p*— — -■' - — - ■ - —- J-»>-Y wik^^ -i i» rii IL i rc \71LL1AM STRANG "^ 'J u 'J J Ji> WILLIAMS ARC ENT BALLADS AND ETCHINGS A BOOK OF BALLADS BY ALICE SARGANT WITH FIVE ETCHINGS BY WILLIAM STRANG iS» LONDON : ELKIN MATHEWS VIGO STREET VV 1898 PREFACE J N explanation of the title " Ballads and Etchings " the ivriter of the letterpress begs gratefully to acknowledge that the ballad rvas not in every case written before the picture. Her best thanks are also due to the Publisher and Printer for their care in every detail of arrange- ment. CONTENTS UrsELLA Norn, with Etching " Out peered the face o' the eerie mait." The Gipsy Raiders Joan of Arc The Ploughman's Wife .... Donald Campbell, with Etching " Tve that within my plaidie" s faidd Sail gie your eyes a feast.'''' The Elfin Bride Eriboll Fishers Anne Lisbeth Maggie Ross, with Etching " And it's there she saw a straight maid l!'i' a gar/and on her head." Lady Helen The Fords o' Callum Jessie o' Ardrossan, with Etching . " An' in the hirk at Ardrossan The fisher folk sail meet." The Watcher and His Friend Grizel Cochran e's Ride An Even-Song Paracelsus, with Etching " Whey -white was Paracelsus, Brooding o'er his spells." The Weird o' Earl Ronald . . . . The Gipsy Evictment Red, White, and Blue . , . , PAGE 9 12 13 15 17 19 21 23 25 27 29 31 33 35 37 39 41 43 45 ©1R tbe mainlau& of ®rf?nes Uve& a mai&en bg name "Clrsella fftorn. Ht some seasons tbe islan&evs were forced for want of salt to use sea=water in tbeir cauldrons. ®ne evening Xtlrsella, witb ber stoup, left ber motber's beartb to Draw water from tbe (ncomino tibe. Sbe never returned bowever, nor was sbe ever seen at borne again, ffour gears later, ber cousin, Mtlllam morn, avcrreb tbat, being becalmed in a mist at sea, sbe appeareb to blm, an& tool? bim, wltb tbe rest of tbe crew, to lFMl&a*lanb. Hjc stateb tbat sbe was well an& bapp\}, anO averse to returning borne. Orkney Folk-kwe — De unison. URSELLA NORN WHIST and hist, Ursella, The day-star westers down ; Stray not where high and low tide sway, For yon's the wild trow's ground ! " Oh dark's the face o' the dree Fin-man, An' weird's his sorcery ; He can sink the fisher's boat by night, An' snatch Christ's folk to sea." She's lat her stoup i' the sunset wave, Gleamed green wi' emeral' ray ; An' drew up gold an' cramoisie, Phantasmic ephemeral play. Out peered the face o' the eerie man, Wi' eyes o' ebony ; Guid keep us a' fra folk like that, That's no earthly company ! Oh its weary cryin' for Ursella Norn, While whistlin' winds are loud ; The wud sea-trows ha' dragged her down, Drift-white her silvery shroud. Leap-year's come, and leap-year's gone. An' a white mist over all ; A ribbony wreck, and a storm-swept deck, When Willie heard a call. BALLADS AND ETCHINGS An' it's there he spies a sma' boat, Rows up to the guid ship's side ; " Lord, lass, is this thee, Ursella, Alane on the saut sea wide ? " She's lep the tafiferel, till the deck, " Gae veer aboot " 's her word ; And aye there sprang a cool o' breeze. And the ship danced light as a bird. Oh, wat's the name o' )'on faery strand, Wi' hills sa wondrous bonnie ? Na wonder sic a magic land Has cast the glamourye on ye ! " Yen's the blythesum hame o' the wild Fin-man, Ne'er looks for rain, nor sna' ; Nor mirk o' night, nor dawn o' day, Sa saft the licht owre a'. She's led them to a shield-girt hall, A' strewn wi' the sweet jonquil ; Wi' scarlet-red, and purple wine. An' waxlights saft an' still. " Wha 's that comes ridin' a black, black steed ? " " That's aye the gudeman hame ; The gouden quaich, sud he upraise, A' Fin-men shout his name ! " The Fin-man's set him by Ursella's cousin. Right courteous was his will ; Feastin', an' ringin', an' gallantly singing, Until the cock crew shrill. And it's " How sail we steer hame,Ursel?" And it's " Will ye away wi' me ? " " Na, na, I'm ower content wi' this, I've bonnie bairnies three." She's ta'en a token fra her pouch : " Gi'e Margaret Pierce this spell ; 'Tis knotted Strang, wi' otters' hair lang, 'Twill speed your coorting well. "An' gie the Fin-pilot, that goes with ye, A siller groat ilk man ; An' wat he asks beyant that gi'e, To speed ye fair to Ian'." An' its laud cried the Fin-pilot ; " Its cards, I'd play with ye ; For mickle's the might, o' the canny gey wight. Deals painted wizardry." They've cut for king, they've cut for queen, Till a dreamy sleep held sway : Wearie the e'en an' eerie the sheen, As the Fin-pilot stole away. 10 URSELLA NORN An' athwart them lay the blue reek Saft curh'n' o'er the land ; Wi' women-folk weak, pressin' bairnie to cheek Awaltin' them on the strand. [[ ^©^E two 01* tbree bun5re^ ^ears ago a part? of maraubfno otpsies *^ ro&c 6own upon tbe bor&er town of Je^burgb anC> pillaoe5 tbe bouse of a farmer witb wboni tbeg were at feu&. XTbeg stabbeb bi£5 wife, anJ) carrteb off bts el&cst &augbter, escaptng before bis return borne. THE GIPSY RAIDERS THE Rutherfords, father and sons, rode down, And harried the outskirts o' Jedburgh town ; The whitethorn powdered the land wi' snow, The labouring