A Collection of Ballads, Andrew Lang [english love story books txt] 📗

feiries five! For I wot here makes a fu’ ill day; Yet the warst cloak of this companie, I hope, shall cross the Waste this day.”

Now Hobie thought the gates were clear; But, ever alas! it was not sae: They were beset wi’ cruel men and keen, That away brave Hobbie could not gae.

“Yet follow me, my feiries five, And see of me ye keep good ray; And the worst cloak o’ this companie I hope shall cross the Waste this day.”

There was heaps of men now Hobbie before, And other heaps was him behind, That had he wight as Wallace was, Away brave Noble he could not win.

Then Hobie he had but a laddies sword; But he did more than a laddies deed; In the midst of Conscouthart-Green, He brake it oer Jersawigham’s head.

Now they have tane brave Hobie Noble, Wi’ his ain bowstring they band him sae; And I wat heart was ne’er sae sair, As when his ain five band him on the brae.

They have tane him on for West Carlisle; They ask’d him if he knew the why? Whate’er he thought, yet little he said; He knew the way as well as they.

They hae ta’en him up the Ricker gate; The wives they cast their windows wide; And every wife to anither can say, “That’s the man loos’d Jock o’ the Side!”

“Fye on ye, women! why ca’ ye me man? For it’s nae man that I’m used like; I am but like a forfoughen hound, Has been fighting in a dirty syke.”

Then they hae tane him up thro’ Carlisle town, And set him by the chimney fire; They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat, And that was little his desire.

Then they gave him a wheat loaf to eat, And after that a can o beer; Then they cried a’ with ae consent, “Eat, brave Noble, and make gude cheer!

“Confess my lord’s horse, Hobie,” they said, “And the morn in Carlisle thou’s no die;” “How shall I confess them,” Hobie says, “For I never saw them with mine eye?”

Then Hobie has sworn a fu’ great aith, By the day that he was gotten and born, He never had ony thing o’ my lord’s, That either eat him grass or corn.

“Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton! For I think again I’ll ne’er thee see: I wad betray nae lad alive, For a’ the goud in Christentie.

“And fare thee weel, sweet Liddesdale! Baith the hie land and the law; Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains! For goud and gear he’ll sell ye a’.

“Yet wad I rather be ca’d Hobie Noble, In Carlisle where he suffers for his faut, Before I’d be ca’d traitor Mains, That eats and drinks of the meal and maut.”

 

Ballad: The Twa Sisters

 

(Sharpe’s Ballad Book, No. X., p. 30.)

There liv’d twa sisters in a bower, Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. There liv’d twa sisters in a bower, Stirling for aye: The youngest o’ them, O, she was a flower! Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.

There came a squire frae the west, Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. There cam a squire frae the west, Stirling for aye: He lo’ed them baith, but the youngest best, Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.

He gied the eldest a gay gold ring, Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. He gied the eldest a gay gold ring, Stirling for aye: But he lo’ed the youngest aboon a’ thing, Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.

“Oh sister, sister, will ye go to the sea? Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. Oh sister, sister, will ye go to the sea? Stirling for aye: Our father’s ships sail bonnilie, Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.”

The youngest sat down upon a stane, Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. The youngest sat down upon a stane, Stirling for aye: The eldest shot the youngest in, Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.

“Oh sister, sister, lend me your hand, Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. Oh, sister, sister, lend me your hand, Stirling for aye: And you shall hae my gouden fan, Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.

“Oh, sister, sister, save my life, Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. Oh sister, sister, save my life, Stirling for aye: And ye shall be the squire’s wife, Bonny Sweet Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.”

First she sank, and then she swam, Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. First she sank, and then she swam, Stirling for aye: Until she cam to Tweed mill dam, Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.

The millar’s daughter was baking bread, Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. The millar’s daughter was baking bread, Stirling for aye: She went for water, as she had need, Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.

“Oh father, father, in our mill dam, Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch, Oh father, father, in our mill dam, Stirling for aye: There’s either a lady, or a milk-white swan, Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.”

They could nae see her fingers small, Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. They could nae see her fingers small, Stirling for aye: Wi’ diamond rings they were cover’d all, Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.

They could nae see her yellow hair, Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. They could nae see her yellow hair, Stirling for aye: Sae mony knots and platts war there, Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.

Bye there cam a fiddler fair, Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. Bye there cam a fiddler fair, Stirling for aye: And he’s ta’en three tails o’ her yellow hair, Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.

 

Ballad: Mary Ambree

 

(Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 230.)

When captaines couragious, whom death cold not daunte, Did march to the siege of the citty of Gaunt, They mustred their souldiers by two and by three, And the formost in battle was Mary Ambree.

