Child Ballads - Additions and Corrections

53. Young Beichan

P. 454. 'Lord Beichim,' Findlay's Manuscripts, I, 1, from Jeanie Meldrum, Framedrum, Forfarshire, has these verses, found in G and in Spanish and Italian ballads.

("She meets a shepherd and addresses him.")

	'Whas are a' thae flocks o sheep? And whas are a' thae droves o kye? And whas are a' thae statelie mansions, That are in the way that I passd bye?'
	'O these are a' Lord Beichim's sheep, And these are a' Lord Beichim's kye, And these are a' Lord Beichim's castles, That are in the way that ye passd bye.'

There are three or four stanzas more, but they resemble the English vulgar broadsides. There must have been a printed copy in circulation in Scotland which has not been recovered.

468. D is now given as it stands in "The Old Lady's Collection," from which it was copied by Skene: 'Young Beachen,' No. 14.

1	Young Beachen as born in fair London, An foiren lands he langed to see, An he was tean by the savage Mour, An they used him mast cruely.
2	Throu his shoulder they patt a bore, An throu the bore they patt a tree, An they made him tralle ther ousen-carts, An they used him most cruelly.
3	The savige More had ae doughter, I wat her name was Susan Pay, An she is to the prison-house To hear the prisoner's mone.
4	He made na his mone to a stok, He made it no to a ston, But it was to the Quin of Heaven, That he made his mone.
5	'Gine a lady wad borrou me, Att her foot I wad rune, An a widdou wad borrou me, I wad becom her sone.
6	Bat an a maid wad borrou me, I wad wed her we a ring, I wad make her lady of haas an hours, An of the high tours of Line.'
7	'Sing our yer sang, Young Bichen,' she says, 'Sing our yer sang to me;' 'I never sang that sang, lady, Bat fat I wad sing to ye.
8	'An a lady wad borrou me, Att her foot I wad rune, An a widdou wad borrou me, I wad becom her son.
9	'Bat an a maid wad borrou me, I wad wed her we a ring, I wad mak her lady of haas an hours, An of the high tours of Line.'
10	Saftly gaid she but, An saftly gaid she ben; It was na for want of hose nor shone, Nor time to pit them on.
11	. . . . . . An she has stoun the kees of the prison, An latten Young Beachen gang.
12	She gae him a lofe of her whit bread, An a bottel of her wine, She bad him mind on the leady's love That fread him out of pine.
13	She gae him a stead was gued in time of nead, A sadle of the bone, Five hundred poun in his poket, Bad him gae speading home.
14	An a lish of gued gray honds, . . . . . . . . .
15	Fan seven lang year wer come an gane, Shusie Pay thought lang, An she is on to fair London, As fast as she could gang.
16	Fan she came to Young Beachen's gate, . . . 'Is Young Beachen att home, Or is he in this country?'
17	'He is att home, [H]is bearly bride him we;' Sighan says her Suse Pay, 'Was he quit forgoten me?'
18	On every finger she had a ring, An on the middel finger three; She gave the porter on of them, 'Gett a word of your lord to me.'
19	He gaed up the stare, Fell lau doun on his knee: 'Win up, my proud porter, What is your will we [me]?'
20	'I ha ben porter att your gate This therty year an three; The fairest lady is att yer gate Mine eays did ever see.'
21	Out spak the brid's mother, An a haghty woman was she; 'If ye had not excepted the bonny brid, Ye might well ha excepted me.'
22	'No desparegment to you, madam, Nor non to her grace; The sol of yon lady's foot Is fairer then yer face.'
23	He's geen the table we his foot, An caped it we his knee: 'I wad my head an a' my land It's Susie Pay come over the sea.'
24	The stare was therty steps, I wat he made them three; He toke her in his arms tua, 'Susie Pay, y'er welcom to me!'
25	'Gie me a shive of your whit bread, An a bottel of your wine; Dinner ye mind on the lady's love That freed ye out of pine?'
26	He took her Doun to yon garden green, An changed her name fra Shusie Pay, An called her bonny Lady Jean.
27	'Yer daughter came hear on high hors-back, She sail gae hame in coaches three, An I sail dubel her tocher our, She is nean the war of me.'
28	'It's na the fashon of our country, Nor yet of our name, To wed a may in the morning An send her hame att none.'
29	'It's na the fashon of my country, Nor of my name, Bat I man mind on the lady's love That freed me out of pine.'

5². I att her foot I: cf. 8².
9³. tours: cf. 6³.
13⁴. spending.
17³. Sigh an.
18². niddel.
After 29:

Courtes kind an generse mind,
An winne ye ansur me?
An fan they hard ther lady's word,
Well ansuared was she.

P. 476, II, 508. L. For the modern vulgar ballad, Catnach's is a better copy than that of Pitts. See Kidson, Traditional Tunes, p. 34, for Catnach.

P. 459 a. For a late German ballad on the Moringer story ('von dem Markgrafen Backenweil') see Bolte, Zeitschrift des Vereins für Volkskunde, III, 65-7, and for notes of dramas upon the theme, pp. 62-4. I do not observe that I have anywhere referred to the admirably comprehensive treatment of the subject by von Tettau, Ueber einige bis jetzt unbekannte Erfurter Drucke des 15. Jahrhunderts, Ritter Morgeners Wallfahrt, pp. 75-123. The book did not come into my hands till two years after my preface was written.

To be Corrected in the Print.

482 a, D. Insert 13². bone.

Trivial Corrections of Spelling.

461 b, 22¹. Read But.

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