, were wont to perform the most astonishing exploits of strength, and to perpetrate the most horrible excesses, although, in their natural state, they neither were capable of greater crimes nor exertions than ordinary men. This quality they ascribed to Odin. "Odinus efficere valuit, ut hostes ipsius inter bellandum cæci vel surdi vel attoniti fierent, armaque illorum instar baculorum obtusa essent. Sui vero milites sine loricis incedebant, ac instar canum vel luporum furebant, scuta sua arrodentes: et robusti ut ursi vel tauri, adversarios trucidabant: ipsis vero neque ignis neque ferrum nocuit. Ea qualitas vocatur furor Berserkicus."—Snorro Sturleson, quoted by Bartholin. de causis contemptæ mortis, p. 344. For a fuller account of these frantic champions, see the Hervorar Saga published by Suhm; also the Christni Saga, and most of the ancient Norwegian histories and romances. Camden explains the tales of the Irish, concerning men transformed into wolves, upon nearly the same principle.—Gough's edition of Camden's Britannia, Vol. III. p. 520.
But, in process of time, the transformation into a wolf was believed to be real, and to affect the body as well as the mind; and to such transformations our faithful Gervase of Tilbury bears evidence, as an eye-witness. "Vidimus frequenter in Anglia per lunationes homines in lupos mutari, quod hominum genus Gerulfos Galli vocunt, Angli vero WER-WLF dicunt. Wer enim Anglice virum sonat, WLF lupum." Ot. Imp. De oculis apertis post peccatum. The learned commentators, upon the art of sorcery, differ widely concerning the manner in which the arch fiend effects this change upon the persons of his vassals; whether by surrounding their bodies with a sort of pellice of condensed air, having the form of an wolf; or whether by some delusion, affecting the eyes of the spectators; or, finally, by an actual corporeal transformation. The curious reader may consult Delrii Disquisitiones Magicæ, p. 188; and (if he pleases) Evvichius de natura Sagarum.—Fincelius, lib. 2. de Mirac.—Remigius. lib. 2. de Dæmonolat.—Binsfeld. de confession, maleficarum. Not to mention Spondanus, Bodinus, Peucerus, Philippus Camerarius, Condronchus, Petrus Thyræus, Bartholomeus Spineus, Sir George Mackenzie, and King James I., with the sapient Monsieur Oufle of Bayle. The editor presumes, it is only since the extirpation of wolves, that our British sorceresses have adopted the disguise of hares, cats, and such more familiar animals.
A wild story of a warwolf, or rather a war-bear, is told in Torfœus' History of Hrolfe Kraka. As the original is a scarce book, little known in this country, some readers may be interested by a short analysis of the tale.
Hringo, king of Upland, had an only son, called Biorno, the most beautiful and most gallant of the Norwegian youth. At an advanced period of life, the king became enamoured of a "witch lady," whom he chose for his second wife. A mutual and tender affection had, from infancy, subsisted betwixt Biorno, and Bera, the lovely daughter of an ancient warrior. But the new queen cast upon her step-son an eye of incestuous passion; to gratify which, she prevailed upon her husband, when he set out upon one of those piratical expeditions, which formed the summer campaign of a Scandinavian monarch, to leave the prince at home. In the absence of Hringo, she communicated to Biorno her impure affection, and was repulsed with disdain and violence. The rage of the weird step-mother was boundless. "Hence to the woods!" she exclaimed, striking the prince with a glove of wolf-skin; "Hence to the woods! subsist only on thy father's herds; live pursuing, and die pursued!" From this time the prince Biorno was no more seen, and the herdsmen of the king's cattle soon observed, that astonishing devastation was nightly made among their flocks, by a black bear, of immense size, and unusual ferocity. Every attempt to snare or destroy this animal was found vain; and much was the unavailing regret for the absence of Biorno, whose delight had been in extirpating beasts of prey. Bera, the faithful mistress of the young prince, added her tears to the sorrow of the people. As she was indulging her melancholy, apart from society, she was alarmed by the approach of the monstrous bear, which was the dread of the whole country. Unable to escape, she waited its approach, in expectation of instant death; when, to her astonishment, the animal fawned upon her, rolled himself at her feet, and regarded her with eyes, in which, spite of the horrible transformation, she still recognized the glances of her lost lover. Bera had the courage to follow the bear to his cavern, where, during certain hours, the spell permitted him to resume his human shape. Her love overcame her repugnance at so strange a mode of life, and she continued to inhabit the cavern of Biorno, enjoying his society during the periods of his freedom from enchantment. One day, looking sadly upon his wife, "Bera," said the prince, "the end of my life approaches. My flesh will soon serve for the repast of my father and his courtiers. But, do thou beware lest either the threats or entreaties of my diabolical step-mother induce thee to partake of the horrid banquet. So shalt thou safely bring forth three sons, who shall be the wonder of the North." The spell now operated, and the unfortunate prince sallied from his cavern to prowl among the herds. Bera followed him, weeping, and at a distance. The clamour of the chace was now heard. It was the old king, who, returned from his piratical excursion, had collected a strong force to destroy the devouring animal which ravaged his country. The poor bear defended himself gallantly, slaying many dogs, and some huntsmen. At length, wearied out, he sought protection at the feet of his father. But his supplicating gestures were in vain, and the eyes of paternal affection proved more dull than those of love. Biorno died by the lance of his father, and his flesh was prepared for the royal banquet. Bera was recognised, and hurried into the queen's presence. The sorceress, as Biorno had predicted, endeavoured to prevail upon Bera to eat of what was then esteemed a regal dainty. Entreaties and threats being in vain, force was, by the queen's command, employed for this purpose, and Bera was compelled to swallow one morsel of the bear's flesh. A second was put into her mouth, but she had an opportunity of putting it aside. She was then dismissed to her father's house. Here, in process of time, she was delivered of three sons, two of whom were affected variously, in person and disposition, by the share their mother had been compelled to take in the feast of the king. The eldest, from his middle downwards, resembled an elk, whence he derived the name of Elgfrod. He proved a man of uncommon strength, but of savage manners, and adopted the profession of a robber. Thorer, the second son of Bera, was handsome and well shaped, saving that he had the foot of a dog; from which he obtained the appellation of Houndsfoot. But Bodvar, the third son, was a model of perfection in mind and body. He revenged upon the necromantic queen the death of his father, and became the most celebrated champion of his age.
