Whan night was flown, an day was come,

Nae ane that did her see

But thought she was as surely dead

As ony lady coud be.

Her father an her brothers dear
Gard" make to her a bier;
The tae1 half was o guid red gold,
The tither" o silver clear.

Her mither an her sisters fair
Gard work for her a sark;
The tae half was o cambrick fine,
The tither o needle wark.

The firstin kirk that they came till,
They gard the bells be rung,
An the nextin kirk that they came till,
They gard the mess be sung.

The thirdin kirk that they came till,
They dealt gold for her sake,
'An the fourthin kirk that they came till,
Lo, there they met her make!

"Lay down, lay down the bigly bier.

Lat me the dead look on;'

99

Wi cheery cheeks and ruby lips

She lay an smil'd on him.

"O ae sheave1o your bread, true-love,

An ae glass o your wine,

For I hae fasted for your sake

These fully days is nine.

"Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers,

'An

Gang hame and sound your horn;

ye may boast in southin lans

Your sister's playd you scorn."

12 Caused. 13 One. 14 Other.

15 Slice.

The king has written a braid letter,
And signd it wi his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
Was walking on the sand.

The first line that Sir Patrick red,
A loud lauch lauched he;
The next line that Sir Patrick red,
The teir blinded his ee.

"O wha is this has don this deid,
This ill deid don to me,

To send me out this time o' the yeir,
To sail upon the se!

"Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all,

66

Our guid schip sails the morne:

"O say na sae, my master deir,

For I feir a deadlie storme.

"Late late yestreen I saw the new moone,
Wi the auld moone in her arme,
And I feir, I feir, my deir master,
That we will cum to harme."

O our Scots nobles wer richt laith
To weet their cork-heild schoone;
Bot lang owre a' the play wer play'd,
Thair hats they swam aboone.

O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
Wi thair fans into their hand,
Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence
Cum sailing to the land.

O lang, lang may the ladies stand,
Wi thair gold kems in their hair,
Waiting for thair ain deir lords,
For they'll se thame na mair.

2

Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,

It's fiftie fadom deip,

'And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence,
Wi the Scots lords at his feit.

75

THOMAS RYMER AND THE QUEEN
OF ELFLAND

TRUE THOMAS lay oer yond grassy bank,
And he beheld a ladie gay,

'A ladie that was brisk and bold,
Come riding oer the fernie brae.1

Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,
Her mantel of the velvet fine,
At ilka tett of her horse's mane
Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

True Thomas he took off his hat,

And bowed him low down till his knee: "All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For your peer on earth I never did see."

"O no, O no, True Thomas," she says,
"That name does not belong to me;
I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
And I'm come here for to visit thee.

66

But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas,
True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,

For

ye maun3 serve me seven years, Thro weel or wae as may chance to be."

She turned about her milk-white steed,
And took True Thomas up behind,
And aye wheneer her bridle rang,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.

"Over.

1 Brow (of a hill).

2 Lock. • Must.

For forty days and forty nights
He wade thro red blude to the knee,
And he saw neither sun nor moon,
But heard the roaring of the sea.

O they rade on, and further on,

Until they came to a garden green: "Light down, light down, ye ladie free, Some of that fruit let me pull to thee."

“Ono, O no, True Thomas," she says,
That fruit maun not be touched by thee,

For a' the plagues that are in hell
Light on the fruit of this countrie.

But I have a loaf here in my lap, Likewise a bottle of claret wine, And now ere we go farther on,

We'll rest a while, and ye may dine."

When he had eaten and drunk his fill,
"I ay down your head upon my knee,"
The lady sayd, "ere we climb yon hill,
And I will show you fairlies' three.

O see not ye yon narrow road,
So thick beset wi thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Tho after it but few enquires.

And see not ye that braid braid road,
That lies across yon lillie leven"?

That is the path of wickedness,

Tho some call it the road to heaven.

And see not ye that bonnie road, Which winds about the fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland,

Whe[re] you and I this night maun gae.

"But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever you may hear or see,

For gin ae word you should chance to speak,
You will neer get back to your ain countrie."

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green,
And till seven years were past and gone
True Thomas on earth was never seen.

16

SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST

WHAN bells war rung, an mass was sung,
A wat a' man to bed were gone,
Clark Sanders came to Margret's window,
With mony a sad sigh and groan.

66

Are ye sleeping, Margret," he says,
"Or are ye waking, presentlie?
Give me my faith and trouthe again,
A wat,' trew-love, I gied to thee."

"Your faith and trouth ye's3 never get,
Nor our trew love shall never twain,*
Till ye come with me in my bower,
And kiss me both cheek and chin."

"My mouth it is full cold, Margret,
It has the smell now of the ground;
And if I kiss thy comely mouth,
They life-days will not be long.

"Cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf,
I wat the wild fule boded day;
Gie me my faith and trouthe again,
And let me fare me on my way."