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SELECT SCOTISH BALLADS.

VOL. II.

[figure]

LONDON, PRINTED BY AND FOR J. NICHOLS.

MDCCLXXXIII.

CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

[v]
  • 1. Peblis to the Play. Page 1
  • 2. Chriſts Kirk on the green. Page 15
  • 3. The Gaberlunyie Man. Page 28
  • 4. The Jollie Beggar. Page 33
  • 5. The Viſion. Page 36
  • 6. Ane his awn enemy. Page 55
  • 7. Advice to ſpend anis awin gudes Page 57
  • 8. Beſt to be blyth Page 60
  • 9. Robene and Makyne. Page 63
  • 10. The wowing of Jok and Jenny. Page 70
  • 11. Ane littil Interlud of the Droichis Page 75
  • 12. Ane Ballat of gude Wyffis. Page 81
  • 13. Ballat of gude fallowis. Page 86
  • [vi]14. The Blait Luvar Page 89
  • 15. Luve ane levellar. Page 91
  • 16. To his hairt. Page 93
  • 17. Rondel of luve. Page 95
  • 18. The Wife of Auchiermuchty. Page 97
  • 19. 'God ſend every Prieſt ane Wife. Page 104
  • 20. Luftie Maye. Page 106
  • 21. Tak your auld clok about ye. Page 108
  • 22. Eubuchis Marion. Page 112
  • 23. The yellow-hair'd Laddie. Page 114
  • 24. Beſſy Bell and Mary Gray Page 115
  • 25. Owr the Bogie. Page 117
  • 26. To the tune of 'I'll never leave thee.' Page 119
  • 27. 'Let's be jovial, fill our glaſſes. Page 120
  • 28. The Soger Laddie. Page 121
  • 29. The Banks of Clyde. Page 122
  • 30. 'Deil tak the Wars. Page 123
  • 31. 'There dwall'd a man in Aberdeen. Page 125
  • 32. 'An thou wert mine ain thing. Page 128
  • 33. To the tune of 'Alloa houſe. Page 129
  • 34. Bothwell Bank. Page 131
  • 35. 'My dear and only luve I pray. Page 133
  • 36. 'Comrades puſh about the glaſs. Page 135
  • 37. Ettric Banks. Page 137
  • 38. Lochaber. Page 139
  • 39. 'For the ſake of gold ſhe has left me. Page 141
  • [vii]40. Blackford hill. Page 142
  • 41. Tweedſide. Page 144
  • 42. Birks of Abergeldie. Page 145
  • 43. Braxfield Braes Page 146
  • 44. Low down in the broom. Page 147
  • 45. 'Come Annie let us kiſs our fill. Page 149
  • 46. 'It fell about the Martinmas time. Page 150
  • 47. 'O ſaw ye my father, &c. Page 153
  • 48. 'To arms! To arms! To arms, my lads. Page 155
  • 49. 'Keep the country, bonnie laſſie. Page 156
  • 50. 'In ſimmer I mawd my meadow Page 157
  • 51. 'There gaed a fair maiden out to walk. Page 158
  • 52. 'My wife's a wanton wee thing. Page 159
  • Notes. Page 161
  • Gloſſary. Page 193

A DISSERTATION ON THE COMIC BALLAD.

[ix]

THE pieces here ſelected under the title of Comic Ballads fall under the ſeveral denominations of Paſtoral, Amatory, Ludicrous, and Convivial; this Diſſertation therefore naturally divides itſelf into theſe ſeveral heads.

No ſubject of critical diſcuſſion has been examined with more aſſiduity, and leſs ſucceſs, than Paſtoral compoſition. The French critics, whom a writer of any diſcernment ſeldom quotes but to confute their abſurdities, have here blundered with more than ordinary addreſs. Rapin has found that paſtoral writing [x]muſt faithfully repreſent the manners of the golden age. Dubos, a more judicious writer, has diſcovered that the real dialogues of modern ſhepherds are too groſs for poetic relation; he therefore adviſes a poet, who would now venture into this walk of verſe, to chooſe for his ſpeakers princes who had loſt themſelves in a wood. He is ſurely himſelf loſt in a wood of falſe criticiſm, when he informs us that the firſt Dialogue of Fontenelle's Plurality of Worlds, is an excellent Paſtoral Eclogue. It is no doubt a very fine piece of writing, but, conſidered in the light of a Bucolic Poem, it makes fully as aukward a figure as an ancient River God in a French Opera with a tye wig, and ſilk ſtockings.

Did theſe writers ever read Theocritus? Did they not know that he was the father, and his works the only models, of this kind of poetry?

Of all the poets of antiquity, none has been imitated with leſs ſucceſs than that excellent writer. He would himſelf appear to be perfectly original; for though we read that Homer was indebted for ſome of his beauties to his poetical predeceſſors, we never find Theocritus lay under this accuſation. His eclogues breathe the very ſpirit of nature; and ſurpaſs thoſe of all his imitators in beauty, as much as a romantic river, wandering through the richeſt rural ſcenes, does a Dutch jetd'eau [xi]ſquirting among hedges of clipt yews. Virgil, who was born an elegiac poet, but never happened upon his proper province, has in paſtoral only diſplayed excellent ſkill in verſification, which is indeed his firſt and almoſt only praiſe in all his works. His very perſons are ridiculous; for what have Thyrſis and Corydon to do with the Po? An abſurdity followed by the whole imitators of this imitator; and among others by Pope, who gravely makes Alexis ſing upon the banks of the Thames. His admired French author Boileau, might have told him that Truth alone is fair and lovely. To confound the names of different climates and ages muſt, to every reader of taſte, appear fully as ludicrous as to confound places and dates in defiance of geography and chronology. Who but muſt ſmile if he read that Theocritus was born at the Devil tavern, in the Strand at Paris, in the year of Chriſt 908, and had the honour to recite one of his eclogues before that merry prince Charles I. of England, who was ſo pleaſed with it, that he cut three capers of a moſt ſurpriſing height, to the amazement of the bard; and afterwards made him a preſent of a lottery ticket? Yet this is not more abſurd than to mingle names, places, and ſubjects, that are perfectly heterogeneous, as is done in Pope's paſtorals; which are very much inferior to them of Philips, though Phillips has no [xii]claim to praiſe. The fact is, that paſtoral eclogue is quite foreign to modern manners. Thoſe of Theocritus appear natural from their antiquity, and from his inimitable language and manner, but he ſtands alone, and ever will.

Any eclogues that occur in this collection, ſuch as Robene and Makyne, &c. are of a lyric nature; and may with much more propriety be called ſongs than eclogues, though they partake of the manner of both. I therefore leave the paſtoral eclogue to come to the paſtoral ſong or ballad, a ſpecies of compoſition, which, though not very remote in its eſſence from the paſtoral dialogue, is infinitely more conſonant to modern manners, as it implies no perſonal repreſentation. It is not ſuppoſed to be written or ſpoken by a ſhepherd, but merely to convey rural ſentiments and images.

Dubos tells us, that the peaſants of Italy at this day go to keep their flocks, or labour the ground, with their guitar on their backs; and that they ſing their loves in extempore verſes, which they accompany with their inſtrument. This they call Improviſadare *, Were [xiii]any of theſe ſongs to be committed to writing, and of high merit, it might be conſidered as a paſtoral ſong complete in every circumſtance.

Yet I queſtion if in truth of character, it could exceed ſome of the pieces of that kind now under our eye, though written perhaps in the ſmoke and noiſe of a capital. But to paſs from this theory, many of the Scotiſh ſongs now ſelected, muſt be allowed by every good judge to have uncommon excellence in the paſtoral mode of poetry. They poſſeſs the utmoſt truth of manner and of colouring. They have all that ſweetneſs which an ancient critic * obſerves, is the reſult of perfect ſimplicity. As moſt of the Paſtoral pieces in this Selection are likewiſe of the Amatory ſtyle, I ſhall proceed to conſider theſe kinds of poetry in conjunction.

If the antiquity of the different kinds of poetry were properly aſcertained, it is to be believed that love, poetry would be found among thoſe of the firſt invention. Love, that ſweeteſt and beſt of paſſions, is ever the inſpirer of poetry. Love is a maſter that can call forth muſical ſounds from the heart of the ſavage of Iceland, amid his half year's wintry night, as well as from that of the exulting inhabitant of Arabia the [xiv]happy under the influence of the ſummer ſun. His effects are controlled by no manner of life, and confined by no zone. In the moſt barbarous countries Love will be found the inſpirer of ſentiment, and refiner of thought and of language:

Spirero nobil ſenſi a rozzi petti;
Raddolciro delle lor lingue il ſuono.

As Love is perhaps the father of poetry *, ſo it is obſerved that the fair objects, and beſt judges of that paſſion, have always eſteemed it the moſt complete triumph of their charms when their lovers are ſo enflamed as to commence poets in their praiſe. Amorous poetry has often been the ſuppoſed magic charm that has caught the heart of the fair novice in that paſſion. This has not eſcaped Shakſpere, that anatomiſt of the heart.

My gracious Duke,
This man has witched the boſom of my child:
Thou, thou, Lyſander, thou haſt given her rhymes;
And ſtolen th' impreſſion of her fantaſy
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
Knacks, trifles, noſegays, ſweetmeats, (meſſengers
Of ſtrong prevailment in unharden'd youth.)
Midſummer Nights Dream.

[xv]If we except Sappho, the only female who ever wrote any thing worth preſervation; there is no writer who has painted love in more genuine and tender colours than are uſed in the Scotch Amatory Ballads. Yet there are none of them, that I remember, are written by ladies *. That profligacy of manners which always reigns before women can ſo utterly forget all ſenſe of decency and propriety as to commence authors, is yet almoſt unknown in Scotland. May it ever be ſo! May domeſtic duties and affections be ever the ſole employments and amuſements of my fair country-women, while thoſe of other kingdoms are ſhowing themſelves naked in love ſongs and romances, or ſtalking the ſtreets in the breeches of criticiſm and morality!

The love verſes in this volume are of almoſt every different hue incident to that changeable paſſion; but a plaintive tenderneſs is the more general characteriſtic of them. Fielding, I think, has obſerved that love is generally accompanied by a pleaſing melancholy. The ſongs in this collection called Lochaber, Ewbuchts Marion, Low down in the broom, and many others have, [xvi]when accompanied witn their proper airs, a moſt exquiſite pathos:

They yield a very echo to the ſeat
Where Love is throned.

Others again poſſeſs an equal power of ſprightlineſs; ſuch as An thou wert my ain thing, Soger Ladie, O'er the Bogie, &c. which do not yield to the beſt French ſongs in ſpirit, though theſe are likewiſe excellent in their kind. Indeed if the French excel in any ſpecies of poetry, it is in their ſongs, though their beſt efforts in this way do not ſeem much known in England. As this is the caſe, and it is perfectly coherent with my ſubject, I ſhall beg leave to preſent my reader with a few French ſongs of the firſt merit.

In the ſerious ſtyle here is one never yet publiſhed.

Il faut attendre avec patience
Le jour de demain; c'eſt un beau jour.
Grande eſt dit-on la difference
Entre le marriage et l'amour.
Quoi! Le contrat qui nous engage
Change quelque choſe a notre humeur!
Il faut que j'aimois davantage,
Si je juge d'apres mon coeur.
Si je juge d' apres mon coeur.
[xvii]
Quand Louis me dit 'Ma Louiſe,
'Je t'aime, et n'aimerois que toi:'
Sans le vouloir il faut que je diſe,
'Je t'aime cent fois plus que moi,'
Il me jure amour eternel;
Et Louis n'eſt pas un menteur:
Il me ſera toujours fidel,
Si je juge d'apres mon coeur.
Si je juge d'apres mon coeur.
Quel ſujet aurois je de craindre?
Mon amant devient mon mari.
Je n'aurois jamais a m'en plaindre;
C'eſt l'Amour qui me l'a choiſi;
Je ſuis aimé autant que j'aime;
Rien ne gatera mon bonheur;
Et toujours il ſera le meme,
Si je juge d' apres mon coeur.
Si je juge d'apres mon coeur.

Others follow.

Solitaire temoin de ma ſecrette peine,
Echo, qui ſoupires avec moi dans ces bois,
Zephir vous fait il quelque fois
Repeter le nom de Climeine?
[xviii]Je voudrois lui cacher le trouble de mon coeur;
Mais s'il repond a ma tendreſs extreme,
Cher confident de ma ſincere ardeur,
Echo, dites lui que je l'aime.
Echo, Echo dites lui que je l'aime.
Murmurez charmans ruiſſeaux;
Mais gardez vous de troubler par vos eaux
Le doux ſommeil de la jeune Sylvie,
Qui s'eſt endormie,
Au chant des oiſeaux.
Votre onde qui s'enfuit
Dans ce vallon fait un peu trop de bruit.
Charmans ruiſſeaux,
He! qu'ai je dit?
Non, non, roulez, precipitez vos flots:
La cruelle qu'elle eſt m'ote bien ce repos!
Ah que ces demeures ſont belles,
Que nous y paſſons de beaux jours!
Ah que ces demeures ſont belles,
Que nous y paſſons d'heureux jours!
[xix]Quelle felicité pour les amans fidelles!
Ici les amours eternelles
Ont toujours la douceur des nouvelles amours.
Ah que ces demeures ſont belles!
Les frimats ont ceſſé, le printems va paroitre;
Tout renait, tout fleurit dans ces aimables lieux.
Ah! ſi ma liberté pouvoit ainſi renaitre,
Que je ſerois heureux, que je ſerois heureux!
Taiſez vous, ma Muſette,
Nos chants ne ſont plus doux:
Vous n'avez pu toucher Liſette,
Helas! de quoi me ſervez vous?

Theſe ſhall be ſucceeded by a few Amatory French ſongs in the ſprightly ſtyle.

Vous, qui faites votre modelle
De la conſtante tourterelle,
Que je vous plains dans vos amours!
Pour moi, j'imite l'hirondelle;
Sans que rien arrete mon cours,
Je vole ou le printems m'appelle.
[xx]
N'oubliez pas votre houlette,
Liſette,
Quand vous irez au bois:
Le berger, dont vous faites choix,
Eſt trop libertin ſur l' herbette;
N'oubliez pas votre houlette,
Liſette,
Quand vous irez au bois.
Bon vin,
Belle Sylvie,
Plaiſirs les plus grands de la vie,
C'eſt vous qui reglez mon deſtin:
Je m'attache a vous ſuivre;
Enfin pourvu que je m'enyvre,
N'importe, que ce ſoit ou d'amour, ou de vin.
Aimez, aimez, puis qu'il faut,
L'amant qui vous engage:
Ce n'eſt pas un grand defaut
Q'un peu d'amour a votre age,
[xxi]Ah! le tems d'etre ſage
Ne viendra que trop tot!
Aimez, puis qu'il le faut;
Ah! le tems d'etre ſage,
Ah! le tems d'etre ſage,
Ne viendra que trop tot!

In the Ludicrous ſtyle, the following may be acceptable.

Quand il tonne, et que ere Pierre
Court a la cave ſe cacher,
Court a la cave ſe cacher,
Vous croyez qu'il fuit le tonnere;—
C'eſt le tonneau qu'il va chercher,
C'eſt le tonneau qu'il va chercher.
Chloris et le tabac j'eſtime,
De tous deux je me ſens epris:
Tous deux regnent ſur mes eſprits;
De tous deux je ſuis le victime.
Mais s'il faut ceder au plus fort,
Chloris je n'aurai point de tort
[xxii]De quitter l' ardeur qui me pique.
Vos yeux me donnent le trepas,
Mais dans le flambeau de ma pipe
J'eteins celui de vos appas.
Depuis huit jours que je brule pour vous
N'avez vous pas aſſez eprouvé ma conſtance?
Et ne devez vous pas un traitement plus doux
A ma perſeverance?
A votre tour laiſſez vous enflamer;
Aujourdhui, belle Iris, faites fuier ma peine;
Et je vous jure de vous aimer
Encore une ſemaine.
Un jour un vieux hibou
Se mit dans la cervelle
D'epouſer une hirondelle,
Jeune et belle,
Dont l'Amour l'avoit rendu fou.
Il pria les oiſeaux de chanter a la fete:
Tout s'enfuit en voyant une ſi laide bete,
Il n'y reſta que coucou, coucou, coucou.

[xxiii]To conclude with a few Convivial ones, the following are given.

Si tu veux etre ſans chagrin,
Bois comme il faut de ce bon vin;
La bouteille
Fait merveille:
C'eſt un ſecours qui eſt tout divin.
Verſes du vin;
Verſe donc du plus fin;
Verſe toujours ſoir et matin.
Doux ſommeil endormes les amans miſerables;
Ils ont beſoin de vos faveurs;
Ne verſes que ſur eux vos pavots favorables,
Gardes vous d'aſſoupir de fortuné buveurs.
Laiſſez au dieu de la bouteille
Le ſoin de remplir notre ſort;
Lors que Bacchus ſeul nous endort,
Jamais l'Amour ne nous reveille.

The following is equal to any thing written by Anacreon.

[xxiv]
Eſt il un ſort plus triſte que le mien?
Je mepriſois l'Amour, je bravois ſa puiſſance;
Et, content d'une heureuſe indifference,
J'avois toujours tremblé de me laiſſer charmer.
Je ſens enfin que je m'en vais aimer:
Ah! je m'en vais aimer!
Mais c'eſt toi ma bouteille;
C'eſt toi charmant jus de la treille,
Que j'aimerai toujours je t'en donne ma foi:
Et je n'aurai jamais de maitreſſe que toi.

But to return, I muſt not quit this ſubject without offering a few remarks on the principal ſcene of the Scotiſh paſtoral ſongs, namely the ſouthern part of Scotland in the neighbourhood of the Tweed. I cannot do this better than in the words of an excellent writer. He forms a fine contraſt by beginning with a deſcription of the Northern parts of Scotland. ‘The highlands of Scotland, ſays he, are a pictureſque, but in general a melancholy country. Long tracts of mountainous deſert covered with dark heath, and often obſcured by miſty weather; narrow vallies, thinly inhabited, and bounded by precipices, reſounding with the fall of torrents; a ſoil ſo rugged and a climate ſo dreary, as in many parts to admit neither the amuſements of paſturage, nor the labours [xxv]of agriculture; the mournful daſhing of waves along the friths and lakes that interſect the country; the portentous noiſes which every change of the wind, and every increaſe and diminution of the waters is apt to raiſe in a lonely region full of echoes, and rocks, and caverns: the groteſque and ghaſtly appearance of ſuch a landſcape by the light of the moon:—Objects like theſe diffuſe a gloom over the fancy, which may be compatible enough with occaſional and ſocial merriment, but cannot fail to tincture the thoughts of a native in the hour of ſilence and ſolitude.’ And a little further he obſerves, ‘that the ancient highlanders of Scotland had hardly any other way of ſupporting themſelves than by hunting, fiſhing, or war; profeſſions that are continually expoſed to fatal accidents. And hence, no doubt, additional horrors would often haunt their ſolitude, and a deeper gloom overſhadow the imagination even of the hardieſt native.’ He proceeds,

‘What then would it be reaſonable to expect from the fanciful tribe, from the muſicians and poets, of ſuch a region? Strains expreſſive of joy, tranquillity, or the ſofter paſſions? No. Their ſtyle muſt have been better ſuited to their circumſtances. And ſo we find in fact that their muſic is. The wildeſt irregularity appears in its compoſition; the expreſſion [xxvi]is warlike and melancholy, and approaches even to the terrible—And that their poetry is almoſt uniformly mournful, and their views of nature dark and dreary, will be allowed by all who admit of the authenticity of Oſſian; and not doubted by any who believe theſe fragments of highland poetry to be genuine, which many old people, now alive, of that country remember to have heard in their youth, and were then taught to refer to a pretty high antiquity.’

‘Some of the Southern provinces of Scotland preſent a very different proſpect. Smooth and lofty hills covered with verdure, clear ſtreams winding through long and beautiful valleys, trees produced without culture, here ſtraggling or ſingle, and there crowding into little groves and bowers, with other circumſtances peculiar to the diſtricts I allude to, render them fit for paſturage, and favourable to romantic leiſure, and tender paſſions. Several of the old Scotch ſongs take their names from the rivulets, villages and hills adjoining to the Tweed near Melroſe, a region diſtinguiſhed by many charming varieties of rural ſcenery, and which, whether we conſider the face of the country, or the genius of the people, may properly enough be termed the Arcadia of Scotland. And all theſe ſongs are ſweetfully and [xxvii]powerfully expreſſive of love and tenderneſs, and other emotions ſuited to the tranquillity of paſtoral life *.’

Thus far this eminent philoſopher and poet; whoſe ideas are ſo fully expreſſed, and ſo conſonant with my own, that they leave me little or nothing further to add. I muſt, however, obſerve that the genuine Old Songs, which were originally ſet to the moſt admired of the Scotiſh airs, are moſt of them unfortunately loſt. For the preſent words to the greater part of them we are indebted to Allan Ramſay, and his friends, as he himſelf informs us in the following words of the preface to his Tea-table Miſcelcellany, or Collection of Songs. ‘My being well aſſured how acceptable new words to known good tunes would prove, engaged me to the making verſes for above SIXTY of them in this and the ſecond volume:’ (which are Scotiſh ſongs, the third and laſt volume containing moſtly Engliſh,) ‘about THIRTY more were done by ſome ingenious young gentlemen.’ I heartily wiſh honeſt Allan and his ingenious young gentlemen had rather uſed their endeavours to recover and preſerve the real ancient ballads, than to compoſe new ones. For uncouth as thoſe might be, I much [xxviii]ſuſpect they exceeded their ſubſtitutes in variety at leaſt. Indeed as I meant this as a POETICAL, not as a MUSICAL work, I found myſelf obliged to admit only the beſt of theſe modern pieces, always prefering the ancient when it could be found. Thoſe who wiſh for words to all the Scotiſh airs, may find them in many collections. This only means to preſent the reader of taſte with the very beſt of Scotiſh ballad poetry. The reader, whom I could wiſh to pleaſe, would turn with contempt from a conſtant ſucceſſion of the ſame ideas expreſſed in the ſame words and ſtanza. For though the airs vary, their verbal accompaniments have in general a ſimilarity as diſguſting as the poems of Blackmore, or the pictures of Angelica Kauffman. Though the ancient ſongs were perhaps leſs ſmooth than their ſucceſſors, they were doubtleſs more varied, being compoſed at diſtant periods by different minſtrels, than they could poſſibly be by Allan Ramſay (a writer not rich in ideas) and his young friends, who perhaps begun and finiſhed their labours in this way in the ſpace of a few weeks. And if they were harſh or uncouth, the ancient compoſer might plead with Taſſo:

— ſe ben miri,
Molle, e dura e coſtei;
[xxix]Coſi ſon duri, e molli i verſi miei.
Molle e in lei quel di fuori;
Dentro ha marmi e diaſpri:
Sol nella ſcorza i verſi miei ſon aſpri.
Ma ſenti, come ſpiri
Da loro interni amori
Spirto gentil, ch' inteneriſce i core.

A very celebrated and intelligent phyſician, who was born, and paſſed his early years in the ſouth of Scotland, informs me, that it is his opinion, that the beſt of the ancient Scotiſh airs were really compoſed by ſhepherds. In his remembrance there was, in almoſt every village of that diſtrict, a chief ſhepherd, who had acquired celebrity by compoſing better ſongs than others of the ſame profeſſion. And he thinks that though the beſt airs are in general known, yet the words to at leaſt one half have never been publiſhed. The muſical inſtruments uſed by theſe rude minſtrels, are the common flute, and the ſtock-and-horn, which is a flute with a ſmall horn faſtened to the further end of it, and which forms a baſe, in the nature of a baſſoon.

