This night will he bee at thy bowre-windowe,
And dye or sett thee free.

Nowe daye was gone, and night was come,
And all were fast asleepe,

All save the Ladye Emmeline,

Who sate in her bowre to weepe:

And soone shee heard her true loves voice

Lowe whispering at the walle,

Awake, awake, my deare ladyè, 'Tis I thy true love call.

Awake, awake, my ladye deare,

Come, mount this faire palfràye:

This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe thee hence awaye.

Ile carrye

Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knight,
Nowe nay, this may not bee;

For aye shold I tint my maiden fame,

If alone I should wend with thee.

O ladye, thou with a knighte so true
Mayst safelye wend alone,

To my ladye mother I will thee bringe,
Where marriage shall make us one.

My father he is a baron bolde,

Of lynage proude and hye;

And what would he saye if his daughter
Awaye with a knight should fly?

"Ah! well I wot, he never would rest,
Nor his meate should doe him no goode,
Until he hath slayne thee, Child of Elle,
And seene thy deare hearts bloode."

O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette,
And a little space him fro,

I would not care for thy cruel father,
Nor the worst that he could doe.

O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette,
And once without this walle,

I would not care for thy cruel father
Nor the worst that might befalle.

Faire Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And aye her heart was woe:

At length he seized her lilly-white hand,
And downe the ladder he drewe :

And thrice he clasped her to his breste,
And kist her tenderlie :

The teares that fell from her fair eyes
Ranne like the fountayne free.

Hee mounted himselfe on his steede so talle,
And her on a fair palfràye,

And slung his bugle about his necke,

And roundlye they rode awaye.

All this beheard her owne damsèlle,

In her bed whereas shee ley,

Quoth shee, My lord shall knowe of this,
Soe I shall have golde and fee.

Awake, awake, thou baron bolde!

Awake, my noble dame !

Your daughter is fledde with the Child of Elle To doe the deede of shame.

The baron he woke, the baron he rose,

And called his merrye men all:

"And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte, Thy ladye is carried to thrall."

Faire Emmeline scant had ridden a mile,
A mile forth of the towne,

When she was aware of her fathers men
Come galloping over the downe:

And foremost came the carlish knight,
Sir John of the north countràye:

"Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitòure, Nor carry that ladye awaye.

"For she is come of hye lineàge,

And was of a ladye borne,

And ill it beseems thee, a false churl's sonne,
To carrye her hence to scorne."

Nowe loud thou lyest, Sir John the knight,
Nowe thou doest lye of mee;

A knight mee gott, and a ladye me bore,
Soe never did none by thee.

But light nowe downe, my ladye faire,
Light downe, and hold my steed,
While I and this discourteous knighte
Doe trye this arduous deede.

But light now downe, my deare ladyè,
Light downe, and hold my horse;
While I and this discourteous knight
Doe trye our valour's force.

Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And aye her heart was woe,

While twixt her love and the carlish knight
Past many a baleful blowe.

The Child of Elle hee fought so well,
As his weapon he waved amaine,
That soone he had slaine the carlish knight,
And layd him upon the plaine.

And nowe the baron and all his men
Full fast approached nye:

Ah! what may ladye Emmeline doe?
Twere nowe no boote to flye.

Her lover he put his horne to his mouth,
And blew both loud and shrill,

And soone he saw his owne merry men
Come ryding over the hill.

"Nowe hold thy hand, thou bold baròn,
I pray thee hold thy hand,
Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts
Fast knit in true love's band.

Thy daughter I have dearly loved
Full long and many a day;
But with such love as holy kirke
Hath freelye sayd wee may.

O give consent, shee may be mine,
And blesse a faithfull paire :
My lands and livings are not small,
My house and lineage faire :

My mother she was an earl's daughtèr,
And a noble knyght my sire-
The baron he frowned, and turn'd away
With mickle dole and ire.