Historia Hrolfi Krakæ, Haffniæ, 1715.
FOOTNOTES:
LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNIE.
NOW
FIRST PUBLISHED IN A PERFECT STATE.
This ballad is now, for the first time, published in a perfect state. A fragment, comprehending the 2d, 4th, 5th, and 6th verses, as also the 17th, has appeared in several collections. The present copy is chiefly taken from the recitation of an old woman, residing near Kirkhill, in West Lothian; the same from whom were obtained the variations in the tale of Tamlane, and the fragment of the Wife of Usher's Well, which is the next in order.
The tale is much the same with the Breton romance, called Lay le Frain, or the Song of the Ash. Indeed, the editor is convinced, that the farther our researches are extended, the more we shall see ground to believe, that the romantic ballads of later times are, for the most part, abridgments of the ancient metrical romances, narrated in a smoother stanza, and more modern language. A copy of the ancient romance, alluded to, is preserved in the invaluable collection (W. 4. 1.) of the Advocates' Library, and begins thus:
We redeth oft and findeth ywrite And this clerkes wele it wite Layes that ben in harping Ben yfound of ferli thing Sum beth of wer and sum of wo Sum of joye and mirthe also And sum of trecherie and of gile Of old aventours that fel while And sum of bourdes and ribaudy And many ther beth of faery Of al thinges that men seth Maist o' love forsoth yai beth In Breteyne bi hold time This layes were wrought so seithe this rime When kinges might our y here Of ani mervailes that ther wer They token a harp in glee and game And maked a lay and gaf it name Now of this aventours that weren y falle Y can tel sum ac nought alle Ac herkeneth Lordinges sothe to sain I chil you tel Lay le Frain Bifel a cas in Breteyne Whereof was made Lay le Frain In Ingliche for to tellen y wis Of ane asche forsothe it is On ane ensammple fair with alle That sum time was bi falle &c.
LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNIE.
"Its narrow, narrow, make your bed, "And learn to lie your lane; "For I'm ga'n o'er the sea, Fair Annie, "A braw bride to bring hame. "Wi' her I will get gowd and gear; "Wi' you I ne'er got nane. "But wha will bake my bridal bread, "Or brew my bridal ale? "And wha will welcome my brisk bride, "That I bring o'er the dale?" "Its I will bake your bridal bread, "And brew your bridal ale; "And I will welcome your brisk bride, "That you bring o'er the dale." "But she that welcomes my brisk bride, "Maun gang like maiden fair; "She maun lace on her robe sae jimp, "And braid her yellow hair." "But how can I gang maiden-like, "When maiden I am nane? "Have I not borne seven sons to thee, "And am with child again?" She's ta'en her young son in her arms, Another in her hand; And she's up to the highest tower, To see him come to land. "Come up, come up, my eldest son, "And look o'er yon sea-strand, "And see your father's new-come bride, "Before she come to land." "Come down, come down, my mother dear! "Come frae the castle-wa'! "I fear, if langer ye stand there, "Ye'll let yoursell down fa'." And she gaed down, and farther down, Her love's ship for to see; And the top-mast and the main-mast Shone like the silver free. And she's gane down, and farther down, The bride's ship to behold; And the top-mast and the main-mast They shone just like the gold. She's ta'en her seven sons in her hand; I wot she didna fail! She met Lord Thomas and his bride, As they cam o'er the dale. "You're welcome to your house, Lord Thomas; "You're welcome to your land; "You're welcome, with your fair ladye, "That you lead by the hand. "You're welcome to your ha's, ladye; "You're welcome to your bowers; "You're welcome to your hame, ladye: "For a' that's here is yours." "I thank thee, Annie; I thank thee, Annie; "Sae dearly as I thank thee; "You're the likest to my sister, Annie, "That ever I did see. "There came a knight out o'er the sea, "And steal'd my sister away; "The shame scoup[9] in his company, "And land where'er he gae!" She hang ae napkin at the door, Another in the ha'; And a' to wipe the trickling tears, Sae fast as they did fa'. And aye she served the lang tables, With white bread and with wine; And aye she drank the wan water, To had her colour fine.[10] And aye she served the lang tables, With white bread and with brown; And aye she turned her round about, Sae fast the tears fall down. And he's ta'en down the silk napkin, Hung on a silver pin; And aye he wipes the tear trickling Adown her cheik and chin. And aye he turned him round about, And smil'd amang his men: Says—"Like ye best the old ladye, "Or her that's new come hame?" When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' men bound to bed, Lord Thomas and his new-come bride, To their chamber they were gaed. Annie made her bed a little forebye, To hear what they might say; "And ever alas!" fair Annie cried, "That I should see this day! "Gin my seven sons were seven young rats, "Running on the castle-wa', "And I were a grey cat mysell! "I soon would worry them a'. "Gin my seven sons were seven young hares, "Running o'er yon lilly lee, "And I were a grew hound mysell! "Soon worried they a' should be." And wae and sad fair Annie sat, And drearie was her sang; And ever, as she sobb'd and grat, "Wae to the man that did the wrang!" "My gown is on," said the new-come bride, "My shoes are on my feet, "And I will to fair Annie's chamber, "And see what gars her greet. "What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie, "That ye make sic a moan? "Has your wine barrels cast the girds, "Or is your white bread gone? "O wha was't was your father, Annie, "Or wha was't was your mother? "And had ye ony sister, Annie, "Or had ye ony brother?" "The Earl of Wemyss was my father, "The Countess of Wemyss my mother; "And a' the folk about the house, "To me were sister and brother." "If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, "I wot sae was he mine; "And it shall not be for lack o' gowd, "That ye your love sall tyne. "For I have seven ships o' mine ain, "A' loaded to the brim; "And I will gie them a' to thee, "Wi' four to thine eldest son. "But thanks to a' the powers in heaven, "That I gae maiden hame!"
FOOTNOTES:
THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL.
A FRAGMENT.
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
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, Whan word came to the carline wife, That her three sons were gane. They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely three, Whan 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 Martinmass, Whan nights are lang and mirk, The carline wife's three sons came hame, 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 her mantle her about, Sat down at the bed-side.
then crew the red red cock, And up and crew the gray; The eldest to the youngest said, "'Tis time we were away." The cock he hadna craw'd but once, And clapp'd his wings at a', Whan the youngest to the eldest said, "Brother, we must awa. "The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, "The channerin'[11] worm doth chide; "Gin we be mist out o' our place, "A sair pain we maun bide. "Fare ye weel, my mother dear! "Fareweel to barn and byre! "And fare ye weel, the bonny lass, "That kindles my mother's fire."
