Sidor som bilder

Betweene England and Scotland it wold breake truce,
And friends againe they wold never bee,
If they shold 'liver a banisht erle


Was driven out of his own countrie.

Alas! alas! my lord, she sayes,

Nowe mickle is their traitorie;
Then lett my brother ryde his wayes,
And tell those English lords from thee,

How that you cannot with him ryde,
Because you are in an ile of the sea,*
Then ere my brother come againe

To Edenborow castle † Ile carry thee.

To the Lord Hume I will thee bring,

He is well knowne a true Scots lord, And he will lose both land and life,

Ere he with thee will break his word.

Much is my woe, Lord Percy sayd,

When I thinkíe on my own countrie, When I thinke on the heavye happe1

My friends have suffered there for mee.
Much is my woe, Lord Percy sayd,

And sore those wars my minde distresse;
Where many a widow lost her mate,
And many a child was fatherlesse.

And now that I a banisht man,

Shold bring such evil happe with mee,
To cause my faire and noble friends
To be suspect of treacherie:






i. e. Lake of Leven, which hath communication with the sea.

† At that time in the hands of the opposite faction.

[1 fortune.]

This rives' my heart with double woe;
And lever had I dye this day,
Than thinke a Douglas can be false,
Or ever he will his guest betray.

If you'll give me no trust, my lord,

Nor unto mee no credence yield;
Yet step one moment here aside,
Ile showe you all your foes in field.

Lady, I never loved witchcraft,
Never dealt in privy wyle;
But evermore held the high-waye
Of truth and honour, free from guile

If you'll not come yourselfe my lorde,
Yet send your chamberlaine with mee;
Let me but speak three words with him,
And he shall come again to thee.

And who walkes yonder, my good lady,
So royallyè on yonder greene?
O yonder is the lord Hunsdèn :*

Alas! he'll doe you drie and teene.'
And who beth yonder, thou gay ladye,

That walkes so proudly him beside? That is Sir William Drury,+ shee sayd, A keene captàine hee is and tryde.


* The Lord Warden of the East marches.
† Governor of Berwick.


2 hollow. > ill and injury.]

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James Swynard with that lady went,

She showed him through the weme of her ring How many English lords there were Waiting for his master and him.



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How many miles is itt, madàme,
Betwixt yond English lords and mee ?
Marry it is thrice fifty miles,
To saile to them upon the sea.

I never was on English ground,
Ne never sawe it with mine eye,
But as my book it sheweth mee,
And through my ring I may descrye.

My mother shee was a witch ladye,
And of her skille she learned' mee;
She wold let me see out of Lough-leven
What they did in London citle.

But who is yond, thou lady faire,

That looketh with sic an austerne2 face?
Yonder is Sir John Foster,* quoth shee,
Alas! he'll do ye sore disgrace.

He pulled his hatt down over his browe;
He wept; in his heart he was full of woe:
And he is gone to his noble Lord,
Those sorrowful tidings him to show.

Now nay, now nay, good James Swynàrd,
I may
not believe that witch ladìe:
The Douglasses were ever true,

And they can ne'er prove false to mee.

I have now in Lough-leven been

The most part of these years three,
Yett have I never had noe outrake,3
Ne no good games that I cold see.

[1 taught.

* Warden of the Middle-march.



an outride or expedition.]







Therefore I'll to yond shooting wend,
As to the Douglas I have hight:'
Betide me weale, betide me woe,

He ne'er shall find my promise light.

He writhe' a gold ring from his finger,
And gave itt to that gay ladle:
Sayes, It was all that I cold save,

In Harley woods where I cold bee.*

And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord,

Then farewell truth and honestle; And farewell heart and farewell hand; For never more I shall thee see.

The wind was faire, the boatmen call'd,
And all the saylors were on borde;
Then William Douglas took to his boat,
And with him went that noble lord.

Then he cast up a silver wand,

Says, Gentle lady, fare thee well! The lady fett a sigh soe deep,

And in a dead swoone down shee fell.

Now let us goe back, Douglas, he sayd,
A sickness hath taken yond faire ladìe;
If ought befall yond lady but good,

Then blamed for ever I shall bee.

Come on, come on, my lord, he sayes;
Come on, come on, and let her bee:
There's ladyes enow in Lough-leven
For to cheere that ladie.


i. e. Where I was. An ancient idiom.

2 twisted.

3 fetched.]

[' promised.

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If you'll not turne yourself, my lord,
Let me goe with my chamberlaine;
We will but comfort that faire lady,

And wee will return to you againe.

Come on, come on, my lord, he sayes,

Come on, come on, and let her bee:
My sister is craftye, and wold beguile
A thousand such as you and mee.
When they had sayled* fifty myle,
Now fifty mile upon the sea;
Hee sent his man to ask the Douglas,
When they shold that shooting see.

Faire words, quoth he, they make fooles faine,"
And that by thee and thy lord is seen :
You may hap' to thinke itt soone enough,
Ere you that shooting reach, I ween.

Jamye his hatt pulled over his browe,
He thought his lord then was betray'd;
And he is to Erle Percy againe,

To tell him what the Douglas sayd.

Hold upp thy head, man, quoth his lord;
Nor therefore lett thy courage fayle,
He did it but to prove thy heart,
To see if he cold make it quail.

When they had other fifty sayld,
Other fifty mile upon the sea,
Lord Percy called to Douglas himselfe,

Sayd, What wilt thou nowe doe with mee?






* There is no navigable stream between Lough-Leven and the sea: but a ballad-maker is not obliged to understand geography.

[1 glad.

2 chance.]

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