I wat not quhat is luve; But I haif marvel in certaine Quhat makes thee thus wanrufe. The wedder is fair, and I am fain; And we fould pley us on the plain, They wald us baith repruve. "Robin, tak tent unto my tale, “And wirk all as I reid; "And thou fall haif my heart all hale, 35 "Eik and my maiden-heid: "Sen God, he fendis bute for bale, "And for murning remeid, "I'dern with thee bot gif I dale, "Doubtless I am but deid." Makyne, to-morn be this ilk tyde, Gif ye will meit me heir, Maybe my fheip may gang befyde, Frae thay begin to fteir, Quhat lyes on heart I will nocht hyd, "Robin, thou reivs me of my reft; "I luve bot thee alane." Makyne, adieu! the fun goes weft, The day is neir-hand gane. "Robin, in dele I am fo dreft, C "That luve will be my bane." Makyn, gae luve quhair-eir ye list, 55 For leman I luid nane. "Robin, I ftand in fic a ftyle, "I fich and that full fair." Makyne, I have bene here this quyle; "Robin, my hinny, talk and fmyle, "Gif thou will do nae mair.” Makyne, fom other man beguyle, For hameward I will fare. Syne Robin on his ways he went, As light as leif on tree; But Makyne murnt and made lament, Scho trow'd him neir to fee. 60 65 Robin he brayd attowre the bent: Then Makyne cried on hie, 70 "Now may thou fing, for I am shent! 66 Quhat ailis luve at me ?” Makyne went hame withouten fail, And weirylie could weip; Then Robin in a full fair dale Affemblit all his fheip: Be that fome part of Makyne's ail, Hir fast he followt to affail, And till her tuke gude keip. 75 80 Abyd, My fheip to morn quhyle houris nyne, "Robin, thou haft heard fung and say, "The man that will not when he may, 95 "Be forreft, firth, or fauld." Makyne, the nicht is foft and dry, The wether warm and fair, And the grene wod richt neir-hand by, To walk attowre all where : There may nae janglers us efpy, Therin, Makyne, baith you and I Unfeen may mak repair. 100 "Robin, V. 99. Bannatyne's MS. bas woid, net woud, as in Ed. 1770. "Robin, that warld is now away, "And quyt brocht till an end. "For of my pain thou made but play, "As thou haft done, fae fall I fay, "Murn on, I think to mend.” Makyne, the hope of all my heil, My heart on thee is fet; Makyne went hameward blyth enough, Outowre the holtis hair; Pure Robin murnd and Makyne leugh; 105 110 115 120 And fo left him bayth wo and wreuch, 125 In dolor and in care, Keipand his herd under a heuch, Amang the rushy gair. XIV. GENTLE V. 117. Bannatyne's MS,reads as above feill, not faill, as in Ed. 1770. XIV. GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME. DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PILGRIM AND HERDSMAN. The Scene of this beautiful old ballad is laid near Walfingham in Norfolk, where was anciently an image of the Virgin Mary, famous over all Europe for the numerous pilgrimages made to it, and the great riches it poffeffed. Eraf mus has given a very exact and humorous description of the Juperftitions practised there in his time. See his account of the VIRGO PARATHALASSIA, in his colloquy, intitled, PEREGRINATIO RELIGIONIS ERGO. He tells us, the rich offerings in filver, gold, and precious ftones, that were there fhewn bim, were incredible, there being scarce a person of any note in England, but what fome time or other paid a vifit, or fent a prefent to OUR LADY OF WALSINGHAM. At the diffolution of the monafteries in 1538, this fplendid image, with another from Ipfwich, was carried to Chelsea, and there burnt in the prefence of commiffioners; who, we trust, did not burn the jewels and the finery. This poem is printed from a copy in the Editor's folio MS. which had greatly suffered by the hand of time; but veftiges of feveral of the lines remaining, fome conjectural supplements have been attempted, which, for greater exactness, are in this one ballad diftinguished by Italicks. G Entle herdfman, tell to me, Of curtefy I thee pray, Unto the towne of Walfingham Which is the right and ready way. "Unto See at the End of this Poem, p. 83. an account of the annual offer ings of the Earls of Northumberland. |