NOTES ON THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL.
I wish the wind may never cease, &c.—P. 46. v. 2.
The sense of this verse is obscure, owing, probably, to corruption by reciters. It would appear, that the mother had sinned in the same degree with the celebrated Lenoré.
And their hats were o' the birk.—P. 46. v. 3.
The notion, that the souls of the blessed wear garlands, seems to be of Jewish origin. At least, in the Maase-book, there is a Rabbinical tradition, to the following effect:—
"It fell out, that a Jew, whose name was Ponim, an ancient man, whose business was altogether about the dead, coming to the door of the school, saw one standing there, who had a garland upon his head. Then was Rabbi Ponim afraid, imagining it was a spirit. Whereupon he, whom the Rabbi saw, called out to him, saying, 'Be not afraid, but pass forward. Dost thou not know me?' Then said Rabbi Ponim, 'Art not thou he whom I buried yesterday?' And he was answered, 'Yea, I am he.' Upon which Rabbi Ponim said, 'Why comest thou hither? How fareth it with thee in the other world?' And the apparition made answer, 'It goeth well with me, and I am in high esteem in paradise.' Then said the Rabbi, 'Thou wert but looked upon in the world as an insignificant Jew. What good work didst thou do, that thou art thus esteemed?' The apparition answered, 'I will tell thee: the reason of the esteem I am in, is, that I rose every morning early, and with fervency uttered my prayer, and offered the grace from the bottom of my heart: for which reason I now pronounce grace in paradise, and am well respected. If thou doubtest whether I am the person, I will show thee a token that shall convince thee of it. Yesterday, when thou didst clothe me in my funeral attire, thou didst tear my sleeve.' Then asked Rabbi Ponim, 'What is the meaning of that garland?' The apparition answered, 'I wear it, to the end the wind of the world may not have power over me; for it consists of excellent herbs of paradise.' Then did Rabbi Ponim mend the sleeve of the deceased: for the deceased had said, that if it was not mended, he should be ashamed to be seen amongst others, whose apparel was whole. And then the apparition vanished. Wherefore, let every one utter his prayer with fervency; for then it shall go well with him in the other world. And let care be taken that no rent, nor tearing, be left in the apparel in which the deceased are interred."—Jewish Traditions, abridged from Buxtorf, London, 1732, Vol. II. p. 19.
Gin we be mist out o' our place, A sair pain we maun bide.—P. 48. v. 1.
This will remind the German reader of the comic adieu of a heavenly apparition:—
Doch sieh! man schliesst die himmels thür Adieu! der himmlische Portier Ist streng und hält auf ordnung.
Blumauer.
FOOTNOTES:
COSPATRICK.
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
A copy of this Ballad, materially different from that which follows, appeared in "Scottish Songs," 2 vols. Edinburgh, 1792, under the title of Lord Bothwell. Some stanzas have been transferred from thence to the present copy, which is taken down from the recitation of a Lady, nearly related to the Editor. Some readings have been also adopted from a third copy, in Mrs Brown's MS., under the title of Child Brenton. Cospatrick (Comes Patricius) was the designation of the Earl of Dunbar, in the days of Wallace and Bruce.
Cospatrick has sent o'er the faem; Cospatrick brought his ladye hame; And fourscore ships have come her wi', The ladye by the grene-wood tree. There were twal' and twal' wi' baken bread, And twal' and twal' wi' gowd sae reid, And twal' and twal' wi' bouted flour, And twal' and twal' wi' the paramour. Sweet Willy was a widow's son, And at her stirrup he did run; And she was clad in the finest pall, But aye she let the tears down fall. "O is your saddle set awrye? "Or rides your steed for you owre high? "Or are you mourning, in your tide, "That you suld be Cospatrick's bride?" "I am not mourning, at this tide, "That I suld be Cospatrick's bride; "But I am sorrowing, in my mood, "That I suld leave my mother good. "But, gentle boy, come tell to me, "What is the custom of thy countrie?" "The custom thereof, my dame," he says, "Will ill a gentle ladye please. "Seven king's daughters has our lord wedded, "And seven king's daughters has our lord bedded; "But he's cutted their breasts frae their breast-bane, "And sent them mourning hame again. "Yet, gin you're sure that you're a maid, "Ye may gae safely to his bed; "But gif o' that ye be na sure, "Then hire some damsell o' your bour." The ladye's called her bour maiden, That waiting was into her train; "Five thousand merks I'll gie to thee, "To sleep this night with my lord for me." When bells were rung, and mass was sayne, And a' men unto bed were gane, Cospatrick and the bonny maid, Into ae chamber they were laid. "Now, speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed, "And speak, thou sheet, enchanted web; "And speak up, my bonny brown sword, that winna lie, "Is this a true maiden that lies by me?" "It is not a maid that you hae wedded, "But it is a maid that you hae bedded; "It is a leal maiden that lies by thee, "But not the maiden that it should be." O wrathful he left the bed, And wrathfully his claiths on did; And he has ta'en him through the ha', And on his mother he did ca'. "I am the most unhappy man, "That ever was in christen land! "I courted a maiden, meik and mild, "And I hae gotten naething but a woman wi' child." "O stay, my son, into this ha', "And sport ye wi' your merrymen a'; "And I will to the secret bour, "To see how it fares wi' your paramour." The carline she was stark and sture, She aff the hinges dang the dure; "O is your bairn to laird or loun, "Or is it to your father's groom?" "O! hear me, mother, on my knee, "Till my sad story I tell thee: "O we were sisters, sisters seven, "We were the fairest under heaven. "It fell on a summer's afternoon, "When a' our toilsome task was done, "We cast the kevils us amang, "To see which suld to the grene-wood gang. "O hon! alas, for I was youngest, "And aye my weird it was the hardest! "The kevil it on me did fa', "Whilk was the cause of a' my woe, "For to the grene-wood I maun gae, "To pu' the red rose and the slae; "To pu' the red rose and the thyme, "To deck my mother's bour and mine. "I hadna pu'd a flower but ane, "When by there came a gallant hende, "Wi' high coll'd hose and laigh coll'd shoon, "And he seemed to be sum king's son. "And be I maid, or be I nae, "He kept me there till the close o' day; "And be I maid, or be I nane, "He kept me there till the day was done. "He gae me a lock o' his yellow hair, "And bade me keep it ever mair; "He gae me a carknet[12] o' bonny beads, "And bade me keep it against my needs. "He gae to me a gay gold ring, "And bade me keep it abune a' thing." "What did ye wi' the tokens rare, "That ye gat frae that gallant there?" "O bring that coffer unto me, "And a' the tokens ye sall see." "Now stay, daughter, your bour within, "While I gae parley wi' my son." O she has ta'en her thro' the ha', And on her son began to ca'; "What did you wi' the bonny beads, "I bade ye keep against your needs? "What did you wi' the gay gold ring, "I bade ye keep abune a' thing?" "I gae them to a ladye gay, "I met in grene-wood on a day. "But I wad gie a' my halls and tours, "I had that ladye within my bours; "But I wad gie my very life, "I had that ladye to my wife." "Now keep, my son, your ha's and tours; "Ye have that bright burd in your bours: "And keep, my son, your very life; "Ye have that lady to your wife." Now, or a month was cum and gane, The ladye bore a bonny son; And 'twas weel written on his breast bane, "Cospatrick is my father's name." O row my ladye in satin and silk, And wash my son in the morning milk.
