Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 42, 1802, and III, 184, 1833, from
Herd's copies (A, G), and from tradition.
1
'O lady, rock never your young son young
One hour langer for me;
For I have a sweetheart in Garlioch Wells
I love far better than thee.
2
'The very sole o that ladye's foot
Than thy face is far mair white:'
'But, nevertheless, now, Erl Richard,
Ye will bide in my bower a' night?'
3
She birled him wi the ale and wine,
As they sat down to sup:
A living man he laid him down,
But I wot he neer rose up.
4
Then up and spake the popinjay,
That flew aboun her head:
'Lady, keep weel your green cleiding
Frae gude Erl Richard's bleid.'
5
'O better I'll keep my green cleiding
Frae gude Erl Richard's bleid,
Than thou canst keep thy clattering toung,
That trattles in thy head.'
6
She has calld upon her bower-maidens,
She has calld them ane by ane:
'There lies a deid man in my bowr,
I wish that he were gane.'
7
They hae booted him, and spurred him,
As he was wont to ride,
A hunting-horn tied round his waist,
A sharp sword by his side;
And they hae had him to the wan water,
For a' men call it Clyde.
8
Then up and spake the popinjay,
That sat upon the tree:
'What hae ye done wi Erl Richard?
Ye were his gaye ladye.'
9
'Come down, come down, my bonny bird,
And sit upon my hand;
And thou sall hae a cage o gowd,
Where thou hast but the wand.'
10
'Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
Nae cage o gowd for me;
As ye hae dune to Erl Richard,
Sae wad ye do to me.'
11
She hadna crossd a rigg o land,
A rigg but barely ane,
When she met wi his auld father,
Came riding all alane.
12
'Where hae ye been, now, ladye fair,
Where hae ye been sae late?
We hae been seeking Erl Richard,
But him we canna get.'
13
'Erl Richard kens a' the fords in Clyde,
He'll ride them ane by ane;
And though the night was neer sae mirk,
Erl Richard will be hame.'
14
O it fell anes upon a day
The king was boun to ride,
And he has mist him Erl Richard,
Should hae ridden on his right side.
15
The ladye turnd her round about,
Wi mickle mournfu din:
'It fears me sair o Clyde water,
That he is drownd therein.'
16
'Gar douk, gar douk,' the king he cried,
'Gar douk for gold and fee;
O wha will douk for Erl Richard's sake,
Or wha will douk for me?'
17
They douked in at ae weil-heid,
And out aye at the other:
'We can douk nae mair for Erl Richard,
Altho he were our brother.'
18
It fell that in that ladye's castle
The king was boun to bed,
And up and spake the popinjay,
That flew abune his head.
19
'Leave aff your douking on the day,
And douk upon the night;
And wherever that sackless knight lies slain,
The candles will burn bright.'
20
'O there's a bird within this bower,
That sings baith sad and sweet;
O there's a bird within your bower
Keeps me frae my night's sleep.'
21
They left the douking on the day,
And douked upon the night,
And where that sackless knight lay slain,
The candles burned bright.
22
The deepest pot in a' the linn
They fand Erl Richard in;
A green turf tyed across his breast,
To keep that gude lord down.
23
Then up and spake the king himsell,
When he saw the deadly wound,
'O wha has slain my right-hand man,
That held my hawk and hound?'
24
Then up and spake the popinjay,
Says, What needs a' this din?
It was his light lemman took his life,
And hided him in the linn.
25
She swore her by the grass sae grene,
Sae did she by the corn,
She had na seen him Erl Richard
Since Moninday at morn.
26
'Put na the wyte on me,' she said,
'It was my may, Catherine:'
Then they hae cut baith fern and thorn,
To burn that maiden in.
27
It wadna take upon her cheik,
Nor yet upon her chin,
Nor yet upon her yellow hair,
To cleanse the deadly sin.
28
The maiden touchd the clay-cauld corpse,
A drap it never bled;
The ladye laid her hand on him,
And soon the ground was red.
29
Out they hae ta'en her May Catherine,
And put her mistress in;
The flame tuik fast upon her cheik,
Tuik fast upon her chin,
Tuik fast upon her fair bodye,
She burnd like hollins grene.
K
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 118.
1
Lady Maisry forth from her bower came,
And stood on her tower-head;
She thought she heard a bridle ring,
The sound did her heart guid.
2
She thought it was her first true-love,
Whom she loved ance in time;
But it was her new love, Hunting,
Come frae the hunting o the hyn.
3
'Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry,
God make you safe and free;
I'm come to take my last farewell,
And pay my last visit to thee.'
4
'O stay, O stay then, Young Hunting,
O stay with me this night;
Ye shall hae cheer, an charcoal clear,
And candles burning bright.'
5
'Have no more cheer, you lady fair,
An hour langer for me;
I have a lady in Garmouth town
I love better than thee.'
6
'O if your love be changed, my love,
Since better canno be,
Nevertheless, for auld lang syne,
Ye'll stay this night wi me.
