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From Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii. 268.

"Hynd Horn fair, and Hynd Horn free, O where were you born, in what countrie?"

"In gude greenwood, there I was born, And all my forbears me beforn.

"O seven years I served the king, 5 And as for wages, I never gat nane; But ae sight o' his ae daughter, And that was thro' an augre bore.

"My love gae me a siller wand, 'Twas to rule ower a' Scotland; 10 And she gae me a gay gowd ring, The virtue o't was above a' thing."

"As lang's this ring it keeps the hue, Ye'll know I am a lover true; But when the ring turns pale and wan, 15 Ye'll know I love another man."

He hoist up sails, and awa' sail'd he, And sail'd into a far countrie; And when he look'd upon his ring, He knew she loved another man. 20

He hoist up sails and home came he, Home unto his ain countrie; The first he met on his own land, It chanc'd to be a beggar man.

"What news, what news, my gude auld man? 25 What news, what news, hae ye to me?"

"Nae news, nae news," said the auld man, "The morn's our queen's wedding day."

"Will ye lend me your begging weed, And I'll lend you my riding steed?" 30 "My begging weed will ill suit thee, And your riding steed will ill suit me."

But part be right, and part be wrang, Frae the beggar man the cloak he wan; "Auld man, come tell to me your leed, 35 What news ye gie when ye beg your bread."

"As ye walk up unto the hill, Your pike staff ye lend ye till; But whan ye come near by the yett, Straight to them ye will upstep. 40

"Take nane frae Peter, nor frae Paul, Nane frae high or low o' them all; And frae them all ye will take nane, Until it comes frae the bride's ain hand."

He took nane frae Peter, nor frae Paul, 45 Nane frae the high nor low o' them all; And frae them all he would take nane, Until it came frae the bride's ain hand.

The bride came tripping down the stair, The combs o' red gowd in her hair; 50 A cup o' red wine in her hand, And that she gae to the beggar man.

Out o' the cup he drank the wine, And into the cup he dropt the ring; "O got ye't by sea, or got ye't by land, 55 Or got ye't on a drown'd man's hand?"

"I got it not by sea, nor got it by land, Nor got I it on a drown'd man's hand; But I got it at my wooing gay, And I'll gie't you on your wedding day." 60

"I'll take the red gowd frae my head, And follow you, and beg my bread; I'll take the red gowd frae my hair, And follow you for evermair."

Atween the kitchen and the ha', 65 He loot his cloutie cloak down fa'; And wi' red gowd shone ower them a', And frae the bridegroom the bride he sta'.


A story similar to this occurs in various forms both in Scotland and the Scandinavian kingdoms. Scott inserted the ballad in his first edition under the title of _The Laird of Laminton_; the present copy is an improved one obtained by him from several recitations.

(_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 122.) Other versions are Motherwell's, printed with this, Maidment's, in his _North Countrie Garland_, p. 34, (_Catharine Jaffery_), and Buchan's, in his _Gleanings_, p. 74, (_Loch-in-var._) _Sweet William_, in Motherwell's collection, (see Appendix,) is still another variety.

Jamieson has translated a Danish ballad which, though not cognate with these, exhibits nearly the same incidents, and we have inserted it in the Appendix.

It need hardly be remarked that the spirited ballad of _Lochinvar_ in _Marmion_ is founded on this ancient legend.

There was a may, and a weel-far'd may, Lived high up in yon glen: Her name was Katharine Janfarie, She was courted by mony men.

Up then came Lord Lauderdale, 5 Up frae the Lawland Border; And he has come to court this may, A' mounted in good order.

He told na her father, he told na her mother, And he told na ane o' her kin; 10 But he whisper'd the bonnie lassie hersell, And has her favour won.

But out then cam Lord Lochinvar, Out frae the English Border, All for to court this bonny may, 15 Weel mounted, and in order.

He told her father, he told her mother, And a' the lave o' her kin; But he told na the bonnie may hersell, Till on her wedding e'en. 20

She sent to the Lord o' Lauderdale, Gin he wad come and see; And he has sent word back again, Weel answer'd she suld be.

And he has sent a messenger, 25 Right quickly through the land, And raised mony an armed man To be at his command.

The bride looked out at a high window, Beheld baith dale and down, 30 And she was aware of her first true love, With riders mony a one.

She scoffed him, and scorned him, Upon her wedding day; And said--it was the fairy court, 35 To see him in array!

"O come ye here to fight, young lord, Or come ye here to play, Or come ye here to drink good wine Upon the wedding day?" 40

"I come na here to fight," he said, "I come na here to play; I'll but lead a dance wi' the bonny bride, And mount, and go my way."

It is a glass of the blood-red wine 45 Was filled up them between, And aye she drank to Lauderdale, Wha her true love had been.

He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve; 50 He's mounted her hie behind himsell, At her kinsmen speir'd na leave.

"Now take your bride, Lord Lochinvar, Now take her, if you may!

But if you take your bride again, 55 We'll call it but foul play."

There were four-and-twenty bonnie boys, A' clad in the Johnstone grey; They said they would take the bride again, By the strong hand, if they may. 60

Some o' them were right willing men, But they were na willing a'; And four-and-twenty Leader lads Bid them mount and ride awa'.

Then whingers flew frae gentles' sides, 65 And swords flew frae the shea's, And red and rosy was the blood Ran down the lily braes.

The blood ran down by Caddon bank, And down by Caddon brae; 70 And, sighing, said the bonnie bride, "O wae's me for foul play!"

My blessing on your heart, sweet thing, Wae to your wilfu' will!

There's mony a gallant gentleman 75 Whae's bluid ye have garr'd to spill.

Now a' you lords of fair England, And that dwell by the English Border, Come never here to seek a wife, For fear of sic disorder. 80

They'll haik ye up, and settle ye bye, Till on your wedding day, Then gie ye frogs instead of fish, And play ye foul foul play.

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