FOOTNOTES:
PRINCE ROBERT,
NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
FROM THE RECITATION OF A LADY, NEARLY RELATED TO THE EDITOR.
Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye, He has wedded her with a ring; Prince Robert has wedded a gay ladye, But he darna bring her hame. "Your blessing, your blessing, my mother dear! "Your blessing now grant to me!" "Instead of a blessing ye sall have my curse, "And you'll get nae blessing frae me." She has called upon her waiting maid, To fill a glass of wine; She has called upon her fause steward, To put rank poison in. She has put it to her roudes[13] lip, And to her roudes chin; She has put it to her fause fause mouth, But the never a drap gaed in. He has put it to his bonny mouth, And to his bonny chin, He's put it to his cherry lip, And sae fast the rank poison ran in. "O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother, "Your ae son and your heir; O ye hae poisoned your ae son, mother, "And sons you'll never hae mair. "O where will I get a little boy, "That will win hose and shoon, To run sae fast to Darlinton, "And bid fair Eleanor come?" Then up and spake a little boy, That wad win hose and shoon,— "O I'll away to Darlinton, "And bid fair Eleanor come." O he has run to Darlinton, And tirled at the pin; And wha was sae ready as Eleanor's sell To let the bonny boy in. "Your gude-mother has made ye a rare dinour, "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." Its twenty lang miles to Sillertoun town, The langest that ever were gane; But the steed it was wight, and the ladye was light, And she cam linkin'[14] in. But when she cam to Sillertoun town, And into Sillertoun ha', The torches were burning, the ladies were mourning, And they were weeping a'. "O where is now my wedded lord, "And where now can he be? "O where is now my wedded lord? "For him I canna see." "Your wedded lord is dead," she says, "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 nane o' his gowd, ye'se get nane o' his gear, "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 nane o' his gowd, I want nane o' his gear, "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 the ring that's on his finger, "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." She's turned her back unto the wa', And her face unto a rock; And there, before the mother's face, Her very heart it broke. The tane was buried in Mary's kirk, The tother in Marie's quair; And out o' the tane there sprang a birk, And out o' the tother a brier. And thae twa met, and thae twa plat, The birk but and the brier; And by that ye may very weel ken They were twa lovers dear.[15]
FOOTNOTES:
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.
Let never a man a wooing wend, That lacketh thingis thrie: A rowth o' gold, an open heart, And fu' o' courtesey. And this was seen o' King Henrie, For he lay burd alane; And he has ta'en him to a haunted hunt's ha', Was seven miles frae a toun. He's chaced the dun deer thro' the wood, And the roe doun by the den, Till the fattest buck, in a' the herd, King Henrie he has slain. He's ta'en him to his hunting ha', For to make burly cheir; When loud the wind was heard to sound, And an earthquake rocked the floor. And darkness cover'd a' the hall, Where they sat at their meat: The gray dogs, youling, left their food, And crept to Henrie's feet. And louder houled the rising wind, And burst the fast'ned door; And in there came a griesly ghost, Stood stamping on the floor. Her head touched the roof-tree of the house; Her middle ye weel mot span: Each frighted huntsman fled the ha', And left the king alone. Her teeth were a' like tether stakes, Her nose like club or mell; And I ken naething she appeared to be, But the fiend that wons in hell. "Sum meat, sum meat, ye King Henrie! "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." O when he killed his berry-brown steed, Wow gin his heart was sair! She eat him a' up, skin and bane, Left naething but hide and hair. "Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henrie! "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." O when he slew his gude gray houndes, Wow but his heart was sair! She's ate them a' up, ane by ane, Left naething but hide and hair. "Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henrie! "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." O when he felled his gay goss-hawks, Wow but his heart was sair! She's ate them a' up, bane by bane, Left naething but feathers bare. "Some drink, some drink, ye King Henrie! "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." O he has sewed up the bluidy hide, And put in a pipe of wine; She drank it a' up at ae draught, Left na a drap therein. "A bed, a bed, ye King Henrie! "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." O pu'd has he the heather green, And made to her a bed; And up he has ta'en his gay mantle, And o'er it he has spread. "Now swear, now swear, ye King Henrie, "To take me for your bride!" "O God forbid," King Henrie said, "That e'er the like betide! "That e'er the fiend, that wons in hell, "Should streak down by my side."
When day was come, and night was gane, And the sun shone through the ha', The fairest ladye, that e'er was seen, Lay atween him and the wa'. "O weel is me!" King Henrie said, "How lang will this last wi' me?" And out and spak that ladye fair, "E'en till the day ye die. "For I was witched to a ghastly shape, "All by my stepdame's skill, "Till I should meet wi' a courteous knight, "Wad gie me a' my will."
FOOTNOTES:
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.