oxen paced heavy and slow. They'd jacks, steel-bonnets, pistolets, Lances, hagbuts, and bannerets ; Dark-brow'd men, overbearing and wild, Spared neither greybeard, nor mother wi' child. They o'erset the great plough in the furrow'd field, An' reft forth the oxen wha patiently kneel'd ; Seized two guid nags worth a fistful o' gold. Slew kine in the byre, an' sheep i' the fold. They slit up the bare-bolls, and wasted the corn. Broke open the house where the farmer was born ; Tossed napery, aumrie and kists to the ground, And laughed as the red flames licked greedily round. The bairns an' the lassie clung round the guidwife, Wha's pale cheeks were streaming wi' fears for their life ; John Stevenson, Rutherford's stepson outcried. And haling her forth stuck a spear in her side. When your gudeman comes hame at the shroudin' o' night. He'll likely not look for so dainty a sight ; Ye can tell him his daughter is Ruther- ford's bride. An' bid him remember the Raiders o' Clyde. 12 X©Ta(B1b/ll!)H1W naine5 /iDattFjew JoFMison aitiious about bis wife, 'Cibbie, wbo was late borne front marftet, set out over tbe bills to meet ber. 1be fouuD ber on tbe beiabts ftneeling witb ber face upon tbe Ground quite &ea&, ber bur&eii of unsold v?arn by ber sibe. From James Hogg, THE PLOUGHMAN'S WIFE T WAS the dim hour after sky-set, An' a tap at the shepherd's door ; The ploughman's wife at the shieHng, Ere she clambered up the moor. " A drink o' milk, neebor. Ma heart is strange an' cauld " ; She took the cup and supped it up, " Guid keep ye in his fauld." " I dreamt an eerie dream, the nicht, Of aye a Fairies' Rade, But come the dawing o' the licht My mind was ower sad. Blithe mell was there o' steeds sa rare, Wi' mony a man an' braw ; Glittering the flight rode right in sight Wi' mysel' the head o' a'. Bride-reins braid a' goud belaid Rang laud wi' stirrup and spurs ; Silk flags a' jags wi' siller chiming tags Curled quaint o'er the flowerin' furze. Mickle talk has been made o' the Fairy Cavalcade, But yan was beyant a' words ; I was shamed, wife, and lamed, an' my wild heart was tamed As they flashed out their diamant swords. I was told to be bold, and to leave my well-loved hold, To wed wi' anither man ; Mat laft as he quaffed " There's nane fule sa daft. As 'ud take ye aff my han'." BALLADS AND ETCHINGS " Easy jestin',"said I,iinrestiii',protcstin', "But I ken, lad, it's no fra' the heart ; A weddin' dream 's ill-bodin'. Hush my burden is unloaden, Bitter, bitter, 'twad be to part." An' so I was way to mercat, Ere the sun was an ell-wand high ; I'd three fair spinles of yarn to sell, An' barley an' saut to buj-. Guidnlcht, the wold's before me, Sa pathless wild an' steep ; The bairns are aff to their beds cauld Eh ! but the peat is deep. She's thocht o' cannie Davie, " He'll greet for his mither sair ; The yarn's ay heavy on my back, I'll not bear mickle mair." She's thocht on baby Nancy, An' knelt upon the ground ; " May-be I'll get ma breathin' sa, Na doot I sail be found. There's mony a black stane on the muir. But nane sa dark as me ; I'll lay my sad face to the airth. For my eyesight's growin' dree." Whist, whist, the thud o' horses. Laud trampin' up the raid ; Altho' her head weighed dead as lead ; — She was nane sa sair afraid. The piercing blast beat wild and fiei-ce. An' shuddered icy-cold ; Where lonely-wide the guid-wife died As the horsemen crossed the wold. i5 '7riblR©'Cl(31b tbe iptass of If^intraw witi5s tbe roa& between Craiotiisb ^ anb IftUmartln. IFjeie mav: be seen an oI5 foot way jotnino tbe two partsbes. after it bas woun& a few var5s up tbe bUl it enters a narrow oorge, an5 bere, two or tbree centuries aoo, tbe two youno lairds met, quarrelleJ), wrestled, and bere one of tbem, S)onal& Campbell, fell. Ibis deatb was spee&ilv avencjed by bis foster^brotber, as tbe ballad relates. Tradition. DONALD CAMPBELL GI'E place, gi'e place, Donald Camp- bell, Stan' back, gi'e place to me ; My father's laird o' Achagarain ; Gi'e way, man, or ye dee." They wrastled up, they vvrastled down, McLachlain's fain for breath ; He's stuck his dirk in Campbell's heart, And gied him so his death. Syne he's pressed the heather, And syne he's pressed the fern : My horse an' a', I'd gie ye braw For a drink fra yonder burn. 17 " No drink o' water sail ye have, While I've the maistery ! " Oh, the light was mirk on the blood- stained dirk. An' mirk, mirk was the sky. Donald's father was putting the stone " Hey but the day is dour ! " Up comes black Archie, Wail and dirge owre the muir. " What's yon ye bear so heavily ? Wha's hand hangs by your side ? " " Your son, my foster-brither," he said, " For whom I wad ha' died." B BALLADS AND ETCHINGS The laird looked lang, the laird looked aft, An' tears blinded his e'e ; " I ne'er had thocht to greet again Afore I came to dee. When dawn grows blue upon the hills, An' pale blue wreaths arise, Gude Archie, take an' wake me up, For grief bears down my eyes. I'd fain finger his cursed head, Wha 's killed my bonnie lad ; Come lay thee down beside my bed. Happed in thy blue-black plaid." 