Ballad Book Part 21

She has ta'en her to her bigly bower, As fast as she could hie; And she has drapped down like deid, Beside her mother's knee; Then out and spak' an auld witch-wife, By the fire-side sate she.

Says,--"Drap the het lead on her cheek, And drap it on her chin, And drap it on her rose-red lips, And she will speak again; O meikle will a maiden do, To her true love to win!"

They drapt the het lead on her cheek, They drapt it on her chin, They drapt it on her rose-red lips, But breath was nane within.

Then up arose her seven brothers, And made for her a bier; The boards were of the cedar wood, The plates o' silver clear.

And up arose her seven sisters, And made for her a sark; The claith of it was satin fine, The steeking silken wark.

The first Scots kirk that they cam' to, They gar'd the bells be rung; The neist Scots kirk that they cam' to, They gar'd the ma.s.s be sung.

The third Scots kirk that they cam' to, They dealt the gowd for her; The fourth Scots kirk that they cam' to, Her true-love met them there.

"Set down, set down the bier," he quoth, Till I look on the dead; The last time that I saw her face, Her cheeks were rosy red."

He rent the sheet upon her face, A little abune the chin; And fast he saw her colour come, And sweet she smiled on him.

"O give me a chive of your bread, my love, And ae drap o' your wine; For I have fasted for your sake, These weary lang days nine!

"Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brothers; Gae hame an' blaw your horn!

I trow ye wad hae gi'en me the skaith, But I've gi'ed you the scorn.

"I cam' not here to fair Scotland, To lie amang the dead; But I cam' here to fair Scotland, Wi' my ain true-love to wed."

YOUNG REDIN.

Fair Catherine from her bower-window Looked over heath and wood; She heard a smit o' bridle-reins, And the sound did her heart good.

"Welcome, young Redin, welcome!

And welcome again, my dear!

Light down, light down from your horse," she "It's long since you were here."

"O gude morrow, lady, gude morrow, lady; G.o.d mak' you safe and free!

I'm come to tak' my last fareweel, And pay my last visit to thee.

"I mustna light, and I canna light, I winna stay at a'; For a fairer lady than ten of thee Is waiting at Castleswa'."

"O if your love be changed, my dear, Since better may not be, Yet, ne'ertheless, for auld lang syne, Bide this ae night wi' me."

She birl'd him wi' the ale and wine, As they sat down to sup; A living man he laid him down, But I wot he ne'er rose up.

"Now lie ye there, young Redin," she says, "O lie ye there till morn,-- Though a fairer lady than ten of me Is waiting till you come home!

"O lang, lang is the winter night, Till day begins to daw; There is a dead man in my bower, And I would he were awa'."

She cried upon her bower-maiden, Aye ready at her ca': "There is a knight into my bower, 'Tis time he were awa'."

They've booted him and spurred him, As he was wont to ride, A hunting-horn tied round his waist, A sharp sword by his side; And they've flung him into the wan water, The deepest pool in Clyde.

Then up bespake a little bird That sate upon the tree, "Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady, And pay your maid her fee."

"Come down, come down, my pretty bird, That sits upon the tree; I have a cage of beaten gold, I'll gie it unto thee."

"Gae hame, gae hame, ye fause lady; I winna come down to thee; For as ye have done to young Redin, Ye'd do the like to me."

O there came seeking young Redin Mony a lord and knight, And there came seeking young Redin Mony a lady bright.

They've called on Lady Catherine, But she sware by oak and thorn That she saw him not, young Redin, Since yesterday at morn.

The lady turned her round about, Wi' mickle mournfu' din: "It fears me sair o' Clyde water That he is drowned therein."

Then up spake young Redin's mither, The while she made her mane: "My son kenn'd a' the fords o' Clyde, He'd ride them ane by ane."

"Gar douk, gar douk!" his father he cried, "Gar douk for gold and fee!

O wha will douk for young Redin's sake, And wha will douk for me?"

They hae douked in at ae weil-head, And out again at the ither: "We'll douk nae mair for young Redin, Although he were our brither."

Then out it spake a little bird That sate upon the spray: "What gars ye seek him, young Redin, Sae early in the day?

"Leave aff your douking on the day, And douk at dark o' night; Aboon the pool young Redin lies in, The candles they'll burn bright."

They left aff their douking on the day, They hae douked at dark o' night; Aboon the pool where young Redin lay, The candles they burned bright.

The deepest pool in a' the stream They found young Redin in; Wi' a great stone tied across his breast To keep his body down.

Then up and spake the little bird, Says, "What needs a' this din?

It was Lady Catherine took his life, And hided him in the linn."

She sware her by the sun and moon, She sware by gra.s.s and corn, She hadna seen him, young Redin, Since Monanday at morn.

"It's surely been my bower-woman,-- O ill may her betide!

I ne'er wad hae slain my young Redin, And thrown him in the Clyde."

Now they hae cut baith fern and thorn, The bower-woman to brin; And they hae made a big balefire, And put this maiden in; But the fire it took na on her cheek, It took na on her chin.

Out they hae ta'en the bower-woman, And put her mistress in; The flame took fast upon her cheek, Took fast upon her chin, Took fast upon her fair bodie, Because of her deadly sin.

WILLIE AND MAY MARGARET.

Willie stands in his stable, A-clapping of his steed; And over his white fingers His nose began to bleed.

"Gie corn to my horse, mither; Gie meat unto my man; For I maun gang to Margaret's bower, Before the night comes on."