7
'Silver, silver shall be your wage,
And gowd shall be your fee,
And nine times nine into the year
Your weed shall changed be.
8
'Will ye gae to the cards or dice,
Or to a tavern fine?
Or will ye gae to a table forebye,
And birl baith beer and wine?'
9
'I winna gang to the cards nor dice,
Nor to a tavern fine;
But I will gang to a table forebye,
And birl baith beer and wine.'
10
Then she has drawn for Young Hunting
The beer but and the wine,
Till she got him as deadly drunk
As ony unhallowed swine.
11
Then she's taen out a trusty brand,
That hang below her gare,
Then she's wounded him Young Hunting,
A deep wound and a sair.
12
Then out it speaks her comrade,
Being in the companie:
'Alas! this deed that ye hae done
Will ruin baith you and me.'
13
'Heal well, heal well, you Lady Katharine,
Heal well this deed on me,
The robes that were shapen for my bodie,
They shall be sewed for thee.'
14
'Tho I woud heal it never sae well,
And never sae well,' said she,
'There is a God above us baith
That can baith hear and see.'
15
They booted him, and spurred him,
As he'd been gaun to ride,
A hunting-horn about his neck,
A sharp sword by his side.
16
And they rode on, and farther on,
All the lang summer's tide,
Until they came to wan water,
Where a' man ca's it Clyde.
17
And the deepest pot in Clyde's water,
And there they flang him in,
And put a turf on his breast-bane,
To had Young Hunting down.
18
O out it speaks a little wee bird,
As she sat on the brier:
'Gae hame, gae hame, ye Lady Maisry,
And pay your maiden's hire.'
19
'O I will pay my maiden's hire,
And hire I'll gie to thee;
If ye'll conceal this fatal deed,
Ye's hae gowd for your fee.'
20
Then out it speaks a bonny bird,
That flew aboon their head:
'Keep well, keep well your green claithing
Frae ae drap o his bluid.'
21
'O I'll keep well my green claithing
Frae ae drop o his bluid,
Better than I'll do your flattering tongue,
That flutters in your head.
22
'Come down, come down, my bonny bird,
Light down upon my hand;
For ae gowd feather that's in your wing,
I woud gie a' my land.'
23
'How shall I come down, how can I come down,
How shall I come down to thee?
The things ye said to Young Hunting,
The same ye're saying to me.'
24
But it fell out on that same day
The king was going to ride,
And he calld for him Young Hunting,
For to ride by his side.
25
Then out it speaks the little young son,
Sat on the nurse's knee:
'It fears me sair,' said that young babe,
'He's in bower wi yon ladie.'
26
Then they hae calld her Lady Katharine,
And she sware by the thorn
That she saw not him Young Hunting
Sin yesterday at morn.
27
Then they hae calld her Lady Maisry,
And she sware by the moon
That she saw not him Young Hunting
Sin yesterday at noon.
28
'He was playing him at the Clyde's Water,
Perhaps he has fa'en in:'
The king he calld his divers all,
To dive for his young son.
29
They div'd in thro the wan burn-bank,
Sae did they outthro the other:
'We'll dive nae mair,' said these young men,
'Suppose he were our brother.'
30
Then out it spake a little bird,
That flew aboon their head:
'Dive on, dive on, ye divers all,
For there he lies indeed.
31
'But ye'll leave aff your day diving,
And ye'll dive in the night;
The pot where Young Hunting lies in,
The candles they'll burn bright.
32
'There are twa ladies in yon bower,
And even in yon ha,
And they hae killd him Young Hunting,
And casten him awa.
33
'They booted him, and spurred him,
As he'd been gaun to ride,
A hunting-horn tied round his neck,
A sharp sword by his side
34
'The deepest pot o Clyde's Water,
There they flang him in,
Laid a turf on his breast-bane,
To had Young Hunting down.'
35
Now they left aff their day diving,
And they dived on the night;
The pot that Young Hunting lay in,
The candles were burning bright.
36
The king he calld his hewers all,
To hew down wood and thorn,
For to put up a strong bale-fire,
These ladies for to burn.
37
And they hae taen her Lady Katharine,
And they hae pitten her in;
But it wadna light upon her cheek,
Nor woud it on her chin,
But sang the points o her yellow hair,
For healing the deadly sin.
38
Then they hae taen her Lady Maisry,
And they hae put her in:
First it lighted on her cheek,
And syne upon her chin,
And sang the points o her yellow hair,
And she burnt like keckle-pin.
A. a.
11. than he.
21. lover's.
33. drucken.
73. the green.
101. higher.
103. On every.
122. Or he.
201, 2 and 21 in one stanza.
211. Clyd's. (?)
233. lackless.
255, 6 and 26 in one stanza.
b.
is a revised copy, in which most of the above
readings are corrected, with other changes.
11. second young omitted.
33. love drucken.
43. love drunken.
61. her of.
131. wan omitted.