The beginning of one of their unpubliſhed ballads of the mournful kind, he happens to remember. It was written on the fatal expedition to Darien, in the end of laſt century, a project that ſeems to have been [xxx]formed for the deſtruction of the Scotiſh youth, and opens with the following moſt ſtriking couplet.

We'll a awa to the woods and murne
Untill our Scotiſh joes come hame.

I believe not above half a dozen of theſe genuine Scotiſh paſtoral ballads are in print; and ſuſpect all ſuch may be found in this volume. They have certain ſtrokes in them which, in my opinion, could only occur to real ſhepherds. Such are The yellow-hair'd laddie, Ewbuchts Marion, In ſimmer I maw'd my meadow, &c. What a ſad exchange to give ſuch ſongs for the poor tinſel of Allan Ramſay, and his bottle companions!

There is a book printed at St. Andrews in 1548, called The Complaint of Scotland. It is written by a Sir James Inglis, and is of ſuch exceeding rarity as to be almoſt unique: but Dr. George Mackenzie in his Lives of Scotiſh Writers, has given us an abſtract of it. The author mentions a maſque, and enumerates the following ſongs, as forming part of the entertainment.

  • 1. The briers binds me ſair.
  • 2. Still under the leyvis grene.
  • 3. Coutbume the raſhis grene.
  • 4. Allace I vyt your twa feyr ene.
  • 5. Goete you gude day vit boy.
  • 6. Lady help your priſoneir.
  • [xxxi]7. King Williams Note.
  • 8. The lange no wee nou.
  • 9. The Cheapel Valk.
  • 10. Fay that is none.
  • 11. Skald a Bellis nou.
  • 12. The Aberden's nou brum.
  • 13. Brum on tul.
  • 14. Allone I veipt in great diſtreſs.
  • 15. Tortee Solee Lemendou.
  • 16. Bill vil thu cum by a bute, and belt the in Saint Francis cord.
  • 17. The Frog cam to the Myl dur.
  • 18. Gillquhiſkar.
  • 19. Rycht ſorily muſing in my mind.
  • 20. God ſen the duc had bydden in France, and Delaubawte had neuyer cum hame.
  • 21. All muſing of Mervillir a mys hef I gone.
  • 22. Maſtres fayr Zeril ſo fayt.
  • 23. O luſty Maye with Flora queen.
  • 24. O Myrle hart hoy this is my ſang.
  • 25. The battle of Hayrlau.
  • 26. The huntis of Chevit.
  • 27. Sall I go vit you to Rumbolo fayr.
  • 28. Greit is my ſorrow.
  • 29. Turn the ſuit Ville to me.
  • 30. My lufe is lyan ſick ſend him joy.
  • [xxxii]31. Fayr lufe len thou me thy mantil Joy.
  • 32. The Pe [...]ſſe and the Montgumrye met that day, that gentil day.
  • 33. My lufe is laid upon an knight.
  • 34. Allace the ſamen ſueit face.
  • 35. In an myrthfou Morrou my hart levit on the lad.

This liſt, which is of exceeding curioſity, may teach us that not one of our Scotiſh popular airs is ſo ancient as 1548. Indeed I ſuſpect theſe of which the ſcene lyes in the ſouth of Scotland, as Tweedſide, &c. are all of them poſterior to the acceſſion of James VI. to the throne of England. Any of the above ſongs, that have local marks, belong to the Northern parts of Scotland; and it is to be ſuppoſed that the provinces which firſt felt the bleſſings of repoſe, would firſt break out into finging. Not above two of the pieces in this liſt are now known. If I do not miſtake, numbers 2 and 19, or ſomething like them, may be found in Smith's Songs in ſcore before the year 1500. They are Engliſh ſongs; and prove the author has intermingled Engliſh airs with thoſe of his own country. I am told No. 17 uſed lately to be ſung on the ſtage at Edinburgh, and contains a mock courtſhip between a frog and a mouſe, of ſome ſatyrical merit.

Some few of the modern ſongs have the merit of being written on real occaſions, and ſuch always ſpeak [xxxiii]the language of the heart, a language of difficult ſimulation. Some of ſuch yield not to the Elegies of Tibullus in nature and pathos, though that ancient poet is a wonderful maſter in Amatory verſe. Hammond has never caught his ſpirit, except in imitations, which are ſo cloſe as to be almoſt tranſlations, but I have lately had the pleaſure of ſeeing ſome Elegies of this kind in manuſcript, which rival thoſe of Tibullus himſelf.

The moſt ancient pieces in this ſelection are of the LUDICROUS ſtyle of poetry, which is ſomething ſurpriſing, as that ſpecies of writing has been thought by able crities to be an effort of modern refinement. It is true the images given us in the Scotiſh Ludicrous pieces are often not the moſt agreeable or delicate; but have the moſt modern writers, Swift for example, been more laudable in this reſpect? In Peblis to the Play, Chriſt's Kirk on the Green, and others, the reader will find curious deſcriptions of low life and manners, as they were in Scotland in the fifteenth and ſixteenth centuries; the more curious as they were drawn by the hands of monarchs themſelves. It is certainly much to the credit of the united kingdoms that, while the poets of the other countries of Europe were writing extravagant romances, Chaucer, and the princely bards of Scotland, were employed in delineating real life and manners.

[xxxiv]In the Wyfe of Auchtermuchty, and ſimilar productions here given, there is abundance of humour, though a critic of faſhion may perhaps pronounce it low. But [...]t is NATURE, and will ever be ſo. Had Chaucer only written, or rather tranſlated, the Romaunt of the Roſe, his works might now have been faſt aſleep in ſome old cheſt; but his [...]ales, replete with humour of the lower kind, will perpetuate his fame. That father of Engliſh poetry appears to have been as much eſteemed in Scotland, as in his native country. Dunbar, the chief of the Scotiſh poets, has in his Goldin Terge the following ſpirited apoſtrophe in his praiſe, which is highly generous, if we conſider the inveterate enmity at that time ſubſiſting between the two kingdoms. It proves that the purſuit of poetry is productive of large and liberal ſentiments, even in a barbarous period.

O reverend Chawſer, roſe of rethouris all,
As in oure toung ane flour imperial,
That raiſe in Brittane evir, quha reidis richt,
Thou beiris of makars the triumphs royal;
Thy freſche ennamalit termes celeſtial,
This mater couth haif illuminit full bricht.
Was thou nocht of our Inglis all the licht,
Surmounting every toung tereſtrial,
As far as Mayis morrow dois midnicht?

[xxxv]Chaucer may indeed be regarded as the father, not only of Engliſh poetry, but of that remarkable quality of writing called humour; a word which, I believe, has no correſponding term in any language, as we have none for the French naïveté, for they are diſtinct ideas. Naïveté, if I mïſtake not, only implies a native gaiety, an unconſcious ſimplicity, and is never uſed in a ſynonymous ſenſe with humour, which implies ſomething characteriſtic, even though ſevere or moroſe, as we ſay a humourous gravity. Fontaine has naïveté, Chaucer has humour. Wit is an aſſimulation of diſtant ideas: Humour is confined to manner either of ſpeaking or writing.

It has been affirmed by ſome eminent critics, that the moderns much excel the ancients in witty and humourous compoſition; and alledged, that the ancients have no writers in theſe kinds to oppoſe to Don Quixote, Hudibras, The Splendid Shilling, the Adventures of Gil Blas, The Tale of a Tub, and the Rehearſal *. But in this they did not reflect that they only ſaw one ſide of the queſtion. The fact is, that with is the moſt fleeting and tranſitory quality writing can have. Like an exquiſite eſſence, it waſtes itſelf, and leaves [xxxvi]only the vaſe that contained it. The Margites of Homer I ſuſpect began, like Hudibras in our time, to ceaſe being underſtood before it was allowed to periſh. But the argument I would uſe is, in ſhort, that we cannot judge of the efforts of the ancients in this way, becauſe their beſt works are loſt. Surely then to pronounce againſt them, when they cannot be heard in their defence, is not candid. It muſt, however, be allowed, that the modern Novel, deſcriptive of real life, and the moſt uſeful kind of writing known, when properly conducted, appears to have been foreign to ancient conception. But it appears to me very evident that the human mind, in the progreſs of ages, alters its ſhape and powers, if I may ſo expreſs myſelf. In the days of Greece and Rome, its criterion would ſeem to have been ſtrength: in modern times, verſatility aud acuteneſs. Hence the dignity and grandeur of their writings; and the wit and preciſion of ours. Reaſons might be given for the difference, but this is not the proper place.

As we have ſeen Chaucer was ſo much regarded by the ancient Scotiſh poets, I ſuppoſe it was from him they took their ideas of burleſque deſcriptions of vulgar life.

[xxxvii]The CONVIVIAL ſongs in this Selection are not many, I ſhall not therefore inſiſt on this head. It may, however, be obſerved that, conſidering how much the French have written in this way, it is ſomething ſtrange their ancient allies, the Scots, ſhould have been ſo barren in this very eaſy mode of compoſition. One would imagine the juice of the grape, that inſpired Anacreon, was equally potent in his numerous French imitators; while the Scots, having little of that liquid inſpiration, were by ale confined in the bands of ſleep at the ſocial hour that gave the French bons vivants free acceſs to the regions of fancy.

It may perhaps be expected that, before cloſing this eſſay, I ſhould offer ſome remarks on Scotiſh Muſic, a ſubject of much intereſt and curioſity to every lover of that beſt ſort of melody which ſpeaks to the heart and paſſions. But the ingenious author of an eſſay on Scotiſh Muſic, annexed to Mr. Arnot's Hiſtory of Edinburgh, has left me nothing to add on that head. Dr. Beattie has likewiſe treated this ſubject more briefly, but with his uſual elegance and ability, in his Eſſay on Poetry and Muſic as they affect the Mind. Another good writer * has likewiſe dropt a few remarks on this matter. Both theſe eminent authors [xxxviii]have uſed many arguments to confute the opinion of thoſe who aſcribe to David Rizzio the invention of our Scotiſh melodies; an idea that, like many hereſies, is only made important by its opponents, for it carries abſurdity and confutation in itſelf *.

I ſhall therefore conclude with an obſervation or two reſpecting the volume now under the reader's eye.

He has already been admoniſhed not to look upon this Work as a Collection, but as a Selection; not as pretending to offer the whole of the Scotiſh Ballads to his view, but only the very beſt of them. The firſt volume indeed preſents the reader with a complete digeſt of ſuch tragic pieces yet diſcovered in the Scotiſh dialect, as any ways deſerve preſervation; thoſe omitted being of no merit of any kind. Such are Johnie Armſtrong, Young Waters, Laird of Ochiltree, The Battle of Harlaw, The Battle of Raidquair, and others. Not to mention Lord Thomas and fair Annet which is an Engliſh Ballad; as well as Chevy Chace, though ſome who have not ſeen Dr. Percy's ancient [xxxix]ballad of this name, will ſtill contend for its being Scotiſh *. Of the Scotiſh Ballads, which fall under the title of this ſecond volume, I muſt confeſs, perhaps, twenty or thirty more would have been admitted, had the limits of the work allowed it. Yet here, I have, to uſe a vulgar metaphor, preſented the reader with the cream of about a dozen volumes, moſt of them uncommon in this part of the kingdom. The comic [xl]pieces here given, are choſen either from their being rare, their being unpubliſhed, or their intrinſic merit.

For the very curious piece, which is placed at the head of this volume, and now firſt publiſhed, I am indebted to the friendſhip of the moſt learned and ingenious Editor of the Reliques of Ancient Engliſh Poetry. Peblis to the Play will certainly be looked upon as a very conſiderable acquiſition to ancient Scotiſh Poetry, and will, I doubt not, gain Dr. Percy, to whom alone the reader is beholden for it, much grateful applauſe in the Northern part of the kingdom in particular. Indeed conſiderable fame is already due to him who firſt ſet the example of a legitimate collection of this kind, than which, if conducted with taſte, nothing can well be more entertaining to the lover of Poetry. The Reliques of Ancient Engliſh Poetry were only the amuſement of his youthful hours of relaxation from ſeverer ſtudies; but might well be called a work of infinite labour and diſquiſition, if executed by a writer of leſs genius to form a noble plan, and leſs ability to put it in execution. For the politeneſs peculiar to himſelf, with which the communication of this poem was made, I now beg leave to offer him my public acknowledgments.

[xli]Some readers may perhaps think, that a few of the pieces in this volume might, with equal propriety, have been allotted to the firſt, as being of a plaintive or mournful kind. In excuſe it may be alledged, that the melancholy of theſe productions is not of the deepeſt ſhade, but ſuch as may, with no blame, fall in with the preſent arrangement; in the ſame manner as the beſt comic writings are interſperſed with a few ſcenes of fugitive gravity.

[1]SCOTISH COMIC BALLADS.

[]
‘CONSIDER IT WARILIE, REDE AFTINER THAN ANIS WEIL AT ANE ELINK SLIE POETRY NOT TANE IS.’GAWIN DOUGLAS.

PEBLIS TO THE PLAY.

I.
AT beltane, quhen ilk bodie bownis
To Peblis to the Play,
To heir the ſingin and the ſoundis;
The ſolace, ſuth to ſay,
Be firth and forreſt furth they found;
Thay graythit tham full gay;
God wait that wald they do that ſtound,
For it was thair feiſt day,
Thay ſaid,
Of Peblis to the Play.
[2]II.
All the wenchis of the weſt
War up or the cok crew;
For reiling thair micht na man reſt,
For garray, and for glew:
Ane ſaid my curches ar nocht preſt;
Than anſwerit Meg full blew,
To get an hude, I hald it beſt;
Be Goddis ſaull that is true,
Quod ſcho,
Of Peblis to the Play.
III.
She tuik the tippet be the end,
To lat it hing ſcho leit not;
Quod he, thy bak ſall beir ane bend;
In faith, quod ſhe, we meit not.
Scho was ſo guckit, and ſo gend,
That day ane byt ſcho eit nocht;
Than ſpak hir fallowis that hir kend;
Be ſtill, my joy, and greit not
Now.
Of Peblis to the Play.
[3]IV.
Evir aliace! than ſaid ſcho,
Am I nocht cleirlie tynt?
I dar nocht cum yon mercat to
I am ſo evvil ſone-brint;
Amang yon marchands my dudds do?
Marie I ſall anis mynt
Stand of far, and keik thaim to;
As I at hame was wont,
Quod ſcho.
Off Peblis to the Play.
V.
Hop, Calyé, and Cardronow
Gaderit out thik-fald,
With Hey and How rohumbelow;
The young folk were full bald.
The bagpype blew, and thai out threw
Out of the townis untald.
Lord ſic ane ſchout was thame amang,
Quhen thai were our the wald
Thair weſt,
Off Peblis to the Play.
[4]VI.
Ane young man ſtert in to that ſteid,
Als cant as ony colt,
Ane birkin hat upon his heid,
With ane bow and ane bolt;
Said, Mirrie Madinis, think not lang;
The wedder is fair and ſmolt.
He cleikit up ane hie ruf ſang,
'Thair fure ane man to the holt
Quod he.
Of Peblis to the Play.
VII.
Thay had nocht gane half of the gait
Quhen the madinis come upon thame;
Ilk ane man gaif his conſait,
How at thai wald diſpone thame:
Ane ſaid The faireſt fallis me;
Tak ye the laif and fone thame.
Ane uther ſaid Wys me lat be.
On, Twedell ſyd, and on thame
Swyth,
Of Peblis to the Play.
[5]VIII.
Than he to ga, and ſcho to ga,
And never ane bad abyd you:
Ane winklot fell and her taill up;
Wow, quod Malkin, hyd yow
Quhat neidis you to maik it ſua?
Yon man will not ourryd you.
Ar ye owr gude, quod ſcho, I ſay,
To lat thame gang beſyd yow
Yonder,
Of Peblis to the Play?
IX.
Than thai come to the townis end
Withouttin more delai,
He befoir, and ſcho befoir,
To ſee quha was maiſt gay.
All that luikit thame upon
Leuche faſt at thair array:
Sum ſaid that thai were merkat folk;
Sum ſaid the Quene of May
Was cumit
Of Peblis to the Play.
[6]X.
Than thai to the taverne hous
With meikle oly prance;
Ane ſpak wi wourdis wonder crous
A done with ane miſchance!
Braid up the burde, (he hydis tyt)
We ar all in ane trance;
Se that our napre be quhyt,
For we will dyn and daunce,
Thair out,
Of Peblis to the Play.
XI.
Ay as the gudwyf brocht in,
Ane ſcorit upon the wauch.
Ane bad pay, ane ither ſaid, nay,
Byd quhill we rakin our lauch.
The gud wyf ſaid, Have ye na dreid?
Ye ſall pay at ye aucht.
Ane young man ſtart upon his feit,
And he began to lauche
For heydin,
Off Peblis to the Play.
[7]XII.
He gat ane trincheour in his haud,
And he began to compt;
Ilk man twa and ane happenie,
To pay thus we war wount.
Ane uther ſtert upon his feit,
And ſaid thow art our blunt
To tak ſik office upoun hand;
Be God thow ſervite ane dunt
Of me,
Of Peblis to the Play.
XIII.
Ane dunt, quod he, quhat dewil is that?
Be God yow dar not du'd.
He ſtert till ane broggit ſtauf,
Wincheand as he war woode.
All that hous was in ane reirde;
Ane cryit, 'The halie rude!
'Help us lord upon this erde
'That thair be ſpilt na blude
'Heirin,
'Of Peblis to the Play-'
[8]XIV.
Thay thrang out at the dure at anis
Withouttin ony reddin;
Gilbert in ane guttar glayde
He gat na better beddin.
Thair wes not ane of thame that day
Wald do ane utheris biddin.
Thairby lay thre and threttie ſum,
Thrunland in ane midding
Off draff.
Of Peblis to the Play.
XV.
Ane cadgear on the mercat gait
Hard thame bargane begin;
He gaiff ane ſchout, his wyff came out;
Scantlie ſcho micht ourhye him:
He held, ſcho drew, for duſt that day
Micht na man ſe ane ſtyme
To red thame.
Of Peblis to the Play.
[9]XVI.
He ſtert to his greit gray meir,
And of he tumblit the creilis.
Alace, quod ſcho, hald our gude man:
And on hir knees ſcho knelis.
Abyd, quod ſcho; why nay, quod he,
In till his ſtirrapis he lap;
The girding brak, and he flew of,
And upſtart bayth his heilis
At anis,
Of Peblis to the Play.
XVII.
His wyf came out, and gaif ane ſchout,
And be the fute ſcho gat him;
All bedirtin drew him out;
Lord God! richt weil that ſat him!
He ſaid, Quhair is yon culroun knaif?
Quod ſcho, I reid ye lat him
Gang hame his gaites. Be God, quod he,
I ſall anis have at him
Yit.
Of Peblis to the Play.
[10]XVIII.
Ye fylit me, fy for ſchame! quod ſcho:
Se as ye have dreſt me;
How feil ye, ſchir, as my girdin brak
Quhat meikle devil may leſt me.
I wait weil quhat it wes
My awin gray meir that keſt me:
Or gif I wes forfochtin faynt,
And ſyn lay doun to reſt me
Yonder,
Of Peblis to the Play.
XIX.
Be that the bargan was all playit
The ſtringis ſtert out of thair nokks;
Sevin-ſum that the tulye maid,
Lay gruffling in the ſtokks.
John Jakſoun of the nether warde
Had lever have giffin an ox,
Or he had cuming in that cumpanie,
He ſware be Goddis cokkis,
And mannis bayth,
Of Peblis to the Play.
[11]XX.
With that Will Swane come ſueitand out,
Ane meikle miller man;
Gif I ſall dance have donn lat ſe
Blaw up the bagpyp than:
The ſchamon's dance I mon begin;
I trow it ſall not pane.
So hevelie he hockit about
To ſe him, Lord, as thai ran
That tyd,
Of Peblis to the Play!
XXI.
Thay gadderit out of the toun
And neirar him thai dreuche;
Ane bade gif the daunſaris rowme,
Will Swane makis wounder teuche.
Than all the wenſchis Te he thai playit;
But, lord, as Will Young leuche!
Gude goſſip cum hyn your gaitis,
For we have daunſit aneuche
At anis
At Peblis at the Play.
[12]XXII.
Sa ferſlie fyr heit wes the day
His face began to frekill.
Than Tiſbe tuik him by the hand,
(Wes new cuming fra the Seckill)
Allace, quod ſcho, quhat ſall I do?
And our doure hes na ſtekill.
And ſcho to ga as hir taill brynt;
And all the cairlis to kekill
At hir.
Of Peblis to the Play.
XXIII.
The pyper ſaid now I begin
To tyre for playing to;
Bot yit I have gottin nathing
For all my pyping to you;
Thre happenis for half ane day
And that will not undo you:
And gif ye will gif me richt nocht,
The meikill devill gang wi you,
Quod he,
Of Peblis to the Play.
[13]XXIV.
Be that the daunſing wes all done,
Thair leif tuik les and mair;
Quhen the winklottis and the wawarris twyni [...]
To ſe it was hart ſair.
Wat Atkin ſaid to fair Ales,
My bird now will I fayr:
The dewil a wourde that ſcho might ſpeik,
Bet ſwownit that ſweit of ſwair
For kyndnes.
Of Peblis to the Play.
XXV.
He fippilit lyk ane faderles fole;
'And be ſtill my ſweit thing.
'Be the halyrud of Peblis
'I may nocht reſt for greting.'
He quhiſſillit, and he pypit bayth,
To mak hir blyth that meiting:
My hony hart how ſayis the ſang,
'Thair ſall be mirth at our meting
'Yit.'
Of Peblis to the Play.
[14]XXVI.
Be that the ſone was ſettand ſchaftis;
And neir done wes the day:
Thair men micht heir ſchriken of chaftis
Quhen that thai went thair way.
Had thair bein mair made of this ſang,
Mair ſuld I to yow ſay.
At beltane ilka bodie bownd
To Peblis to the Play.

CHRIST's KIRK ON THE GREEN.