"Annan water's wading deep, "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 me the bonny black; "Gar saddle sune, and make him ready: "For I will down the Gatehope-slack, "And all to see my bonny ladye." He has loupen on the bonny black, 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 has loupen on the bonny gray, He rade the right gate and the ready; I trow he would neither stint nor stay, For he was seeking his bonny ladye. O he has ridden ower field and fell, Through muir and moss, and mony a mire; His spurs o' steel were sair to bide, And frae her fore-feet flew the fire. "Now, bonny gray, now play your part! "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." The gray was a mare, and a right good mare; But when she wan the Annan water, She could na hae ridden a furlong mair, Had a thousand merks been wadded[17] at her. "O boatman, boatman, put off your boat! "Put off your boat for gowden monie! "I cross the drumly stream the night, "Or never mair I see my honey." "O I was sworn sae late yestreen, "And not by ae aith, but by many; "And for a' the gowd in fair Scotland, "I dare na take ye through to Annie." The side was stey, and the bottom deep, Frae bank to brae the water pouring; And the bonny gray mare did sweat for fear, For she heard the water kelpy roaring. O he has pou'd aff his dapperpy[18] coat, The silver buttons glanced bonny; The waistcoat bursted aff his breast, He was sae full of melancholy. He has ta'en the ford at that stream tail; 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. "O wae betide the frush[19] saugh wand! "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. "And wae betide ye, Annan water, "This night that ye are a drumlie river! "For over thee I'll build a bridge, "That ye never more true love may sever."
FOOTNOTES:
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:—
O sister, sister, reach thy hand! 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:—
There were twa sisters sat in a bour, 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.
There were two sisters sat in a bour; Binnorie, O Binnorie; There came a knight to be their wooer; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. He courted the eldest with glove and ring; Binnorie, O Binnorie; But he lo'ed the youngest aboon a' thing; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. He courted the eldest with broach and knife; Binnorie, O Binnorie; But he lo'ed the youngest abune his life; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. The eldest she was vexed sair; Binnorie, O Binnorie; And sore envied her sister fair; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. The eldest said to the youngest ane, Binnorie, O Binnorie; "Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?" By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. She's ta'en her by the lilly hand, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And led her down to the river strand; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. The youngest stude upon a stane, Binnorie, O Binnorie; The eldest came and pushed her in; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. She took her by the middle sma', Binnorie, O Binnorie; And dashed her bonny back to the jaw, By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. "O sister, sister, reach your hand, Binnorie, O Binnorie; "And ye shall be heir of half my land." By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. "O sister, I'll not reach my hand, Binnorie, O Binnorie; "And I'll be heir of all your land; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. "Shame fa' the hand that I should take, Binnorie, O Binnorie; "Its twin'd me, and my world's make." By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. "O sister, reach me but your glove, Binnorie, O Binnorie; "And sweet William shall be your love." By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. "Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove! Binnorie, O Binnorie; "And sweet William shall better be my love." By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. "Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair, Binnorie, O Binnorie; "Garr'd me gang maiden evermair." By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam, Binnorie, O Binnorie; Until she cam to the miller's dam, By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. "O father, father, draw your dam! Binnorie, O Binnorie; "There's either a mermaid, or a milk-white swan." By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. The miller hasted and drew his dam, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And there he found a drowned woman, By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. You could not see her yellow hair, Binnorie, O Binnorie; For gowd and pearls that were sae rare, By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. You could na see her middle sma', Binnorie, O Binnorie; Her gowden girdle was sae bra'; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. A famous harper passing by, Binnorie, O Binnorie; The sweet pale face he chanced to spy; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. And when he looked that lady on, Binnorie, O Binnorie; He sighed, and made a heavy moan; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. He made a harp of her breast-bone, Binnorie, O Binnorie; Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. The strings he framed of her yellow hair, Binnorie, O Binnorie; Whose notes made sad the listening ear; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. He brought it to her father's hall; Binnorie, O Binnorie; And there was the court assembled all; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. He laid this harp upon a stone, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And straight it began to play alone; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. "O yonder sits my father, the king, Binnorie, O Binnorie; "And yonder sits my mother, the queen; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. "And yonder stands my brother Hugh, Binnorie, O Binnorie; "And by him my William sweet and true." By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. But the last tune that the harp play'd then, 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.
Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane, Wi' ribbons on her hair; The king thought mair o' Marie Hamilton, Than ony that were there. Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane, Wi' ribbons on her breast; The king thought mair o' Marie Hamilton, Than he listen'd to the priest. Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane, Wi' gluves upon her hands; The king thought mair o' Marie Hamilton, Than the queen and a' her lands. She hadna been about the king's court A month, but barely one, Till she was beloved by a' the king's court, And the king the only man. She hadna been about the king's court A month, but barely three, Till frae the king's court Marie Hamilton, Marie Hamilton durst na be. The king is to the Abbey gane, To pu' the Abbey tree, To scale the babe frae Marie's heart; But the thing it wadna be. O she has row'd it in her apron, And set it on the sea,— "Gae sink ye, or swim ye, bonny babe, "Ye'se get na mair o' me." Word is to the kitchen gane, 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. Scarcely had she lain down again, 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." "O no, O no, my noble queen! "Think no such thing to be; "'Twas but a stitch into my side, "And sair it troubles me." "Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton; "Get up, and follow me; "For I am going to Edinburgh town, "A rich wedding for to see." O slowly, slowly, raise she up, And slowly put she on; And slowly rode she out the way, Wi' mony a weary groan. The queen was clad in scarlet, Her merry maids all in green; And every town that they cam to, They took Marie for the queen. "Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen, "Ride hooly now wi' me! "For never, I am sure, a wearier burd "Rade in your cumpanie." But little wist Marie Hamilton, When she rade on the brown, That she was ga'en to Edinburgh town, And a' to be put down. "Why weep ye so, ye burgess wives, "Why look ye so on me? "O, I am going to Edinburgh town, "A rich wedding for to see." When she gaed up the tolbooth stairs, The corks frae her heels did flee; And lang or e'er she cam down again, She was condemned to die. When she cam to the Netherbow port, She laughed loud laughters three; But when she cam to the gallows foot, The tears blinded her e'e. "Yestreen the queen had four Maries, "The night she'll hae but three; "There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton, "And Marie Carmichael, and me. "O, often have I dress'd my queen, "And put gold upon her hair; "But now I've gotten for my reward, "The gallows to be my share; "Often have I dress'd my queen, "And often made her bed; "But now I've gotten for my reward "The gallows tree to tread. "I charge ye all, ye mariners, "When ye sail ower the faem, "Let neither my father nor mother get wit, "But that I'm coming hame. "I charge ye all, ye mariners, "That sail upon the sea, "Let neither my father nor mother get wit "This dog's death I'm to die. "For if my father and mother got wit, "And my bold brethren three, "O, mickle wad be the gude red blude, "This day wad be spilt for me! "O little did my mother ken, "The day she cradled me, "The lands I was to travel in, "Or the death I was to die!"
