176

And shouting of the men and wimmen eke,
They ronne so, hem thoughte hir herte breke.
They yelleden as feendes doon in helle;
The dokes cryden as men wolde hem quelle ;1
The gees for fere flowen over the trees;
Out of the hyve cam the swarm of bees;
So hidous was the noyse, a! benedicite!
Certes, he Jakke Straw, and his meynee,"
Ne maden nevere shoutes half so shrille,
Whan that they wolden any Fleming kille,
As thilke day was maad upon the fox.

Of bras thay broghten bemes, and of box,

Of horn, of boon, in whiche they blewe and pouped,"
And therwithal thay shryked and they houped;

It semed as that hevene sholde falle.

Now, gode men, I pray yow herkneth alle!

Lo, how fortune turneth sodeinly

The hope and pryde eek of hir enemy!
This cok, that lay upon the foxes bak,
In al his drede, un-to the fox he spak,
And seyde, sire, if that I were as ye,
Yet sholde I seyn (as wis180 God helpe me),
Turneth agayn, ye proude cherles alle!
A verray pestilence up-on yow falle!
Now am I come un-to this wodes syde,
Maugree1 your heed, the cok shal heer abyde;
I wol him ete in feith, and that anon.'-
The fox answerde, 'In feith, it shal be don,'-
And as he spak that word, al sodeinly
This cok brak from his mouth deliverly,
And heighe up-on a tree he fleigh anon.
And whan the fox saugh that he was y-gon,
'Allas!' quod he, 'O Chauntecleer, allas!
I have to yow,' quod he, 'y-doon trespas,
In-as-muche as I maked yow aferd,

183

182

Whan I yow hente, and broghte out of the yerd;
But, sire, I dide it in no wikke entente;

Com doun, and I shal telle yow what I mente.

i

3

I shal seye sooth to yow, God help me so.'

184

'Nay than,' quod he, 'I shrewe us bothe two, And first I shrewe my-self, bothe blood and bones, If thou bigyle me ofter than ones.

Thou shalt namore, thurgh thy flaterye

Do me to singe and winke with myn yë.

For he that winketh, whan he sholde see,
Al wilfully, God lat him never thee !'18

'Nay,' quod the fox, 'but God yive him meschaunce,
That is so undiscreet of governaunce,

That iangleth whan he sholde holde his pees.'
Lo, swich it is for to be recchelees,
And necligent, and truste on flaterye.
But ye that holden this tale a folye,
As of a fox, or of a cok and hen,
Taketh the moralitee, good men.

For seint Paul seith, that al that writen is,
To our doctryne it is y-write, y-wis.186
Taketh the fruyt, and lat the chaf be stille.

Now, gode God, if that it be thy wille,
As seith my lord, so make us alle good men;
And bringe us to his heighe blisse. Amen.

"RISE up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says,
"And put on your armour so bright,

Let it never be said that a daughter of thine

Was married to a lord under night.

"Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
And put on your armour so bright,
And take better care of your youngest sister.
For your eldest's awa' the last night."

He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,

184 Curse.

185 Thrive.

186 Certainly.

1 This and the following ballads are of unknown authorship and of uncertain date.

2 Away.

With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And lightly they rode away.

Lord William lookit oer his left shoulder,

To see what he could see,

And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold,

Come riding over the lee.

"Light down, light down, Lady Margret," he said, "And hold my steed in your hand,

Until that against your seven brethren bold,

And your father I mak a stand."

She held his steed in her milk-white hand,
And never shed one tear,

Until that she saw her seven brethren fa,

And her father hard fighting, who lovd her so dear.

"O hold your hand, Lord William!

she said,

For your strokes they are wondrous sair;

True lovers I can get many a ane,

But a father I can never get mair."

O she's taen out her handkerchief,

It was o the holland sae fine,

3

And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds,
That were redder than the wine.

"O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret," he said, "O whether will ye gang or bide?"

"I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William," she said, have left me no other guide."

For ye

He's lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,

With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And slowly they baith rade away.

O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a' by the light of the moon,
• Wiped.

Until they came to yon wan water,
And there they lighted down.

They lighted down to tak a drink

Of the spring that ran sae clear,

And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood, And sair she gan to fear.

"Hold up, hold up, Lord William," she says, "For I fear that you are slain;

""Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain."

O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a' by the light of the moon,
Until they cam to his mother's ha door,
And there they lighted down.

"Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,
Get up, and let me in!

66

Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,
"For this night my fair lady I've win.

"O mak my bed, lady mother," he says,
O make it braid and deep,

66

And lay lady Margret close at my back,
And the sounder I will sleep."

Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,
Lady Margret lang ere day,

'And all true lovers that go thegither,

May they have mair luck than they!

Lord William was buried in St. Mary's kirk,
Lady Margret in Mary's quire;

Out o the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose,
And out o the knight's a brier.

And they twa met, and they twa plat,
And fain they wad be near;

• Intertwined.

And a' the warld might ken right weel
They were twa lovers dear.

But bye and rade the Black Douglas,
And wow but he was rough!
For he pulld up the bonny brier,
And flang't in St. Mary's Loch.

4

THE TWA SISTERS

THERE was twa sisters in a bowr,
Binnorie, O Binnorie

There was twa sisters in a bowr,
Binnorie, O Binnorie

There was twa sisters in a bowr,
There came a knight to be their wooer,
By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie.

He courted the eldest wi glove an ring,
But he lovd the youngest above a' thing.

He courted the eldest wi brotch an knife,
But lovd the youngest as his life.

The eldest she was vexed sair,
An much envi'd her sister fair.

Into her bowr she could not rest,
Wi grief an spite she almos brast.

Upon a morning fair an clear,
She cried upon her sister dear:

"O sister, come to yon sea stran,
An see our father's ships come to lan."

She's taen her by the milk-white han,
And led her down to yon sea stran.