"Then hoist up your sails, brave captain, Let's be jovial and free; I'll to Northumberland, and heir my estate, Then my dear Jeany I'll see."
He soon came to Castle-Gordon, 105 And down upon the green; The porter gave out with a loud shout, "Here comes Captain Ogilvie."
"You're welcome, pretty Captain Ogilvie, Your fortune's advanced I hear; 110 No stranger can come unto my gates, That I do love so dear."
"Sir, the last time I was at your gates, You would not let me in; I'm come for my wife and children, 115 No friendship else I claim."
"Come in, pretty Captain Ogilvie, And drink of the beer and the wine; And thou shalt have gold and silver, To count till the clock strike nine." 120
"I'll have none of your gold and silver, Nor none of your white money; But I'll have bonny Jeany Gordon; And she shall go now with me."
Then she came tripping down the stair, 125 With the tear into her eye; One babe was at her foot, Another upon her knee.
"You're welcome, bonny Jeany Gordon, With my young family; 130 Mount and go to Northumberland, There a countess thou shalt be."
THE LAIRD O'LOGIE.
_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 131.
An edition of this ballad was published in Herd's _Scottish Songs_, (i. 54,) and there is styled _The Young Laird of Ochiltrie_. Scott recovered the following copy from recitation, which is to be preferred to the other, as agreeing more closely with the real fact, both in the name and the circumstances.
The incident here celebrated occurred in the year 1592. Francis, Earl Bothwell, being then engaged in a wild conspiracy against James VI., succeeded in obtaining some followers even among the king's personal attendants. Among these was a gentleman named Weymis of Logie. Accused of treasonable converse with Bothwell, he confessed to the charge, and was, of course, in danger of expiating his crime by death. But he was rescued through the address and courage of Margaret Twynstoun, a lady of the court, to whom he was attached. It being her duty to wait on the queen the night of Logie's accusation, she left the royal chamber while the king and queen were asleep, passed to the room where he was kept in custody, and ordered the guard to bring the prisoner into the presence of their majesties. She received her lover at the chamber door, commanding the guard to wait there, and conveyed him to a window, from which he escaped by a long cord. This is the story as related in _The Historie of King James the Sext_, quoted by Scott.
I will sing, if ye will hearken, If ye will hearken unto me; The king has ta'en a poor prisoner, The wanton laird o' young Logie.
Young Logie's laid in Edinburgh chapel, 5 Carmichael's the keeper o' the key; And May Margaret's lamenting sair, A' for the love of young Logie.
May Margaret sits in the queen's bouir,[L9]
Knicking her fingers ane by ane, 10 Cursing the day that she e'er was born, Or that she e'er heard o' Logie's name.
"Lament, lament na, May Margaret, And of your weeping let me be; For ye maun to the king himsell, 15 To seek the life o' young Logie."
May Margaret has kilted her green cleiding, And she has curl'd back her yellow hair,-- "If I canna get young Logie's life, Farewell to Scotland for evermair." 20
When she came before the king, She knelit lowly on her knee.
"O what's the matter, May Margaret?
And what need's a' this courtesie?"
"A boon, a boon, my noble liege, 25 A boon, a boon, I beg o' thee!
And the first boon that I come to crave Is to grant me the life o' young Logie."
"O na, O na, May Margaret, Forsooth, and so it mauna be; 30 For a' the gowd o' fair Scotland Shall not save the life o' young Logie."
But she has stown the king's redding kaim, Likewise the queen her wedding knife; And sent the tokens to Carmichael, 35 To cause young Logie get his life.
She sent him a purse o' the red gowd, Another o' the white monie; She sent him a pistol for each hand, And bade him shoot when he gat free. 40
When he came to the Tolbooth stair, There he let his volley flee; It made the king in his chamber start, E'en in the bed where he might be.
"Gae out, gae out, my merrymen a', 45 And bid Carmichael come speak to me; For I'll lay my life the pledge o' that, That yon's the shot o' young Logie."
When Carmichael came before the king, He fell low down upon his knee; 50 The very first word that the king spake Was,--"Where's the laird of young Logie?"
Carmichael turn'd him round about, (I wot the tear blinded his e'e,)-- "There came a token frae your grace 55 Has ta'en away the laird frae me."