'Twas when the mune lay white below. Silvering the gray beard's hand, Archibald stole across the room, And's afif o'er the sleepin' land. An' when he reached McLachlain's door Stone-still he stude wi' his sword ; Stone-still — grippin' with baith Strang hands — An' never spake a word. Out crep' fause McLachlain, East an' West looked he ; Thrusting his head beyant the sill, Or ere he made to flee. " That's for you, traitor," said Archie, " An' this for the laird," he said ; He plucked the sever'd head from the step, An' rowed it in his plaid. " Thole an' dole, Archibald, Thole an' dole for ye ; The sun shines squarely in," said Campbell ; " We've lost the enemy ! " " Laird o' Barbreck," says Archibald, " I was laith to break your rest ; I've that within my plaidie's fauld Sail gie your eyes a feast. The lads may play shinny wi' it, An' Donald rest in his grave ; Eh, but my arm is stiff," he said, " Sic a blow's I gave ! " i8 21 xaB^xaiREIR returnfnc borne one star*ltt nfcbt ba& a vision of tbe '^ ]£lfin Gineen surroun&e& bg ber courtiers, ©n bis arrival be at= tenipte& to give some account of tbe pageant, but was founb to be almost speecbless, an& onlp recovcref) bis faculties at tbe en& of a ^lear, wbcn bis account was somewbat as follows : THE ELFIN BRIDE O'ER emeral' tufted turf, Through asphodel and hlies, The Elfin Bride paced in her pride, Wi' cavalcade an' gillies. She'd a gold-embroider'd cymar, Auburn locks, and beauty's dower, Twilight radiance flushed with vermeil, Ay a cyclamen in flower ! The star-enchanted meads. Grew pale at sic a revel ; The brangle o' the tangle-reeds Storm-chequered all the level. Ane hand upheld the reins. Her mist-pale palfry ambled ; Wi' song, an' throng, she rode along, As thro' the brake I rambled. O moon-dappled may, and O quaint roundelay. Soft tresses and cresses and chryso- prase ray. Whirring, and chirring like woodpigeons skirring, We halloe wi' delight, till the mowers are stirring. Wi' cistus an' cestus, through wood- serried vistas. Musk-dusky where star-light hath striven and missed us. Roaming an' foaming till daylight is doming, We elves flutter free till the rere-mouse is homing. Wi' flambeau and rondeau enraptured our steeds go. Where daffodil, elecampane, and the reeds grow ; 19 BALLADS AND ETCHINGS Chiflcring and chaffering wi' mad hocus- pocus, We trample wild thyme and the gold- throated crocus. O wha would not hearken the soul- haunting aftermath Zig-zagging moon-rathe by hedgerow and meadow swathe ; Flying an' crying dim echoes replying The fey-song o' singers, the death-song undying. But wi' dawning o' day our joy is de- throned, The madrigal dies, and the dirge is intoned ; An' the cold o' the wold gathers over the fold, An' the woods where weird elfin-folk galloped of old. Where asphodel is hiding, All rainbow-pearled and sky-shot, The Elfin Bride is guiding Her cavalcade an' riot. Ane puir mortal hearkened. The silver chime an' rhyming ; Sa heart-bewitched he wist na How the year's year was timing. 20 /^IWE storms Saturbai\ five or sij \:ears aoo, tbe owner of some lobster ^^ creels, near Xocb lErtboll, fearing to leave tbem out at sea all Sun* Dap sent bfs nxate auD a la& to fetcb tbem in. XTbe tempest sank tbe overladen boat just as sbe was nearino lan&, an& botb men were lost. ERIBOLL FISHERS BATTERING at the door, wi' thundering awesum roar, The billows break tumultuously ; " Mate, the creels are out at stake ; run the sea-boat down and take Neil Macleod — he's a strong lad — wi' ye." Nets festooned in brown wreaths hung from the rafter-beams and swung, By the hearth stude the spinning- wheel ; From the bedside Mackie leapt ; Jean, his wife, deep silence kept As he kissed his bairns " Be guid " and "Fareweel." Then suddenly she shook, reached down the Bible book ; " O Christ, bring my man safe back ! A soughing fra' the sea, cursing male- dictory. Rolled up wi the dark night-wrack. The storm-wind's iron clang o'er the bare woods sternly rang, Lang, lang ere the dawn sa dree ; Like a hellish spirit's cry ran a shriek- ing thro' the sky, And my heart beat tumultuously ! " Sune the crafty keel shot forth thro' the seething, hissing froth, Thro' darkness and the wild sleet- wreath ; How the vessel rock'd and reel'd as they piled each heavy creel, Frozen-handed, bent, and gripping wi' their teeth ! Hark, hark, the storm-fiend cries, lifts the boat's crew to the skies, Spreads shroud o' foaming waters o'er the surge ; White skinny claws arise, to clutch the hard-earned prize, And the sea-trows intone the dirge. 