NOTES ON THE QUEEN'S MARIE.
When she cam to the Netherbow port.—P. 93, v. 1.
The Netherbow port was the gate which divided the city of Edinburgh from the suburb, called the Canongate. It had towers and a spire, which formed a fine termination to the view from the Cross. The gate was pulled down, in one of those fits of rage for indiscriminate destruction, with which the magistrates of a corporation are sometimes visited.
Yestreen the queen had four Maries, The night she'll hae but three, &c.—P. 93. v. 2.
The queen's Maries were four young ladies of the highest families in Scotland, who were sent to France in her train, and returned with her to Scotland. They are mentioned by Knox, in the quotation introductory to this ballad. Keith gives us their names, p. 55. "The young queen, Mary, embarked at Dunbarton for France, ... and with her went ..., and four young virgins, all of the name of Mary, viz. Livingston, Fleming, Seaton, and Beatoun." The queen's Maries are mentioned again by the same author, p. 288, and 291, in the note. Neither Mary Livingston, nor Mary Fleming, are mentioned in the ballad; nor are the Mary Hamilton, and Mary Carmichael, of the ballad mentioned by Keith. But if this corps continued to consist of young virgins, as when originally raised, it could hardly have subsisted without occasional recruits; especially if we trust our old bard, and John Knox.
The following additional notices of the queen's Maries occur, in Monteith's Translation of Buchanan's Epigrams, &c.
Page 60. Pomp of the Gods at the Marriage of Queen Mary, 29th July, 1565, a Dialogue.
Diana.
"Great father, Maries[22] five late served me, "Were of my quire the glorious dignitie: "With these dear five the heaven I'd regain, "The happiness of other gods to stain; "At my lot, Juno, Venus, were in ire, "And stole away one——"
P. 61. Apollo.
"Fear not, Diana, I good tidings bring, "And unto you glad oracles I sing; "Juno commands your Maries to be married, "And, in all state, to marriage-bed be carried."
P. 62. Jupiter.
"Five Maries thine; "One Marie now remains of Delia's five, "And she at wedlock o'er shortly will arrive." P. 64. To Mary Fleming, the king's valentyn— 65. To Mary Beton, queen by lot, the day before the coronation.
Sundry Verses.
The queen's Maries are mentioned in many ballads, and the name seems to have passed into a general denomination for female attendants:
Now bear a hand, my Maries a', And busk me brave, and make me fine.
Old Ballad.
FOOTNOTES:
THE BONNY HYND.
From Mr Herd's MS., where the following Note is prefixed to it—"Copied from the mouth of a Milkmaid, 1771, by W. L."
It was originally the intention of the Editor to have omitted this ballad, on account of the disagreeable nature of the subject. Upon consideration, however, it seemed a fair sample of a certain class of songs and tales, turning upon incidents the most horrible and unnatural, with which the vulgar in Scotland are greatly delighted, and of which they have current amongst them an ample store. Such, indeed, are the subjects of composition in most nations, during the early period of society; when the feelings, rude and callous, can only be affected by the strongest stimuli, and where the mind does not, as in a more refined age, recoil, disgusted, from the means by which interest has been excited. Hence incest, parricide—crimes, in fine, the foulest and most enormous, were the early themes of the Grecian muse. Whether that delicacy, which precludes the modern bard from the choice of such impressive and dreadful themes, be favourable to the higher classes of poetic composition, may perhaps be questioned; but there can be little doubt, that the more important cause of virtue and morality is advanced by this exclusion. The knowledge, that enormities are not without precedent, may promote, and even suggest, them. Hence, the publication of the Newgate Register has been prohibited by the wisdom of the legislature; having been found to encourage those very crimes, of which it recorded the punishment. Hence, too, the wise maxim of the Romans, Facinora ostendi dum puniantur, flagitia autem abscondi debent.
The ballad has a high degree of poetical merit.
THE BONNY HYND.
COPIED
FROM THE MOUTH OF A MILKMAID,
IN 1771.
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 manteel, fair maid; "Give me your maidenhead! "Gin ye winna give me your green manteel, "Give me your maidenhead!"
"Perhaps there may be bairns, kind sir; "Perhaps there may be nane; "But, if you be a courtier, "You'll tell me soon your name." "I am nae courtier, fair maid, "But new come frae the sea; "I am nae courtier, fair maid, "But when I court with 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 you lee! "For I'm Lord Randal's ae 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 ae ae son, "Just now come o'er the sea." She's putten her hand down by her gare, And out she's ta'en a knife; And she has put it in her heart's bleed, And ta'en away her life. And he has ta'en up his bonny sister, With the big tear in his e'en; And he has buried his bonny sister Amang the hollins green. And syne he's hyed him o'er the dale, His father dear to see— "Sing, Oh! and Oh! 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, gi' me the warst, "Since plenty is to spare." "I carena for your hinds, my lord; "I carena for your fee; "But, Oh! and Oh! for my bonny hind, "Beneath the hollin tree!" "O were ye at your sister's bower, "Your sister fair to see, "You'll think nae mair o' your bonny hind, "Beneath the hollin tree."
O GIN MY LOVE WERE YON RED ROSE.
FROM MR HERD'S MS.
O gin my love were yon red rose, That grows upon the castle wa', And I mysell a drap of dew, Down on that red rose I would fa'. O my love's bonny, bonny, bonny; My love's bonny and fair to see: Whene'er I look on her weel far'd face, She looks and smiles again to me. O gin my love were a pickle of wheat, And growing upon yon lily lee, And I mysell a bonny wee bird, Awa wi' that pickle o' wheat I wad flee. O my love's bonny, &c. O gin my love were a coffer o' gowd, And I the keeper of the key, I wad open the kist whene'er I list, And in that coffer I wad be. O my love's bonny, &c.
O TELL ME HOW TO WOO THEE.
The following verses are taken down from recitation, and are averred to be of the age of Charles I. They have, indeed, much of the romantic expression of passion, common to the poets of that period, whose lays still reflected the setting beams of chivalry; but, since their publication in the first edition of this work, the Editor has been informed, that they were composed by the late Mr Graham of Gartmore.