"Hast thou play'd me that, Carmichael?
And hast thou play'd me that?" quoth he; "The morn the Justice Court's to stand, And Logie's place ye maun supplie." 60
Carmichael's awa to Margaret's bower, Even as fast as he may drie,-- "O if young Logie be within, Tell him to come and speak with me!"
May Margaret turn'd her round about, 65 (I wot a loud laugh laughed she,)-- "The egg is chipp'd, the bird is flown, Ye'll see nae mair of young Logie."
The tane is shipped at the pier of Leith, The tother at the Queen's Ferrie; 70 And she's gotten a father to her bairn, The wanton laird of young Logie.
v. 9-12. This stanza was obtained by Motherwell from recitation.
THE GYPSIE LADDIE.
This ballad first appeared in print in the _Tea-Table Miscellany_, (ii. 282,) from which it was adopted into Herd's and Pinkerton's collections, Johnson's _Museum_, and Ritson's _Scottish Songs_. The version here selected, that of Finlay, (_Scottish Ballads_, ii. 39,) is nearly the same, but has two more stanzas, the third and the fourth. Different copies are given in Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p.
360, Smith's _Scottish Minstrel_, iii. 90, _The Songs of England and Scotland_, (by Peter Cunningham,) ii. 346, and Sheldon's _Minstrelsy of the English Border_, p. 329, (see our Appendix;) others, which we have not seen, in Mactaggart's _Gallovidian Dictionary_, Chambers's _Scottish Gypsies_, and _The Scot's Magazine_ for November, 1817.
There is a popular tradition, possessing, we believe, no foundation in fact, that the incidents of this ballad belong to the history of the noble family of Cassilis. The Lady Jean Hamilton, daughter of the Earl of Waddington, is said to have been constrained to marry a grim Covenanter, John, Earl of Cassilis, though her affections were already engaged to Sir John Faa of Dunbar. In 1643, several years after their union, when the Countess had given birth to two or three children, her husband being absent from home on a mission to the Assembly of Divines at Westminster, Sir John presented himself at Cassilis Castle, attended by a small band of gypsies, and himself disguised as one. The recollection of her early passion proved stronger than the marriage vow, and the lady eloped with her former lover. But before she had got far from home, the Earl happened to return. Learning what had occurred, he set out in pursuit with a considerable body of followers, and, arresting the fugitives, brought them back to his castle, where he hanged Sir John and his companions on a great tree before the gate.
The Countess was obliged to witness the execution from a chamber window, and after a short confinement in the castle, was shut up for the rest of her life in a house at Maybole, four miles distant, which had been fitted up for her, with a staircase on which were carved a set of heads representing her lover and his troop.
Unfortunately for the truth of the story, letters are in existence, written by the Earl of Cassilis to the Lady Jean after the date of these events, which prove the subsistence of a high degree of mutual affection and confidence; and Finlay assures us that after a diligent search, he had been able to discern nothing that in the slightest confirmed the popular tale. The whole story is perhaps the malicious invention of an enemy of the house of Cassilis, and as such would not be unparalleled in the history of ballad poetry. See Dauney's _Ancient Scottish Melodies_, p. 269, and Chambers's _Scottish Ballads_, p.
143.
The gypsies came to our good lord's gate, And wow but they sang sweetly; They sang sae sweet and sae very complete, That down came the fair lady.
And she came tripping doun the stair, 5 And a' her maids before her; As soon as they saw her weel-far'd face, They coost the glamer o'er her.
"O come with me," says Johnie Faw, "O come with me, my dearie; 10 For I vow and I swear by the hilt of my sword, That your lord shall nae mair come near ye."
Then she gied them the beer and the wine, And they gied her the ginger; But she gied them a far better thing, 15 The goud ring aff her finger.
"Gae tak frae me this gay mantle, And bring to me a plaidie; For if kith and kin and a' had sworn, I'll follow the gypsie laddie. 20
"Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed, Wi' my good lord beside me; But this night I'll lye in a tennant's barn, Whatever shall betide me."
"Come to your bed," says Johnie Faw, 25 "O come to your bed, my dearie; For I vow and swear by the hilt of my sword, That your lord shall nae mair come near ye."