21 BALLADS AND ETCHINGS Charles Mackie and the lad Neil Mac- leod laughed out half-mad, As the whirlwind snatched the oars from out their hand : " There's a plank beneath our feet yet, and ne'er was life so sweet. Yet I doubt we'll never struggle to the land." Eyes straining from the shore, as round the vessel bore : " She'll never reach the harbour, lads, afloat ! " For a moment she wa? seen in a waste of angry green. Then no mortal evermore beheld the boat. Jean Mackie knelt beside his mother age-betied : " There's just the bairns and me — and one to come ; They've searched the sea-coast round, and nothing has been found ; Yesterday the boat was lost — no one home." 22 gl I>aiW3Slf3 pea5aiit=\vonian, lureb bp tbe promise of ooI5, foisool? bci* ^^ infant in oi&er to suclUe a ricb man's cbtl&. lljec own C)ie&, an& sbe was ever after bauntcd by its spirit, as is related in tbe ballad. //ij/is Christian Andersen. ANNE LISBETH STAY, stay, why do ye haste away ? Stay, stay, my feet are bleeding ; The wild sea-wrack ensnares my track. And yet ye gi'e no heeding. She's turned an' gazed on the pale mist- moon Laid shroud o'er surf and sea ; There came a wail upon the gale : " Hark, who was calling me ? " " Ye took a rich babe in my stead, Nor cared to serve nor love me ; As Christ sail save, I have no grave. Nor flower, nor herb above me. It's a bare-foot fisher-laddie ca's. All mist-enswathcd an' drowning ; Wringing hands, and speeding swift, Wi' dirge o' sea-bell sounding. I have no bed to lay my head ; Ye banned me fra' thy keeping ; Alane my grave beneath the wave. An' I must wander weeping. Deep, dig deep in the ribbed sea-sand, That the land-waves may not wake me ; Dig deep a' night wi' the bleeding hand That never cared to take me." A' nicht, a' nicht, nail and bone, A' for the dead and sleeping, Anne Lisbeth dug, world alone, And still she heard it weeping BALLADS AND ETCHINGS " The deep sea cannot haud me down, The saut sea will not bear me ; Clasp me, mother, next thy heart, Where none but I may hear thee." She's ta'en him in her two Strang arms, She's hushed him fra, all weeping ; The neighbours found them whispering so, As though they were but sleeping. 24 oxr fell out one autiunn i^av tbat a sci'tou's wtfe, eewino atbcr boov, saw »T one £5taii(Miio tbere tbat ba& a oal'lall^ upon bcr bea^. 'Clpou question tbe spirit avcnxD tbat sbc was /IDaoGic iRoss, a niai5=of=all«woi-[?, lately &ea&, an& to prove It sbewc& a rent, or tear, in ber sleeve, of wbicb sbe laiD tbe blame on tbe gui&wife's conscience. Jeivish Fable. MAGGIE ROSS WHERE hollyhocks rear'd lank and sere, An' beech leaves rattled laud ; A crooked crone, at her door alone. Sat sewing herself a shroud. The sunlight flickering dreamily Over the door-stane low, Wi' shadows o' the jasmine tree, Play'd criss-cross to and fro. And it's there she saw a straight maid VVi' a garland on her head, Sa white an' frail, sa sweet an' pale, Though never a word she said. Like a sheeny-coloured dream She hung fragrant on the breeze, More dazzlin' than the sun Through the gouden bcechen trees. " Come ben, come ben, thou bonnie flower, If a breathin' saul thou be." " A livin' saul I am," she spake, " An straight from Purgatory, Dost thou not mind me, withered dame, Lay cauld i' thy hands between ? " " It's never Maggie Ross," she asked, " That we buried yestreen ? " " O ay, I'm Maggie Ross," she said, " Wi' fingers cut to the bane ; O ay, I'm just the servin' lass That nane wad save nor sane." 25 BALLADS AND ETCHINGS And it's " How gat ye that siller dress, An' the chaplet twines your brow ? " " It's risin' afore the sun," she said, " An' a rune ere I laid me down. Of St. John's wort wove, and vervain trove In Paradise grew fair; Na bitter blast can harm my ghaist While this garland decks my hair. Reach out thy han' guid-wife," she said, " An' finger-feel my sleeve ; Ye rent my sark i' the shroudin' wark. Now will ye nat believe ? Sair shamed am I amang the fouk, Look me in front an' face ; Ply, ply thy glitterin' needle fast. That I may win to grace." She's knelt beside the wrinkled crone, Sewed swift an' sickerly ; Then laid her sma' mouth to her lips And kissed her wistfully. " Strang workin'-day, but nane so lang, Ere ye join me at kirk -yard tree " ; There was just a sigh and a smothered cry. An' naething more was to see. 26 ♦JKI EH1R Xocb IRanao la\? in olbeti ba^is tbe castle of a fierce I?nicj[3t wbo "^ went bv tbc name of Gra\?steel or (Braplie. Udc was tbe terror of tbe countrs=si6e, not onlv ravaotno netobbourino terrttorlcs bnt slaptng an? wbo, tbrouob temerity? or accident, trespassed on bts buntino preserves. 3n tbis outsc fell goung IRollo, wbosc Deatb was avenocD bs bis sister's lover, as bere followetb; Tradition. LADY HELEN Lady Helen saw wan i' the gloaming, Wi' mantle o' sea-blue mist ; Her hair moon-dark i' the shadow-wark O' the purple twilight tryst. Oh, hark to the thud an' the thunder, Sa ye glint o' a riderless steed ; The bird o' wane, sair maketh plam, " My ain sweet brither is deid." Up an' spake young Lord Durie, " Foul Graylie hath done this wrang ; My sword sail be the bitter-sweet Sail lay him low and lang ! Thy brither sail have fair sleeping Under yon kirkyard tree ; God wot he will be watching A' night 'twixt thee an' me." The wind's howlin', the wind's wowling, Bitter hail owre the moor ; Side by side twa horsemen riding ; Hey but the night is dour. " Fling aff, fling aff, Lord Durie, The cock begins to crow ; An' I maun seek the black hill-creek Where bent and hemlock grow. But ye sail fight the fiercest knight Swung ever sword at side." It was lang ere noon sore hack'd an' hewn, Sir Graylie cursed an' died. Twa corbies wheeled the white world, An' perched on Graylie's head ; " Lang ha' lue waited on thee, Sir Knight, IVha gat us our daily bread. 