"She sends you the rings from her fingers, The garlands from her hair; She sends you the heart within her breast: And what would you have mair?
And at the fourth kirk of fair Scotland, 95 She bids you meet her there."
"Come hither, all my merry young men, And drink the good red wine; For we must on to fair England, To free my love from pine." 100
At the first kirk of fair Scotland, They gart the bells be rung; At the second kirk of fair Scotland, They gart the mass be sung.
At the third kirk of fair Scotland, 105 They dealt gold for her sake; And the fourth kirk of fair Scotland Her true love met them at.
"Set down, set down the corpse," he said, "Till I look on the dead; 110 The last time that I saw her face, She ruddy was and red; But now, alas, and woe is me!
She's wallowed like a weed."
He rent the sheet upon her face, 115 A little aboon her chin; With lily white cheek, and lemin' eyne, She lookt and laugh'd to him.
"Give me a chive of your bread, my love, A bottle of your wine; 120 For I have fasted for your love, These weary lang days nine; There's not a steed in your stable, But would have been dead ere syne.
"Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brothers, 125 Gae hame and blaw the horn; For you can say in the South of England, Your sister gave you a scorn.
"I came not here to fair Scotland, To lye amang the meal; 130 But I came here to fair Scotland, To wear the silks so weel.
"I came not here to fair Scotland, To lye amang the dead; But I came here to fair Scotland, 135 To wear the gold so red."
YOUNG HUNTING. See p. 3.
From Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 118.
Lady Maisry forth from her bower came, And stood on her tower head; She thought she heard a bridle ring, The sound did her heart guid.
She thought it was her first true love, 5 Whom she loved ance in time; But it was her new love, Hunting, Come frae the hunting o' the hyn'.
"Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry, God make you safe and free! 10 I'm come to take my last farewell, And pay my last visit to thee."
"O stay, O stay then, young Hunting, O stay with me this night; Ye shall ha'e cheer, an' charcoal clear, 15 And candles burning bright."
"Have no more cheer, you lady fair, An hour langer for me; I have a lady in Garmouth town I love better than thee." 20
"O if your love be changed, my love, Since better canno' be, Nevertheless, for auld lang syne, Ye'll stay this night wi' me.
"Silver, silver shall be your wage, 25 And gowd shall be your fee; And nine times nine into the year, Your weed shall changed be.
"Will ye gae to the cards or dice, Or to a tavern fine? 30 Or will ye gae to a table forebye, And birl baith beer and wine?"
"I winna gang to the cards nor dice, Nor to a tavern fine; But I will gang to a table forebye, 35 And birl baith beer and wine."
Then she has drawn for young Hunting The beer but and the wine, Till she got him as deadly drunk As ony unhallowed swine. 40
Then she's ta'en out a trusty brand, That hang below her gare; Then she's wounded him, young Hunting, A deep wound and a sair.
Then out it speaks her comrade, 45 Being in the companie: "Alas! this deed that ye ha'e done, Will ruin baith you and me."
"Heal well, heal well, you Lady Katharine, Heal well this deed on me; 50 The robes that were shapen for my bodie, They shall be sewed for thee."
"Tho' I wou'd heal it never sae well, And never sae well," said she, "There is a God above us baith, 55 That can baith hear and see."
They booted him and spurred him, As he'd been gaun to ride; A hunting-horn about his neck, A sharp sword by his side. 60
And they rode on, and farther on, All the lang summer's tide, Until they came to wan water, Where a' man ca's it Clyde.
The deepest pot in Clyde's water,[L65] 65 There they flang him in,[L66]
And put a turf on his breast bane, To had young Hunting down.
O out it speaks a little wee bird, As she sat on the brier: 70 "Gae hame, gae hame, ye Lady Maisry, And pay your maiden's hire."
"O I will pay my maiden's hire, And hire I'll gi'e to thee; If ye'll conceal this fatal deed, 75 Ye's ha'e gowd for your fee."
Then out it speaks a bonny bird, That flew aboon their head; "Keep well, keep well your green claithing Frae ae drap o' his bluid." 80
"O I'll keep well my green claithing Frae ae drap o' his bluid, Better than I'll do your flattering tongue, That flutters in your head.
"Come down, come down, my bonny bird, 85 Light down upon my hand; For ae gowd feather that's in your wing, I wou'd gi'e a' my land."
"How shall I come down, how can I come down, How shall I come down to thee? 90 The things ye said to young Hunting, The same ye're saying to me."
But it fell out on that same day, The king was going to ride, And he call'd for him, young Hunting, 95 For to ride by his side.
Then out it speaks the little young son, Sat on the nurse's knee, "It fears me sair," said that young babe, "He's in bower wi' yon ladie." 100
Then they ha'e call'd her, Lady Katharine, And she sware by the thorn, That she saw not him, young Hunting, Sin' yesterday at morn.
Then they ha'e call'd her, Lady Maisry, 105 And she sware by the moon, That she saw not him, young Hunting, Sin' yesterday at noon.
"He was playing him at the Clyde's water, Perhaps he has fa'en in:" 110 The king he call'd his divers all, To dive for his young son.
They div'd in thro' the wan burn-bank, Sae did they out thro' the other: "We'll dive nae mair," said these young men, 115 "Suppose he were our brother."
Then out it spake a little bird, That flew aboon their head: "Dive on, dive on, ye divers all, For there he lies indeed. 120
"But ye'll leave aff your day diving, And ye'll dive in the night; The pot where young Hunting lies in, The candles they'll burn bright.
"There are twa ladies in yon bower, 125 And even in yon ha', And they ha'e kill'd him, young Hunting, And casten him awa'.