[15]
I.
WAS ne'er in Scotland heard or ſeen
Sik dancing nor deray;
Nowther at Falkland on the green,
Or Peebles at the Play.
As wes of wooers as I ween,
At Chriſt's Kirk on a day;
There came our Kittys waſhen clean
In new kyrtils of gray,
Fou gay that day,
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
[16]II.
To danſs thir damyſells them dight;
Thir laſſes light of laits.
Thir gluvis war of the raffal right,
This ſhoon war o the ſtraits.
Thir kirtles were of Lincome light,
Weel preſt wi mony plaits:
They were ſae ſkych, whan men them nicht,
They ſqueild, like ony gaits,
Fu loud that day,
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
III.
Of a thir maidins myld as meid
Was nane ſae jimp as Gillie;
As ony roſe her rude was red,
Her lire was like the lillie;
Fou yellow yellow was her heid;
And ſcho, of luve ſae ſillie,
Thoch a her kin had ſworn hir deid,
Scho wald hae nane but Willie
Alane that day,
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
[17]IV.
Scho ſkornit Jock, and ſkrapit at him,
And murgeoned him wi mokks;
He wald hae luvit, ſcho wald not lat him
For a his yellow lokks.
He cheriſh'd her, ſcho bid gae chat him;
Scho compt him not twa clokkis.
Sae ſchamefully his ſchort goun ſat him
His legs war lyke twa rokkis
Or rungs that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
V.
Tam Lutar was thair minſtrel meet.
Gude Lord how he coud lans!
He playt ſae ſchill and ſang ſae ſweet,
Quhuyle Towſie took a tranſs,
Auld Lightfute thair he coud foreleet,
And counterfittet Franſs:
He held him as a man diſcreit,
And up the Morreis-danſs
He tuke day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
[18]VI.
Then Steen cam ſtappin in wi ſtends,
Nae rynt micht him arreſt,
Splae-fut he bobbit up wi bends;
For Mauſe he maid requeiſt.
He lap quhyle he lay on his lends,
But ryſand was ſae preiſt,
Quhyle he did hoaſt at baith the ends
For honour o the feiſt,
And dauns'd that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
VII.
Then Robene Roy begouth to revell,
And Towſie to him drugged;
Let be, quo Jock, and cawd him Jevel,
And be the tail him tuggit.
The kenzie clicked to a kevel,
God wots if thir twa luggit!
They parted manly wi a nevel:
Men ſay that hair was ruggit
Betwixt them twa
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
[19]VIII.
Ane bent a bow, ſic ſturt coud ſteir him,
Grit ſkayth wead to haif ſkard him;
He cheiſt a flane as did effeir him:
The toder ſaid, Dirdum Dardum.
Throuch baith the cheiks he thocht to chier him.
Or throch the erſs haif chard him:
Be ane akerbraid it came na neir him;
I canna tell quhat mard him
Sae wide that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
IX.
Wi that a frien o his cried Fy!
And up an arrow drew:
He forgit it ſae forcefully
The bow in flinders flew.
Sik was the will of God, trow I;
For, had the tree been trew,
Men ſaid, that kend his archery,
He wald haif ſlain enow
Belyve that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
[20]X.
An haſty henſure, callit Hary,
Quha was an archer heynd,
Tytt up a taikel withoutten tary,
That torment ſae him teynd:
I wat nae quhidder his hand coud vary,
Or the man was his friend,
For he eſcapit, threw the michts of Mary,
As man that nae ill meind
But gude that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
XI.
Then Lowry lyke a lyon lap,
And ſone a flane can fedder:
He hecht to perce him at the pap,
Theron to wad a wedder:
He hit him on the wame a wap,
It buft like ony bledder,
But ſua, his fortune was and hap,
His doublet made o lether
Saift him that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
[21]XII.
The buff ſae boiſtrouſly abaiſt him
That he to th' erd duſht down;
The ither man for deid there left him,
And fled out o the toun.
The wives came forth, and up thay reft him,
And fand lyfe in the loun.
Then wi three routs on's erſe they reir'd him,
And cur'd him out o ſoone
Frae hand that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
XIII.
A yape young man, that ſtude h [...]m neiſt,
Lous'd aff a ſchot wi yre:
He ettlit the bern in at the brieſt;
The bolt flew owr the byre.
Ane cryd Ey! he had ſlain a prieſt
A myle beyond a myre.
Then bow and bag frae him he keiſt;
And fled as ferſs as fire
Frae flint that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
[22]XIV.
Wi forks and flails they lent grit flaps,
And flang togidder like fryggs;
Wi bougars of barns they beft blew kapps,
Quhyle they of berns maid briggs.
The reird raiſe rudely wi the rapps,
Quhen rungs war laid on riggs;
The wyfis came forth wi crys and clapps,
Lo! where my lyking liggs!
Quoth thay, that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
XV.
Thay girnit, and lute gird wi granes;
Ilk goſſip oder grieved.
Sum ſtrak wi ſtings, ſum gaddert ſtains,
Sum fled and ill miſchevet.
The menſtral wan within twa wains,
That day fu weil he prievit;
For he came hame wi unbirs'd bains,
Quhar fechters war miſchieved
For evir that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
[23]XVI.
Heich Hutchean, wi a hiſſil ryſs,
To redd can throw them rummil.
He muddilt them doun lyk ony myce:
He was nae baity bummyl.
Thoch he was wicht he was nae wyſs
With ſic jangleurs to jummil;
For frae his thoume they dang a ſklyſs
Quhyle he cried, Barlafummil!
I'm ſlain this day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
XVII.
Quhen that he ſaw his blude ſae reid
To fle micht na man let him.
He weind it had been for auld feid;
He thocht ane cry'd Haif at him.
He gart his feit defend his heed,
The far fairer it ſet him,
Quhyle he was paſt out of all pleid;
They ſould bene ſwift that gat him
Throw ſpeid that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
[10]XVIII.
The toun ſoutar in grief was bowdin,
His wyfe hang at his waiſt:
His body was in blude a browdin;
He grin'd lyk ony ghaiſt.
Hir glitterand hair that was ſae gowden
Sae hard in lufe him laiſt,
That for her ſak he was nae youden
Seven myle that he was chaiſt.
And mair that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
XIX.
The miller was of manly mak,
To meit him was no mows;
There durſt not ten cum him to tak,
Sae noytit he their pows.
The buſchment hale about him brak,
And bikkert him wi bows:
Syne trayterly, behint his back,
They hew'd him on the hows
Behind that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
[25]XX.
Twa that war herdmen of the herd,
On udder ran lyk rams:
Then followit feymen richt unaffeird,
Bet on with barrow trams.
But quhair thair gobs thay were ungeird
Thay gat upon the gams;
Quhyl bludy barkit war their bairds,
As they had worriet lamms
Maiſt lyk that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
XXI.
The wyves keiſt up a hideous yell
Quhan all thir younkers yokkit;
Als ferſs as ony fire flauchts fell
Freiks to the fields they flokkit.
The carlis with clubs did uder quell
Quhyl bluid at beiſts out bokkit.
Sae rudelie rang the common bell
That a the ſteipill rokkit
For reird that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
[26]XXII.
Be this Tam Tailor was in's gear,
When he heard the common bell;
Said he wald mak them all aſteir
When he cam there himſell.
He went to feeht with ſic a fear
While to the erd he fell;
A wife, that hit him to the grund,
Wi a grit knocking mell
Fel'd him that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
XXIII.
When they had beirt like baited bulls,
And branewod brynt in bales;
They war as meik as ony mulis
That mangit ar wi mails.
For faintneſs thae farſochtin fulis
Fell down lyk flauchtir fails;
Freſh men cam in and hail'd the dulis,
And dang them down in dails
Bedeen that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
[27]XXIV.
The bridegrom broucht a pint of aile,
And bade the pyper drink it:
Drink it, quoth he, and it ſo ſtaile?
A ſhrew me if I think it.
The bride her maidens ſtood near by,
And ſaid it was na blinked:
And Bartagaſie, the bride ſae gay,
Upon him faſt ſhe winked
Full ſoon that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.
XXV.
When a was dune Dik with an aix
Came furth to fell a fudder;
Quod he, whair ar yon hangit ſmaiks
Richt now wald ſlain my brudder?
His wyfe bad him, gae hame Gib Glaiks,
And ſae did Meg his mudder;
He turn'd and gaif them baith their paiks,
For he durſt ding name udder
For feir that day
At Chriſt's Kirk on the green.

THE GABERLUNYIE MAN.

[28]
I.
THE pauky auld carle came our the lee
Wi mony good eens and days to mee,
Saying, Gudewife, for your courteſie,
Will ye ludge a ſilly poor man?
The night was cauld, the carle was wat,
And down ayont the ingle he ſat;
My dochter's ſhouthers he 'gan to clap,
And cadgily ranted and ſang.
II.
O wow! quo he, war I as free
As firſt when I ſaw this country,
How blythe and mirrie wad I be!
And I wad never think lang.
He grew canty, and ſcho grew fain,
But little did her auld minny ken
What thir ſlee twa togidder war ſayen
Whan wooing they war ſar thrang.
[29]III.
And O, quo he, an yee war as black
As evir the croun o your daddy's hat,
Tis I wad lay ye be my bak,
And awa wi thee I'd gang.
And O, quo ſhe, an I war as whyte
As er the ſnaw lay on the dyke,
I'd cleid me braw, and lady like,
And awa wi thee I'd gang.
IV.
Between the twa was made a plot:
They raiſe a wee before the cock,
And wylily they ſhot the look,
And faſt to the bent ar they gane.
Upon the morn the auld wyfe raiſe,
And at her leiſure pat on her claiſe;
Syne to the ſervant's bed ſcho gaes
To ſpeir for the ſilly poor man.
V.
Scho gaed to the bed whar the beggar lay,
The ſtrae was cauld he was away;
Scho clapt her hands, cry'd, dulefu day!
For ſome o our gier will be gane.
[30]Sume ran to coffer, and ſume to kiſt,
But nocht was ſtown that coud be miſt;
She dancid her lane, cry'd, Praiſe be bleſt!
I have ludg'd a leil poor man.
VI.
Since nathing's awa as we can learn,
The kirn's to kirn, and milk to yearn,
Gae but the houſe, laſs, and waken my bairn,
And bid her come quickly ben.
The ſervant gaed quhar the dochter lay,
(The ſheits war cauld, ſcho was away)
And faſt to her gudewife gan ſay,
Scho's aff wi the Gaberlunyie man.
VII.
O fy gar ride, and fy gar ryn,
And haſte ye find theſe traiters agen,
For ſcho's be burnt, and he's be ſlean,
The weirifou Gaberlunyie man.
Some rade upo horſe, ſome ran afit;
The wife was wude, and out o her wit,
Scho coud na gang, nor yet coud ſcho ſit,
But ay ſcho curſt and ſcho bann'd.
[31]VIII.
Meantime, far hind out owr the lee,
Fu ſnug in a glen, whar nane coud ſee,
Thir twa, in kindly ſport and glee,
Cut frae a new cheeſe a whang.
The prieving was gude it pleas'd them baith;
To lue her for ay he gae her his aith:
Quo ſcho to leave thee I will be laith,
My winſum Gaberlunyie man.
IX.
O kend my minny I war wi you,
I'll fardly wad ſcho crook her mou;
Sik a poor man ſhe'd nevir trow,
After the Gaberlunyie mon.
My dear, quo he, ye're yet our young,
And hae nae learnt the beggars tongue,
To fallow me frae toun to toun,
And carry the Gaberlunyie on.
X.
Wi kauk and keil I'll win your bread,
And ſpinnels and quhorles for them wha need;
Whilk is a gentle trade indeed
The Gaberlunyie to carrie.
[32]I'll bow my leg, and crook my knee,
And draw a black clout our my eye,;
A cripple or blind they will ca me,
While we ſall ſing and be merrie.

IV. THE JOLLIE BEGGAR.

[33]
THERE was a jollie beggar, and a begging he was boun,
And he tuik up his quarters into a landart toun.
And we'll gang nae mair a roving
Sae late into the nicht;
And we'll gang nae mair a roving, boys,
Let the moon ſhine naer ſae bricht.
He wad neither ly in barn, nor yet wad he in byre;
But in ahint the ha door, or els afore the fyre,
And we'll gang, &c.
The beggars bed was made at een wi gude clean ſtraw and hay,
And in ahint the ha dore, and there the beggar lay.
And we'll gang, &c.
[34]
Upraiſe the gude man's dochter and for to bar the door,
And there ſhe ſaw the beggar ſtanding i' the floor,
And we'll gang, &c.
He tuke the laſſie in his arms, and to the bed he ran;
O hooly, hooly wi me Sir! Ye'll waken our gude man.
And we'll gang, &c.
The beggar was a cunnin loon, and ne'er a word he ſpak
Till he gat his turn doon, ſyne he began to crack.
And we'll gang, &c.
Is there ony dogs into this toun? Maiden tell me trew.
And what wad ye do wi them, my hinny and my dow?
And we'll gang, &c.
They'll rive a my meal pocks, and do me mickle wrang,
—O dool for the doing o't! Are ye the poor man?
And we'll gang, &c.
Then ſhe tuik up the meal pocks, and flang them at the wa.
The deil gae wi the meal pocks, my maidenhead and a.
And we'll gang, &c.
[35]
I tuik ye for ſome gentleman, at leaſt the laird o Brodie.
O dool for the doing o't! Are ye the poor bodie?
And we'll gang, &c.
He tuik the laſſie in his arms, and gae her kiſſes three,
And four and twenty hunder mark to pay the nurice fee.
And we'll gang, &c.
He tuik a horn frae his ſide, and blew baith loud and ſhrill,
And four-and-twenty belted knights came ſkipping our the hill.
And we'll gang, &c.
And he tuik out his little knife, loot a his duddies fa,
And he was the braweſt gentleman that was amang them a.
And we'll gang, &c.
The beggar was a cliver loon, and he lap ſhoulder-hicht,
O ay for ſicken quarters as I gat yeſternicht.
And we'll gang, &c.

V. THE VISION.

[36]
I.
BEDOUN the bents of Banquo brae
Mi-lane I wandert waif and wae,
Muſand our main miſchaunce;
How be thay faes we ar undone,
That ſtaw the ſacred ſtane frae Scone,
And leid us ſic a daunce:
Quhile Ingland's Ederts tak our tours,
And Scotland ferſt obeys,
Rude ruffians ranſak ryal bours,
And Baliol homage pays;
Throch feidom our freidom
Is blotit with this ſkore,
Quhat Roman's, or no man's
Pith culd eir do befoir.
[37]II.
The ayr grew ruch with bouſteous thuds,
Bauld Boreas branglit throw the cluds,
Maeſt lyke a drunken wicht;
The thunder crackt, and flauchts did rift
Frae the black viſſart of the lift;
The foreſt ſchuke with fricht:
Nae birds abune thair wing exten,
They ducht not byde the blaſt;
Ilk beiſt bedeen bang'd to thair den,
Until the ſtorm was paſt:
Ilk creature in nature
That had a ſpunk of ſence,
In neid then, with ſpeid then,
Methocht cryt, "In defence."
III.
To ſe a morn in May ſae ill,
I deimt dame Nature was gane will,
To rair with rackles reil;
Quhairfor to put me out of pain,
And ſkonce my ſkap and ſhanks frae rain
I bure me to a biel,
[38]Up ane hich craig that lundgit alaft,
Out owre a canny cave,
A curious cruif of Nature's craft,
Quhilk to me ſhelter gaif;
Ther vexit, perplexit,
I leint me doun to weip,
In breif ther, with grief ther
I dottard owre on ſleip.
IV.
Heir Somnus in his ſilent hand
Held all my ſences at command,
Quhile I forgot my cair;
The myldeſt meid of mortall wichts
Quha paſs in peice the private nichts,
That wauking finds it rare;
Sae in ſaft ſlumbers did I ly,
But not my wakryfe mynd,
Quhilk ſtill ſtude watch, and couth eſpy
A man with aſpeck kynd,
Richt auld lyke and bauld lyke,
With baird thre quarters ſkant,
Sae braif lyke and graif lyke,
He ſeimt to be a ſanct.
[39]V.
Grit daring dartit frae his ee,
A braid-ſword ſchogled at his thie,
On his left arm a targe;
A ſhinand ſpeir filled his richt-hand,
Of ſtalwart mak, in bane and brawnd,
Of juſt proportions large;
A various rain-bow-colourt plaid
Owre his left ſpawl he threw,
Doun his braid back, frae his quhyte heid,
The ſilver whimplers grew;
Amaiſit, I gaiſit
To ſe, led at command,
A ſtrampant and rampant
Ferſs lyon in his hand;
VI.
Quhilk held a thiſtle in his paw,
And round his collar graift I ſaw
This poeſie pat and plain,
Nemo me impune laceſſ-
-et: — In Scots, Nane ſall oppreſs
Me, unpuniſit with pain
[40]Still ſchaking, I durſt naithing ſay,
Till he with kynd accent
Sayd, Fere, let nocht thy hairt affray,
I cum to heir thy plaint;
Thy graining and maining
Haith laitlie reik'd mine eir,
Debar then affar then
All eiryneſs or feir.
VII.
For I am ane of a hie ſtation,
The Warden of this auntient nation,
And can nocht do thee wrang;
I viſſyt him then round about,
Syne with a reſolution ſtout,
Speird, Quhair he had been ſae lang!
Quod he, Althoch I ſum forſuke,
Becaus they did me ſlicht,
To hills and glens I me betuke,
To them that luves me richt;
Quhaſe mynds yet inclynds yet
To damm the rappid ſpate,
Devyſing and pryſing
Freidom at ony rate.
[41]VIII.
Our trechour peirs thair tyranns treit,
Quha jib them, and thair ſubſtance eit,
And on thair honour ſtramp;
They puire degenerate! bend thair baks,
The victor, Longſhanks, proudly cracks
He has blawn out our lamp:
Quhyle trew men, fair complainand, tell,
With ſobs, thair ſilent greif,
How Baliol thair richts did ſell,
With ſmall howp of reliefe;
Regretand and fretand
Ay at his curſit plot,
Quha rammed and crammed
That bargain doun their throt.
IX.
Braif gentrie ſweir, and burghers ban,
Revenge is muttert by ilk clan
That's to thair nation trew;
The cloyſters cum to cun the evil,
Mail-payers wiſs it to the devil,
With its contryving crew.
[42]The hardy wald with hairty wills,
Upon dyre vengance fall;
The fechleſs fret owre heuchs and hills,
And eccho anſwers all,
Repetand and gretand,
With mony a fair alace,
For blaſting and caſting
Our honour in diſgrace.
X.
Waes me! quod I, our caſe is bad,
And mony of us are gane mad,
Sen this diſgraceful paction;
We are felld and herryt now by forſs,
And hardly help fort, that's yit warſe,
We are ſae forfairn with faction.
Then has not he gude cauſe to grumble,
That's forſt to be a ſlaif?
Oppreſſion dois the judgment jumble,
And gars a wyſe man raif.
May chains then, and pains then
Infernal be thair hyre
Quha dang us, and flang us
Into this ugſum myre.
[43]XI.
Then he with bauld forbidding luke,
And ſtaitly air did me rebuke,
For being of ſprite ſae mein:
Said he, Its far beneath a Scot
To uſe weak curſes, quhen his lot
May ſumtyms four his ſplein;
He rather ſould, mair lyke a man,
Some braif deſign attempt;
Gif its not in his pith, what than!
Reſt but a quhyle content,
Not feirful, but cheirful,
And wait the will of Fate,
Which mynds to, deſynds to
Renew your auntient ſtate.
XII.
I ken ſum mair than ye do all
Of quhat ſall afterwart befall,
In mair auſpicious tymes;
For aften far abufe the mune,
We watching beings do convene,
Fra round eard's utmoſt clymes,
[44]Quhair evry Warden repreſents
Cleirly his nation's caſe,
Gif Famine, Peſt, or Sword torments,
Or vilains hie in place,
Quha keip ay, and heip ay
Up to themſelves grit ſtore,
By rundging and ſpunging
The leil laborious puire.
XIII.
Say then, ſaid I, at your hie ſtate,
Lernt ye oucht of auld Scotland's fate,
Gif eir ſchoil be her ſell?
With ſmyle celeſt, quod he, I can,
But its nocht fit an mortall man
Sould ken all I can tell:
But part to thee I may unfold,
And thou may ſaifly ken,
Quhen Scottiſh peirs ſlicht Saxon gold,
And turn trew heartit men;
Quhen knaivrie and ſlaivrie,
Ar equally diſpyſd,
And loyalte, and royalte,
Univerſallie are pryſd.
[45]XIV.
Quhen all your trade is at a ſtand,
And cunyie clene forſaiks the land,
Quhilk will be very ſune,
Will prieſts without thair ſtypands preich?
For noucht will lawyers cauſes ſtreich?
Faith that's nae eaſy dune.
All this, and mair, maun cum to paſs,
To cleir your glomourit ſicht;
And Scotland maun be maid an aſs,
To ſet hir judgment richt.
They'l jade hir, and blad hir,
Until ſcho brak hir tether,
Thoch auld ſchois, yit bauld ſchois,
And teuch lyke barkit lether.
XV.
But mony a corſs ſall braithleſs ly,
And wae ſall mony a widow cry,
Or all rin richt agaih;
Owr Cheviot prancing proudly North,
The faes ſall tak the field near Forth,
And think the day their ain;
[46]But burns that day ſall ryn with blude
Of them that now oppreſs;
Thair carcaſſes be corbys fude,
By thouſands on the greſs.
A King then ſall ring then,
Of wyſe renoun and braif,
Quhaſe puiſans and ſapiens,
Sall richt reſtoir and ſaif.
XVI.
The view of freidomis ſweit, quod I,
O ſay, grit Tennent of the ſkye,
How neiris that happie tyme?
We ken things but be circumſtans:
Nae mair, quod he, I may advance,
Leſt I commit a cryme.
Quhat eir ye plees, gae on, quod I,
I ſall not faſh ye moir,
Say how, and quhair ye met, and quhy,
As ye did hint befoir.
With air then ſae fair then,
That glanſt like rais of glory,
Sae godlyk and oddlyk
He thus reſumit his ſtorie.
[47]XVII.
Frae the ſun's ryſing to his ſett,
All the pryme rait of Wardens met,
In ſolemn bricht array,
With vechicles of aither cleir;
Sic we put on quhen we appeir
To ſauls rowit up in clay;
Ther in a wyd and ſplendid hall,
Reird up with ſhynand beims,
Quhais rufe-tries were of rain-bows all,
And paift with ſtarrie gleims,
Quhilk prinkled and twinkled
Brichtly beyont compair,
Much famed and named
A CASTILL IN THE AYR.
XVIII.
In midſt of quhilk a tabill ſtude,
A ſpacious oval, reid as blude,
Made of a fyre-flaucht,
Arround the dazeling walls were drawn,
With rays be a celeſtial hand,
Full mony a curious draucht.
[48]Inferiour beings flew in haiſt,
Without gyde or derectour,
Millions of myles throch the wyld waiſt,
To bring in bowlis of nectar:
Then roundly and ſoundly
We drank lyk Roman gods:
Quhen Jove ſae dois rove ſae,
That Mars and Bacchus nods.
XIX.
Quhen Phebus' heid turns licht as cork,
And Neptune leans upon his fork,
And limpand Vulcan blethers:
Quhen Pluto glowrs as he were wyld,
And Cupid, luves wee wingit chyld,
Fals down and fyls his fethers.
Quhen Pan forgets to tune his reid,
And flings it cairleſs bye,
And Hermes, wingd at heils and heid,
Can nowther ſtand nor lye:
Quhen ſtaggirand and ſwaggirand,
They ſtoyter hame to ſleip,
Quhyle centeries and enteries
Immortall watches keip.
[49]XX.
Thus we tuke in the hich brown liquour,
And bangd about the nectar biquour;
But evir with this ods,
We neir in drink our judgments drenſch,
Nor ſcour about to ſeik a wenſch
Lyk theſe auld baudy gods;
But franklie at ilk uther aſk,
Quhat's proper we ſuld know,
How ilk ane has performit the taſk,
Aſſignd to him below.
Our mynd then, ſae kynd then,
Is fixt upon our care,
Ay noting and ploting
Quhat tends to thair weilfair.
XXI.
Gothus and Vandall baith lukt bluff,
Quhyle Gallus ſneerd and tuke a ſnuff,
Quhilk made Allmane to ſtare;
Latinus bad him naithing feir,
But lend his hand to haly weir,
And of cowd crouns tak care;
[50]Batavius with his paddock-face
Luking aſquint, cry'd, Piſch!
Your monks are void of ſence or grace,
I had leur ficht for fiſch;
Your ſchule-men ar fule-men,
Carvit out for dull debates,
Decoying and deſtroying
Baith monarchies and ſtates.
XXII.
Iberius with a gurlie nod
Cryd, Hogan, yes, we ken your God,
Its herrings ye adore.
Heptarchus, as he uſd to be,
Can nocht with his ain thochts agre,
But varies bak and fore;
Ane quhile he ſays, It is not richt
A Monarch to reſiſt;
Neiſt braif all ryal powir will ſlicht,
And paſſive homage jeſt:
He hitches and fitches
Betwein the hic and hoc,
Ay jieand and fleand
Round lyk a wedder-cock,
[51]XXIII.
I ſtill ſupport my precedens
Abune them all, for ſword and ſens,
Thoch I haif layn richt lown,
Quhilk was, becaus I bure a grudge
At ſum fule Scotis, quha lykd to drudg
To princes no thair awin;
Sum Thanis their tennants pykit and ſqueiſt,
And purſit up all thair rent,
Syne wallopit to far courts, and bleiſt,
Till riggs and ſchaws war ſpent;
Syne byndging, and whyndging,
Quhen thus reduſit to howps,
They dander and wander
About, puire lickmadowps.
XXIV.
But now its tyme for me to draw
My ſhynand ſword againſt club-law,
And gar my lyon roir;
He ſall or lang gie ſic a ſound,
The eccho ſall be heard around
Europe frae ſchore to ſchore;
[52]Then let them gadder all thair ſtrength,
And ſtryve to wirk my fall,
Thoch numerous, yit at the lenth
I will owrcum them all,
And raiſe yit and blaſe yit
My braifrie and renown,
By gracing and placing
Aright the Scottis crown.
XXV.
Quhen my braif BRUCE the ſame ſall weir
Upon his ryal heid, full cleir
The diadem will ſhyne;
Then ſall your fair oppreſſion ceis,
His intreſt yours he will not fleice,
Or leif you eir inclyne:
Thoch millions to his purſe be lent,
Ye'll neir the puirer be,
But rather richer, quhyle its ſpent
Within the Scottiſh ſe:
The field then ſall yield then
To honeſt huſband's welth,
Gude laws then ſall cauſe then
A ſickly ſtate haif helth.
[53]XXVI.
Quhyle thus he talkit, methocht ther came
A wondir fair etherial dame,
And to our Warden ſayd,
Grit Callydon I cum in ſerch
Of you, frae the hich ſtarry arch,
The counſill wants your aid;
Frae evry quarter of the ſky,
As ſwift as a quhirl-wynd,
With ſpirits ſpeid the chieftains hy,
Sum grit thing is deſygnd.
Owre muntans be funtains,
And round ilk fairy ring,
I haif chaiſt ye, O haiſt ye,
They talk about your King.
XXVII.
With that my hand methocht he ſchuke,
And wiſcht I happyneſs micht bruke,
To eild by nicht and day,
Syne quicker than an arrow's flicht,
He mountit upwarts frae my ſicht,
Straicht to the milkie way;
[54]My mynd him followit throw the ſkyes,
Untill the brynie ſtreme
For joy ran trickling frae myne eyes,
And wakit me frae my dreme;
Then peiping, half ſleiping,
Frae furth my ryal beild,
It eiſit me, and pleiſit me
To ſe and ſmell the feild.
XXVIII.
For Flora in hir clene array,
New waſhen with a ſhowir of May,
Lukit full ſweit and fair;
Quhile hir cleir huſband frae above
Sched doun his rayis of genial luve,
Hir ſweits perfumit the ayr;
The wynds war huſht, the welkin cleird,
The glumand clouds war fled,
And all as ſaft and gay appeird
As ane Elyſian ſched;
Quhil heiſit and bleiſit
My heart with ſic a fyre,
As raiſes theſe praiſes,
That do to heaven aſpyre.