27 BALLADS AND ETCHINGS Tlic red flames lick tJiy braw toivers Fra' green crcss-wecd to grass ; To-morrow sail see fair buiying, Wr saul-bell, priest an' ?nass." Lady Helen paceth her pleasaunce East an' west owre the lea ; Up rode Diirie wi' her dead brither Across his saddle-tree. " Feared ye no scathe ? " " Nay, a lonely wraith, Led me mysteriously ; I heard his horse-hoofs watch and ward, A' night 'twixt death an' me." "There's a gouden kame forRollo's hair, An' kisses to close his e'e, And Helen to thank his trusty friend, Low on her bended knee." 28 HaSiSlUXi; tbe beoinntno of !a6t century an ol5 man, Mat Douglas bs name, wltb bis wtfc Janet, were startled by bearing tbe voice of tbeir onlg &auobter callituj to tbem outside tbe bouse. Ss sbe was tben in service at some distance an& ba& last visite5 tbeni apparently well at Xocherbie jfair, tbev 5eterniine& to follow tbe uneartbhj visitant to tbe jforfts 0' Callutn. Ube rest of tbe storg inav be founS in tbe ballaO. 5t only remains to a^^ tbat tbe strange mourner wbo stoob besibe tbe grave was afterwarbs tracfteb bg tbe prints of bis borse's boots to a cave in tbe billsibe, wbere tbev Msappeareb. 5t is imagine?) be was an evil water- spirit, foiled in bis attempt to lure bis victim into tbe river. From a tale hy James Hogg. THE FORDS 0' CALLUM " Jlyf ITHER, are }'e "iVmiking; Waicking a' the niclit ? It's cauld an! weary i' the dark Without or shoon or licht." " Steek the door, Janet ; There's a cauld sough roun' the house." " The night is muth an' breathless, man ; I'm Hke to swoon almos'." " Mither, are ye ivaukiiig, Wauking cC the nicht ? It's caidd att' weary ivandcrin' Without or cloak or licht. Open the door, viither ; Come out an' speak wi ' me." " Is onybody wi' ye, child, That your father suld not see ? " " Na, na, there's naebody wi' me. Would God there had not been. Is father to the Galium Fords, Where I bid him yestere'en ? " " Your father's lyin' here by my side." " Wae's me, 'tis oiure late ! " Sighin', cryin', oh sa sair, The voice died o'er the gate. 29 BALLADS AND ETCHINGS " Dinna gang near't, Janet ; Dinna awa' fra' the wa's ! " " Will I not follow my ain sweet bairn That cauld an' barefuit gaes ! " 'Tvvas a bonnie, bonnie midsummer night, The moon shone white as may ; The auld man an' his wife stole out To Galium Fords away. ' What's that lyin' yon, Janet, Stane-still upon the green ? " Oh, God alane knows what it is ; Twere better not be seen." " I canna gang a step farther, My heart is like to brast ; Let's kneel an' watch it thro' our tears Until the night be past." The fords o' Galium lie smooth and sheen. The nights are sune away ; The nightingale sang loud and keen Until the dawn o' day. The white moor-cotton bathed their feet, Sa lanesome in its pride ; Wi' twa sma' leaves, frail, frail an' fleet, Alack an' woe betide ! They waded owre to puir Annie, Her cheek was cauld as snaw ; The sward was set wi' marks o' hoofs, On her head a deadly blow. Alane they toil to the kirkyard yett, But alane they did not stay ; A dark knight stood beside the grave, Wi' turmoil rode away. His lang black elf-locks stream behind A dark cloak veils his eyes ; His courser foams upon the wind, Sa wildly as he flies. " But its weary lyin' the lie-lang nicht An' Annie below the sod ; I'se pray in' sune to follow her Low at the feet o' God." 30 ^®/ir>]E gears ago a fcrrginati, plsing between Hrran an5 Hu&rossaii, '^ ma5e awag witb f3iB sweetbcart. Susptcfoii falliiio upon bfm, for some time be founb safeti^ in bibino, but, at last, baunteb bg remorse, tooh bis own life, an& was Discovered &ea& upon tbe sea^coast. Nnuspaper, JESSIE O' ARDROSSAN SET hands an' lift her head, neebor, An' I will bear her feet ; An' in the kirk at Ardrossan The fisher-folk sail meet. They've washed the sea-surf fra' her face, An' closed her starin' eyes, And bound the cere-cloth round her limbs, Sa stiff an' cold she lies. They've laid her in the wide grey aisle ; Sa lang's her yellow hair, 'Tis knotted loose upon her breast An' twined beneath the bier. Wan an' weird was the wanton sea, The wrack surged wild and dim ; The dusky sands gleamed wet an' dun, When last she was seen wi' him. A dark form crept to Janet's hut, " Sister, art thou in ? " Crouchin' by the flickerin' drift, He spake : " I did the sin ! I gripped her by her twa bent hands, And flung her in the surf; Her gowd hair shone like daffodils, That glimmer o'er the turf. I thocht the sea was deep as hell, I thocht the night was dead ; But now I know the whole wide world. With pity watched her head. Sister, gi'e me the osier-lamp. Hangs low upon the wa' ! I'm weary o' my wandering life, And fain would end it a'. 