A Collection of Ballads by Andrew Lang (win 10 ebook reader txt) 📖

waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, For Percy’s hard at hand.”

“Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud! Sae loud I hear ye lie; For Percy had not men yestreen, To dight my men and me.

“But I have dream’d a dreary dream, Beyond the Isle of Sky; I saw a dead man win a fight, And I think that man was I.”

He belted on his guid braid sword, And to the field he ran; But he forgot the helmet good, That should have kept his brain.

When Percy wi the Douglas met, I wat he was fu fain! They swakked their swords, till sair they swat, And the blood ran down like rain.

But Percy with his good broad sword, That could so sharply wound, Has wounded Douglas on the brow, Till he fell to the ground.

Then he calld on his little foot-page, And said—“Run speedilie, And fetch my ain dear sister’s son, Sir Hugh Montgomery.

“My nephew good,” the Douglas said, “What recks the death of ane! Last night I dreamd a dreary dream, And I ken the day’s thy ain.

“My wound is deep; I fain would sleep; Take thou the vanguard of the three, And hide me by the braken bush, That grows on yonder lilye lee.

“O bury me by the braken-bush, Beneath the blooming brier; Let never living mortal ken That ere a kindly Scot lies here.”

He lifted up that noble lord, Wi the saut tear in his e’e; He hid him in the braken bush, That his merrie men might not see.

The moon was clear, the day drew near, The spears in flinders flew, But mony a gallant Englishman Ere day the Scotsmen slew.

The Gordons good, in English blood, They steepd their hose and shoon; The Lindesays flew like fire about, Till all the fray was done.

The Percy and Montgomery met, That either of other were fain; They swapped swords, and they twa swat, And aye the blood ran down between.

“Yield thee, now yield thee, Percy,” he said, “Or else I vow I’ll lay thee low!” “To whom must I yield,” quoth Earl Percy, “Now that I see it must be so ?”

“Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun, Nor yet shalt thou yield to me; But yield thee to the braken-bush, That grows upon yon lilye lee!”

“I will not yield to a braken-bush, Nor yet will I yield to a brier; But I would yield to Earl Douglas, Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were here.”

As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, He stuck his sword’s point in the gronde; The Montgomery was a courteous knight, And quickly took him by the honde.

This deed was done at Otterbourne, About the breaking of the day; Earl Douglas was buried at the braken bush, And the Percy led captive away.

 

Ballad: Tam Lin

 

(Child, Part II., p. 340, Burns’s Version.)

O I forbid you, maidens a’, That wear gowd on your hair, To come or gae by Carterhaugh, For young Tam Lin is there.

There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh But they leave him a wad, Either their rings, or green mantles, Or else their maidenhead.

Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little aboon her knee, And she has braided her yellow hair A little aboon her bree, And she’s awa’ to Carterhaugh, As fast as she can hie.

When she came to Carterhaugh Tam Lin was at the well, And there she fand his steed standing, But away was himsel.

She had na pu’d a double rose, A rose but only twa, Till up then started young Tam Lin, Says, “Lady, thou’s pu nae mae.

“Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet, And why breaks thou the wand? Or why comes thou to Carterhaugh Withoutten my command?”

“Carterhaugh, it is my ain, My daddie gave it me; I’ll come and gang by Carterhaugh, And ask nae leave at thee.”

 

*

 

Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little aboon her knee, And she has snooded her yellow hair A little aboon her bree, And she is to her father’s ha, As fast as she can hie.

Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the ba, And out then cam the fair Janet, Ance the flower amang them a’.

Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the chess, And out then cam the fair Janet, As green as onie grass.

Out then spak an auld grey knight, Lay oer the castle wa, And says, “Alas, fair Janet, for thee But we’ll be blamed a’.”

“Haud your tongue, ye auld-fac’d knight, Some ill death may ye die! Father my bairn on whom I will, I’ll father nane on thee.”

Out then spak her father dear, And he spak meek and mild; “And ever alas, sweet Janet,” he says. “I think thou gaes wi child.”

“If that I gae wi’ child, father, Mysel maun bear the blame; There’s neer a laird about your ha Shall get the bairn’s name.

“If my love were an earthly knight, As he’s an elfin grey, I wad na gie my ain true-love For nae lord that ye hae.

“The steed that my true-love rides on Is lighter than the wind; Wi siller he is shod before Wi burning gowd behind.”

Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little aboon her knee, And she has snooded her yellow hair A little aboon her bree, And she’s awa’ to Carterhaugh, As fast as she can hie.

When she cam to Carterhaugh, Tam Lin was at the well, And there she fand his steed standing, But away was himsel.

She had na pu’d a double rose, A rose but only twa, Till up then started young Tam Lin, Says, “Lady, thou pu’s nae mae.

“Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet, Amang the groves sae green, And a’ to kill the bonie babe That we gat us between?”

“O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin,” she says, “For’s sake that died on tree, If eer ye was in holy chapel, Or christendom did see?”

“Roxbrugh he was my grandfather, Took me with him to bide, And ance it fell upon a day That wae did me betide.

“And ance it fell upon a day, A cauld day and a snell, When we were frae the hunting come, That frae my horse I fell; The Queen o Fairies she caught me, In yon green hill to dwell.

“And pleasant is the fairy land, But, an eerie tale to tell, Ay at the end of seven years We pay a tiend to hell; I am sae fair and fu’ o flesh I’m feared it be mysel.

“But the night is Halloween, lady, The morn is Hallowday; Then win me, win me, an ye will, For weel I wat ye may.

“Just at the mirk and midnight hour The fairy folk will ride, And they that wad their true love win, At Miles Cross they maun bide.”

“But how shall I thee ken, Tam Lin, Or how my true-love know, Amang sae mony unco knights The like I never saw?”

“O first let pass the black, lady, And syne let pass the brown, But quickly run to the milk-white steed, Pu ye his rider down.

“For I’ll ride on the milk-white steed, And ay nearest the town; Because I was an earthly knight They gie me that renown.

“My right hand will be gloyd, lady, My left hand will be bare, Cockt up shall my bonnet be, And kaimd down shall my hair; And thae’s the takens I gie thee, Nae doubt I will be there.

“They’ll turn me in your arms, lady, Into an esk and adder; But hold me fast, and fear me not, I am your bairn’s father.

“They’ll turn me to a bear sae grim, And then a lion bold; But hold me fast, and fear me not, As ye shall love your child.

“Again they’ll turn me in your arms To a red het gaud of airn; But hold me fast, and fear me not, I’ll do to you nae harm.

“And last they’ll turn me in your arms Into the burning gleed; Then throw me into well water, O throw me in wi speed.

“And then I’ll be your ain true-love, I’ll turn a naked knight; Then cover me wi your green mantle, And cover me out o sight.”

Gloomy, gloomy was the night, And eerie was the way, As fair Jenny in her green mantle To Miles Cross she did gae.

About the middle o’ the night She heard the bridles ring; This lady was as glad at that As any earthly thing.

First she let the black pass by, And syne she let the brown; But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed, And pu’d the rider down,

Sae weel she minded whae he did say, And young Tam Lin did win; Syne coverd him wi her green mantle, As blythe’s a bird in spring.

Out then spak the Queen o Fairies, Out of a bush o broom: “Them that has gotten young Tam Lin Has gotten a stately groom.”

Out then spak the Queen o Fairies, And an angry woman was she; “Shame betide her ill-far’d face, And an ill death may she die, For she’s taen awa the bonniest knight In a’ my companie.

“But had I kend, Tam Lin,” she says, “What now this night I see, I wad hae taen out thy twa grey e’en, And put in twa een o tree.”

 

Ballad: Thomas The Rhymer

 

(Child, Part II., p. 317.)

True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank; A ferlie he spied wi’ his ee; And there he saw a lady bright, Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

Her skirt was o the grass-green silk, Her mantle o the velvet fyne, At ilka tett of her horse’s mane Hang fifty siller bells and nine.

True Thomas he pulld aff his cap, And louted low down to his knee: “All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For thy peer on earth I never did see.”

“O no, O no, Thomas,” she said, “That name does not belang to me; I am but the queen of fair Elfland, That am hither come to visit thee.

“Harp and carp, Thomas,” she said, “Harp and carp, along wi’ me, And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your bodie I will be!”

“Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird sall never daunton me; Syne he has kissed her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon Tree.

“Now, ye maun go wi me,” she said, “True Thomas, ye maun go wi me, And ye maun serve me seven years, Thro weal or woe as may chance to be.”

She mounted on her milk-white steed, She’s taen True Thomas up behind, And aye wheneer her bride rung, The steed flew swifter than the wind.

O they rade on, and farther on— The steed gaed swifter than the wind— Until they reached a desart wide, And living land was left behind.

“Light down, light down, now, True Thomas, And lean your head upon my knee; Abide and rest a little space, And I will shew you ferlies three.

“O see ye not yon narrow road, So thick beset with thorns and briers? That is the path of righteousness, Tho after it but few enquires.

“And see ye not that braid braid road, That lies across that lily leven? That is the path of wickedness, Tho some call it the road to heaven.

“And see not ye that bonny road, That winds about the fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland, Where thou and I this night maun gae.

“But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, Whatever ye may hear or see, For, if you speak word in Elflyn land, Ye’ll neer get back to your ain countrie.”

O they