VI. ANE HIS AWN ENEMY.

[55]
I.
HE that has gold and grit richeſs,
And may be into myrrineſs;
And dois gladneſs fra him expell,
And levis into wretchitneſs,
He wirkis ſorrow to himſell.
II.
He that may be but ſturt or ſtryſe,
And leif ane luſty pleſand lyfe,
And ſyne with mariege dois him mell;
And binds him with ane wicket wyfe,
He wirkis ſorrow to himſell.
III.
He that has for his awin genyie
Ane pleſand prop bot mauk or menyie,
And ſhuttis ſyne at an uncow ſchell,
And is forfairn wi the fleis of Spenyie,
He wirkis ſorrow to himſell.
[56]IV.
And he that with gude lyfe and trewth
But variance or uder ſlewth,
Dois evir mair with ane maiſter dwell,
That nevir of him will haif no rewth,
He wirkis ſorrow to himſell.
V.
Now all this tyme let us be mirry,
And ſet nocht by this world a chirry;
Now quhyle thair is gude wyne to ſell,
He that dois on dry bread wirry
I gif him to the devill of hell.

VII. Advice to ſpend anis awin Gudes.

[57]
I.
MAN, ſen thy lyfe is ay in weir,
And deid is evir drawand neir,
Thy tyme unſicker and the place:
Thyne awin gude ſpend quhill thow has ſpace.
II.
Gif it be thyne, thyſelf it uſis;
Gif it be not, thé it refuſes;
Ane uthir of the profeit has:
Thyne awin gude ſpend quhill thow has ſpace.
III.
Thow may to day haif gude to ſpend,
And haſtely to morne fra it wend,
And leif ane uthir thy baggis to brais.
Thyne awin gude ſpend quhill thow has ſpace.
[58]IV.
Quhile thou has ſe thou diſpone,
That for thy geir, quhen thow art gone,
No wicht ane uder ſlay or chace.
Thyne awin gude ſpend quhill thow has ſpace.
V.
Sum all his dayis dryvis our in vane,
Ay gadderand geir with ſorrow and pane;
And nevir is glaid at Yule nor Pais.
Thyne awin gude ſpend quhile thow has ſpace.
VI.
Syne cums ane uder, glaid of his ſorrow,
That for him prayit nowdir evin nor morrow,
And fangis it all with mirrynais.
Thyne awin gude ſpend quhile thow has ſpace.
VII.
Sum grit gud gadderis, and ay it ſpairs;
And after him thair cumis y [...]ng airis
That his auld thrift ſettis on an ace.
Thyne awin gude ſpend quhile thow has ſpace.
VIII.
It is all thyne that thou heir ſpends;
And nocht all that on thé depends
Bot his to ſpend it that has grace.
Thine awin gude ſpend quhile thow has ſpace.
[59]IX.
Treſt nocht ane uther will do thé to
It that thyſelf wald nevir do;
For gif thou dois ſtrenge is thy cace.
Thyne awin gude ſpend quhile thou has ſpace.
X.
Luk how the bairne dois to the muder,
And tak example be nane udder,
That it nocht after be thy cace.
Thyne awin gude ſpend quhile thow has ſpace.

VIII. BEST TO BE BLYTH.

[60]
I.
FULL oft I muſe and hes in thocht
How this fals warld is ay on flocht,
Quhair nothing ferme is nor degeſt;
And quhen I haif my mynd all focht,
For to be blyth me think it beſt.
II.
This warld evir dois flicht and wary;
Fortoun ſa faſt hir quheill dois cary
Na tyme but turne can tak reſt,
For quhois falſe change ſuld nane be ſary,
For to be blyth me think it beſt.
III.
Wald man conſidder in mynd richt weil,
Or Fortoun on him turn her quheil,
That erdly honour may nocht leſt,
His fall leſs panefull he ſuld feil.
For to be blyth me think it beſt.
[61]IV.
Quha with this warld dois warſell and ſtryfe,
And dois his dayis in dolour dryfe,
Thoch he in lordſchip be poſſeſt,
He levis bot ane wretchit life.
For to be blyth me think it beſt.
V.
Of wardlis gud and grit richeſs
Quhat fruct has man but mirrineſs?
Thoch he this warld had, eiſt and weſt,
A were povertie but glaidneſs.
For to be blyth me think it beſt.
VI.
Quho ſuld for tynſall drown or dé
For thyng that is bot vanitie?
Sen to the lyfe that ever dois leſt
Heir is bot twynkling of an ee.
For to be blyth me think it beſt.
VII.
Had I for warld's unkyndneſs
In haiſt tane ony havineſs;
Or fro my pleaſans bene oppreſt,
I had bene deid langſyne doubtleſs.
For to be blyth me think it beſt.
[62]VIII.
How evir this warld do change and vary,
Lat us in hairt nevir moir be ſary;
But evir be reddy and addreſt
To paſs out of this frawfull fary.
For to be blyth me think it beſt.

IX. ROBENE AND MAKYN.

[63]
I.
ROBENE ſat on gud grene hill,
Keipand a flok of fie:
Mirry Makyne ſaid him till,
She.
Robene thow rew on me;
I haif thé luvit lowd and ſtill
This yeiris two or thré:
My dule in dern bot gif thow dill,
Doubtleſs bot dreid I dé.
II.
He.
Robene anſwerit, Be the rude
Nathing of luſe I knaw;
Bot keipis my ſcheip undir yone wud,
Lo quhair they raik on raw.
Quhat hes marrit thé in thy mude,
Makyne, to me thow ſchaw?
Or quhat is luve or to be lu'ed?
Faine wald I leir that law.
[64]III.
She.
At luvis lair gif thow will leir,
Tak thair an A, B, C:
Be kynd, courtas, and fair of feir,
Wyſe, hardy, and fré.
Sé that no danger do thé deir,
Quhat dule in dern thow dré;
Preiſs thé with pane at all poweir,
Be patient and previe.
IV.
Robene anſwerit her agane,
He.
I wait nocht quhat is luve;
Bot I haif marvell incertaine
Quhat makis thé this wanrufe.
The weddir is fair, and I am fane,
My ſcheip gois haill aboif;
An we wald play us in this plane
Thay wald us baith reproif.
V.
She.
Robene tak tent unto my tale,
And wirk all as I reid;
And thow ſall haif my hairt all haile,
Als far as maid couth yied.
[65]Sen God ſendis bute for baill,
And for murning remeid,
In dern with thé but gif I daill
Doubtles I am bot deid.
VI.
He.
Makyne, to morne this ilka tyde
And ye will meit mè heir;
Peraventure my ſcheip may gang beſyd
Quhill we haif liggit full neir.
Bot maugre haif I an I byd
Fra they begin to ſteir;
Quhat lyis on hairt I will nocht hyd,
Makyne than mak gud cheir.
VII.
She.
Robene, thou reivis me rois and reſt,
I luve but thé allone.
He.
Makyne, adew, the ſone gois weſt
The day is neirhand gone.
She.
Robene, in dule I am ſo dreſt
That lufe will be my bone.
He.
Ga lufe, Makyne, quhair evir thou liſt,
For leman I lue none.
[66]VIII.
She.
Robene, I ſtand in ſic a ſtyle,
I ſicht and that full ſair.
He.
Makyne, I haif bene heir this quhile;
At hame God gif I wair.
She.
My hinny Robene, talk ane quhyle
Gif thou wilt do na mair.
He.
Makyne ſum uther man begyle,
For hamewart I will fair.
IX.
Robene on his wayis went
As licht as leif of tré:
Makyne murnit in her intent,
And trowd him nevir to ſé.
Robene brayd attour the bent;
Than Makyne cryit on hie:
Now ma thou ſing, for I am ſchent!
Quhat alis lufe with me?
X.
Makyne went hame withouttin faill,
Full werry aftir couth weip.
Than Robene in a ful fair daill
Aſſemblit all his ſcheip.
[67]Be that ſum parte of Makyne's ail
Ourthrow his hairt cowd creip:
He followit hir faſt thair till aſſaill
And till her tuke gude keep.
XI.
He.
Abyd, abyd, thou fair Makyne;
A word for ony thing!
For all my luve it ſall be thyne
Withouttin departing.
All haill thy hairt for till haif myne
Is all my cuvating:
My ſcheip to morn quhill houris myne
Will neid of no keping.
XII.
She.
Robene, thou has hard ſoung and ſay,
In geſtis and ſtories auld,
The man that will not quhen he may,
Sall haif nocht quhen he wald.
I pray to Jeſu every day
Mot eik thair cairis cauld,
That firſt preiſſis with thé to play
Be firth, forriſt, or fauld.
[68]XIII.
He.
Makyne, the nicht is ſoft and dry,
The wedder is warme and fair;
And the grene woud rycht neir us by
To walk attour all, quhair
Thair may na janglour us eſpy,
That is to lufe contrair:
Thairin, Makyne, baith ye and I
Unſene we may repair.
XIV.
She.
Robene, that warld is all away,
And quyt brocht till ane end;
And nevir again thereto perfay,
Sall it be as thou wend.
For of my pane thou made it play,
And all in vane I ſpend:
As thou hes done ſa ſall I ſay
Murne on I think to mend.
XV.
He.
Makyne, the howp of all my heill,
My hairt on thé is ſett,
And evir mair to thé be leill,
Quhyle I may leif but lett.
[69]Nevir to faill, as utheris faill,
Quhat grace that evir I gett.
She.
Robene, with thé I will not deill.
Adew, for thus we mett.
XVI.
Makyne went hame blythe aneuche
Attoure the holtis hair:
Robene murnit, and Makyne leuche,
Scho ſang, he ſichit ſair.
And ſo left him baith wo and wreuch,
In dolour and in cair,
Kepand his hird under a heuch,
Amang the holtis hair.

X. The Wowing of JOK and JENNY.

[70]
I.
ROBEYN's Jok cam to wow our Jenny,
On our feiſt evin quhen we were fow:
Scho brankit faſt and maid her bonny;
And ſaid, Jok come ye for to wow?
Scho burneiſt hir baith breiſt and brow,
And maid her cleir as ony clok.
Than ſpak his deme, aud ſaid, I trow
Ye come to wow our Jenny, Jok.
II.
Jok ſaid, Forſuth I yern full fane
To lout my heid, and ſit doun by yow.
Than ſpak his modir, and ſaid agane
My bairne has tocher gud to gé yow.
Te he, quoth Jenny, keik, keik, I ſé you;
Muder, yon man maks yow a mok.
I ſchro the lyar, full leis me you;
I come to wow your Jenny quoth Jok.
[71]III.
My berne, ſcho ſayis, hes of hir awin
Ane guſs, ane gryce, ane cok, ane hen,
Ane calf, ane hog, ane fute-braid-ſawin,
Ane kirn, ane pin, that ye weill ken.
Ane pig, ane pot, ane raip there ben,
Ane fork, ane flaik, ane reill, ane rok;
Diſchis, and dublaris, nyne or ten.
Come ye to wow our Jenny, Jok?
IV.
Ane blanket, and ane wecht alſo,
Ane ſhule, ane ſheit, and ane lang flail;
Ane ark, ane almry, and laddils two,
Ane mylk-ſyth with ane ſwyne tail:
Ane rouſty quhittil to ſcheir the kail,
Ane quheil, ane mell the beir to knok;
Ane cog, ane caird wantand ane nail.
Come ye to wow our Jenny, Jok?
V.
Ane furme, ane furlet, ane pok, ane pek,
Ane tub, ane barrow, with ane quheilband;
Ane tu [...]s, ane troch, and ane meil ſak,
Ane ſpurtil braid, and ane elwand.
[72]— Jok tuke Jenny be the hand,
And cry'd, Ane feiſt; and ſlew ane cok;
And maid a brydell up alland.
Now haif I gottin your Jenny, quoth Jok.
VI.
Now, deme, I haif your bairne mariet,
Suppois ye mak it nevir ſa tuche,
I latt yow wit ſho is nocht miſkarrit;
It is weill kend I haif eneuche.
Ane crukit gleyd fell our ane huche,
Ane ſpaid, ane ſpeit, ane ſpur, ane ſok,
Withouttin oxin I haif a pluche,
To gang togidder Jenny and Jok.
VII.
I haif ane helter, and eik ane hek,
Ane coird, ane creil, and als ane cradill,
Fyve fidder of raggis to ſ [...]uff ane jak,
Ane auld pannel of ane laid ſadill;
Ane pepper polk maid of a padell,
Ane ſpounge, ane ſpindill, wantand ane nok,
Twa luſty lippis to lick ane laddil,
To gang togidder Jenny and Jok.
[73]VIII.
Ane brechame, and twa brochis fyne,
Weil buklit with ane brydel renyé;
Ane ſark maid o the Linkome twyne,
Ane gay grene cloke that will not ſtenyé.
And yet for miſter I will nocht fenyé
Fyve hundirth fleis now in a flok,
Call ye nocht that an joly menyé
To gang togidder Jenny and Jok?
IX.
Ane trone, ane trencheour, ane ramhorne ſpone,
Twa buttis of barkit blaſnit ladder;
All graith that gains to habbil ſhone,
Ane thraw-cruck to twyne ane tedder;
Ane brydil, ane grith, and ane ſwyne bledder,
Ane maſkene-fatt, and fetterit lak,
Ane ſcheip weil keipit fra ill wedder,
To gang togidder Jenny and Jok.
X.
Tak thairfoir my part of the feiſt,
It is weill knawin I am weill bodin;
Ye may nocht ſay my parte is leiſt.
The wyfe ſaid Speid. The kail are ſoddin;
[74]And als the laverock is fuſt and loddin;
When ye haif done tak haim the brok,
The roſt was tuche, ſa were they boddin:
Syn gaid togidder bayth Jenny and Jok.

XI. Ane littill Interlud of the Droichis part of the Play.

[75]
I.
HIRY, Hary, Hubbilſchow!
Sé ye not quha is cum now,
Bot yit wait I nevir how
With the quhirle wind?
A fargeand out of Soudoun land,
A gyane ſtrang for to ſtand,
That with the ſtrength of my hand
Bereis may bind.
II.
Bot yit I trow that I vary,
I am bot ane blynd Hary,
That lang has bene with the fary
Farlyis to find.
And yit gif this be not I,
I wait it is the ſpreit of Gy,
Or ellis fle be the ſky,
And lycht as the lynd.
[76]III.
Quha is cum heir bot I,
A bauld buſteous bellomy,
Amang you all to cry a cry
With ane michty ſoun?
That generit am of gyanis kynd,
Fra the ſtrong Hercules be ſtrynd;
Of all the occident and ynde
My elderis woir the croun.
IV.
My foir grandſyr, hecht Fyn Mackowll,
That dang the devill and gart him yowll;
The ſkyis rainid quhen he wald yowll,
He trublit all the air.
He gat my gud-ſyr God Magog,
He quhen he danſit the warld wald ſchog,
Ten thowſand ellis yied in his frog
Of Heland plaidis, and mair.
V.
And yit he was of tendir yowth:
But aftir he grew mekle at fowth,
Ellevin myle wyd mett wes his mowth,
His teith was ten myle ſquair.
[77]He wald upoun his tais upſtand,
And tak the ſtarnis doun with his hand,
And ſet thame in a gold garland
Aboif his wyvis hair.
VI.
My fader, mekle Gow Macmorne,
Out of his moderis wame was ſhorne;
For littilnes ſcho was forlorne
Siche an a kemp to beir.
Or he of aige was yeiris thré
He wald ſtep over the Occraine ſe:
The mone ſprang nevir above his kné;
The hevins had of him feir.
VII.
Ane thowſand yeir is paſt fra mynd
Sen I was generit of his kynd,
Far furth in the deſartis of Ynd
Amang lyoun and beir.
Worthie King Arthour, and Gawane,
And many a bawld berne of Bartane,
Ar deid, and in the weiris ar ſlane,
Sen I cowld wield a ſpeir.
[78]VIII.
Sophie and the Sowdoun ſtrang,
With weiris that has leſtit lang
Owt of thair boundis has maid me gang
And turn to Turky tyte.
The King of Francis grit army
Hes brocht in derth in Lumbardy,
That in the cuntré he and I,
Can nocht dwell baith perfyte.
IX.
Swadrik, Denmark, and Norraway,
Nor in the Steiddis, I dar nocht ga;
Thair is nothing bot and ſlae,
Cut throppillis, and make quyte.
Yrland for evir I haif reffuſit;
All wyis men will hald me excuſit,
For nevir in land quhair Eriche was uſit
To dwell had I delyte.
X.
I haif bene formeſt evir in feild,
And now ſa lang I haif borne the ſcheild
That I am crynit in for eild,
This littil as ye may fie.
[79]I haif been banneiſt under the lynd
This lang tyme that nane could me fynd,
Quhill now with this laſt eiſtin wynd
I am cum heir perdie.
XI.
My name is WELTH; thairfoir be blyth
I am cum comfort you to kyth.
Suppois wrechis will waill and wryth,
All darth I fall gar dré.
For certanelie the trewth to tell,
I cum amang you for to dwell,
Far fra the ſound of Curphour bell
To dwell thinks nevir me.
XII.
Now ſen I am ſuch quantitie
Of gyanis cum as ye may ſie,
Quhair will be gottin a wyfe to me
Of ſiclyk breid and hicht?
In all this bowre is nocht a bryde
Ane hour I wait, dar me abyde;
Yit trow ye ony heir beſyde
Micht ſuffir me all nicht?
[80]XIII.
Adew, fareweil, for now I go;
Bot I will nocht lang byd you fro.
Chryſt yow conſerve fra every woe,
Baith maidin, wyf, and man.
God bliſs thame and the haly rude!
Givis me a drink, ſa it be gude;
And quha trowis beſt that I do lude
Skink firſt to me the kan.

XII. Ane Ballat of evill WYFFIS.

[81]
I.
BE mirry bretheren ane and all,
And ſet all ſturt on ſyd;
And every ane togidder call
To God to be our gyd:
For als lang leivis the mirry man
As dois the wrech for ocht he can,
Quhen deid him ſtreks, he wait nocht quhan,
And chairgis him to byd.
II.
The riche then ſall nocht ſparit be,
Thoch thay haif gold and land;
Nor yit the fair for thair bewty;
Can nocht that chairge ganeſtand:
Thoch wicht or waik wald flé away,
No dowt bot all mon ranſone pay,
Quhat place, or quhair, can no man ſay,
Be ſie, or yit be land.
[82]III.
Quhairſoir my counſaill, brethir is,
That we togiddir ſing,
And all to loif that Lord of bliſs,
That is of hevinis king.
Quha knawis the ſecreit thochts and dowt
Of all our hairtes round about;
And he quha thinks him nevir ſo ſtout
Mone thoill that puniſſing.
IV.
Quhat man but ſtryf, in all his lyfe,
Dois teſt moir of deid's pane,
Nor dois the man, quhilk on the ſi [...]
His leving ſeiks to gane?
For quhen diſtreſs dois him oppreſs,
Than to the Lord for his redreſs,
Quha gaif command for all expreſs
To call and nocht refrain.
V.
The myrrieſt man that leivis on lyfe
He ſailis on the ſie;
For he knawis nowdir ſturt nor ſtryfe,
Bot blyth and mirry be.
[83]Bot he that hes an evill wyfe
Hes ſturt and ſorrow all his lyfe:
And that man quhilk leivis ay in ſtrife
How can he mirry be?
VI.
Ane evill wyfe is the werſt aucht
That ony man can haif;
For he may nevir ſit in ſaucht,
Onleſs he be hir ſklaif.
Bot of that ſort I knaw nane uder
Bot owthir a kukald, or his bruder,
Fondlars and kukalds all togidder
May wiſs thair wyfis in graif.
VII.
Becaus thair wyfis hes maiſtery
That thay dar nawayis cheip,
Bot gif it be in privity,
Quhan thair wifis ar on ſleip.
Ane mirry in thair cumpany
Were to thame worth baith gold and fie;
Ane menſtrall could nocht bocht be,
Thair mirth gif he could beit.
[84]VIII.
Bot of that ſort quhilk I report
I knaw nane in this ring;
Bot we may all baith grit and ſmall,
Glaidly baith dance and ſing.
Quha liſt nocht heir to mak gude cheir,
Perchance his gudes ane uther yeir
Be ſpent, quhen he is brocht to bier,
Quhen his wyfe taks the fling.
IX.
It has bene ſene that wyfe wemen,
Eftir thair huſband's deid,
Hes gettin men hes gart them ken
Gif thay micht beir grit laid.
With ane grene ſling hes gart them bring;
The yeir quhilk won wes be ane dring;
And ſyne gart all the bairnis ſing
Ramukloch in thair bed.
X.
Than wad ſcho ſay, Alace! this day
For him that wan this geir:
Quhen I him had I ſkairſly ſaid,
My hairt anis mak gud cheir.
[85]Or I had lettin him ſpend a plak,
I lever haif wittin him brokin his bak;
Or ellis his craig had gottin a crak
Our the heicht of the ſtair.
XI.
Ye neigartis then example tak,
And leir to ſpend your awin:
And with gud freynds ay mirry mak,
That it may be weil knawin
That thou art he quha wan this geir;
And for thy wyfe fé thou not ſpair
With gud freynds ay to mak repair,
Thy honeſty may be ſhawin.
XII.
Finis, quoth I, quha ſettis nocht by
The ill wyfis of this toun;
Thoch for deſpyt with me wald flyte
Gif thay micht put me down.
Gif ye wald know quha maid this ſang,
Quhidder ye will him heid or hang,
Flemyng's his name quhair evir he gang,
In place, or in quhat toun.

