The first of the following pieces is described as having been
learned by Mrs. Harris, in Perthshire, about 1790, transmitted by
recitation to her daughter, and written down from recollection in
1859. No account is given of the derivation of the other. Both
make the princess marry Sir Colvin after his victory on the
elritch hill, rejecting Percy's pathetic conclusion. Neither
retains much of the phraseology of Percy's manuscript, and neither
shows those traces of Percy's phraseology which would demonstrate
its parentage. The first, though the style is stale enough, has
not the decidedly stall-copy stamp of the other. It undoubtedly
has passed through a succession of mouths (as is shown by the
change of leech to match in 32), but we may doubt
whether the other was ever sung or said. 84, in the
Harris version,
In the old manuscript, when Sir Cawline cuts off the elritch
knight's hand, the hand flies over the knight's head and falls
down on that lay land; in Buchan, 25, 26, the hand also flies
into the sky and lights on the ground; but Percy says merely that
the knight fell on that lay land. So that there is one case in
each of agreement with the Percy manuscript where the Reliques
depart from it. It may also be urged that Buchan,
221,2,
is nearer to what we find in the manuscript, st. 25,
Were there anything characteristic or otherwise remarkable in
the passages where there is agreement with the Percy manuscript
and divergence from the Reliques, even one case of such agreement
could not be lightly set aside.[foot-note] But such agreements as these
are not significant enough to offset the general character of the
Scottish ballads, which is not that of a traditional waif, but of
a fabrication of recent times. It is most likely that the Harris
ballad was put together by some one who was imperfectly
acquainted with the copy in the Reliques. Whether Buchan's ballad
was formed upon some copy of the Harris version it is not worth
the while to ask.
Harris Manuscript, fol. 5b.
| 1 |
The king luikit owre his castle wa,
To his nobles ane an a';
Says, Whare it is him Sir Colin,
I dinna see him amang you a'? |
| 2 |
Up it spak an eldern knicht,
Aye an even up spak he:
I Sir Colin's sick for your dochter Janet,
He's very sick, an like to dee.' |
| 3 |
'Win up, win up, my dochter Janet,
I wat ye are a match most fine;
Tak the baken bread an wine sae ried,
An to Sir Colin ye maun gieng.' |
| 4 |
Up she rase, that fair Janet,
An I wat weel she was na sweer,
An up they rase, her merrie maries,
All they said a' they wad gae wi her. |
| 5 |
'No, no,' said fair Janet,
'No, no such thing can be;
For a thrang to gae to a sick man's bour,
I think it wald be great folie. |
| 6 |
'How is my knicht, all last nicht?'
'Very siek an like to dee;
But if I had a kiss o your sweet lips,
I wald lie nae langer here.' |
| 7 |
She leant her doon on his bed-side,
I wat she gae him kisses three;
But wi sighen said that fair Janet,
'As for your bride, I daurna be. |
| 8 |
'Unless you watch the Orlange hill,
An at that hill there grows a thorn;
There neer cam a liven man frae it,
Sin the first nicht that I was born.' |
| 9 |
'Oh I will watch the Orlange hill,
Though I waur thinkin to be slain;
But I will gie you some love tokens,
In case we never meet again.' |
| 10 |
He gae her rings to her fingers,
Sae did he ribbons to her hair;
He gae her a broach to her briest-bane,
For fear that they sud neer meet mair. |
| 11 |
She put her hand in her pocket,
An she took out a lang, lang wand;
'As lang's ony man this wand sall keep,
There sall not a drap o his blude be drawn.' |
| 12 |
Whan een was come; an een-bells rung,
An a' man boun for bed,
There beheld him Sir Colin,
Fast to the Orlange hill he rade. |
| 13 |
The wind blew trees oot at the rutes,
Sae did it auld castles doon;
'T was eneuch to fricht ony Christian knicht,
To be sae far frae ony toon. |
| 14 |
He rade up, sae did he doon,
He rade even through the loan,
Till he spied a knicht, wi a ladie bricht,
Wi a bent bow intil his han. |
| 15 |
She cried afar, ere she cam naur,
I warn ye, kind sir, I rede ye flee;
That for the love you bear to me,
I warn ye, kind sir, that ye flee. |
| 16 |
They faucht up, sae did they doon,
They faucht even through the loan,
Till he cut air the king's richt han,
Was set aboot wi chains a' goud. |
| 17 |
'Haud your hand now, Sir Colin,
I wat you've dung my love richt sair;
Noo for the love ye bear to me,
See that ye ding my love nae mair.' |
| 18 |
He wooed, he wooed that fair Janet,
He wooed her and he brocht her hame;
He wooed, he wooed that fair Janet,
An ca'd her Dear-Coft till her name. |
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 6;
Motherwell's Manuscript, p. 581.