31 BALLADS AND ETCHINGS The gale keeps calling loud an' keen, ' Dinna drown me, Johnnie,' An' aye a babe cries echoing Shrill and shudderin' on me." They found the murderer cauld an' blue, Dead, 'mong the saut sea-grasses ; An' " Dinna drown me, I spake true," Cries the whirlwind as it passes. 32 aUlRHlHSXHtr3®in of an Huba&e, or ©awn^song, written b\? ©fraut 5e 3Bornellb in Provencal, front a ffrencb version l)\? M. Bors&orf, pb.S). THE WATCHER AND HIS FRIEND (From the Provencal of Giraut de Bornf.ii.h) The Watcher SIR Lord of Life and Light divine, Beseech thee guide this friend of mine ; Protect him by thy gracious might; I've watched and watched the live-long night, And now white grows the dawn. Sweet friend, if sleep weigh down your eyes, Sleep, sleep no more, but gently rise ; See, lo ! the day-star waxes great. Bright herald of the Eastern gate, And white, white groivs the dazun. Wake, wake ! my song's a cry to thee ; The nightingale from tree to tree. Longing for day, wings back and forth ; I fear reprisal — jealous wrath And whiter grows the dawn ! Arise and seek the casement bright, — All Heaven's agold-besprinkled white,- Then say if he be false to thee, Who bids " Beware the Penalty," And lighter grows the morn. Sweet friend, since first my watch I kept, I've neither left my knees, nor slept : Praying to God, St. Mary's Son, Through my leal troth, thy weal be won, A nd white, tvhitc grozvs the daivii. 33 C BALLADS AND ETCHINGS The Friend Ah ! friend, on the threshold of the door, Well hast thou counselVd : sleep no more ; Prithee keep ivatch the zvhole through. Still song and I must trouble you, And whiter grow the dawn. night Friend, such viy joy, my rest so sweet. What care I though no day I greet — She — loveliest child e'er mother made, I clasp — 7tor reck of ambuscade. Nor fear the zvhitest dawn. ^51R 5®1fo1Fl C^dlJlRHIKlE, of ©cbtltrcc, secon& son of tbe first Earl '^ of 3Dun&onalC», belongcb to tbe partv bca5cb b^ SiC>nc\j aii5 IRussell in Enolanb. Hfter tbe ei*ecution of tbese oreat men, be flc& to H3ollan5, wbere be remained till tbe &eatb of Cbarles u, in 1685. If3e tbcn returne& to Scotland to bea& tbe Presbyterian part\?. Bfter tbe fiobt at /iDuir&vf^es be was betrase& into tbe banbs of tbe enem\j, para&e& tbrongb tbe streets of lEMnbnrcjb bonn5 an& barebca5e5, an& lo&GCf) in tbe Uolbootb to await trial as a traitor. 2lt tbis point tbe ballaD taftes up tbe storg. History. GRIZEL COCHRANE'S RIDE " "D ^^*-^^ ^'''' change, auld Nursey, XX. Range an' change wi' me ; An' thou shalt get gude servin'-gown For thy son's accouterie." " What do ye here, Child Grizel, An' where's your company ? The white foam-speck 's on your horse's neck, An' tears in your bonnie e'e. The roofs o' Berwick h'e red an' wide, An' Tweed rins fair an' slow ; But what's a' that by proud Edinbry toun Where fouks ride to an' fro ? " " Oh,Edinboro'haudsthe grim Tolbooth, Wi' many a darksome cell. Where your auld laird lies pinched an' stairved. For loving kirk too well. An' gin I canna hauld the post, Returns fra' London town ; By Christ's sweet head, a Cochrane's dead. An' in his shroud laid down." " Come ben, come ben. Lady Grizel, my dear. Come ben and sleep a wee ; Gin ye ha' rid fra Edinbry toun, Sair weary must ye be ! " io BALLADS AND ETCHINGS But she's on and aff to a roadside inn, Where she's ca'd for bread and wine ; Saftly, saftly, thou hasty youth ; The post-boy sleeps within. Grizel's set her down by his side, Took his pistols fra' under his head ; " Go, fetch me cauld well-water," she said, " To mix wi' my wine so red." She's ta'en out the lead bullets, Set the pistols back again ; She's paid her count, and ridden out Back o'er the sunset plain. Iron bound, without a sound, Wi' her horse's head turned south ; She waited the mail, in a beechen dale, And firm set was her mouth. How the post-boy stared, when his pis- tols flared, Leaping off to drag her doun ; She was way wi' his loose horse, bags and a' As sune as he touched the groun". She's shred the warrant fine as grass. An' stowed it nex' her breast ; There was no mickle light, tho' the night was white And her good nag needed rest. Sic a tintamar up the raid, Sic din o' gladsum tidings ; An' its there they counted the guid red gold. King Jamie lo'ed mair than a' things. Oh, ride, guid gentlemen, ride i' haste, The king's heart suld be safter ; To hear Sir John Cochrane's not yet dead. An' the ransom's comin' after. And its Grizel Cochrane's low bent the knee, " Father can ye feel me ? The crowd is shouting that thou art free. And the land and the titles till ye ! " " Oh my hands are weak an' wan wi' care. An' my eyes are blind wi' weeping ; But there's grace, in an auld carle's face," he said. Sail guard ye awake or sleeping. I'll weary ye aft wi' my ways sa daft. An' ye'll wish that ye had left me ; But sic gear shall cheer ye a' the year As ne'er sail be bereft ye." 36 AN EVEN-SONG IT was evening and the wood-nymphs tired with the chase, Foot-sore, stiff, breathless, laughing, and laden with spoil. Came downward to the westering lake apace, owing c with the toil. Throwing off bows and tunics heated And poising