XIII. BALLAT OF GUDE-FALLOWIS.

[86]
I.
I Mak it kend he that will ſpend,
And luve God lait and air,
God will him mend, and grace him ſend,
Quhen catyvis ſall haif cair.
Thairfoir pretend weill for to ſpend
Of geir, and nocht till ſpair:
I knaw the end that all mon wend
Away nakit and bair.
With an O, and an I,
Ane wreche ſall haif na mair,
Bot ane ſchort ſcheit at heid and feit,
For all his wrek and wair.
II.
For all the wrak a wreche can pak,
And in his baggis imbrace,
Yet deid ſall tak him be the bak,
And gar him cry, Allace!
[87]Than ſall he ſwak away with lak
And wait nocht to quhat place;
Than will thay mak at him a knak
That maiſt of his gud hais.
With an O, and an I,
Quhyle we have tyme and ſpace,
Mak we gud cheir quhyle we are heir,
And thank God of his grace.
III.
Were thair ane king to rax and ring
Amang gude-fallowis cround,
Wrechis wald wring, and mak murnyng,
For dule thay ſald be dround.
Quha finds ane dring, owder auld or ying,
Gar hoy him out and hound:
Now lat us ſing with Chryſtis bliſſing,
Be glaid, and mak gude ſound.
With an O, and ane I,
Now or we furder found:
Drink thow to me, and I to thé
And let the cop go round.
IV.
Quha undirſtude ſuld haif his gude
Or he were closd in clay,
Sum in thair mude thay wald go wude,
And de lang or thair day.
[88]Nocht worthe ane hude, or ane auld ſnude,
Thou ſall beir hyne away,
Wreche, be the rude, for, to conclude,
Full few will for thé pray.
With ane O, and ane I,
Gude-fallowis, quhill we may,
Be mirry and fré, ſyne blyth we be,
And fing on tway and tway.

XIV. THE BLAIT LUVAR.

[89]
I.
QUHEN Flora had our fret the firth,
In May of every moneth quene,
Quhen merle and mavis ſingis with mirth
Sweit melling in the ſchawis ſchene;
Quhen luvaris rejoſit bene,
And moſt deſyrus of thair pray;
I hard a luſty luvar mene,
I luve, bot I dar nocht aſſay.
II.
Strang are the panis I daylie prufe,
Bot yet with patience I ſuſtene;
I am ſo fetterit with the lufe
Onlie of my lady ſchene;
Quhylk for her bewty micht be quene,
Natour ſa craftely alwey
Hes done depaint that ſweit ſcherene;
Quhome I lufe I dar nocht eſſay.
[90]III.
Scho is ſa brycht of hyd and hew
I lufe but hir allone I wene;
Is none hir lufe that may eſchew
That blenkis of that dulce amene.
Sa cumly cleir ar hir twa ene,
That ſcho ma luvaris dois effray
Than evir of Grice did fair Helene.
Quhom I luf I dar nocht aſſay.

XV. LUVE ANE LEVELLAR.

[91]
I.
LUVE preyſis but compareſone
Both gentil, ſempill, generall;
And of fre will gevis wareſone
As fortoun chanſis to befall.
For luve maks nobill ladies thrall
To baſſir men of birth and blude;
So luve garris ſobir wemen ſmall
Get maiſtrice our grit men of gud.
II.
Ferme luve for favour, feir, or feid,
Of riche nor pur to ſpeik ſould ſpair;
For luve to hieneſs has no heid,
Nor lychlies lawlineſs ane hair.
But puttis all perſonis in compair,
This proverb planely for to preve,
That men and wemen leſs and mair
Are cumde of Adame and of Eve.
[92]III.
Sa thoch my liking were a leddy,
And I no lord, yet, nocht the leſs,
Scho ſuld my ſervice find als reddy
As duke to ducheſs docht him dreſs:
For as proud princely luve expreſs
Is to haif ſoverenetie,
So ſervice cummis of ſempilneſs,
And leileſt luve of law degré.
IV.
So luvaris lair no leid ſuld lak,
A lord to lufe a ſilly laſs,
A leddy als for luf to tak
Ane propir page, hir tym to paſs.
For quhy? As bricht bene birneiſt braſs
As ſilver wrocht at all dewyſs;
And als gud drinking out of glaſs
As gold, thoch gold gif gritter pryſs.

XVI. TO HIS HAIRT.

[93]
I.
RETURNE thé hamewart, hairt, agane;
And byde quhair then waſt wont to be:
Thou art ane fule to ſuffer pane
For luve of hir that luvis not thé.
My hairt, lat be ſic fanteſie;
Luve nane bot as they mak thé cauſe:
And lat hir ſeik ane hairt for thé,
For feind a crum of thé ſcho fawis.
II.
To quhat effect ſould thou be thrall
But thank? Sen thou has thy fré will,
My hairt be nocht ſa beſtial;
But knaw quha dois thé guid or ill.
Remane with me, and tary ſtill,
And ſe quha playis beſt their pawis;
And lat fillok ga fling her fill,
For feind a crum of thé ſcho fawis.
[94]III.
Thoch ſcho be fair I will not fenyie,
Scho is the kind of utheris ma:
For quhy? Thair is a fellone menyie
That ſemis gud, and ar not ſa.
My hairt tak nowdir pane nor wa,
For Meg, for Merjory, or yit Mawis;
Bot be thou glaid, and latt hir ga,
For feind a crum of thé ſcho fawis.
IV.
Becaus I find ſcho tuk in ill,
At her depairting thow mak na cair,
Bot all begyld go quhair ſcho will;
A ſchrew the hairt that mane makis mair!
My hairt be mirry late and air,
This is the fynall end and clauſe;
And let hir fallow ane filly fair,
For feind a crum of thé ſcho fawis.

XVII. RONDEL OF LUVE.

[95]
I.
LO quhat it is to lufe,
Lern ye that liſt to prufe;
Be me, I ſay, that no ways may
The grund of grief remuve:
Bot ſtill decay both nicht and day.
Lo quhat it is to lufe!
II.
Lufe is ane fervent fyre
Kendillit with deſyre,
Schort pleſour, lang diſpleſour,
Repentance is the hyre;
Ane puir treſour without meſſour.
Lufe is ane fervent fyre.
[96]III.
To lufe and to be wyiſs;
To rege with gude adwyiſs;
Now thus, now than, ſo gois the game;
Incertaine is the dyiſs.
Thair is no man, I ſay, that can
Both lufe and to be wyiſs
IV.
Flé alwayis frome the ſnair:
Lerne at me to beware
It is ane pane, and double trane,
Of endleſs wo and cair.
For to refrane that danger plane,
Flé alwyis frome the ſnair.

XVIII. The WIFE of AUCHTERMUCHTY.

[97]
I.
IN Auchtermuchty thair dwelt ane man;
An huſband, as I hard it tauld,
Quha weil could tippill out a can;
And naithir luvit hungir nor cauld.
Quhill anis it fell upon a day,
He yokkit his pleuch upon the plain,
Gif it be trew, as I heard ſay,
The day was fowll for wind and rain.
II.
He lowſit the pleuch at the landis en,
And draife his oxen hame at ene,
Quhen he came in he lukit ben,
And ſaw the wife, baith dry and clene,
Sittand at ane fyre beik and bauld,
With ane fat ſoup, as I heard ſay;
The man being very weit and cauld,
Betwein thay twa it was na play.
[98]III.
Quoth he, Quhair is my horſis corn?
My ox hes naithir hay nor ſtray:
Dame ye maun to the pleuch the morn;
I fall be huſſy gif I may.
Huſband, quoth ſcho, content am I
To tak the pleuch my day about;
Sa ye will rewll baith kavis and ky,
And all the houſe baith in and out.
IV.
But ſen that ye will huſſyſkep ken,
Firſt ye ſall ſift, and ſyne ſall kned;
And ay as ye gang but and ben
Luk that the bairnis fyle not the bed.
Yeis lay ane ſoft wyſp to the kill;
(We haif ane deir ferme on our heid).
And, ay as ye gang furth and till,
Keip weill the gaiſlingis fra the gled.
V.
The wyſe was up richt late at ene
I pray God gife her weil to fair!
Scho kirn'd the kirn, and ſkum'd it clene,
Left the gudeman bot bledoch bair.
[99]Than in the morning up ſcho gat,
And on hir hairt laid her disjune;
And pat als meikle in her lap
As micht haif ſerd them baith at nune.
VI.
Says, Jok, be thou maiſter of wark,
And thou fall had, and I ſall ka;
Iſe promiſe thé ane gude new ſark,
Outhir of round claith or of ſma.
Scho louſit the oxin aught or nine,
And hynt ane gad-ſtaff in her hand.—
Up the gudeman raiſe after ſyne,
And ſaw the wyfe had done command.
VII.
He cawd the gaiſlingis furth to feid,
Thair was but ſevenſum of them a,
And by thair cumis the gredy gled,
And likkit up fyve, left him but twa:
Than out he ran, in all his mane,
How ſune he hard the gaiſlingis cry,
But than or he came in agane
The calvis brak louſe and ſuckit the ky.
[100]VIII.
The calvis and ky met in the lone,
The man ran with ane rung to red;
Than thair cumis ane illwilly cow,
And brodit his buttock quhill that it bled.
Than hame ran to a rok of tow,
And he ſatt doun to ſay the ſpinning;
I trow he lowtit our neir the low—
Quoth he, this work has ill beginning.
IX.
Hynd to the kirn than did he ſtoure,
And jumlit at it quhill he ſwat;
Quhen he had fumlit a full lang hour,
The ſorrow a ſcrape of butter he gat;
Albeit na butter he could get,
Yit he was cummerit with the kirne.
And ſyne he het the milk our het,
And ſorrow a ſpark of it wald yirne.
X.
Than ben thair cam ane greidy ſow,
I trow he cund hir little thank,
For in ſcho ſhot her mekle mow,
And ay ſcho winkit and ſcho drank:
[101]He cleikit up an cruked club,
And thocht to hit the ſow a rout;
The twa gaiſlings the gled had left
That ſtraik dang baith thair harnis out.
XI.
Than he bare kindling to the kill,
But ſcho ſtert up all in ane low;
Quhatevir he hard quhatevir he ſaw
That day he had na will to wow.
Than he gied to tak up the bairnis,
Thocht to haif fand thame fair and clene;
The firſt that he gat in his armis
Was a bedirtin to the ene.
XII.
The firſt it ſmelt ſae ſappelie,
To touche the lave he did nocht greine:
The devill cut off thair hands, quoth he,
That fill'd ye a ſa fow yeſtrene!
He trailit the fowll ſheites down the gait,
Thocht to haif waſchet thame on a ſtane;
The burne was riſen grit of ſpait,
Away fra him the ſheitis hes tane.
[102]XIII.
Then up he gat on ane know heid,
On hir to cry, on hir to ſchout;
Scho hard him, and ſcho hard him not,
Bot ſtoutly ſteirid the ſtottis about.
Scho draif al day unto the nicht;
Scho louſit the pleuch, and ſyne came hame:
Scho fand all wrang that ſould bene richt;
I trow the man thocht richt grit ſchame.
XIV.
Quoth he, my office I forſaik
For all the dayis of my lyfe;
For I wald put ane houſe to wraik,
Had I bene twenty dayis gudwife.
Quoth ſcho weil met ye bruke your place,
For trewlie I will nevir accep it:
Quoth he feind fall the lyaris face,
Bot yit ye may be blyth to git it.
XV.
Then up ſcho gate ane mekle rung,
And the gudman maid to the doir:
Quoth he, Deme I ſall hald my tung,
For an we fecht I'll get the woir.
[103]Quoth he, quhen I forſuik my pleuch,
I trow I but forſuik my ſeill;
And I will to my pleuch agane,
For I and this hous will neir do weil.

XIX.

[104]
I.
GOD ſend every prieſt ane wife,
And every nunne a man;
That they may live that haly life
As firſt the kirk began.
II.
S [...]nct Peter, quhom nane can reprufe,
His life in marriage led:
All gude preiſts, quhom God did lufe,
Their maryit wyfes had.
III.
Greit cauſis then I grant had they
Fra wyfes to refraine;
But greiter cauſes have they may
Now wyfis to wed againe.
IV.
For than ſuld nocht ſa many hur [...]
Be up and doune this land:
Nor yit ſa many beggars pur
In kirk and mercat ſtand.
[105]V.
And not ſa meikill baſtard ſeid
Throw out this cuntrie ſawin;
Nor gude men uncouth fry ſuld feed
An all the ſuith were knawin.
VI.
Sen Chryſt's law, and common law,
And doctours will admit
That prieſts in that yock ſuld draw,
Quha dat ſay contrair it?

XX. LUSTIE MAYE.

[106]
I.
O Luſtie Maye, with Flora queen,
The balmy drops from Phebus ſheen,
Preluſant beams before the day,
Before the day, the day,
By thee, Diana, groweth green
Through glaidneſs of this luſtie Maye,
Through glaidneſs of this luſtie Maye.
II.
Then Aurora that is ſo bright
To woful hearts ſhe caſts great light,
Right pleaſantly before the day,
Before the day, the day,
And ſhows and ſhades furth of that light,
Through gladneſs of this luſtie Maye,
Through gladneſs of this luſtie Maye.
[107]III.
Birds on their boughs, of every ſort,
Send furth their notes and make great mirth,
On banks that bloom; on every brae,
On every brae, on every brae
And fares and flies oer field and firth,
Through gladneſs of this luſtie Maye,
Through gladneſs of this luſtie Maye.
IV.
All lovers hearts that are in care
To their ladies they do repair,
In freſh mornings before the day,
Before the day, the day;
And are in mirth ay mair and mair,
Through gladneſs of this luſtie Maye,
Through gladneſs of this luſtie Maye.
V.
Of every monith in the year,
To mirthful Maye there is no peer.
Her gliſtering garments are ſo gay,
Garments ſo gay, ſo gay;
You lovers all make merry cheer
Through gladneſs of this luſtie May,
Through gladneſs of this luſtie Maye.

XXI. Tak your auld clok about ye.

[108]
IN winter when the raln rain'd cauld,
And froſt and ſnaw on ilka hill,
And Boreas, wi his blaſts ſae bauld,
Was thretning a our ky to kill;
Then Bell my wife, wha loes na ſtrife,
Said unto me right haſtilie,
Get up goodman ſave Crumy's life,
And tak your auld clok about ye.
HE.
O Bell, why doſt thou flyte and ſcorn
Thou ken'ſt my clok is very thin,
It is ſo bare, and overworne,
A cricke he thereon cannot [...]in.
Then I'll nae langer borow or lend,
For ance I'll new apparel'd be;
To morrow I'll to toun and ſpend,
I'll have a new clok about me.
[109]SHE.
My Crumy is an uſefu cow,
And ſhe is come of a good kine;
Aft has ſhe wet the bairnis mow;
And I am laith that ſhe ſhould tyne.
Get up, goodman, it is fou time,
The ſun ſhines in the lift ſa hie;
Sloth never made a gracious end,
Gae tak your auld clok about ye.
HE.
My clok was anes a good grey clok,
When it was fitting for my wear;
But now its ſcantly worth a groat,
For I have worn't this thritty year.
Lets ſpend the gear that we have won,
We little ken the day we'll die;
Then I'll be proud ſen I have ſworn
To have a new clok about me.
SHE.
In days when our king Robert rang,
His trews they coſt but half-a-croun,
He ſaid they were a groat our dear,
And ca'd the taylor thief and loun.
[110]He was the king, that wore a croun,
And thou'rt a man of laigh degree;
Tis pride puts a the country doun,
Sae tak thy auld clok about thee.
HE.
Every land has its ain lough,
Ilk kind o corn it has its hool;
I think the warld is a run wrang
When ilka wife her man wad rule.
Do ye not ſie Rob, Jock, and Hab,
As they are girded gallantly,
While I ſit hurklen in the aſe?
I'll ha a new clok about me.
SHE.
Goodman I wat 'tis thritty years
Syne we did ane anither ken,
And we have had atween us twa
Of lads and bonny laſſes ten:
Now they are women groun and men,
I wiſh and pray weil may they be:
And why will thou thyſell miſken?
Een tak your auld clok about ye.
[111]HE.
Bell my wife, ſhe loes na ſtrife,
But ſhe wald guide me if ſhe can;
And to maintain an eaſy life,
I aft maun yield, tho I'm goodman.
Noght's to be won at woman's hand
Unleſs ye gie her a the plea;
Then I'll leave off where I began,
And tak my auld clok about me.

XXII. EWBUCHTS MARION.

[112]
I.
WILL ye gae to the eubuchts, Marion,
And wear in the ſheip wi mee?
The ſun ſhines ſweit, my Marion,
But not half ſae ſweit as thee.
O Marion's a bonnie laſs,
And the blyth blinks in her ee;
And fain wad I marrie Marion,
Gin Marion wad marrie mee.
II.
Their's gowd in your garters, Marion,
And filler on your white hauſe-bane;
Fou faine wad I kiſſe my Marion
At ene quhan I cum hame.
Thereis braw lads in Earnſhaw, Marion,
Quha gap and glowr wi their ee,
At kirk quhan they ſee my Marion;
Bot nane of tham lues like mee.
[113]III.
I've nine milk ews, my Marion,
A cow, and a brawny quay;
Iſe gie them a to my Marion
Upon her bridal day.
And yee's get a green ſey apron,
And waiſtcote o London broun;
And wow but ye will be vapering
Quhaneer ye gang to the town.
IV.
I'm young and ſtout, my Marion,
Nane dance like me on the greene;
And gin ye forſak me, Marion,
Iſe een gae draw up wi Jeane.
Sae put on your pearlins, Marion,
And kirtle o cramaſie;
And ſune as my chin has na haire on
I ſall cum weſt and ſee yee.

XXIII. The yellow-hair'd LADDIE.

[114]
THE yellow-hair'd laddie ſat down on yon brae,
Cried, milk the ews, laſſy, let nane o them gae:
And ay ſhe milked, and ay ſhe ſang,
'The yellow-hair'd laddie ſhall be my goodman.'
And ay ſhe milked, and ay ſhe ſang,
'The yellow-hair'd laddie ſhall be my goodman.'
The weather is cauld, and my claithing is thin,
The ews are new clipt, and they winna bught in:
They winna bught in tho I ſhould die:—
O yellow-hair'd laddie be kind unto me!
They winna bught in tho I ſhould die:—
O yellow-hair'd laddie be kind unto me!
The goodwife cries butt the houſe, Jenny come ben,
The cheeſe is to mak, and the butter's to kirn.
Tho butter, and cheeſe, and a ſhould ſour,
I'll crack and kiſs wi my love ae haf hour:
It's ae haf hour, and we's een mak it three,
For the yellow-hair'd laddie my huſband ſhall be.

XXIV. BESSY BELL and MARY GRAY.

[115]
I.
BESSY Bell and Mary Gray
They are twa bonnie laſſes;
They big'd a bower on yon burn brae,
And theek'd it our wi raſhes.
Beſſy Bell I lo'd yeſtreen,
And thocht I neer could alter;
But Mary Gray's twa pauky een
They gar my fancy falter.
II.
Beſſy's hair 's like a lint tap,
She ſmiles like a May morning;
When Phebus ſtarts fra Thetis lap
The hills with rays adorning:
White is her neck, ſaft is her hand,
Her waſte, and feet, fow genty.
With ilka grace ſhe can command;
Her lips O wow! they're dainty.
[116]III.
Mary's locks are like the craw,
Her eye like diamond glances,
She's ay ſae clean, red-up, and braw,
She kills whene'er ſhe dances.
Blyth as a kid, with wit at will,
She blooming, tight, and tall is;
And guides her airs ſa gracefu ſtill;
O Jove, ſhe's like thy Pallas!
IV.
Beſſy Bell and Mary Gray
Ye unco ſair oppreſs us:
Our fancies jee between you tway,
Ye are ſic bonny laſſes.
Wae's me for baith I canna get,
To ane by law we're ſtented;
Then I'll draw cuts and take my ſate,
And be with ane contented.

XXIV. OWR THE BOGIE.

[117]
I.
I Will awa wi my love,
I will awa wi her,
Tho a my kin had ſworn aud ſaid,
I'll owr the Bogie wi her.
If I can get but her conſent,
I dinna care a ſtrae;
Tho ilka ane be diſcontent
Awa wi her I'll gae.
I will awa, &c.
II.
For now ſhe's miſtreſs of my heart,
And wordy of my hand,
And weil I wat we ſhanna part
For ſiller or for land.
Let rakes delyte to ſwear and drink,
And beaus admire fine lace;
But my chief pleaſure is to blink
On Betty's bonny face.
I wil awa, &c.
[118]III.
There a the beauties do combine
Of colour, traits, and air;
The ſaul that ſparkles in her een
Makes her a jewel rare.
Her flowing wit gives ſhining life
To a her other charms;
How bleſt I'll be when ſhe's my wife,
And lockt up in my arms!
I will awa, &c.
IV.
There blythly would I rant and ſing
While o'er her ſweets I range;
I'll cry Your humble ſervant, king!
Shame fa them that wad change
A kiſs of Betty, and a ſmile,
Abeet ye wad lay down
The right ye hae to Britain's iſle,
And offer me your crown.
I will awa, &c.

XXVI.

[119]
To the tune of "I'll never leave thee."
I.
OH ſpare that dreadful thought,
If I ſhould leave thee!
May I all pleaſure leave,
Laſs, when I leave thee!
Leave thee, leave thee!
How can I leave thee?
May I all pleaſure leave,
Laſs, when I leave thee!
II.
By all the joys of love
I'll never leave thee.
May I all pleaſure leave,
Laſs, when I leave thee!
Leave thee, leave thee!
How can I leave thee?
May I all pleaſure leave,
Laſs, when I leave thee!

XXVII.

[120]
I.
LET's be jovial, fill our glaſſes;
Madneſs 'tis for us to think
How the warld is rul'd by aſſes,
And the wiſe are rul'd by chink.
II.
Never let vain cares oppreſs us;
Riches are to all a ſnare.
We're every one as rich as Croeſus,
While our bottle drowns our care.
III.
Wine will make us red as roſes,
Let us all our woes forget;
Let us, fuddling all our noſes,
Drink ourſelves quite out of debt.
IV.
When grim Death is looking for us,
We are toping at our bowls;
Bacchus joins us in the chorus,
'Death begone! Here's none but ſouls.