If doughty deeds my ladye please, Right soon I'll mount my steed; And strong his arm, and fast his seat, That bears frae me the meed. I'll wear thy colours in my cap, Thy picture in my heart; And he, that bends not to thine eye, Shall rue it to his smart. Then tell me how to woo thee, love; O tell me how to woo thee! For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take, Tho' ne'er another trow me. If gay attire delight thine eye, I'll dight me in array; I'll tend thy chamber door all night, And squire thee all the day. If sweetest sounds can win thy ear, These sounds I'll strive to catch; Thy voice I'll steal to woo thysell, That voice that nane can match. Then tell me how to woo thee, love; O tell me how to woo thee! For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take, Tho' ne'er another trow me. But if fond love thy heart can gain, I never broke a vow; Nae maiden lays her skaith to me, I never loved but you. For you alone I ride the ring, For you I wear the blue; For you alone I strive to sing, O tell me how to woo. O tell me how to woo thee, love; O tell me how to woo thee! For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take, Tho' ne'er another trow me.
THE SOUTERS OF SELKIRK.
This little lyric piece, with those which immediately follow in the collection, relates to the fatal battle of Flodden, in which the flower of the Scottish nobility fell around their sovereign, James IV.
The ancient and received tradition of the burgh of Selkirk affirms, that the citizens of that town distinguished themselves by their gallantry on that disastrous occasion. Eighty in number, and headed by their town-clerk, they joined their monarch on his entrance into England. James, pleased with the appearance of this gallant troop, knighted their leader, William Brydone, upon the field of battle, from which few of the men of Selkirk were destined to return. They distinguished themselves in the conflict, and were almost all slain. The few survivors, on their return home, found, by the side of Lady-Wood Edge, the corpse of a female, wife to one of their fallen comrades, with a child sucking at her breast. In memory of this latter event, continues the tradition, the present arms of the burgh bear, a female, holding a child in her arms, and seated on a sarcophagus, decorated with the Scottish lion; in the back-ground a wood.
A learned antiquary, whose judgment and accuracy claim respect, has made some observations upon the probability of this tradition, which the editor shall take the liberty of quoting, as an introduction to what he has to offer upon the same subject. And, if he shall have the misfortune to differ from the learned gentleman, he will at least lay candidly before the public the grounds of his opinion.
"That the souters of Selkirk should, in 1513, amount to fourscore fighting men, is a circumstance utterly incredible. It is scarcely to be supposed, that all the shoemakers in Scotland could have produced such an army, at a period when shoes must have been still less worn than they are at present. Dr Johnson, indeed, was told at Aberdeen, that the people learned the art of making shoes from Cromwell's soldiers.—'The numbers,' he adds, 'that go barefoot, are still sufficient to show that shoes may be spared: they are not yet considered as necessaries of life; for tall boys, not otherwise meanly dressed, run without them in the streets; and, in the islands, the sons of gentlemen pass several of their first years with naked feet.'—(Journey to the Western Islands, p. 55.) Away, then, with the fable of the souters of Selkirk. Mr Tytler, though he mentions it as the subject of a song, or ballad, 'does not remember ever to have seen the original genuine words,'—as he obligingly acknowledged in a letter to the editor. Mr Robertson, however, who gives the statistical account of the parish of Selkirk, seems to know something more of the matter—'Some,' says he, 'have very falsely attributed to this event (the battle of Flowden), that song,
'Up wi' the souters of Selkirk, 'And down with the Earl of Hume.'
"There was no Earl of Hume,' he adds, 'at that time, nor was this song composed till long after. It arose from a bet betwixt the Philiphaugh and Hume families; the souters (or shoemakers) of Selkirk, against the men of Hume, at a match of foot-ball, in which the souters of Selkirk completely gained, and afterwards perpetuated their victory in that song.'—This is decisive; and so much for Scottish tradition."—Note to Historical Essay on Scotish Song, prefixed to Scotish Songs in 2 vols. 1794.
It is proper to remark, that the passage of Mr Robertson's statistical account, above quoted, does not relate to the authenticity of the tradition, but to the origin of the song, which is obviously a separate and distinct question. The entire passage in the statistical account (of which a part only is quoted in the essay) runs thus:
"Here, too, the inhabitants of the town of Selkirk, who breathed the manly spirit of real freedom, justly merit particular attention. Of one hundred citizens, who followed the fortunes of James IV. on the plains of Flowden, a few returned, loaded with the spoils taken from the enemy. Some of these trophies still survive the rust of time, and the effects of negligence. The desperate valour of the citizens of Selkirk, which, on that fatal day, was eminently conspicuous to both armies, produced very opposite effects. The implacable resentment of the English reduced their defenceless town to ashes; while their grateful sovereign (James V.) showed his sense of their valour, by a grant of an extensive portion of the forest, the trees for building their houses, and the property as the reward of their heroism."—A note is added by Mr Robertson.—"A standard, the appearance of which bespeaks its antiquity, is still carried annually (on the day of riding their common) by the corporation of weavers, by a member of which it was taken from the English in the field of Flowden. It may be added, that the sword of William Brydone, the town clerk, who led the citizens to the battle (and who is said to have been knighted for his valour), is still in the possession of John Brydon, a citizen of Selkirk, his lineal descendant."—An additional note contains the passage quoted in the Essay on Scotish Song.
If the testimony of Mr Robertson is to be received as decisive of the question, the learned author of the essay will surely admit, upon re-perusal, that the passage in the statistical account contains the most positive and unequivocal declaration of his belief in the tradition.
Neither does the story itself, upon close examination, contain any thing inconsistent with probability. The towns upon the border, and especially Selkirk and Jedburgh, were inhabited by a race of citizens, who, from the necessity of their situation, and from the nature of their possessions (held by burgage tenure), were inured to the use of arms. Selkirk was a county town, and a royal burgh; and when the array of the kingdom, amounting to no less than one hundred thousand warriors, was marshalled by the royal command, eighty men seems no unreasonable proportion from a place of consequence, lying so very near the scene of action.