deftly thus unlaced their sandalled feet, Threw back their hair and ran down to the strand ; Where the coy Naiads like wild roses fleet, Showed their pale faces on the waves and sand. And bubbling laughter and voices rose in the air, And cries of scorn at the timid land- born folk, While pleased to forget herself, yea debonnair, Diana suavely surveyed each frolic joke. And one slim Dryad, long-neck'd and full of grace. Looking and looking ere she would take her dive. Her life like reflected wavelets on her face, Shyly playing with Fate, yet all alive. And the screams of her irate playmates and the white arms. Flung round her feet, the knees ; the splash and the cry Soft dusky eyes, and oh ! the faint alarms ! From parted lips ; the exquisite har- mony BA^LLADS AND ETCHINGS And then the changing light, and the roseate glow Over the twining limbs, and the pul- And the waning silence as fading colours flow And a sober dusk comes on where delight has been. 38 'TTIFjiE alcbcinist Paracelsus was once upon a time cnibarrasseJ) b's the ^^ presence of a frtcn& wbom F)e f3a& release& from Durance. JB's a bapps use of bis arts be restored tbe Demon to its prison, else ba& be niob been slain. PARACELSUS IT'S weary o'er the missal, And weary o'er the tome, When wild sou'west winds whistle, And mariners meet their doom. And it's O for the wide, wide forest, And O for the fir trees dark ; And it's O Paracelsus, Paracelsus, Paracelsus, Paracelsus — Hark ! " Who calls on Paracelsus With fierce an' fearsome cry ? " And it's there he sees a runic cross Carved i' the rock-face high. The first heals all diseases, The second turns all to gold ; Loose me ! " cried the spirit, " My power is untold." Slowly as a miser crooks his treasure, Slowly as a mother bids farewell. With gaunt and haggard features, Paracelsus says a spell. Out creeps a dark and deadly adder. Spreads to a gruesome death's-head form ; A sibyl, cloak'd and hooded, From a striped and spotted worm. Intoning, moaning, croning, " Paracelsus, Paracelsus ! A subtle fiend gives voice ; j Here be cunning potions twain, " Unlock my prison gyves, weird friend. One tincture crams thy coffers, And two phials wait thy choice. i The other cures all pain, 39 BALLADS AND ETCHINGS And I'm for a distant city, Where the warlock who witched me dwells." — Whey-white was Paracelsus, Brooding o'er his spells. " Thy time's come ! Death is on thee." She gripped him by the throat ; Ice-cold the powers of darkness Struck through his antique coat. " I'd give both life and witchcraft To see thee whence thou came ! " With guile and wile and subtle smile Crept in the grisly dame. Then swift as swallows in summer Paracelsus rehearsed his charm ; Clapping the stopper in the hole Wi' all the strength of his arm. And it's harsh as stormy whirlwinds. Echoes the cave wi' rage. Smothered by weighty snowdrifts For ever and an age. O thrice, thrice blessed wise men. Who trace the upward way ; And blessed be Paracelsus On feast and holiday. For every tongue cries " Paracelsus ! " The glory of his time ; Who dowed with magic phials, Grew great beyond all rhyme. 40 tCHIRX 1R®maX2), tbe onlg son of bis wi&oweO motber, ba& a vtsioii ^^ in tbe forest of a faiv's ibunt. ®ti relattng it to bis motber sbe in* formes bim, witb manw signs of distress, tbat sucb a weirD ever prece&e& tbe &eatb of tbe seer : wbicb accor&inol\? came to pass sbortl? after. THE WEIRD O' EARL RONALD T HE harbourer's hame ere nightfall, Has track'd a great stag i' the wood ; " To-morrow we'll hunt ere the dawnin' day, A royal hart by the rood." ' Oh, wat ha' ye seen, Ronald, An' wat ha' ye heard, my son ? " Weird sights an' sounds and nane o' earth, To-dav i' the wood I won ! The wind-flowers waved i' the emeral' glen, Blue, blue were the isles o' the sea ; When a rustle an' tussle o' faery men. Rang merrily owre the lea. Hey an' away an' the hounds gave bay, An' a stag flashed owre the stream ; Holla o' huntsmen an' horn sa gay, Jus' the glamowrie of a dream. Beneath the plumy larches, mither. Their green coats hung and swung ; Wi' stress an' press an' eeriness. An' the elf-queen them amang. A straight goun a' o' needlecraft Reached till her bonnie feet ; A croun o' filagree an' pearls Held her wayward curls i' freit. Her gray steed danced i' gold housels, Embossed wi' rose an' may ; Bride-reins beset wi' dew-drap bells Chimed thro' the woodland gaj'. 41 BALLADS AND ETCHINGS To tell the goodly company Wi' gillies ran and strode, Were just to name a hundred stars Hemming the forest road. Their cloaks an' swords o' rare device, Their bonnet'd heads sa bold, Made pageant o'er the summer sky, As they sped across the wold. They passed, and the sod untrod, mither. Snow-white the flowers still shone ; But fled an' wed my joy, mither, Gin the Faery Folk were gone." " Wae for the dree, Ronald, Thy ain weird hast thou seen ; Ride not to chase my ain sweet boy, Or thy grave will sune be green ! " He's laughed an' given his word till her, He's kissed her lip and chin ; He's called his hounds, and fared his rounds. She's wished that he was in. He's gone down till the hollow, Wad swim in the waters cool ; It's there they found his corse the morn. White i' the dark-brown pool. 42 gl zr tbc eiib of last cetiturs a laroe munbci* of crofters anb cottars were ^^ evicted from tbc uplan&s of Sutberlan5sbire, aiiJ) an attempt mabc to resettle tbem upon tbe coast. 