XXVIII. THE SOGER LADDIE.

[121]
I.
MY ſoger laddie is over the ſea,
And he will bring gold and money to me;
And when he comes home he'll make me a lady:
My bleſſing gang with my ſoger laddie.
II.
My favorite laddie is handſome and brave,
And can as a ſoger and lover behave;
True to his country; to love he is ſteady;
Few can compare wi my ſoger laddie.
III.
Shield him ye angels fra death in alarms,
Return him in triumph to my langing arms.
From every care ye ever will free me,
When back to my wiſhes my ſoger ye gie me.
IV.
O ſoon may his honours bloom fair on his brow,
As quickly they muſt if he get his due;
For in noble actions his courage is ready,
Which makes me delight in my ſoger laddie.

XXIX. THE BANKS OF CLYDE.

[122]
I.
WHILE ſome praiſe the paſtoral margin of Tweed,
And others the beautiful banks of the Tay,
Accept, O fair Clyde, of my dutiful lay;
Thy rural meanders no ſtream can exceed.
II.
Full oft thy wild banks in my youth did I tread
The trout and the par from thy wave to decoy;
Maria then ſhar'd in my innocent joy:—
But Maria is falſe and my pleaſures are fled!

XXX. 'DELL TAK THE WARS.

[123]
DEIL tak the wars that hurried Willie frae me,
Wha to loe me juſt had ſworn;
They made him captain ſure to undo me;
Wae is me! He'll never return.
A thouſand louns abroad will fight him,
He frae thouſands ne'er will run.
Day and night I did invite him
To ſtay ſafe frae ſword and gun.
I us'd alluring graces,
Wi mony kind embraces,
Now ſighing, then crying, tears letting fall:
And had he my ſaft arms
Preferr'd to war's alarms,
By love grown mad, without the man of God,
I fear in my fit I had granted all.
[124]
I waſh'd and patch'd to mak me look provoking,
Snares that they tald me would catch the men;
And on my head a huge commode ſat cocking
Which made me ſhew as tall again.
For a new gown too I paid muckle money,
Which with gowden flowers did ſhine:
Well might my love think me gay and bonny,
Nae Scots laſs was eer ſae fine.
My petticoat I ſpotted,
Fringe too with thread I knotted;
W [...] lac'd ſhoes, and ſilk hoſe garter'd over knee,
But O the fatal thought!
To Willie they were nought;
Who rid to touns, and riffled with dragoons,
When he, ſilly loon, might have rifled me.

XXXI.

[125]
I.
THERE dwalled a man in Aberdeen,
And nowthir young nor auld was he,
He never wanted wit at will,
But wi't was ugly as can be.
II.
Mony a laſs that had the tocher,
Wham the carl ſought to join
Wi him to draw the pleuch of wedlock,
Did the hatefu taſk decline.
III.
Tired at laſt wi ſharp denyals,
Straight he paſs'd to ſillie Meg;
She had nowthir wit nor ſiller.
Here, thocht he, I ſall nae beg.
IV.
Save the gowd o her fair treſſes,
Bit o gowd neer had the quene;
Nor ither jewels in poſſeſſion,
Than the jewels o her een.
[126]V.
Bot alike to her was miſſing
All the gowd that crouns the mynde;
Senſe, that jewel o the boſom,
She could nowthir buy nor fynde.
VI.
He came, he ſaw, he overcame;
The ſillie mayden bluſh'd conſent.
Hamewart as he bent his travel,
Thus he thocht on his intent.
VII.
"Tho this laffie want a noddle,
"I hae wit to make amends;
"Tho I'm ugly, yet her bewtie
"In our bairns will ſerve like ends.
VIII.
"Our childer, I can never dout it,
"Will comely as their mither be;
"And in wit and prudence ſurelie
"Thay will coppie after me.
IX.
"Sae our race will bear perfection
"Baith in bodie and in ſaul;
"Surelie a mair happie marriage
"To man's lot docht never fall."
[127]X.
Sae the wicht fou fondlie dremit—
Alack the iſſue was far ither!
The bairns war ugly as thair daddie,
And thay were fooliſh as thair mither.

XXXII.

[128]
I.
AN thou wert mine ain thing,
I wad lue thee, I wad lue thee.
An thou wert mine ane thing,
How dearly wad I lue thee!
II.
Of race divine thou neds muſt be
Since naithing earthly equals thee;
For heaven's ſake O favour me,
Wha only live to lue thee.
An thou wert, &c.
III.
Sae lang's I had the uſe of light
I'd on thy beauties feaſt my ſight,
Syne in ſaft whiſpers thro the night
I'd tell how much I lue thee.
An thou wert, &c.
IV.
Tho I war number'd wi the dead
My ſaul ſhould hover round thy head;
I may be turned a ſilent ſhade,
But never ceaſe to lue thee.
An thou wert, &c.

XXXIII.

[129]
To the tune of "Alloa Houſe."
I.
OH how could I venture to luve ane like thee,
And you not deſpiſe a poor conqueſt like me?
On lords, thy admirers, could look wi diſdain,
And knew I was naething yet pitied my pain?
You ſaid, while they teas'd you with nonſenſe and dreſs,
When real the paſſion the vanity's leſs.
You ſaw thro' that ſilence which others deſpiſe,
And while beaus were a-tauking read luve in my eyes.
II.
O how I ſhall fauld thee and kiſs a thy charms,
Till fainting wi pleaſure I die in your arms,
Thro' all the wild tranſports of extacy toſt,
Till ſinking together together we're loſt!
O where is the maid that like thee ne'er can cloy,
Whoſe wit does enliven each dull pauſe of joy,
And when the ſhort raptures are all at an end,
From beautiful miſtreſs turns ſenſible friend?
[130]III.
In vain do I praiſe thee, or ſtrive to reveal,
(Too nice for expreſſion) what only we feel:
In a that ye do, in each look and each mien,
The graces in waiting adorn you unſeen.
When I ſee you I luve you, when hearing adore;
I wonder and think you a woman no more:
Till mad wi admiring I canna contain,
And kiſſing your lips you turn woman again.
IV.
With thee in my boſom how can I deſpair?
I'll gaze on thy beauties and look awa care;
I'll aſk thy advice when with troubles oppreſt,
Which never diſpleaſes but always is beſt.
In all that I write I'll thy judgment require,
Thy wit ſhall correct what thy charms did inſpire.
I'll kiſs thee and preſs thee till youth is all o'er;
And then live in friendſhip when paſſion's no more.

XXXIV. BOTHWELL BANK.

[131]
I.
ON the blyth beltane, as I went
Be myſel attour the green bet,
Wharby the cryſtal waves of Clyde
Throch ſaughs and hanging hazels glyde,
There ſadly ſitting on a brae
I heard a damſel ſpeak her wae.
II.
'O Bothwell bank thou blumeſt fair,
'But ah thou makſt my heart fou ſair!
'For a beneath thy holts ſae grene
'My luve and I wad ſit at ene;
'While primroſes and daiſies mixt,
'Wi bluebells in my loks he fixt.
[132]III.
'But he left me ae dreatie day
'And haplie now ſleips in the clay;
'Without ae ſich his dethe to roun,
'Without ae flouir his grave to croun!
'O Bothwell bank thou blumeſt fair,
'But ah thou makſt my heart fou ſair!'

XXXV.

[133]
I.
MY dear and only love, I pray
That little world of thee
Be govern'd by no other ſway
But pureſt monarchy.
For if confuſion have a part,
Which virtuous ſouls abhor;
I'll call a ſynod in my heart,
And never love thee more.
II.
As Alexander I will reign,
And I will reign alone;
My thoughts did evermore diſdain
A rival on my throne.
He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deſerts are ſmall;
Who dares not put it to the touch
To gain or loſe it all.
[134]III.
And in the empire of thy heart,
Where I ſhould ſolely be,
If others do pretend a part,
Or dare to ſhare with me;
Or committees if thou erect,
Or go on ſuch a ſcore,
I'll ſmiling mock at thy neglect,
And never love thee more.
IV.
But if no faithleſs action ſtain
Thy love and conſtant word,
I'll make thee famous by my pen,
And glorious by my ſword.
I'll ſerve thee in ſuch noble ways
As ne'er were known before;
I'll deck and croun thy head with bays,
And love thee more and more.

XXXVI.

[135]
I.
COMRADES puſh about the glaſs,
And mak the chearfu ingle glow;
Time, a rogue that neer knew grace,
Will urge alike his ſteady pace,
Whether we are bleſt or no.
II.
Fill thritty bouts for ane o his,
Toom ninety glaſſes for his three;
For a their ſaws and prattles, this
The beſt and beaten road to bliſs
Wiſer men have fand than we.
III.
If you can be bleſt the day,
Neer defer it till the morn:
Peril ſtill attends delay,
As all fools will find, whan they
Have their happie hour forborne.
[136]IV.
Comrades fill your glaſs wi me;
Let us drink, and laugh, and ſing:
Whan ye merry are and ree,
Fear not to drink out your glee;
New delights the morn will bring.

XXXVII. ETTRICK BANKS.

[137]
I.
ON Ettrick banks in a ſummers night,
At glowming when the ſheep drave hame,
I met my laſſie braw and tight,
Come wading barefoot a her lane:
My heart grew light, I ran, I flang
My arms about her lily neck,
And kiſs'd and clap'd her there fou lang;
My words they were na mony, feck.
II.
I ſaid, My laſſie will ye go
To the highland hills, the Erſe to learn?
I'll gie ye baith a ew and cow,
When ye come to the brig of Earn.
At Leith auld meal comes in, neer faſh,
And herrings at the Broomy Law;
Chear up your heart my bonny laſs,
There's gear to win we never ſaw.
[138]III.
When we all day have wrought eneuch,
When winter-froſts and ſnaw begin,
Soon as the ſun gaes weſt the loch,
At night when ye ſit down to ſpin,
I'll ſcrew my pipes and play a ſpring;
And there the weary night we'll en,
Till tender kid-and-lamb time bring
Our pleaſant ſimmer back again.
IV.
Syne when the trees are in their bloom,
And gowans gleim oer ilka field,
I'll meet my laſs amang the broom,
And lead you to my ſimmer bield:
Then, far frae a their ſcornfu din,
Wha mak the kindly hearts their ſport,
We'll laugh, and kiſs, and dance, and ſing,
And gar the langeſt day ſeem ſhort.

XXXVIII. LOCHABER.

[139]
I.
FAREWEIL to Lochaber, fareweil to my Jean,
Where heartſome with her I have mony day been:
To Lochaber no more, to Lochaber no more,
We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more.
Theſe tears that I ſhed they are a for my dear,
And not for the dangers attending on weir;
Tho bore on rough ſeas to a far bloody ſhore,
May be to return to Lochaber no more!
II.
Tho hurricanes riſe, tho riſes each wind,
No tempeſt can equal the ſtorm in my mind;
Tho loudeſt of thunders on louder waves roar,
There's naething like leaving my love on the ſhore.
To leave thee behind me my heart is ſair pain'd,
But by eaſe that's inglorious no fame can be gain'd:
And beauty and love's the reward of the brave;
And I maun deſerve it before I can crave.
[140]III.
Then glory, my Jeany, maun plead my excuſe,
Since honour commands me how can I refuſe?
Without it I ne'er can have merit for thee;
And loſing thy favour I'd better not be.
I gae then, my laſs, to win honour and fame,
And, if I ſhould chance to come glorious hame,
I'll bring a heart to thee with love running o'er,
And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more.

XXXIX.

[141]
I.
FOR the ſake of gold ſhe has left me,
And of all that's dear has bereft me,
She me forſook for a great duke,
And to endleſs woe ſhe has left me.
A ſtar and garter have more art
Than youth, a true and faithful heart;
For empty titles we muſt part;
For glittering ſhow ſhe has left me.
II.
No cruel fair ſhall ever move
My injured heart again to love;
Thro diſtant climates I muſt rove
Since Jeany ſhe has left me.
Ye Powers above I to your care
Reſign my faithleſs lovely fair,
Your choiceſt bleſſings be her ſhare,
Tho ſhe has ever left me!

XL. BLACKFORD HILL.

[142]
I.
THE man wha lues fair nature's charms,
Let him gae to Blackford hill;
And wander there amang the craigs,
Or down aſide the rill;
That murmuring thro the peblis plays,
And banks whar daiſies ſpring;
While, fra ilk buſh and tree, the birds
In ſweeteſt concert ſing.
II.
The lintie the ſharp treble ſounds;
The laverock tenor p [...]ys;
The blackbird and the mavis join
To form a ſolemn baſe:
Sweet Echo the loud air repeats,
Till a the valley rings;
While odorous ſcents the weſtlin wind
Frae thouſand wild flowers brings.
[143]III.
The Hermitage aſide the burn
In ſhady covert lyes,
Frae Pride and Folly's noiſy rounds
Fit refuge for the wiſe;
Wha there may ſtudy as they liſt,
And pleaſures taſte at will,
Yet never leave the varied bounds
Of bonny Blackford hill.

XLI. TWEEDSIDE.

[144]
I.
WHAN Maggy and I war acquaint
I carried my noddle fu hie;
Nae lintwhite on a the gay plain,
Nae gowdſpink ſae bonny as ſhe.
I whiſtled, I pip'd, and I ſang;
I woo'd but I cam nae great ſpeed:
Therefore I maun wander abroad,
And lay my banes far frae the Tweed.
II.
To Maggy my luve I did tell;
My tears did my paſſion expreſs:
Alas! for I loo'd her owr weil,
And the women loo ſic a man leſs.
Her heart it was frozen and cauld,
Her pride had my ruin decreed;
Therefore I maun wander abroad,
And lay my banes far frae the Tweed.

XLII. BIRKS OF ABERGELDIE.

[145]
I.
BONNIE laſſie will ye go,
Will ye go, will ye go,
Bonnie laſſie will ye go
To the birks of Abergeldie?
Ye ſall get a gown of ſilk,
A gown of ſilk, a gown of ſilk,
Ye ſall get a gown of ſilk,
And coat of callimankie.
II.
Na, kind ſir, I dar nae gang,
I dare nae gang, I dar nae gang,
Na, kind ſir, I dar nae gang;
My minny will be angry.
Sair, ſair, wad ſhe flyte,
Wad ſhe flyte, wad ſhe flyte;
Sair, ſair, wad ſhe flyte;
And ſair wad ſhe ban me.

XLIII. BRAXFIELD BRAES.

[146]
I.
ON Braxfield braes, amang the broom,
How happie hae I been!
When June gard a the meadows blume,
And clad the woods in green.
II.
Owr Gallitudlum to the burn
How mirrie did I rove!
My ſteps by pleaſant Clyde to turn,
Or ſit in Willie's cove.
III.
To catch the menon or the eel
Wi artleſs hook I tried;
Then owr the heuchs and craigs to ſpeel
Wi eager haſte I hied.
IV.
Syne ran the linties neſt to ſee,
Or plaie at penny ſtane.
Ah days of youth how ſweet are ye!
But ye ne'er cum again!

XLIV. LOW DOWN IN THE BROOM.

[147]
I.
MY daddy is a canker'd carle,
He'll na twin wi his geir;
My minny is a ſcalding wife
Hads a the houſe a ſteer.
But let them ſay, or let them do,
It's a ane to me,
For he's low doun in the broom
Waiting for me;
Waiting for me, my love,
Waiting for me,
For he's low doun in the broom
Waiting for me.
II.
My aunty Kate ſits at her wheel,
And ſair ſhe lightlies me;
But weil I ken it's a for ſpite,
For neer a jo has ſhe.
But let them ſay, &c.
[148]III.
My couſin Madge was ſair beguil'd
Wi Johny o the glen;
And ay ſinſyne ſhe cries, Beware
Of falſe deluding men.
But let them ſay, &c.
IV.
Gleed Sandy he came weſt ae night
And ſpier'd when I ſaw Pate;
And ay ſinſyne the neighbours round
They jeer me air and late.
But let them ſay, &c.

XLV.

[149]
I.
COME Annie, let us kiſs our fill,
And never dream of future ill:
Youthheid is Love's haliday,
Let us uſe it whan we may.
II.
See the fields are fill'd wi ſnaw,
The winter-blaſts fou bitter blaw;
In icy chains the ſtreams are tyed:
Tint is a the ſimmer's pride.
III.
We, my luvely laſs, owr ſune,
Whan our laughing ſimmer's done,
Maun the blaſts o Age ſuſtain;
And yield us to Death's icy chain.
IV.
Let us bruik the preſent hour,
Let us pou the fleeting flouir;
Youthheid is Love's haliday,
Let us uſe it whan we may.

XLVI.

[150]
I.
IT fell about the Martinmas time,
And a gay time it was than,
That our gudewife had puddings to mak,
And ſhe boil'd them in the pan.
II.
The wind blew cauld frae eaſt and north,
And blew into the floor;
Quoth our gudeman to our gudewife,
'Get up and bar the door.
III.
"My hand is in my huſſyſkep,
"Goodman, as ye may ſee;
"An it ſhould na be barr'd this hunder year,
"Its neer be barr'd by me."
IV.
They made a paction 'tween them twa,
They made it firm and ſure,
That the firſt word whaever ſpak,
Should riſe and bar the door.
[151]V.
Than by there come twa gentlemen
At twelve o'clock at night,
Whan they can ſee na ither houſe;
And at the door they light.
VI.
"Now whether is this a rich man's houſe,
"Or whether is it a poor?"
But neer a word wad ane o them ſpeak
For barring of the door.
VII.
And firſt they ate the white puddings,
And ſyne they ate the black:
Muckle thought the gudewife to herſell,
Yet neer a word ſhe ſpak.
VIII.
Then ane unto the ither ſaid,
"Here, man, tak ye my knife,
"Do ye tak aff the auld man's beard;
"And I'll kiſs the gudewife.
IX.
'But there's na water in the houſe,
'And what ſhall we do than?
"What ails ye at the pudding-bre [...]
"That boils into the pan?"
[152]X.
O up then ſtarted our gudeman,
An angry man was he;
"Will ye kiſs my wife before my een,
"And ſcald me wi pudding bree?"
XI.
O up then ſtarted our gudewife,
Gied three ſkips on the floor;
"Gudeman you have ſpak the firſt word,
"Get up and bar the door."

XLVII.

[153]
I.
O Saw ye my father, or ſaw ye my mither,
Or ſaw ye my true love John?
I ſaw nae your father, I ſaw nae your mither,
But I ſaw your true love John.
II.
It's now ten at night, and the ſtars gie na light,
And the bells they ring ding dang,
He's met wi ſome delay that cauſes him to ſtay,
But he will be here ere lang.
III.
The ſurly auld carl did naithing but ſnarl,
And Johny's face it grew red,
Yet tho he often ſigh'd he ne'er a word replied,
Till a were aſleep in bed.
IV.
Then up Johny roſe, and to the door he goes,
And gently tirled the pin,
The laſſie taking tent unto the door ſhe went,
And ſhe open'd and lat him in.
[154]V.
And are come at laſt, and do I hold ye faſt,
And is my Johny true?
I have nae time to tell, but ſae lang's I like myſel,
Sae lang ſall I like you.
VI.
Flee up, flee up, my bonny gray cock,
And craw whan it is day;
And your neck ſhall be like the bonny beaten gold,
And your wings of the ſilver-gray.
VII.
The cock prov'd falſe, and untrue he was,
For he crew an hour owr ſoon:
The laſſie thought it day when ſhe ſent her love away,
And it was but a blink of the moon.

XLVIII.

[155]
I.
TO arms! To arms! To arms, my lads!
To arms! To arms! To arms!
Care, that canker'd loon,
Is lurking in the town
To charge us wi ferſe alarms.
II.
To arms! To arms! To arms, my lads!
To quell his hatefou power,
By way of a ſhield,
This bowl we will wield,
The liquor will ſoon gar him ſkour.
III.
Charge, Charge, Charge, Charge, Charge him home, my lads!
Charge him home, Charge him home, ſee he flees!
A glaſs in your hand,
Care never will ſtand,
You may kill him whenever you pleaſe.

XLIX.

[156]
KEEP the country, bonnie laſſie,
Keep the country, keep the country;
Keep the country, bonnie laſſie,
Lads will a gie gowd for ye;
Gowd for ye, bonnie laſſie,
Gowd for ye, gowd for ye;
Keep the country, bonnie laſſie,
Lads will a gie gowd for ye.

L.

[157]
I.
IN ſimmer I maw'd my meadow,
In harveſt I ſhure my corn;
In winter I married a widow,
I wiſh I was free the morn.
II.
Blink over the burn ſweet Beety,
Blink over the burn to me:
O my luvely laſs it's a pity
But I was a widow for thee!

LI.

[158]
I.
THERE gaed a fair maiden out to walk
In a ſweet morning of Júly;
She was gay, bonnie, coy, and young,
But met wi a lad unruly.
II.
He took her by the lilly-white hand,
And ſwore he loo'd her truly;
The man forgot but the maid thought on;
O it was in the month of Júly!

LII.

[159]
MY wife's a wanton wee thing,
My wife's a wanton wee thing,
My wife's a wanton wee thing,
She'll never be guided by me.
She play'd the loon e'er ſhe was married,
She play'd the loon e'er ſhe was married,
She play'd the loon e'er ſhe was married,
She'll do't again e'er ſhe die.

Appendix A NOTES.

[161]

Appendix A.1 PEBLIS TO THE PLAY.

FOR this very curious ſpecimen of ancient Scotiſh poetry, the reader has already been informed that the editor was indebted to Dr. Percy; who to the copy in his hand-writing, from which this is printed, annexed the following account of the original MS.

‘This old ſong is preſerved in the Pepyſian Library, at Magdalen College in Cambridge, in p. 155, of an ancient MS. collection of old Scotiſh ſongs and poems in folio; which MS. had, I believe, been a preſent to the founder of that library, (old Mr. Pepys) from the duke of Lauderdale, miniſter to king Charles II. It had originally belonged to that duke's [162]anceſtor, Sir Richard Maitland, knt. who lived in the reign of queen Mary, and her ſon king James VI; and contains a great number of ſongs and poems by the ſaid Sir Richard Maitland, which are of high poetical merit, and throw moreover great light on the incidents and manners of that age. It is remarkable that this old bard, Sir Richard Maitland, was blind (like Homer and Milton), at leaſt at the time when ſome of his poems were written; as he expreſsly mentions it, and conſoles himſelf very poetically under the loſs of his ſight, and very advanced age, in one of his pieces intitled, The blind Baron's Comfort. Beſides his own pieces, the MS. contains a ſelection of the pieces of other bards collected by him: ſome of them (as this of James I.) no where elſe preſerved.’

‘The foregoing poem is expreſsly quoted for king James I's compoſition, and poſtiively aſcribed to that monarch, in John Major's Scotiſh Hiſtory, 4to. See his account of king James I. towards the end, where Major ſeems to hint that a parody had been made of this ſong of the king's, to ridicule him for ſome low intrigue in which the king had been detected, &c. I have not the book by me, but with this clue the meaning of that very obſcure paſſage, I think, may be decyphered.’

[163] ‘This ſong written by king James I. is a proof that Chriſt's Kirk on the Green, was written by his deſcendant James V. being evidently a more modern compoſition.’

The paſſage of Major, mentioned above, is as follows. ‘Artificloſum libellum de Regina dum captivus erat compoſuit, antequam eam in conjugem duceret: et aliam artificioſam cantilenam ejuſdem, Yas ſen, &c. et jucundum artificioſumque illum cantum, At Beltayn, &c. quam alij de Dalkeith et Gargeil mutare ſtuduerunt, quia in arce aut camera clauſus ſervabatur, in qua mulier cum matre habitabat.’

Dr. P. after writing his own remarks, having communicated this poem to ſeveral of his learned friends, they interſperſed theirs; and I ſhall here give their obſervations, and a few of my own, upon this ſingular production, after a few preliminary notices that may be neceſſary to the Engliſh reader.

