« הקודםהמשך »
The Lord forbid, the maide replyde,
That you shold waxe so wode! . But for all that shee could do or saye,
• He wold not be withstood.
Sith you have had your will of mee,
And put me to open shame,
Tell me what is your name?
Some do call mee Jacke, sweet heart,
And some do call mee Jille; But when I come to the kings faire courte
They call me Wilfulle Wille.
He sett his foot into the stirrup,
And awaye then he did ride;
And ranne close by his fide.
But when she came to the brode water,
She sett her brest and swamme, And when she was got out againe,
She tooke to her heels and ranne.
He never was the courteous knighte,
To faye, faire maide, will you ride? Nor she was never so loving a maide
To saye, fir knighte abide.
When she came to the kings faire courte,
She knocked at the ring
To let this faire maide in.
Now Christ you save, my gracious liege,
Now Christ you save and see,
This daye hath robbed mee.
What hath he robbed thee of, sweet heart?
Of purple or of pall ?
From off thy finger small ?
He hath not robbed mee, my liege,
Of purple nor of pall:
Which grieves mee worst of all.
Now if he be a batchelor,
His bodye Ile give to thee; But if he be a married man,
High hanged hee fhall bee.
He called downe his merrye men all,
By one, by two, by three;
But nowe the last came hee.
He brought her downe full fortye pounde,
Tyed up withinne a glove,
And seeke thee another love.
O Ile have none of your gold, she sadye,
Nor Ile have none of your fee, But your faire bodye I must have
The king hath granted mee.
Sir William ranne and fetchd her then
Five hundred pound in golde, Saying, faire maide, take this to thee,
Thy fault will never be tolde.
Tis not the gold that shall mee tempt,
These words then answered shee, But your own bodye I must have,
The king hath granted mee..
Would I had dranke the water cleare,
When I did drinke the wine, Rather than any shepherds brat
Shold bee a ladye of mine!
Would I had drank the puddle foule,
When I did drink the ale, Rather than ever a shepherds brat
Shold tell me such a tale!
A shepherds brat even as I was,
You mote have let me bee, I never had come to the kings faire courte,
To crave any love of thee.
He sett her on a milk-white fteede,
And himself upon a graye;
And soe they rode awaye.
But when they came unto the place,
Where marriage-rites were done, She proved herself a dakes daughter
And he but a squires sonne. Now
marrye me, or not, fir knight, Your pleasure ihall be free: If you make me ladye of one good towne,
Ile make you lord of three.
Ah! cursed bee the gold, he sayd,
If thou hadît not been trewe, I shold have forsaken
sweet love, And have changed her for a newe.
And now their hearts being linked fast,
They joyned hand in hande: Thus he had both purse, and person too,
And all at his commande,
EDOM OP GORDON,
A SCOTTISH BALLAD
T fell about the Martinmas,
Quhen the wind blew schril and cauld, Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, We
e maun draw to a hauld.
And quhat a hauld fall we draw to,
My mirry men and me?
To see that fair ladie.
The lady ftude on hir castle wa',
Beheld baith, dale and down: There she was ware of a host of men
Cum ryding towards the toun.
O see ze nat, my mirry men a'?
O fee ze nat quhat I see? Methinks I fee a host of men; I merveil quha they be.