'n;be ballad relates tn a conversation be= tvveen two oipsies, tbe resistance tbe sberiff an& bis men encoujttere5 wbilst &estrosino tbe bi^se of tbe squatters ; anO tbe sa^ enb of a very aoeD woman, tbc bea5 of tbe tribe, wbo ba5 long been be5ri&&en. THE GIPSY EVICTMliNT BLUE-GREEN'S the plaidie roun' the babe, Raven the gipsy's hair ; Eagles that soar o'er barren moor No keener-sighted glare. " Hoo's wi' a' Jamie? An oor mither I pine to see ; Fair-day tyne, and fair-day syne, Aye draggit wearily. I've cleared oot mugs and hornie spunes, No tin ware's mair to sell ; I've spaed for rich, and I've spaed for puir, But I condna spae for mysel'." " Whist, lass, the factor's at oor place. An' red-coats ten-twal Strang." " Ochone and wat o' the puir auld wife That's lain alone sa lang ? An' wat's yon reekie up the glen, Mang heather, rush, and ferns ? Ma heart misdoots, out wi' it man ! " Och, lass, oor bothy burns ! They cast us down a braid white crown: " Here's twice the price o' the byre ; Yon birken boughs, and moss-fir wa's, Sail make a rare bonfire ! BALLADS AND ETCHINGS They set the wild flames to the thatch, An' scorched the growin' corn " ; " Did nane a one hale Margaret oot As a hapless lamb is borne ? " " We daur'd na set a hand till her, Till the blankets burnt her foot. ' God help my saul,' the auld wife cried, ' What fire is this aboot ? ' We happed her neath the budding oak, Shone gouden on the blue. While barefoot bairns, and dusky wives. About the biggin flew. We tirled and birled the meal-kist oot. Where three guid pund-notes lay ; Ye ken she promised us the drap. To cheer the lyke-wake day." " 15ut man — ochone — the meal was oot. An' the notes not safe at a' ! I'd stowed them safe and soun'o'ernicht In a cranneuk in the wa' ! " " Wae ! Didna tell the auld wife, She's gloryin' in her wark ; An' aye she's thinkin' o' our deep drink- in' When she's baith stiff an' stark. Yon, yon she lies by the burnie, Her face turned to the tree ; She's never spake a word since dawn Whey-white wi' sunken e'e." The two dark figures bronze and stern, Strode fluttering up the glen ; Wi' tears unseen, and a greetin' wean. An' hoots o' angry men. 44 RED, WHITE, AND BLUE c OLOURS had blindit them ! Fifers an' pipers, Sae a' three enhsted ; for Allan grew wild, His mither, sore-pressed by the factor for rack-rent, A widow, and Allan her eldest child. He was aye a daft lad, wi' a laugh licht an' glad. We adored him, we callants o' Lionel ; But his mither sair greetin' wi' mickle intreatin' Sold out a' she had to sell. 'Twixt plaidies an' rund-coats we thrust in oor pund-notes. Abashed by the giant wi' big bronze star ; How his fist shook the boardin's, an' scattered oor hoard in's. As he roared, " Not for this lad we stormed Candahar. Gang hame till your mither, Allan ye callant. An' take your discharge, an' your frcens w' ye ; Thank God, gold's not wanted, nor swordsmen undaunted. Nor breathes Seaforth Highlander '11 round on me." Cried Allan : " Rin, rin lads, an' waken the hamlet, Tell mother an' a' how we're moneyed an' free ; There's Jamiesine Campbell aye watch- ing for Angus, An' Marget wi' tear-stained e'e." But a lowerin' cloud off the Stornoway offing, Gared me fear, for the journey was lang ; I stude out to return, an' in spite o' their scoffing. May happen I wasna wrong. 45 BALLADS AND ETCHINGS On the brig-head we parted ; Angus Morrison, James McRitchic, an' Allan " the laird " ; The ebon mell o' their eager footsteps, r the snaw-wreaths shroudin' the braird. That's tvva nichts syne, and yet na news o' them ; Maybe they're snawed up aboon ; Weel kennt they the shelter fra' sic helter-skelter, God save them to Lionel town. Sa search ilka valley, neuk, crook and corrie, Up an' down the haill countree-side ; Sin' brig o' Tay birst, like a cobweb i' hairst. There's bin none sic snaw-drift tide." We found the puir lads on the muir thegither. Hands owre face, sirs, as tho' they prayed ; An' footsteps distraught back an' forth fra' the shieling, As Jamie had rin there dismayed. But he'd stayed at length by his leader Allan, Half turning him o'er fra' the storm ; Sa blindin' the snaw-screen he couldna ha' seen him, But he felt twas a lifeless form. Heavy our burdens — Angus Morrison, James McRitchie, an' Allan " the laird," As we toiled up the steep winding sheep-track to Lionel, Where the snaw-wreaths enshroud the braird. " Wha'll gang first to acquent the women ? " " Call ilka saul fra' Barras to Ness ; Sic a concoorse o' neighbours will gar them raise surely ; The coronach for Lionel's distress." Butler S: Tanner, TI.e Sclwood Printing WorI;5, Frome, anJ London. 46 iHMiiirrii'*^'''^''-"-— -■---■'^'^ l!l|'!ll!l||!|fi'fll, D 000 223 525 7