James I, king of Scotland, and the undoubted author of the production now under view, was born in the year 1393, being the ſon of Robert III. His father to ſcreen him from the ambitious deſigns of his uncle, the duke of Albany, ſent him to France, but he was unfortunately taken at ſea; and ungenerouſly detained in captivity by the kings of England, though during a truce between the two realms, for nineteen [164]years: nor was he releaſed without payment of an immenſe ranſom. Upon his aſſuming the government on the death of his father, in 1424, he enacted many wiſe laws, and acquired the eſteem and affection of his people; but attempting to reform the feudal ſyſtem of his kingdom, and in conſequence to curb the power of his nobles, he was by ſome of the chief of them murdered in his bed in 1437, being the 44th year of his age, and 13th of his reign.

Ballenden, in his tranſlation of Hector Boece's Hiſtory, gives this character of him: ‘He was weil learnit to fecht with the ſword, to juſt, to turnay, to werſyl, to ſyng and dance; was an expert mediciner, richt crafty in playing baith of lute and harp, and ſindry othir inſtrumentis of muſik. He was expert in gramar, oratry, and poetry; and maid ſo flowand and ſententious verſis apperit well he was ane natural and borne poete.’

Mr. Walpole, in his Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors, gives us this liſt of the works of James I.

A panegyric on his queen.

Scotch Sonnets; one book. One of them, a lamentation while in England, is in MS, in the Bodleian Library, and praiſes Gower and Chaucer exceedingly.

Rythmos Latinos, lib. I.

On Muſic.

[165]He is ſaid to have written ſome poetical pieces when in England, which is very likely; but it appears to me, that Peblis to the Play could not be one of theſe. He being not more than twelve years of age when he left Scotland, it is not to be ſuppoſed that he was ſo familiar with the manners of his countrymen, as to paint them ſo minutely as is done in this poem.

PEBLIS TO THE PLAY.] Peblis or Peebles is the county-town of Twedale. Ettrick foreſt is not far diſtant from it. That foreſt was a royal chace: hence the kings of Scotland frequently reſided there. Darnley was there in the winter before his death. H.

Play appears to me here to mean an annual feſtival: ſome of which are ſtill celebrated in different villages in England. The day is ſtill obſerved, though the occaſion is loſt in remote antiquity. ED.

Stanza 1. Beltane.] A great Celtic feſtival on the firſt or ſecond of May. See more of it in Macpherſon's Diſſertations. H.

Ib. found.] Perhaps from the A. S. [...] tendere. (to go) [...] aliquo tendens. Vide Lye, Lexicon Anglo-Saxon. P.

The conſtruction of this paſſage, which is miſerably confuſed, owing ſolely as would appear to the luſt of alliteration, ſeems to me this; They found the ſolace (of the ſinging and muſic) ſooth to ſay, by firth and by foreſt furth, (or around.) ED.

[166]St. 2. Garray.] Perhaps the ſame as deray: vulgar words for jollity. P.

Gariſh is uſed in England for ſhewy, vain pomp. H.

Garray perhaps is prattle, from Anglo-Saxon [...], Garrire. P.

Ib. Glew.] In Engliſh Glee, Mirth. Anglo-Saxon [...] and [...]. P.

Ib. Blew.] That is blue, quite gloomy, out of humour. P.

To look blue is ſtill a phraſe implying to ſeem melancholy. ED.

St. 3. Gend.] Gent is an epithet often applied to ladies by Spenſer. It probably means delicate, or perhaps ſlender; or it may be an abbreviation of gentle. J.B.

The annotator has not obſerved that none of his interpretations has any connexion with the context. The girl was ſo guckit (fooliſh) and ſo gend, that ſhe would not eat. Gend muſt imply peeviſh. ED.

St. 4. Amang yon marchands my dudds do?] Dr. P. reads, Amang yon marchands, (my dudds do) and interprets the latter clauſe, My clothes or dudds being done. I think the line only required the point of interrogation which I have lent it, to be perfectly intelligible: What! ſays the country girl, My ragged cloths do amang [167]you fine folk? An expreſſion quite natural, and in character. The whole ſtanza ſtrongly paints the affectation of a ruſtic beauty and coquette. Alas! ſays ſhe, am I not clearly ruined? I dare not go to the ſhow I am ſo ſunburnt! (though at the ſame time ſhe was too ſenſible of the luſtre of her complexion;) Will my ragged clothes do among you folks dreſt as fine as foreign merchants? (though at this time ſhe was dreſt out in all her ſinery:) Marry I ſhall only try to ſtand afar off and look at them, as if I was at home in my homely habit; (though at the ſame time ſhe meaned not to go as a gazer, but as knowing herſelf an object that would draw univerſal admiration.) ED.

St. 5. Hop, Hop; Calyé, and Cardronow.] Cailyé is the name of a place in the neighbourhood of Peebles, ſo alſo is Cardrona. H.

Hop or Hope is the ſame. If I remember right I have ſeen in print a metrical charter of a Scotiſh king, either of Hop by itſelf, or with other lands, for ſervice of a braid arrow, whenever he came to hunt in Yarrow. ED.

Ib. Rohumbelow.] is the burden of an old Scotiſh tune.

It was the burden or chorus of a triumphal ſong made by the Scots on occaſion of the victory gained at Bannock-burn. P.

[168]One ſtanza of this ſong is preſerved by Abercromby; and is, if my memory ſerves me,

What weened the king of England
So ſoon to win all Scotland?
With a bey and a how rohumbelow.
ED.

St. 6. birkin hat.] A hat made of birch interwoven like ſtraw hats, worn by ruſticks. P.

Ib. There fore ane man to the holt.] This ſeems to be a piece of an old ſong. P.

St. 7. How at thai wald diſpone thame.] How at, that is, How that; a common Northern defect. So in the Northumberland Houſhold Book, paſſim. As ye wald eſchew that at may enſue, for 'that which may follow.' P.

St. 8. Malkin.] The Scots cant word for a hare, and ſomething of Eſau's beauty. ANONYM.

St. 10. Oly-prance.] is a word ſtill uſed by the vulgar in Northamptonſhire, for rude ruſtic jollity. Oly prancing doings are ſtrange, diſorderly, inordinate ſportings formerly uſed in Pilgrimages. P.

Ib. Adone with ane miſchance!] Have done with a plague or miſchief to you! P.

Ib. (He hydis tyt.] Probably, He ſpreads the table quickly expeditiouſly. P.

I do not approve of this explanation of the very ingenious annotator, as the ſpeaker, in the next line, [169]ſave one, deſires the landlady to ſee that the napré, or table cloth be white, which implies he had not got it to ſpread. I have no doubt but we ſhould read he bydis tyt without a parentheſis. He bids dreſs out the table quickly. ED.

St. 11. At ye aucht.] That is, that ye owe. P.

St. 12. broggit ſtauf.] is a ſtump of a ſmall tree, ſtript of the bark, and ſtuck into the ground, with the ends of the branches left projecting out a little way; in order to hang cups, &c. on for ready uſe. P.

It is, I think, a ſtaff with a ſpike in it, of the nature of a goad, but ſhorter. H.

St. 15.] Two lines of this ſtanza appear to be loſt, which ſeems to throw a little embarraſſment over this part of the narration. ED.

St. 18. I wait weil qubat it was.] The word nocht has been omitted by the tranſcriber. H.

I am rather led to think the uſual phraſe of this ballad, quod he, is here omitted, I wait weil quhat it was, quod he. The ſenſe of this confuſed ſtanza appears to be 'you have bedaubed me; fy for ſhame!' ſays the wife, ſie how you have dreſt me. How fell you, Sir? (Sir is often uſed in Scotland for Sirrah. If you ſay Sir to a peaſant, he will ſometimes retort Sir rogue? or Sir gentleman?) He anſwers, As my girden brak—She interrupts him with What meikle devil may leſt ye, for I think it ought to be ye, not me. Leſt ſeems to be equivalent with leze [170]to hurt, as leze majeſty, high treaſon. What the devil hurt you? He anſwers, I know well it was my own gray mare that threw me. As (Or ſeems an error of the old tranſcriber, indeed in old writ the words will be quite ſimilar,) if I was faint, and lay doun to reſt me. If this is not the ſenſe, I leave the paſſage to future commentators; for when Chriſts Kirk on the Green boaſts of ſuch learned and reſpectable interpreters as Biſhop Gibſon, and Mr. Calendar, it is not to be ſuppoſed that a poem of ſuch ſuperior antiquity and curioſity as this is, will want illuſtration. ED.

St. 19. nokks.] The nich in the ends of the bows in which the bowſtring is inſerted. P.

St. 20. Schamon's dance.] That is the Showman's dance. P.

I take this to be an Iriſh word. H.

Schamon I interpret, with Dr. P. Show-man; but think Show-man here means player, or actor: ſuch a dance as was danced on the ſtage.

In a fragment of a ballad, publiſhed in a collection, Edinburgh, 1776, 2 vols. 8vo. in the deſcription of a fairy is this line, ‘His legs were ſcant a ſhathmonts length.’

The words ſeem the ſame; perhaps ſhathmont, or ſchamon, is, after all, the old Scotiſh word for a cricket, [171]or ſome other nimble inſect; Schamons dance will in that caſe denote a quick reel. ED.

St. 21. Than all the wenſchis Te he thai playit.] This bears a great reſemblance to this line of a ſpirited modern poem,

And all the maids of honour cry Te He.
Heroic Epiſtle to Sir W. Chambers, 14th edit.
ED.

St. Tiſhe. 22.] Iſabel: pronounced Tibby. H.

Ib. Seckell.] Perhaps ſickle; but I doubt if any hay was ever made in Scotland in the beginning of May. ED.

Perhaps from Sacellum a chapel. ANONYM.

I ſuppoſe we ſhould read heckel; ſee Gloſſary. ED.

Ib. As her taill brynt.] This may innocently mean, She ran as if the tail of her gown was in flames. ED.

St. 25. He fippillit lyke an faderles fole.] He chirped like a featherleſs fowl; like a young unfledged callow bird. P.

He cried like a child that has loſt its father. ANON.

Ib. ſayis the ſang.] This proves that love ſongs were current, and committed to memory in Scotland before the year 1430, about which time this poem muſt have been written; and, if we may judge from this line, of [172]no mean merit, it being as ſmooth as could be expected at this day. ED.

St. 26. Settand ſchaftis.] I ſuſpect the word ſchaftis has been brought from the end of the third line to this. The ſun ſettand ſchaftis, if it means throwing darts, and no other interpretation can be thought of, may indeed be that kind of baſtard ſenſe that is not uncommon in old verſifiers of the middling claſs, but I believe James I. would not have written it. The ſun was ſett, and—Or, The ſun was ſetting, (a word wanting,) would appear the proper way of reading this line. ED.

Settand is the old termination of the participle of the preſent tenſe, now altered to ſetting. P.

Ib. Had thair bein mair, &c.] This dry joke of the king's calls to remembrance a ſimilar ſtroke in the Morgante Maggiore of Pulci, where a hermit, in the middle of an intereſting ſtory, breaks off by telling the knight, his gueſt and auditor, that his candle is done, that he has no more, and muſt of conſequence go to bed. ED.

Appendix A.2 II. CHRISTS KIRK ON THE GREEN.

[173]

THIS edition is given from the laſt, intitled, Two ancient Scottiſh poems; The Gaberlunzie Man, and Chriſts Kirk on the Green; with Notes and Obſervations by John Calendar, Eſq. of Craigforth, Edinburgh, 1782, 8vo. Biſhop Gibſon's edition of this ballad, printed at Oxford 1691, from Bannatyne's MS. is the earlieſt edition. I am ſorry, however, to ſee Mr. Calendar quoting Ramſay's edition for ſome parts of his text, as there certainly never was a more ignorant or raſh tranſcriber of ancient Scotiſh poetry than Allan Ramſay. He ſeems to have conſidered it as very much his property; and to have exerciſed his own profeſſion upon it by ſhaving, curling, and powdering it at his will and pleaſure. Mr. Calendar might have given us a tranſcript of this piece from Bannatyne's MS. in the Advocate's library at Edinburgh; in which Dr. Percy has obſerved in a MS. note, Chriſts Kirk on the Green is very different from what it was when filled with the innovations of Allan Ramſay. This moſt ingenious and faithful of all editors of ancient Engliſh poetry has likewiſe the following notice prefixed to his MS. copy of Peblis to the [174]Play.

In Maitland's MS. the old ſong of Chriſts Kirk differs from all the copies I have ſeen in the concluſion of all the ſtanzas; each of which ends with this line, by way of burden or chorus,
At Chriſtis Kirk on the greene.
always preceded by ſome ſhort line, as in this firſt ſtanza;
Was never in Scotland hard nor ſene
Sic danſing nor deray,
Nother in Falkland on the grene,
Nor Peblis to the Play,
As was of Wowairis, as I wene,
At Chryſtis kirk on ane day,
Thair come our Kittie, weſching clene,
In hir new kirtil of gray,
full gay
At Chryſtis kirk on the grene.
which I cannot help thinking is more genuine than that in the Evergreen, and the other editions, as it ſo exactly reſembles the concluſions of the ſtanzas in Peblis to the Play.

In conſequence of theſe well founded remarks, I have preſerved the burthen in this edition throughout.

As the foregoing piece was undoubtedly written by James I. of Scotland, ſo we have good authority, thongh not ſo infallible, to aſcribe this to James V. a [175]prince who delighted in low manners and adventures ſo much, as often to diſguiſe himſelf in order to enjoy them. He reigned from 1514 to 1542. A moſt curious account of his death may be found in Knox's Hiſtory of the Reformation of Religion in Scotland. He was the Zerbino of Arioſto; and is celebrated by Ronſard in as good verſes as ever came from his pen.

The notes of Mr. Calendar are fraught with that knowledge of Northern literature for which he is ſo juſtly celebrated; and, though my opinion can add nothing to the general ſuffrage, I cannot help ſaying that, for univerſal ſcience of Northern Antiquities and languages, Mr. Calendar may juſtly be regarded as the moſt learned man in Europe. I am ſorry to ſee he takes no notice of a work he publiſhed a ſpecimen of ſome time ago in his preſent publication; which leads me to fear he has dropt that grand deſign. This was his Bibliotheca Septentrionalis in the manner of D'Herbelot's Bibliotheque Orientale, containing a complete ſyſtem of Northern ſcience of every kind to be comprized in two folio volumes. An amazing work! and which ought to be made a national concern. In his preſent volume he promiſes a Gloſſary of the ancient Scotiſh language; but would he return to the large deſign above praiſed, the fame would be infinitely greater, without much greater labour. Words are for [176]pedants, but facts are for all. There is, perhaps, no branch of learning more painful, and leſs glorious, than etymology. To Mr. Calendar the gloſſary to this volume is much obliged. They who would ſee what vaſt intelligence may be beſtowed in elucidating Chriſts Kirk on the green, and the following piece called The Gaberlunyie man, are referred to his work.

I muſt remind the reader of a curious circumſtance, which is, that Sappho, the celebrated poeteſs, wrote a ballad (if I may ſo call it) on a Country Wedding, which is mentioned by Demetrius Phalereus; and which, I doubt not, reſembled this. He obſerves, ſhe made the Ruſtic Bridegroom and the Porter ſpeak in mean and vulgar language, though ſhe was herſelf happy in the moſt exquiſite expreſſion, where it was to be uſed with propriety. See Dem. Phal. §. 166 & ſeq.

Chriſts Kirk on the green.] The kirk-town of Leſlie, near Falkland in Fife.

St. 1. Falkland on the green.] Dr. Percy obſerves, there poſſibly once exiſted a Scotiſh ſong of this title. Could this be recovered, he adds, the ſubject would be complete.

St. 3. As ony roſe, &c.] The alliteration in the firſt of theſe two lines is happy, in the ſecond unfortunate and harſh; lire ſignifying fleſh, nor ſkin.

[177]St. 5. morreis dance.] is ſo called from the Moors its inventors; as they were of the fiddle or violin. Pulci mentions it as uſed in the days of Charles the Great, but, I ſuppoſe on no authority:

Avea Cerbante fatti torneamenti,
E gioſtre, e feſte, e balli alla moreſea.
Morgante Mag. Canto IV. ſt. 92.

Curious notices with regard to it may be ſeen in the laſt edition of Shakſpere.

St. 13. Fy! he had ſlain a prieſt.] That is, committed the moſt atrocious of murders. To kill a prieſt was thought to unite ſacriledge and murder. Cardinal Beaton was ſenſible of this when he cried, upon receiving his mortal wound, I am a prieſt, I am a prieſt, fy, fy, all is gone. See Knox.

Appendix A.3 III. THE GABERLUNYIE MAN

is likewiſe aſcribed to James V, but I am afraid upon no authority. If it is his, the ſtanza flows amazingly ſmooth indeed! From ſtanza II. it would appear the writer wiſhed to have it aſcribed to James I; the firſt lines of that ſtanza bearing an analogy to his impriſonment in England. The nature and naiveté of this piece are exquiſite.

[178]St. I. for your courteſie.] That is, by your courteſie.] an adjuration.

Ib. ayont the ingle.] That is, beyond the fire; the warmeſt place in the room. In farm houſes of Scotland, to this day the fire-place often ſtands in the midſt of the kitchen, ſo that the family can all ſit around. Ingle is a word appropriated to familiar fire in Scotland; to call ſuch fire, is thought ominous among the country people.

Appendix A.4 IV. THE JOLLIE BEGGAR

is likewiſe aſcribed to James V. I believe upon no authority, but a blunder of Mr. Walpole's, who confounds this with the former. The adventure may be the king's, but I ſuſpect the deſcription is another's. This piece is no leſs ſpirited than the former. The tranſitions to oppoſite paſſions in both are deſcribed in ſuch a rapid and eaſy manner, as would have done credit to the firſt comic writer.

Appendix A.5 V. THE VISION.

[179]

In a letter which the Editor received ſome time ago from the author of the Minſtrel, the following remarks are made upon this poem; which, being of ſo good a judge, will, he doubts not, have great weight with the reader.

‘The beſt Scotiſh poem of modern times that I have ſeen (for, though the title pretends that it was written four hundred years ago, I have reaſon to think that it was produced in this century) is called The Viſion. I am inclined to think that the Author of it, whoever he was, muſt have read Arbuthnot's Hiſtory of John Bull. But there are noble images in it, and a harmony of verſification ſuperior to every thing I have ſeen in the kind. I ſuſpect that is the work of ſome friend of the family of Stuart, and that it muſt have been compoſed about the year 1715.’

St. 6. Saya Fere.] Fere, for mate, is a common word in ancient Scotiſh. The Scotiſh writers even carried it into England with them, as we may obſerve in the Tragedies of William Alexander of Menſtrie, London, 1607.

St. 13.] It is with regret I obſerve, that the latter part of this ſtanza is ſtill applicable. Many Scotiſh [180]peers have not ſufficient ſpirit to ſlight Engliſh gold, but ignobly to this hour, barter the liberties of their country, and their own independence for it. May execration purſue their memories! Scotland is, perhaps, at this day, the only country in Europe to which the philoſophical light of liberty has not penetrated. To oppoſe a fooliſh or corrupt miniſter is, with my countrymen, to oppoſe legal power. One of their moſt celebrated writers is juſt now engaged, at a rated ſalary, to defend the cauſe of corruption.—Not all his talents will ſave him from the contempt of more enlightened poſterity.

St. 19.] This ludicrous deſcription of the drunken gods is perfectly riſible. Nothing in Midas or The Golden Pippin can exceed it. The ſeveral attributes are finely preſerved.

St. 25.] Bruce is here uſed for him the Jacobites eſteem legal heir of the crown. The principles of this poem are utterly deteſted by the Editor, as they are by every friend of mankind: he only gives it as a piece of fine writing in its way. The unhappy attachment to the family of Stuart, has waſted the fineſt eſtates, and ſhed ſome of the beſt blood in Scotland. It now exiſts only in the breaſts of old women.

The real Bruce (Robert I.) was a hero, if ever any ſuch exiſted. The fineſt epic poem in the world might [181]be founded on his ſtory. The famous Hiſtory of the valiant Bruce in heroic verſe, by Patrick Gordon, gentleman. Dort, 1615; reprinted at Edinburgh, 1718, is the beſt attempt in this way. Some of the ſtanzas are worthy of Spenſer.

Appendix A.6 VI. ANE HIS AWN ENEMY.

This and the eleven following are given from Lord Hales's very accurate publication of Ancient Scotiſh poems from Bannatyne's MS. dated 1568. Edin. 1770.

Appendix A.7 IX. ROBENE AND MAKYNE

was written by Robert Henryſon, Schoolmaſter at Dunfermline about 1560. It ought to have been obſerved before that VI, VII, VIII, are written by the celebrated William Dunbar, the author of the Goldin Terge, and chief of the ancient Scotiſh poets.

St. 3. an A, B, C.] That is a ſhort inſtruction, a catechiſm, not a whimſical alphabet of vertues, as I believe we meet with in Don Quixotte: A. Amorous, B. Benevolent, &c.

[182]St. 4. Thay,] That is people, folks would blame us.

St. 5. Tak tent.] Take beed. This Scotiſh phraſe, as I am told, being uſed to an Engliſh lady, his patient, by a Scotiſh phyſician, occaſioned a miſtake almoſt fatal. The Phyſician always repeated to her, Above a things, Ma'am, take tent. She underſtood he meant ſhe ſhould take tent-wine after every meal; and ſuffered much by following the ſuppoſed preſcription.

Appendix A.8 X. THE WOWING OF JOK AND JENNY.

This piece, as Lord Hales obſerves, exhibits a ludicrous picture of the curta ſupellex of the Scotiſh commons in the 16th century. Every country muſt be poor till agriculture or commerce enrich it. That the firſt of theſe was little cultivated in Scotland till within theſe late years is well known. The following epiſtle of James VI. to Queen Elizabeth of England, is a curious proof of the poverty of the grain in Scotland in former times. It is copied from a MS. in the Editor's poſſeſſion.

‘Richt excellent, Richt heich, and michtie princeſſe, our deareſt ſuſter, and couſing, in our hartieſt maner we recommend us unto you. The great, and [183]almaiſt univerſall, failyie of the peis and beanis within our realme, thir tua yeiris begane, occaſioned be the continuation of maiſt tempeſtuous, and unſeaſonable wether, fallin out with us baith in the ſawing and reaping tymes, greatlie to the intereſt * of the haile pure anis of our land, comfortit cheefly be that ſort of graine, has moved us to requeiſt your favor to the relief and help of this neceſſitie, be ſpairing ſum part of the great ſtore of the ſaid graine within your realme; and granting therefore licence to ſum truſtie marchand, as we ar to employ that erand, to by, carie, and tranſport fyftie thouſand quarteris thereof quhair maiſt comodiouſlie thay may be had to the ſaid uſe. Quhairin ye ſall baith greatlie benefite the puir anis of our realme, and ſall alwyis find us lyke affected to help your ſubjectis diſtreſſed with ony ſic neceſſitie, and having the like requeiſt from you. And thus excellent, richt heich, and michtie princes, our deareſt ſuſter, &c. From halryrudhous, the xx day of December, 1595. Your maiſt loving and affectioned brother, and couſing, James R.’

Indeed at this day peaſe bannocks or cakes made of peaſe, are the principal bread of the Scotiſh peaſantry.

Among the above letters of James VI. in MS. is one to the Dutch about their detention of the Earl of Errol, and [184]another relating to a ſhip belonging to Adrian Wauchton the king's painter.