Fair Emmeline sighed, faire Emmeline wept,
And did all tremblinge stand:
At lengthe she sprang upon her knee,
And held his lifted hand.

Pardon, my lorde and father deare,
This faire yong knyght and mee:
Trust me, but for the carlish knyght,
I never had fled from thee.

Oft have you called your Emmeline
Your darling and your joye;

O let not then your harsh resolves
Your Emmeline destroye.

The baron he stroakt his dark-brown cheeke,

And turned his heade asyde

To whipe awaye the starting teare

He proudly strave to hyde.

In deepe revolving thought he stoode,

And mused a little space;

Then raised faire Emmeline from the grounde,

With many a fond embrace.

Here take her, Child of Elle, he sayd,

And gave her lillye white hand;

Here take my deare and only child,

And with her half my land:

Thy father once mine honour wrongde
In dayes of youthful pride;

Do thou the injurye repayre

In fondnesse for thy bride.

And as thou love her, and hold her deare,
Heaven prosper thee and thine:

And nowe my blessing wend wi' thee,
My lovelye Emmeline.

+++ From the word kirke in ver. 159, this hath been thought to be a Scottish ballad, but it must be acknowledged that the line referred to is among the additions supplied by the Editor: besides, in the northern counties of England, kirk is used in the common dialect for church, as well as beyond the Tweed.

XII. EDOM O' GORDON

A SCOTTISH BALLAD

This was printed at Glasgow, by Robert and Andrew Foulis, MDCCLV. 8vo. 12 pages. We are indebted for its publication (with many other valuable things in these volumes) to Sir David Dalrymple, Bart. who gave it as it was preserved in the memory of a lady, that is now dead.

The reader will here find it improved, and enlarged with several fine stanzas, recovered from a fragment of the same ballad, in the Editor's folio manuscript. It is remarkable that the latter is intitled "Captain Adam Carre," and is in the English idiom. But whether the author was English or Scotch, the difference originally was not great. The English ballads are generally of the north of England, the Scottish are of the south of Scotland, and of consequence the country of balladsingers was sometimes subject to one crown, and sometimes to the other, and most frequently to neither. Most of the finest old Scotch songs have the scene laid within twenty miles of England, which is indeed all poetic ground, green hills, remains of woods, clear brooks. The pastoral scenes remain: of the rude chivalry of former ages happily nothing remains but the ruins of the castles, where the more daring and successful robbers resided. The house or castle of the Rodes stood about a measured mile south from Duns, in Berwickshire: some of the ruins of it may be seen to this day. The Gordons were anciently seated in the same county: the two villages of East and West Gordon lie about ten miles from the castle of the Rodes.1 The fact, however, on which the ballad is founded, happened in the north of Scotland (see below, p. 144.), yet it is but too faithful a specimen of the violences practised in the feudal times in every part of this island, and indeed all over Europe.

From the different titles of this ballad, it should seem that the old strolling bards or minstrels (who gained a livelihood by reciting these poems) made no scruple of changing the names of the personages they introduced, to humour their hearers. For instance, if a Gordon's conduct was blame-worthy in the opinion of that age, the obsequious minstrel would, when among Gordons, change the name to Car, whose clan or sept lay further west, and vice versâ. The foregoing observation, which I owed to Sir David Dalrymple, will appear the more perfectly well founded, if, as I have since been informed (from Crawford's Memoirs), the principal commander of the expedition was a Gordon, and the immediate agent a Car, or Ker; for then the reciter might, upon good grounds, impute the barbarity here deplored, either to a Gordon, or a Car, as best suited his purpose. In the second volume the reader will find a similar instance. See the song of "Gil Morris," wherein the principal character introduced had different names given him, perhaps for the same cause.

1 This ballad is well known in that neighbourhood, where it is intitled "Adam o' Gordon." It may be observed, that the famous freebooter, whom Edward I. fought with, hand to hand, near Farnham, was named Adam Gordon.