When [the] brave sergeant-major was slaine in her sight, Who was her true lover, her joy, and delight, Because he was slaine most treacherouslie Then vowd to revenge him Mary Ambree.

She clothed herselfe from the top to the toe In buffe of the bravest, most seemelye to showe; A faire shirt of male then slipped on shee: Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?

A helmett of proofe shee strait did provide, A stronge arminge-sword shee girt by her side, On her hand a goodly faire gauntlett put shee: Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?

Then tooke shee her sworde and her targett in hand, Bidding all such, as wold, [to] bee of her band; To wayte on her person came thousand and three: Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?

“My soldiers,” she saith, “soe valliant and bold, Nowe followe your captaine, whom you doe beholde; Still formost in battell myselfe will I bee:” Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?

Then cryed out her souldiers, and loude they did say, “Soe well thou becomest this gallant array, Thy harte and thy weapons so well do agree, No mayden was ever like Mary Ambree.”

She cheared her souldiers, that foughten for life, With ancyent and standard, with drum and with fife, With brave clanging trumpetts, that sounded so free; Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?

“Before I will see the worst of you all To come into danger of death or of thrall, This hand and this life I will venture so free:” Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?

Shee ledd upp her souldiers in battaile array, Gainst three times theyr number by breake of the daye; Seven howers in skirmish continued shee: Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?

She filled the skyes with the smoke of her shott, And her enemyes bodyes with bulletts so hott; For one of her own men a score killed shee: Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?

And when her false gunner, to spoyle her intent, Away all her pellets and powder had sent, Straight with her keen weapon she slasht him in three: Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?

Being falselye betrayed for lucre of hyre, At length she was forced to make a retyre; Then her souldiers into a strong castle drew shee: Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?

Her foes they besett her on everye side, As thinking close siege shee cold never abide; To beate down the walles they all did decree: But stoutlye deffyd them brave Mary Ambree.

Then tooke shee her sword and her targett in hand, And mounting the walls all undaunted did stand, There daring their captaines to match any three: O what a brave captaine was Mary Ambree!

“Now saye, English captaine, what woldest thou give To ransome thy selfe, which else must not live? Come yield thy selfe quicklye, or slaine thou must bee:” Then smiled sweetlye brave Mary Ambree.

“Ye captaines couragious, of valour so bold, Whom thinke you before you now you doe behold? “A knight, sir, of England, and captaine soe free, Who shortlye with us a prisoner must bee.”

“No captaine of England; behold in your sight Two brests in my bosome, and therefore no knight: Noe knight, sirs, of England, nor captaine you see, But a poor simple mayden called Mary Ambree.”

“But art thou a woman, as thou dost declare, Whose valor hath proved so undaunted in warre? If England doth yield such brave maydens as thee, Full well mey they conquer, faire Mary Ambree.”

The Prince of Great Parma heard of her renowne, Who long had advanced for England’s fair crowne; Hee wooed her and sued her his mistress to bee, And offered rich presents to Mary Ambree.

But this virtuous mayden despised them all: “‘Ile nere sell my honour for purple nor pall; A maiden of England, sir, never will bee The wench of a monarcke,” quoth Mary Ambree.

Then to her owne country shee back did returne, Still holding the foes of rare England in scorne! Therfore English captaines of every degree Sing forth the brave valours of Mary Ambree.

 

Ballad: Alison Gross

 

O Alison Gross, that lives in yon tow’r, The ugliest witch in the north countrie, She trysted me ae day up till her bow’r, And mony fair speeches she made to me.

She straik’d my head, and she kaim’d my hair, And she set me down saftly on her knee; Says—“If ye will be my leman sae true, Sae mony braw things as I will you gi’e.”

She shaw’d me a mantle of red scarlet, With gowden flowers and fringes fine; Says—“If ye will be my leman sae true, This goodly gift it shall be thine.”

“Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, Hand far awa, and let me be; I never will be your leman sae true, And I wish I were out of your company.”

She neist brocht a sark of the saftest silk, Weel wrought with pearls about the band; Says—“If ye will be my ain true love, This goodly gift ye shall command.”

She show’d me a cup of the good red gowd, Weel set with jewels sae fair to see; Says—“If ye will be my leman sae true, This goodly gift I will you gi’e.”

“Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, Haud far awa, and let me be; For I wadna ance kiss your ugly mouth, For all the gifts that ye cou’d gi’e.”

She’s turn’d her richt and round about, And thrice she blew on a grass-green horn; And she sware by the moon and the stars aboon, That she’d gar me rue the day I was born.

Then out has she ta’en a silver wand, And she turn’d her three times round and round; She mutter’d sic words, that my strength it fail’d, And I fell down senseless on the ground.

She turn’d me