St. 3. Ane fute-braid-ſawin.] That is a piece of cultivated ground of a foot ſquare. A joke like that of the ancient writer who compared a ſmall eſtate to a Spartan epiſtle.

Appendix A.9 XI. ANE LITTIL INTERLUD, &c.

Lord Hales obſerves on this ſingular piece, that ‘ſome traces of theatrical compoſition may be diſcovered in Scotland during the 16th century. Sir David Lindſay wrote ſeveral interludes.’

By the way, Sir David Lindſay was once a moſt popular author in Scotland, witneſs the proverb, Its no in Davie Lindſay; meaning any thing out of the common road. He was in great celebrity in his own life time, about the period of the reformation. A ſtory is told of an honeſt farmer, who being on his death-bed, a pious neighbour brought an Engliſh bible to read to him. The dying man had to that day never known of ſuch a book, and, upon hearing ſome of its miraculous contents, cried out, Hoot awa! Bring me Davie Lindſay. That's all a made ſtory.

[185]St. 4, Fyn Mackowl.] 'Better known in England, ſays Lord Hales, ‘under the moderniſed name of Fingal.—Concerning this perſonage, whether real or imaginary, there are innumerable legends in the highlands of Scotland. He is more celebrated as a giant, then as the hero of Oſſian.’

On the next line, 'That dang the devill, &c.' his lordſhip obſerves, ‘This may allude to the conteſt with the ſpirit of Loda. Here let me obſerve, that to doubt Fingal and Temora being ancient compoſitions, is indeed, a refinement in ſcepticiſm. They contain various alluſions to the manners of other times, which have eſcaped the obſervation of Mr. Macpherſon himſelf.’

The Editor has been called a zealous defender of the antiquity of Oſſian by thoſe who had not underſtanding enough to perceive the ſcope of his diſſertation on the Oral Tradition of Poetry; which only attempts to prove that poetry may be a long time preſerved by tradition; without the ſlighteſt reference to Oſſian's antiquity, but from probability only of preſervation; which the candid reader will confeſs to be no argument. Theſe people will ſtare when he aſſures them that, ſo far from being an advocate of Oſſian's antiquity, he does not regard twenty pages in the whole work as ancient, and has always expreſſed that notion. [186]Nay be muſt add that, if not two lines in the poems of Oſſian are ancient, that circumſtance would, if infallibly proved, give an infinite addition in his opinion, to their ſuperlative merit. So little has he of the ſpirit of an antiquary.

St. 6.] Three ſtanzas are here omitted, as full of filth, without humour to palliate it.

Appendix A.10 XII. ANE BALLAT OF EVILL WYFFIS

is a ſingular mixture of religion and ſatire; as is XIII. of religion and good fellowſhip. Such abſurd mingling of heterogeneous ideas is common in the poets of that period. Witneſs the Morgante Maggiore of Pulci, where every canto is begun with an addreſs to ſome perſon of the Trinity, or to the Virgin Mary, and a tranſition immediately made to the wild adventures of the Paladins.

Appendix A.11 XVII. RONDEL OF LUVE.

St. 2. Ane puir treſour without meſſour.] That is, a poor treaſure of no meaſure, or account: not a pure treaſure without meaſure, or bounds.

[187]St. 3. To rege with gude adwyiſs.] ſeems a tranſlation of Inſanire docet certa ratione modoque.

Appendix A.12 XVIII. THE WIFE OF AUCHTERMUCHTY.

This ballad has always been very popular in Scotland; and deſerves it, as it is fraught with genuine nature and humour. In Bannatyne's MS. it is inſerted in a modern hand.

Appendix A.13 XIX.

This is given from A ſpecimen of a book intituled, Ane compendious book of godly and ſpiritual ſangs, &c. Edin. 1765.

Appendix A.14 XX. LUSTIE MAYE

is given from a Collection, Edin. 1776, in which is this note: The firſt verſe of this ſong is cited in a book [188] ‘intitled, The Complaint of Scotland, &c. printed at Saint Andrews, 1548; whereby it appears to have been a current old Scots ſong in the reign of James V.’ See the prefatory Diſſertation.

This copy is evidently modernized.

Appendix A.15 XXIV.

is one of Ramſay's ſongs, and one of his beſt; but the woeful mixture of heathen mythology quite disfigures it. Pallas, Jove, &c. never come from mortal mouth in common life, except within the walls of Bedlam; but they are a great reſource to a writer who wants ideas. It may be called the Phoebus of poetry. The French, I think, uſe le phebus leſs properly for hombaſt.

Appendix A.16 XXVI.

This and XXIX, XXXI, XXXIV, XXXVI, XL, XLIII, XLV, XLVIII, have not appeared in print.

Appendix A.17 XXX. DEIL TAK THE WARS, &c.

[189]

This favourite air is in D'Urfey's Pills to purge Melancholy, London, 1719, ſix vols. 12mo. It is commonly thought much more modern.

Appendix A.18 XXXIII.

In the third ſtanza of this pretty ſong, the reader will obſerve imitations of Tibullus and Parnell.

Appendix A.19 XXXIV. BOTHWELL BANK.

‘So fell it out of late years, that an Engliſh gentleman travelling in Paleſtine, not far from Jeruſalem, as he paſſed through a country town, he heard by chance a woman ſitting at her door, dandling her child, to ſing Bothwel bank thou blumeſt fair. The gentleman hereat exceedingly wondered, and forthwith [190]in Engliſh ſaluted the woman, who joyfully anſwered him; and ſaid ſhe was right glad there to ſee a gentleman of our iſle: and told him that ſhe was a Scotiſh woman, and came firſt from Scotland to Venice, and from Venice thither, where her fortune was to be the wife of an officer under the Turk; who being at that inſtant abſent, and very ſoon to return, ſhe intreated the gentleman to ſtay there untill his return. The which he did; and ſhe, for country-ſake, to ſhew herſelf the more kind and bountiful unto him, told her huſband at his home-coming, that the gentleman was her kinſman; whereupon her huſband entertained him very kindly; and at his departure gave him divers things of good value.’ Verſiegan, in his Reſtitution of decayed Intelligence. Antwerp, 1605. Chap. Of the ſirnames of our ancient families.

Appendix A.20 XXXV.

This was written by the celebrated Marquis of Montroſe; and ſhows that he thought there was a neceſſity for diſplaying his ſuperſtitious loyalty, even in a ſong. A drawling ſecond part, and one ſtanza of this are omitted.

[191]This nobleman, who was certainly a great warrior, and is eſteemed a hero by the defenders of Charles I. ‘was diverſe yeires very zealous for the covenant, and at the firſt time that the Engliſh came down to the kirks, when the Scots army lay at Dunſlaw, the lot of his regiment was firſt to croſs Tweed, whilk he did himſelf, in the midſt of the winter, boots and all. Yet thereafter, at the ſubſcryving of the league and covenant, finding that General Leſly was preferred to him, he changed his mind, and betook himſelf to the king's party.’ Scot of Scotstarvet's Staggering State of the Scottiſh Stateſmen, MS. 1662. Heroes are mighty cheap baubles in the eyes of people of reflection and knowledge of mankind.

There is a curious account of his condemnation, &c. in a MS. in the Editor's poſſeſſion, intitled, A Letter of the proceedings of the parliament (of Scotland) Anno 1650, written from Edr. May 20, an. 1650, by Mr. Thomas Winzat, to his brother George Winzat, 4to.

Appendix A.21 XXXIX.

This ſweet air was written by the late Dr. Auſtin of Edinburgh, upon a lady's marriage with one of the dukes of Scotland, after ſhe had given him much encouragement in his addreſſes to her.

Appendix A.22 XL.

[192]

Blackford hill is one of the romantic environs of Edinburgh, that moſt romantic of all cities in ſituation.

Appendix A.23 XLVII.

This excellent ſong is already popular in England. The author of the words, and of the air, are, I believe, both unknown, though they are both of ſuperlative beauty.

Appendix A.24 XLIX.

This fine little air is in the ſtyle of what the French call a rondelet: and in none of their rondelets is the return of the words better managed.

Appendix B GLOSSARY TO THE SECOND VOLUME.

[193]

*⁎* Any words not in this will be found in the Gloſſary to the Firſt Volume.

A
  • Abaiſt, abaſhed.
  • Allhaill, all and whole.
  • Ahint, behind.
  • Akerbraid, breadth of an acre.
  • An, if.
  • Almry, cupboard.
  • Ark, large cheſt for keeping meal.
  • Aſe, aſhes.
  • Aucht, poſſeſſion.
  • Bales, woes.
  • Ban, curſe.
  • Bargane, ſquabble.
  • Barkit, tanned.
  • Bartane, Bretagne.
  • Baity bummil, effeminate fellow.
  • Barla fummil, a parley.
  • Bedoun, down.
  • Belomy, bel-ami, Fr. boon companion.
  • Beft, beat.
  • Beit, increaſe.
  • Beirt, fought with noiſe.
  • Biel, bield, ſhelter.
  • Birk, birch.
  • Birneiſt, burniſhed.
  • Blaſnit ledder, tanned leather.
  • Bledoch, buttermilk.
  • Bleiſit, kindled.
  • Bokkit, guſhed.
  • [194]Bowdin, ſwelled.
  • Boddin, dreſt.
  • Bobit up wi bends, came up with many bows.
  • Bolt, arrow.
  • Bougars, afters.
  • Branewod, mad.
  • Brais, embrace.
  • Brankit, pranced.
  • Brangled, ſhook.
  • Bree, broth.
  • Brechame, the collar of a work horſe.
  • Browdin, embroidered, Gibſon: rather ſteeped.
  • Buchts, ſheepfolds.
  • Buff, blow.
  • Buft, ſounded dully.
  • Burde, table.
  • Burneiſt, burniſhed.
  • Buſchment, ambuſh.
  • But the houſe, the outer apartment. ben, the inner.
C
  • Cadgear, a retailer of fiſh, eggs, &c.
  • Cadgily, jovially.
  • Cankered, peeviſh.
  • Cant, merry.
  • Carle, fellow.
  • Chafts, chops.
  • Chat him, look to himſelf.
  • Chier, cut ſheer.
  • Cleiked, catched.
  • Clok, beetle.
  • Clokkis, cluks of a hen, a proverbial ſaying. See Ch. Kirk.
  • Coig, a pail.
  • Corby, a crow.
  • Cramaſie, crimſon.
  • Craig, neck.
  • Creils, panniers.
  • Crous, a contraction of courageous.
  • Crynit, dwindled.
  • Curches, couvrechefs. Fr. Coverings for the head.
  • Culroun, baſe.
  • Counterfittet Franſs, danced like a Frenchman.
  • Curphour, curfeu.
D
  • Daddy, papa.
  • Dails, deals, parties.
  • Dame, mother.
  • Deid, death.
  • Deir, diſmay.
  • Deray, jollity.
  • Dern, ſecret.
  • Dewyiſs, device.
  • Dill, deal, ſhare.
  • Ding, beat.
  • Disjune, Fr. breakfaſt.
  • Dow, dove.
  • Dring, covetous perſon.
  • Droichis, dwarfs.
  • [195]Drugged, pulled.
  • Dudds, rags.
  • Dunt, blow,
  • Duſht, fell ſuddenly.
  • Dulce amene, a quaint phraſe from ſome Italian poet, ſweet ſweetneſs.
E
  • Effeired, belonged.
  • Ellwand, an ell meaſure.
  • Eriche, Erſe, Galic.
F
  • Faſh, to take care, be anxious.
  • Fary, tumult: fairies.
  • Farlyis, wonders.
  • Feckleſs, feeble.
  • Feck, faith!
  • Feir, feature.
  • Fetteritlok, ſetterlock.
  • Fidder, 128 cwt.
  • Fie, cattle.
  • Fire flauchts, thunder bolts.
  • Flane, arrow.
  • Flauchter fails, thin ſods.
  • Flies of Spenyie, Spaniſh flies, cantharides.
  • Flocht, flight.
  • Flaik, hurdle.
  • Fillok, filly.
  • Flyte, ſcold.
  • Fowth, abundance, at large.
  • Forfairn, enfeeblea, waſted.
  • Fone, fondle.
  • Forfochtin, exhauſted, waſted.
  • Foreleet, out do, Gibſon: leave off. Cal.
  • Frawful, froward.
  • Freikes, fooliſh fellows.
  • Fryggs, freakiſh fellows.
  • Fudder, a load of wood.
  • Furlet, one fourth of a boll.
  • Fuſt, roaſted.
G
  • Gaiſlings, Goſlings.
  • Gams, Gums.
  • Garray, prattle.
  • Gaberlunyie, knapſack, wallet.
  • Gaits, brats, children, not goats as Mr. Calendar has it. They ſay dirty gait, or gett, of a child, in a bad ſenſe, to this day in Scotland.
  • Genty, genteel, ſlender.
  • Girnit, grinned.
  • Glew, mirth.
  • Gib Glaiks, idle rogue, ſpoken in kindneſs.
  • Gled, kite.
  • Glowming, duſk.
  • Gobs, mouths.
  • Granes, groans.
  • Graythit, clothed.
  • [196]Gruffling, grovelling.
  • Gryce, a pig.
  • Guckit, fooliſh.
H
  • Hail'd the dules, won the day.
  • Harnis, brains.
  • Hauſe-bane, xxii. a ſilver ornament on your hauſe, i. e. neck.
  • Henſure, ſtrong youth.
  • Heydin, mockery.
  • Heynd, bandy.
  • Heill, health.
  • Heuch, cliff.
  • Heck, rack.
  • Heckle, a wool-card.
  • Heiſit, raiſeds
  • Herryt, deſpoiled.
  • Hinny, honey.
  • Hiſſil, hazel.
  • Hoaſt, cough.
  • Hochit, ſtamped.
  • Holt, wood.
  • Hows, hams.
  • Hooly, ſoftly.
  • Hog, a ſheep two years old.
  • Hurklin, crouching.
  • Hubbilſchow, confuſion.
  • Huſſyſkep, houſewifery.
  • Hure, whore.
  • Hyn, home.
  • Hynt, took.
  • Hynd, back, behind.
I J
  • Jangleurs, quarrellers.
  • Jak, part of warlike dreſs.
  • Jee, tremble like a balance.
  • Jevel, raſcal.
  • Illfardly, ill-favouredly.
  • Ingle, fire.
K
  • Ka, drive.
  • Kauk and keil, chalk and red ocre, i. e. by fortune telling, as ſuch pretended to be dumb, and wrote their anſwers with chalk, &c.
  • Kapps, caps.
  • Kail, colworts.
  • Ken, know.
  • Kekel, laugh.
  • Keik, peep.
  • Kenzie, angry man.
  • Kevel, a long ſtaff.
  • Kirn, churn.
  • Kiſt, cheſt,
  • Kirtle, mantle.
  • Know, hillock.
  • Ky, cows.
L
  • Lauch, law.
  • Lane; her lane, by herſelf, alone.
  • Laith, loth.
  • [197]Laits, feet.
  • Lans, ſkip, dance.
  • Landart, country.
  • Lair, learning.
  • Laid, load.
  • Leit, let.
  • Lends, loins, back.
  • Lever, leur, rather.
  • Liggs, lies,
  • Lire, fleſh.
  • Lintie, linnet.
  • Loun, rogue.
  • Lychtlies, undervalues.
  • Lyking, beloved.
  • Lundgit, bulged, ſwelled out.
  • Lude, love.
  • Lute gird, gave hard ſtrokes.
  • Luſtie, healthy.
M
  • Mails, burdens.
  • Maſkene-fat, veſſel to boil malt in for brewing.
  • Mavis, thruſh.
  • Mauk, offspring, A. S. Maeg.
  • Meid, mead.
  • Meikle, large.
  • Meir, mare.
  • Mell, meddle,
  • Menyie, company.
  • Merle, the blackbird. merle, Fr. merlo, It. merula, Lat.
  • Middin, dunghill, heap.
  • Minny, mother.
  • Mither, mother.
  • Mows, mockery, from making mows, or mouths.
  • Muddilt, threw.
  • Murgeoned, made mouths.
  • Mynt, try.
N
  • Nevel, a blow with the fiſt.
  • Nok, button of a ſpindle.
  • Noudir, neither.
  • Noytit, knocked.
O
  • Occraine, ocean.
  • Olyprance, jollity.
  • Ourhy, o'ertake.
  • Owrryd, o'erride, or perhaps worry.
P
  • Paddock, frog.
  • Pauky, cunning,
  • Paiks, cuffs.
  • Pais, Eaſter.
  • Pawis, tricks.
  • Pearlins, laces.
  • Pennyſtane, quoits.
  • Plack, the third part of a penny.
  • Pleid, conteſt.
  • Pow, head.
  • [198]Preiſs, to ſtrive.
  • Preiſt, oppreſt.
  • Prievit, came off.
  • Preiving, pro [...]f, firſt taſte.
  • Preſt, p. ready, preſt, Fr. or plaited, done in folds, as ſhirt ſleeves, &c. See Chriſt's Kirk, ſt. 2.
  • Privie, ſecret.
Q.
  • Qu. in old Scots is equal to W, which ſee.
  • Quay, a young cow ere ſhe gives milk.
R
  • Raffel, a kind of leather.
  • Raik on raw, is a common phraſe in Douglas, and ſeems to ſignify going in diſorder as well as ranging in a row.
  • Raik, range.
  • Rait, rank.
  • Raw, row.
  • Raip, rope.
  • Rair, rage.
  • Raſhes, ruſhes.
  • Rax, reach.
  • Reir, have pity.
  • Red-up, neat.
  • Reddin, parting.
  • Reid, advice.
  • Reiling, confuſion, running about.
  • Reiked, reached.
  • Reirde, noiſe.
  • Richt nocht, nothing at all.
  • Riggs, backs.
  • Rok, diſtaff.
  • Routs, roars, blows.
  • Rouit, wrapt.
  • Rude, bloom.
  • Rungs, long ſtaves.
  • Rummil, rumble.
  • Runging, rummaging.
  • Rynk, man.
  • Ryſs, bough or ſtake.
S
  • Sark, ſhirt.
  • Schawis, groves by the ſides of waters.
  • Schog, ſhake.
  • Shogled, ſhook.
  • Schule, ſhovel,
  • Scherene, ſyren.
  • Seill, happineſs.
  • Servit, deſerved.
  • Sey, ſilk.
  • Sevenſum, ſome ſeven.
  • Skap, head, pate.
  • Skych, ſhy.
  • Skrapit, gave marks of abhorrence,
  • Smolt, ſerene.
  • Sklyſs, ſtice.
  • [199]Skour, fly.
  • Smaik, ſilly fellow.
  • Spate, a flood.
  • Spaul, ſhoulder.
  • Speel, climb.
  • Spurtil, a flat iron for turning cakes, ſpatula.
  • Soutar, ſhoemaker.
  • Spoung, purſe.
  • Spunk, ſpark.
  • Stappin, ſtepping.
  • Stoure, ſtir.
  • Stekill, latch.
  • Steid, place,
  • Stends, great ſteps.
  • Stound, time.
  • Stotts, ſteers.
  • Styme, not ſee a ſtyme, not ſee at all.
  • Sturt, wrath.
  • Strynd, race.
  • Sware, the neck.
T
  • Taikel, arrow.
  • Teynd, vexed.
  • Thik fauld, Thickfold.
  • Thrunlan, rolling.
  • Thraw-cruk, a crooked ſtick for twiſting ſtraw ropes.
  • Throppils, throats.
  • Tranſs, the name of a dance.
  • Trene, ſpout.
  • Trow, truſt.
  • Tulye, quarrel.
  • Tyte, ſpeedily.
  • Tyt, drew.
  • Tynſel, loſs.
V U
  • Viſſy, examine.
  • Unbirs'd, unbruiſed.
  • Ungeir'd, unprepared.
W
  • Wad, wager.
  • Wait, wet.
  • Wauld, would, wold, a common.
  • Wareſone, remedy,
  • Wauch, wall.
  • Wawaris, wooers.
  • Wame, belly,
  • Wain, child.
  • Wanrufe, uneaſy.
  • Warſel, worſel, wreſtle.
  • Whang, luncheon.
  • Whyle, till.
  • Whittil, knife.
  • Wimplers, treſſes.
  • Wincheant, wincing.
  • Winklot, little wench.
  • Wirry, choke.
  • Woode, mad.
  • Woir, worſe.
  • Wick, cargo.
  • Wyſs, woes.
Y
  • *⁎* Many editors confound this letter as written in MSS. thus, ʒ, with the letter z, and ſpell their words accordingly; as zour for your, &c. With equal judgment they might have put the Greek P, not as R, but as the Roman P, becauſe the form is the ſame.
  • Yape, ready, eager.
  • Yearn, curdle.
  • Yokkit, joined in fight.
  • Yowden, wearied.
  • Yule, Chriſtmas.

Appendix C Lately publiſhed, (written by the Editor of theſe Volumes)

  • I. Rimes, 2d edit. 8vo. 3s. 6d. in boards. Dilly.
  • II. Two Dithyrambic Odes, 4to. 6d.
  • III. Tales in Verſe, 4to. 3s. Dodſley.
Notes
*
This practice of making extempore verſes is frequent in Italy, as we may obſerve in many of the lateſt travellers. But I ſuppoſe the principal merit of ſuch poetry ariſes from the ſurprize of the hearer. The works of Barnardino Perfetti, a Patrician of Sienna, Firenze, 1774, now lie before me. He was the beſt of modern extemporary poets, and crowned in the capitol, yet there is nothing in them.
*

[...].

Hermogenes, l. II. c. 23.
*
[...]; Plato, loq. de Amore.
*
There is indeed of very late years, one inſignificant exception to this rule. Auld Robin Gray having got his ſilly pſalm ſet to ſoporific muſic, is to the credit of our taſte, popular for the day. But after lulling ſome good-natured audiences aſleep, he will ſoon fall aſleep himſelf.
*
Eſſays by Dr. Beattie, 3d edit. Eſſay I.
*
Adventurer, No. 133. The reader will ſmile at the works here enumerated, when he thinks on the omiſſion of thoſe of Shakſpere, Fielding, and Smollet; the laſt of whom was a writer of the moſt genuine humour that ever exiſted.
*
Dr. Gregory in his Comparative View of the State and Faculties of Man with thoſe of the Animal World.
*
I am informed that ſome Scotiſhman has made ſome ſtanzas to the favorite Iriſh air of Langolce under the name of The Banks of the Dee. Such a theſt cannot be too ſeverely condemned, as if perſiſted in, there is an end of all national muſic. As the Iriſh air is rather impure, had the ſcene of the new verſes been laid in Ireland, they might have been innocent enough.
The ſecond edition is here meant.
*

Such has been the generous impartiality of the minſtrel who compoſed this fine ballad, and who perhaps had been entertained with equal attention at Alnwick and at Douglaſs caſtles, that hardly one intrinſic mark could be given to authoriſe the aſcribing of it to a native of either country, till the ancient copy appeared, which at once terminated the diſpute.

An edition printed at Aberdeen 1754, has a preface and notes, which preſent the arguments that were then valid for Chevy chace being a Scotiſh compoſition.

The loſs of Chevy chace might be compenſated to Scotland by the recovery of many tragic pieces of no inferior merit, were means uſed by thoſe who have opportunities for that purpoſe. Bertram the archer, the Robin Hood of Scotland, is now hardly known to have exiſted, though he was celebrated in many a heroic ditty. The only ſtanza known to the Editor is given, as it cloſes with a pretty thought. Bertram, being ſurrounded by his enemies, addreſſes his weapons in this manner:

My truſty bow of the tough yew,
That I in London bought;
And ſilken ſtrings, if ye prove true,
That my true love has wrought.
*
Sic.
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