A Collection of Ballads by Andrew Lang (win 10 ebook reader txt) đ
- Author: Andrew Lang
- Performer: -
Book online «A Collection of Ballads by Andrew Lang (win 10 ebook reader txt) đ». Author Andrew Lang
âGrant me my life, my liege, my king! And a bonnie gift Iâll giâe to thee; Full four-and-twenty milk-white steeds, Were all foalâd in ae year to me.
âIâll giâe thee all these milk-white steeds, That prance and nicher {4} at a spear; And as meikle gude Inglish gilt, {5} As four of their braid backs dow {6} bear.â
âAway, away, thou traitor strang! Out of my sight soon mayâst thou be! I granted never a traitorâs life, And now Iâll not begin with thee.â
âGrant me my life, my liege, my king! And a bonnie gift Iâll giâe to thee: Gude four-and-twenty ganging {7} mills, That gang throâ all the year to me.
âThese four-and-twenty mills complete, Shall gang for thee throâ all the year; And as meikle of gude red wheat, As all their happers dow to bear.â
âAway, away, thou traitor strang! Out of my sight soon mayâst thou be! I granted never a traitorâs life, And now Iâll not begin with thee.â
âGrant me my life, my liege, my king! And a great gift Iâll giâe to thee: Bauld four-and-twenty sistersâ sons Shall for thee fecht, thoâ all shouâd flee.â
âAway, away, thou traitor strang! Out of my sight soon mayâst thou be! I granted never a traitorâs life, And now Iâll not begin with thee.â
âGrant me my life, my liege, my king! And a brave gift Iâll giâe to thee: All between here and Newcastle town Shall pay their yearly rent to thee.â
âAway, away, thou traitor strang! Out of my sight soon mayâst thou be! I granted never a traitorâs life, And now Iâll not begin with thee.â
âYe lied, ye lied, now, king,â he says, âAlthoâ a king and prince ye be! For Iâve loved naething in my life, I weel dare say it, but honestie.
âSave a fat horse, and a fair woman, Twa bonnie dogs to kill a deer; But England shouâd have found me meal and mault, Gif I had lived this hundred year.
âShe shouâd have found me meal and mault, And beef and mutton in all plentie; But never a Scots wife couâd have said, That eâer I skaithâd her a puir flee.
âTo seek het water beneath cauld ice, Surely it is a great follie: I have askâd grace at a graceless face, But there is nane for my men and me.
âBut had I kennâd, ere I came frae hame, How unkind thou wouâdst been to me, I wouâd haâe keepit the Border side, In spite of all thy force and thee.
âWist Englandâs king that I was taâen, Oh, gin a blythe man he wouâd be! For ance I slew his sisterâs son, And on his breast-bane brak a tree.â
John wore a girdle about his middle, Embroiderâd oâer with burning gold, Bespangled with the same metal, Maist beautiful was to behold.
There hang nine targats {8} at Johnnieâs hat, An ilk ane worth three hundred pound: âWhat wants that knave that a king shouâd have, But the sword of honour and the crown?
âOh, where got thee these targats, Johnnie. That blink sae brawly {9} aboon thy brie?â âI gat them in the field fechting, {10} Where, cruel king, thou durst not be.
âHad I my horse and harness gude, And riding as I wont to be, It shouâd have been tauld this hundred year, The meeting of my king and me!
âGod be with thee, Kirsty, {11} my brother, Lang live thou laird of Mangertoun! Lang mayâst thou live on the Border side, Ere thou see thy brother ride up and down!
âAnd God he with thee, Kirsty, my son, Where thou sits on thy nurseâs knee! But an thou live this hundred year, Thy fatherâs better thouâlt never be.
âFarewell, my bonnie Gilnock hall, Where on Esk side thou standest stout! Gif I had lived but seven years mair, I wouâd haâe gilt thee round about.â
John murderâd was at Carlinrigg, And all his gallant companie; But Scotlandâs heart was neâer sae wae, To see sae mony brave men die;
Because they saved their country dear Frae Englishmen! Nane were sae bauld While Johnnie lived on the Border side, Nane of them durst come near his hauld.
Ballad: Edom Oâ Gordon
It fell about the Martinmas, When the wind blew shrill and cauld, Said Edom oâ Gordon to his men,â âWe maun draw to a hald. {12}
âAnd whatna hald shall we draw to, My merry men and me? We will gae straight to Towie house, To see that fair ladye.â
[The ladye stood on her castle wall, Beheld baith dale and down; There she was âware of a host of men Came riding towards the town.
âOh, see ye not, my merry men all, Oh, see ye not what I see? Methinks I see a host of men; I marvel who they be.â
She thought it had been her own wed lord. As he came riding hame; It was the traitor, Edom oâ Gordon, Wha reckâd nae sin nor shame.]
She had nae sooner buskit herselâ, And putten on her gown, Till Edom oâ Gordon and his men Were round about the town.
They had nae sooner supper set, Nae sooner said the grace, Till Edom oâ Gordon and his men Were round about the place.
The ladye ran to her tower head, As fast as she couâd hie, To see if, by her fair speeches, She couâd with him agree.
As soon as he saw this ladye fair. And her yetts all lockit fast, He fell into a rage of wrath, And his heart was all aghast.