Neither is it necessary to suppose, literally, that the men of Selkirk were all souters. This appellation was obviously bestowed on them, because it was the trade most generally practised in the town, and therefore passed into a general epithet. Even the existence of such a craft, however, is accounted improbable by the learned essayist, who seems hardly to allow, that the Scottish nation was, at that period, acquainted with the art "of accommodating their feet with shoes." And here he attacks us with our own weapons, and wields the tradition of Aberdeen against that of Selkirk. We shall not stop to enquire, in what respect Cromwell's regiment of missionary cobblers deserves, in point of probability, to take precedence of the souters of Selkirk. But, allowing that all the shoemakers in England, with Praise-the-Lord Barebones at their head, had generously combined to instruct the men of Aberdeen in the arts of psalmody and cobbling, it by no means bears upon the present question. If instruction was at all necessary, it must have been in teaching the natives how to make shoes, properly so called, in opposition to brogues: For there were cordiners in Aberdeen long before Cromwell's visit, and several fell in the battle of the bridge of Dee, as appears from Spalding's History of the Troubles in Scotland, Vol. II. p. 140. Now, the "single-soaled shoon," made by the souters of Selkirk, were a sort of brogues, with a single thin soal; the purchaser himself performing the further operation of sewing on another of thick leather. The rude and imperfect state of this manufacture sufficiently evinces the antiquity of the craft. Thus, the profession of the citizens of Selkirk, instead of invalidating, confirms the traditional account of their valour.
The total devastation of this unfortunate burgh, after the fatal battle of Flodden, is ascertained by the charters under which the corporation hold their privileges. The first of these is granted by James V., and is dated 4th March, 1535-6. The narrative, or inductive clause of the deed, is in these words: "Sciatis quia nos considerantes et intelligentes quod Carte Evidencie et litere veteris fundacionis et infeofamenti burgi nostri de Selkirk et libertatum ejusdem burgensibus et communitati ipsius per nobilissimos progenitores nostros quorum animabus propicietur Deus dat. et concess. per guerrarum assultus pestem combustionem et alias pro majore parte vastantur et distruuntur unde mercantiarum usus inter ipsos burgenses cessavit in eorum magnam lesionem ac reipublice et libertatis Burgi nostri antedict. destruccionem et prejudicium ac ingens nobis dampnum penes nostras Custumas et firmas burgales et eodem nobis debit. si subitumin eisdem remedium minime habitum fuerit NOS igitur pietati et justicia moti ac pro policia et edificiis infra regnum nostrum habend. de novo infeodamus," &c. The charter proceeds, in common form, to erect anew the town of Selkirk into a royal burgh, with all the privileges annexed to such corporations. This mark of royal favour was confirmed by a second charter, executed by the same monarch, after he had attained the age of majority, and dated April 8, 1538. This deed of confirmation first narrates the charter, which has been already quoted, and then proceeds to mention other grants, which had been conferred upon the burgh, during the minority of James V., and which are thus expressed: "We for the gude trew and thankful service done and to be done to ws be owre lovittis the baillies burgesses and communite of our burgh of Selkirk and for certaine otheris reasonable causis and considerationis moving ws be the tennor hereof grantis and gevis license to thame and thair successors to ryfe out breke and teil yeirlie ane thousand[23] acres of thair common landis of our said burgh in what part thairof thea pleas for polecy strengthing and bigging of the samyn for the wele of ws and of liegis repairand thairto and defence againis owre auld innemyis of Ingland and other wayis and will and grantis that thai sall nocht be callit accusit nor incur ony danger or skaith thairthrow in thair personis landis nor gudis in ony wise in time cuming Nochtwithstanding ony owre actis or statutis maid or to be maid in the contrar in ony panys contenit tharein anent the quhilkis we dispens with thame be thir owre letters with power to them to occupy the saidis landis with thare awne gudis or to set theme to tenentis as thai sall think maist expedient for the wele of our said burgh with frei ische and entri and with all and sindry utheris commoditeis freedomes asiamentis and richtuis pertinentis whatsumever pertenyng or that rychtuisly may pertene thairto perpetually in tyme cuming frelie quietlie wele and in peace but ony revocatioun or agane calling whatsumever Gevin under owre signet and subscrivit with owre hand at Striveling the twenty day of Junii The yere of God ane thousand five hundreth and thretty six yeris and of our regne the twenti thre yere." Here follows another grant: "We Understanding that owre burgh of Selkirk and inhabitants thairof continualie sen the field of Flodoune hes been oppressiit heriit and owre runin be theves and traitors whairthrow the hant of merchandice has cessit amangis thame of langtyme bygane and thai heriit thairthrow and we defraudit of owre custumis and dewites Thairfor and for divers utheris resonable causis and considerationes moving us be the tenor heirof of our kinglie power fre motive and autorite ryall grantis and gevis to thame and thair successors ane fair day begynand at the feist of the Conception of owre Lady next to cum aftere the day of the date hereof and be the octavis of the sammyn perpetualy in time cuming To be usit and exercit be thame als frelie in time cuming as ony uther fair is usit or exercit be ony otheris owre burrowis within our realme payand yeirlie custumis and doweities aucht and wont as effeiris frelie quietlie wele and in pece but ony revocation obstakill impediment or agane calling whatsumever subscrivet with owre hand and gevin under owre Signet at Kirkcaldy the secund day of September The yere of God ane thousand five huudreth and threty sex yeris and of our regne the twenty three yeir." The charter of confirmation, in which all these deeds and letters of donation are engrossed, proceeds to ratify and confirm them in the most ample manner. The testing clause, as it is termed in law language, is in these words: "In cujus rei Testimonium huic presente carte nostre confirmationis magnum sigillum nostrum apponi precepimus Testibus Reverendissimo reverendisque in Christo Patribus Gawino Archiepisco Glasguen. Cancellario nostro Georgio Episcopo Dunkelden. Henrico Episcopo Candide Case nostreque Capelle regie Strivilengen. dilectis nostris consanguineis Jacobo Moravie Comite &c. Archibaldo Comite de Ergile Domino Campbell et Lorne Magistro Hospicii nostri Hugone Comite de Eglinton Domino Montgomery Malcolmo Domino Flemyng magno Camerario nostro Venerabilibus in Christo Patribus Patricio Priore Ecclesie Metropolitane Sanctiandree Alexandro Abbate Monasterii nostri de Cambuskynneth dilectis familiaribus nostris Thoma Erskin de Brechin Secretario nostro Jocobo Colville de Estwemis compotorum nostrorum rotulatore et nostre cancellarie directore militibus et Magistro Jacobo Foulis de Colintoun nostrorum rotulorum Registri et Concilii clerico apud Edinburgh octavo die mensis Aprilis Anno Domini millesimo quingentesimo trigesimo octavo et regni nostri vicesimo quinto."