"Some of you, her maidens, take me by the hand, And show me the chamber Miss Jeanie died in;"
He kiss'd her cold lips, which were colder than stane, 55 And he died in the chamber that Jeanie died in.
WILLIE AND MAY MARGARET.
A fragment obtained by Jamieson from the recitation of Mrs. Brown, of Falkland. _Popular Ballads_, i. 135. In connection with this we give the complete story from Buchan. Aytoun has changed the title to _The Mother's Malison_. An Italian ballad, containing a story similar to that of this ballad and the two following (but of independent origin), is _La Maledizione Materna_, in Marcoaldi's _Canti Popolari_, p. 170.
"Gie corn to my horse, mither; Gie meat unto my man; For I maun gang to Margaret's bower, Before the nicht comes on."
"O stay at hame now, my son Willie! 5 The wind blaws cald and sour; The nicht will be baith mirk and late, Before ye reach her bower."
"O tho' the nicht were ever sae dark, Or the wind blew never sae cald, 10 I will be in my Margaret's bower Before twa hours be tald."
"O gin ye gang to May Margaret, Without the leave of me, Clyde's water's wide and deep enough;-- 15 My malison drown thee!"
He mounted on his coal-black steed, And fast he rade awa'; But, ere he came to Clyde's water, Fu' loud the wind did blaw. 20
As he rode o'er yon hich, hich hill, And down yon dowie den, There was a roar in Clyde's water Wad fear'd a hunder men.
His heart was warm, his pride was up; 25 Sweet Willie kentna fear; But yet his mither's malison Ay sounded in his ear.
O he has swam through Clyde's water, Tho' it was wide and deep; 30 And he came to May Margaret's door, When a' were fast asleep.
O he's gane round and round about, And tirled at the pin; But doors were steek'd, and window's bar'd, 35 And nane wad let him in.
"O open the door to me, Margaret,-- O open and lat me in!
For my boots are full o' Clyde's water, And frozen to the brim." 40
"I darena open the door to you, Nor darena lat you in; For my mither she is fast asleep, And I darena mak nae din."
"O gin ye winna open the door, 45 Nor yet be kind to me, Now tell me o' some out-chamber, Where I this nicht may be."
"Ye canna win in this nicht, Willie, Nor here ye canna be; 50 For I've nae chambers out nor in, Nae ane but barely three:
"The tane o' them is fu' o' corn, The tither is fu' o' hay; The tither is fu' o' merry young men;-- 55 They winna remove till day."
"O fare ye weel, then, May Margaret, Sin better manna be; I've win my mither's malison, Coming this nicht to thee." 60
He's mounted on his coal-black steed,-- O but his heart was wae!
But, ere he came to Clyde's water, 'Twas half up o'er the brae.
---- he plunged in, But never raise again.
THE DROWNED LOVERS.
From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 140. The copy in the Appendix to Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. iii., is nearly the same.
Willie stands in his stable door, And clapping at his steed; And looking o'er his white fingers, His nose began to bleed.
"Gie corn to my horse, mother; 5 And meat to my young man; And I'll awa' to Meggie's bower, I'll win ere she lie down."
"O bide this night wi' me, Willie, O bide this night wi' me; 10 The best an' cock o' a' the reest, At your supper shall be.
"A' your cocks, and a' your reests, I value not a prin; For I'll awa' to Meggie's bower, 15 I'll win ere she lie down."
"Stay this night wi' me, Willie, O stay this night wi' me; The best an' sheep in a' the flock At your supper shall be." 20
"A' your sheep, and a' your flocks, I value not a prin; For I'll awa' to Meggie's bower, I'll win ere she lie down."
"O an' ye gang to Meggie's bower, 25 Sae sair against my will, The deepest pot in Clyde's water, My malison ye's feel."
"The guid steed that I ride upon Cost me thrice thretty pound; 30 And I'll put trust in his swift feet, To hae me safe to land."
As he rade ower yon high, high hill, And down yon dowie den, The noise that was in Clyde's water 35 Wou'd fear'd five huner men.
"O roaring Clyde, ye roar ower loud, Your streams seem wond'rous strang; Make me your wreck as I come back,[L39]
But spare me as I gang." 40
Then he is on to Meggie's bower, And tirled at the pin; "O sleep ye, wake ye, Meggie," he said, "Ye'll open, lat me come in."
"O wha is this at my bower door, 45 That calls me by my name?"
"It is your first love, sweet Willie, This night newly come hame."
"I hae few lovers thereout, thereout, As few hae I therein; 50 The best an' love that ever I had, Was here just late yestreen."
"The warstan stable in a' your stables, For my puir steed to stand; The warstan bower in a' your bowers, 55 For me to lie therein: My boots are fu' o' Clyde's water, I'm shivering at the chin."
"My barns are fu' o' corn, Willie, My stables are fu' o' hay; 60 My bowers are fu' o' gentlemen;-- They'll nae remove till day."
"O fare-ye-well, my fause Meggie, O farewell, and adieu; I've gotten my mither's malison, 65 This night coming to you."
As he rode ower yon high, high hill, And down yon dowie den; The rushing that was in Clyde's water Took Willie's cane frae him. 70
He lean'd him ower his saddle bow, To catch his cane again; The rushing that was in Clyde's water Took Willie's hat frae him.
He lean'd him ower his saddle bow, 75 To catch his hat thro' force; The rushing that was in Clyde's water Took Willie frae his horse.
His brither stood upo' the bank, Says, "Fye, man, will ye drown? 80 Ye'll turn ye to your high horse head, And learn how to sowm."