âCome down to me, ye ladye gay, Come down, come down to me; This night ye shall lye within my arms, The morn my bride shall be.â
âI winna come down, ye false Gordon, I winna come down to thee; I winna forsake my ain dear lord, That is sae far frae me.â
âGiâe up your house, ye ladye fair, Giâe up your house to me; Or I shall burn yourselâ therein, Bot and your babies three.â
âI winna giâe up, ye false Gordon, To nae sic traitor as thee; Thoâ you shouâd burn myselâ therein, Bot and my babies three.
[âBut fetch to me my pistolette, And charge to me my gun; For, but if I pierce that bluidy butcher, My babes we will be undone.â
She stiffly stood on her castle wall, And let the bullets flee; She missâd that bluidy butcherâs heart, Thoâ she slew other three.]
âSet fire to the house!â quoâ the false Gordon, âSince better may nae be; And I will burn herselâ therein, Bot and her babies three.â
âWae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my man, I paid ye weel your fee; Why pull ye out the grund-waâ-stance, Lets in the reek {13} to me?
âAnd eâen wae worth ye, Jock, my man, I paid ye weel your hire; Why pull ye out my grund-waâ-stane, To me lets in the fire?â
âYe paid me weel my hire, ladye, Ye paid me weel my fee; But now Iâm Edom oâ Gordonâs man, Maun either do or dee.â
Oh, then out spake her youngest son, Sat on the nurseâs knee: SaysââMither dear, giâe oâer this house, For the reek it smothers me.â
[âI wouâd giâe all my gold, my bairn, Sae wouâd I all my fee, For ae blast of the westlinâ wind, To blaw the reek frae thee.]
âBut I winna giâe up my house, my dear, To nae sic traitor as he; Come weal, come woe, my jewels fair, Ye maun take share with me.â
Oh, then out spake her daughter dear, She was baith jimp and small: âOh, row me in a pair of sheets, And tow me oâer the wall.â
They rowâd her in a pair of sheets, And towâd her oâer the wall; But on the point of Gordonâs spear She got a deadly fall.
Oh, bonnie, bonnie was her mouth, And cherry were her cheeks; And clear, clear was her yellow hair, Whereon the red bluid dreeps.
Then with his spear he turnâd her oâer, Oh, gin her face was wan! He saidââYou are the first that eâer I wishâd alive again.â
He turnâd her oâer and oâer again, Oh, gin her skin was white! âI might haâe spared that bonnie face To haâe been some manâs delight.
âBusk and boun, my merry men all, For ill dooms I do guess; I canna look on that bonnie face, As it lyes on the grass!â
âWha looks to freits, {14} my master dear, Their freits will follow them; Let it neâer be said brave Edom oâ Gordon Was daunted with a dame.â
[But when the ladye saw the fire Come flaming oâer her head, She wept, and kissed her children twain; SaidââBairns, we been but dead.â
The Gordon then his bugle blew, And saidââAway, away! The house of Towie is all in a flame, I hald it time to gae.â]
Oh, then he spied her ain dear lord, As he came oâer the lea; He saw his castle all in a flame, As far as he could see.
Then sair, oh sair his mind misgave, And oh, his heart was wae! âPut on, put on, my wighty {15} men, As fast as ye can gae.
âPut on, put on, my wighty men, As fast as ye can drie; For he that is hindmost of the thrang Shall neâer get gude of me!â
Then some they rade, and some they ran, Full fast out oâer the bent; But ere the foremost could win up, Baith ladye and babes were brent.
[He wrang his hands, he rent his hair, And wept in tearful mood; âAh, traitors! for this cruel deed, Ye shall weep tears of bluid.â
And after the Gordon he has gane, Sae fast as he might drie; And soon in the Gordonâs foul heartâs bluid Heâs wroken {16} his dear layde.]
And mony were the mudie {17} men Lay gasping on the green; And mony were the fair ladyes Lay lemanless at hame.
And mony were the mudie men Lay gasping on the green; For of fifty men the Gordon brocht, There were but five gaed hame.
And round, and round the walls he went, Their ashes for to view; At last into the flames he flew, And bade the world adieu.
Ballad: Lady Anne Bothwellâs Lament
(Child, vol. iv. Early Edition.)
Balow, my boy, ly still and sleep, It grieves me sore to hear thee weep, If thouâlt be silent, Iâll be glad, Thy mourning makes my heart full sad. Balow, my boy, thy motherâs joy, Thy father bred one great annoy. Balow, my boy, ly still and sleep, It grieves me sore to hear thee weep.
Balow, my darling, sleep a while, And when thou wakâst then sweetly smile; But smile not as thy father did, To cozen maids, nay, God forbid; For in thine eye his look I see, The tempting look that ruinâd me. Balow, my boy, etc.
When he began to court my love, And with his sugarâd words to move, His tempting face, and flattâring chear, In time to me did not appear; But now I see that cruel he Cares neither for his babe nor me. Balow, my boy, etc.
Fareweel, fareaeel, thou falsest youth That ever kist a womanâs mouth. Let never any after me Submit unto thy courtesy! For, if hey do, O! cruel thou Wilt her abuse and care not how! Balow, my boy, etc.
I was too credâlous at the first, To yield thee all a maiden durst. Thou swore for ever true to prove, Thy faith unchangâd, unchangâd thy love; But quick as thought the change is wrought, Thy loveâs no mair, thy promise nought. Balow, my boy, etc.
I wish I were a maid again! From young menâs flattâry Iâd refrain; For now unto my grief I
Comments (0)