Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border Volume Ii Part 16

The concluding verses of this ballad were inserted in the copy of _Tamlane_, given to the public in the first edition of this work. They are now restored to their proper place. Considering how very apt the most accurate reciters are to patch up one ballad with verses from another, the utmost caution cannot always avoid such errors.

A more sanguine antiquary than the editor might perhaps endeavour to identify this poem, which is of undoubted antiquity, with the _"Broom Broom on Hill,"_ mentioned by Lane, in his _Progress of Queen Elizabeth into Warwickshire_, as forming part of Captain's c.o.x's collection, so much envied by the black-letter antiquaries of the present day.--_Dugdale's Warwickshire,_ p. 166. The same ballad is quoted by one of the personages, in a "very mery and pythie comedie," called _"The longer thou livest, the more fool thou art."_ See Ritson's Dissertation, prefixed to _Ancient Songs,_ p. lx. "Brume brume on hill," is also mentioned in the _Complayat of Scotland_. See Leyden's edition, p. 100.

THE BROOMFIELD HILL.

There was a knight and a lady bright, Had a true tryste at the broom; The ane ga'ed early in the morning, The other in the afternoon.

And ay she sat in her mother's bower door, And ay she made her mane, "Oh whether should I gang to the Broomfield hill, "Or should I stay at hame?

"For if I gang to the Broomfield hill, "My maidenhead is gone; "And if I chance to stay at hame, "My love will ca' me mansworn."

Up then spake a witch woman, Ay from the room aboon; "O, ye may gang to the Broomfield hill, "And yet come maiden hame.

"For, when ye gang to the Broomfield hill, "Ye'll find your love asleep, "With a silver-belt about his head, "And a broom-cow at his feet.

"Take ye the blossom of the broom, "The blossom it smells sweet, "And strew it at your true love's head, "And likewise at his feet.

"Take ye the rings off your fingers, "Put them on his right hand, "To let him know, when he doth awake, "His love was at his command."

She pu'd the broom flower on Hive-hill, And strew'd on's white hals bane, And that was to be wittering true, That maiden she had gane.

"O where were ye, my milk-white steed, "That I hae coft sae dear, "That wadna watch and waken me, "When there was maiden here?"

"I stamped wi' my foot, master, "And gar'd my bridle ring; "But na kin' thing wald waken ye, "Till she was past and gane."

"And wae betide ye, my gay goss hawk, "That I did love sae dear, "That wadna watch and waken me, "When there was maiden here."

"I clapped wi' my wings, master, "And aye my bells I rang, "And aye cry'd, waken, waken, master, "Before the ladye gang."

"But haste and haste, my good white steed, "To come the maiden till, "Or a' the birds, of gude green wood, "Of your flesh shall have their fill."

"Ye need na burst your good white steed, "Wi' racing o'er the howm; "Nae bird flies faster through the wood, "Than she fled through the broom."

PROUD LADY MARGARET.

_This Ballad was communicated to the Editor by Mr_ HAMILTON, _Music-seller, Edinburgh, with whose Mother it had been a, favourite.

Two verses and one line were wanting, which are here supplied from a different Ballad, having a plot somewhat similar. These verses are the 6th and 9th._

'Twas on a night, an evening bright, When the dew began to fa', Lady Margaret was walking up and down, Looking o'er her castle wa'.

She looked east, and she looked west, To see what she could spy, When a gallant knight came in her sight, And to the gate drew nigh.

"You seem to be no gentleman, "You wear your boots so wide; "But you seem to be some cunning hunter, "You wear the horn so syde."[A]

"I am no cunning hunter," he said, "Nor ne'er intend to be; "But I am come to this castle "To seek the love of thee; "And if you do not grant me love, "This night for thee I'll die."

"If you should die for me, sir knight, "There's few for you will mane, "For mony a better has died for me, "Whose graves are growing green.

"But ye maun read my riddle," she said, "And answer my questions three; "And but ye read them right," she said, "Gae stretch ye out and die.--

"Now, what is the flower, the ae first flower, "Springs either on moor or dale?

"And what is the bird, the bonnie bonnie bird, "Sings on the evening gale?"

"The primrose is the ae first flower, "Springs either on moor or dale; "And the thistlec.o.c.k is the bonniest bird; "Sings on the evening gale."

"But what's the little coin," she said, "Wald buy my castle bound?

"And what's the little boat," she said, "Can sail the world all round?"

"O hey, how mony small pennies "Make thrice three thousand pound?

"Or hey, how mony small fishes "Swim a' the salt sea round."

"I think you maun be my match," she said, "My match, and something mair; "You are the first e'er got the grant Of love frae my father's heir.

"My father was lord of nine castles, "My mother lady of three; "My father was lord of nine castles, "And there's nane to heir but me.

"And round about a' thae castles, "You may baith plow and saw, "And on the fifteenth day of May, "The meadows they will maw."

"O hald your tongue, lady Margaret," he said, "For loud I hear you lie!

"Your father was lord of nine castles, "Your mother was lady of three; "Your father was lord of nine castles, "But ye fa' heir to but three.

"And round about a' thae castles, "You may baith plow and saw, "But on the fifteenth day of May "The meadows will not maw.

"I am your brother Willie," he said, "I trow ye ken na me; "I came to humble your haughty heart, "Has gar'd sae mony die."

"If ye be my brother Willie," she said, "As I trow weel ye be, "This night I'll neither eat nor drink, "But gae alang wi' thee."

"O hold your tongue, lady Margaret," he said.

"Again I hear you lie; "For ye've unwashen hands, and ye've unwashen feet,[B]

"To gae to clay wi' me.

"For the wee worms are my bedfellows, "And cauld clay is my sheets; "And when the stormy winds do blow, "My body lies and sleeps."

[Footnote A: _Syde_--Long or low.]

[Footnote B: _Unwashen hands and unwashen feet_--Alluding to the custom of washing and dressing dead bodies.]

THE ORIGINAL BALLAD OF THE BROOM OF COWDENKNOWS.