| 1 |
There ance livd a king in fair Scotland,
King Malcolm called by name,
Whom ancient history gives record
For valour, worth, and fame. |
| 2 |
And it fell ance upon a day,
The king sat down to dine,
And then he missd a favourite knight,
Whose name was Sir Colvin. |
| 3 |
But out it speaks another knight,
Ane o Sir Colvin's kin:
'He's lyin in bed, right sick in love,
All for your daughter Jean.' |
| 4 |
'O wae's me,' said the royal king,
'I'm sorry for the same;
She maun take bread and wine sae red,
Give it to Sir Colvin.' |
| 5 |
Then gently did she bear the bread',
Her page did carry the wine,
And set a table at his bed:
'Sir Colvin, rise and dine.' |
| 6 |
'O well love I the wine, lady,
Come frae your lovely hand,
But better love I your fair body,
Than all fair Scotland's strand.' |
| 7 |
'O hold your tongue now, Sir Colvin,
Let all your folly be;
My love must be by honour won,
Or nane shall enjoy me. |
| 8 |
'But on the head o Elrick's hill,
Near by yon sharp hawthorn,
Where never a man with life eer came,
Sin our sweet Christ was born; |
| 9 |
'O ye'll gang there and walk a' night,
And boldly blaw your horn;
With honour that ye do return,
Ye'll marry me the morn.' |
| 10 |
Then up it raise him Sir Colvin,
And dressd in armour keen,
And he is on to Elrick's hill,
Without light of the meen. |
| 11 |
At midnight mark the meen upstarts;
The knight walkd up and down,
While loudest cracks o thunder roard
Out ower the bent sae brown. |
| 12 |
Then by the twinkling of an ee
He spied an armed knight,
A fair lady bearing his brand,
Wi torches burning bright. |
| 13 |
Then he cried high, as he came nigh,,
Coward thief, I bid you flee!
There is not ane comes to this hill,
But must engage wi me. |
| 14 |
'Ye'll best take road before I come,
And best take foot and flee;
Here is a sword, baith sharp and broad
Will quarter you in three.' |
| 15 |
Sir Colvin said, I'm not afraid
Of any here I see;
You hae not taen your God before;
Less dread hae I o thee. |
| 16 |
Sir Colvin then he drew his sword,
His foe he drew his brand,
And they fought there on Elrick's hill
Till they were bluidy men. |
| 17 |
The first an stroke the knight he strake,
Gae Colvin a slight wound;
The next an stroke Lord Colvin strake,
Brought's foe unto the ground. |
| 18 |
'I yield, I yield,' the knight he said,
I fairly yield to thee;
Nae ane came eer to Elrick-hill
Eer gaind such victorie. |
| 19 |
'I and my forbears here did haunt
Three hundred years and more;
I'm safe to swear a solemn oath
We were never beat before.' |
| 20 |
'An asking,' said the lady gay,
'An asking ye'll grant me;,
'Ask on, ask on,' said Sir Colvin,
'What may your asking be?' |
| 21 |
'Ye'll gie me hame my wounded knight,
Let me fare on my way;
And I 'se neer be seen on Elrick's hill,
By night, nor yet by day;
And to this place we'll come nae mair,
Coud we win safe away. |
| 22 |
'To trouble any Christian one,
Lives in the righteous law,
We'll come nae mair unto this place,
Coud we win safe awa.' |
| 23 |
'O yese get hame your wounded knight,
Ye shall not gang alane;
But I maun hae a wad o him,
Before that we twa twine.' |
| 24 |
Sir Colvin being a book-learnd man,
Sae gude in fencing tee,
He's drawn a stroke behind his hand,
And followed in speedilie. |
| 25 |
Sae fierce a stroke Sir Colvin's drawn,
And followed in speedilie,
The knight's brand and sword hand
In the air he gard them flee. |
| 26 |
It flew sae high into the sky,
And lighted on the ground;
The rings that were on t.hese fingers
Were worth five hundred pound. |
| 27 |
Up he has taen that bluidy hand,
Set it before the king,
And the morn it was Wednesday,
When he married his daughter Jean. |
Motherwell, who cites a manuscript of Buchan, prints the first
three stanzas and the last with some variations: Introduction, p.
lxvi, note **. The ballad is not in Buchan's two manuscript
volumes.