141. 241. pit.
152. gan.
181, 211. Clyde's.
191. tae omitted.
271, 2. hae omitted.
276. hoky gren wanting.
B.
6, 7. These stanzas, with the trivial variation
in 63 of she's taen out, are given by Chambers,
Scottish Ballads, p. 259, note, from
his recollection of a recited fragment.
D.
"The catastrophe wanting, but the lady's
treachery was discovered, and she was
burned." Motherwell's MS.
94. so deep.
201. hast.
E.
"Although much of the language seems somewhat
modernized, this must be attributed to
its currency, being much liked, and very
much sung, in this neighborhood. I can
trace it back several generations, but cannot
hear of its ever having been in print. I
have never heard it with any considerable
variation, save that one reciter called the
dwelling of the feigned sweetheart Castle-swa."
Hogg.
G.
"To a wild melancholy tune." Herd.
Quhat, ze, etc., are printed what, ye, as
usual.
H.
69
CLERK SAUNDERS
A. 'Clerk Sanders,' Herd's MSS, I, 177, II, 49.
B. 'Clerk Saunders,' Herd's MSS, I, 163, II, 46.
C. 'Clerk Saunders,' Kinloch's Scottish Ballads, p.
233.
D. 'Lord Saunders,' Motherwell's MS., p. 196.
E. 'The Seven Bluidy Brithers,' Motherwell's MS.,
p. 199.
F. 'Clerk Saunders,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I,
83.
G. 'Clerk Sandy,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of
Scotland, I, 160.
'Clerk Saunders' was first given to the
world in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,
II, 33, 1802, and was there said to be
"taken from Mr Herd's MS., with several corrections
from a shorter and more imperfect
copy in the same volume, and one or two conjectural
emendations in the arrangement of
the stanzas." Sir Walter arranged his ballad
with much good taste, but this account of his
dealing with Herd's copies is very far from
precisely accurate. A, the longer of these,
does not end, as here printed, with Margret's
refusal to be comforted, a rather unsufficing
conclusion it must be owned. The story is
continued by annexing the ballad of 'Sweet
William's Ghost,' the lack of which in B
makes Scott call that version imperfect. This
sequel, found also in F, is omitted here, and
will be given in the proper place.[101] Jamieson's,
F, as well as Scott's, is a made-up copy,
"the stanzas where the seven brothers are introduced"
having been "enlarged from two
fragments, which, although very defective in
themselves, furnished lines which, when incorporated
with the text, seemed to improve
it." About one half of G is taken from Herd's
MSS, with trivial alterations. The ghostly visitation
at the end blends 'Proud Lady Margaret'
with 'Sweet William's Ghost,' and this
conclusion, not being worth transferring, has
been allowed to stand.[102] The dream in E 13
may be derived from 'Fair Margaret and
Sweet William.'
The austerities vowed in D 13-15, E 17-20,
found also in A 20-22, G 23-25, make a very
satisfactory termination to the tragedy, and
supply a want that may be felt in B, and in
A as it stands here. The like are found in
'The Clerk's Twa Sons o Owsenford,' 'Bonny
Bee Ho'm,' 'Lord Livingston,' 'The Weary
Coble o Cargill,' and 'The Lowlands of Holland.'
Also in the French ballad of 'La Biche
Blanche,' where a brother, having unwittingly
been the death of his sister, who was maid by
day but hind by night, vows himself to a seven
years' penance:
J'en suis au désespoir, j'en ferai pénitence;
Serai pendant sept ans sans mettr' chemise blanche,
Et coucherai sept ans sous une épine blanche.
or,
Et j'aurai sous l'épin', pour toit, rien qu'une branche.
Vaugeois, Histoire des Antiquités de la
Ville de l'Aigle, p. 585, repeated in Bosquet,
La Normandie Romanesque, p. 83, Beaurepaire,
Poésie p. en Normandie, p. 78; Haupt,
Französische Volkslieder, p. 20, Souvestre, in
Revue des Deux Mondes, 1849, Avril, p. 106,
and Les Derniers Paysans, p. 36, ed. 1871.
The king, in 'Kong Valdemar og hans
Søster,' Grundtvig, No 126, A, B, C, will live
in a dark house where he shall never see fire
nor light, nor shall the sun ever shine on him,
till he has expiated his monstrous cruelty to
his sister.
So the marquis, in the Romance del Marques
de Mántua, swears, till he has avenged
the death of Valdovinos,
de nunca peinar mis canas,
ni las mis barbas cortar,
de no vestir otras ropas,
ni renovar mi calzar, etc.
Wolf and Hofmann, Primavera, No 165, II, 192.
F, Jamieson's version, connects 'Clerk
Saunders' with a Scandinavian ballad,[103] which
seems to be preserved in abbreviated and
sometimes perverted forms, also by other races.
Full forms of this Northern ballad are:
Icelandic, 'Ólöfar kvaeði,' eight versions,
A-H, Íslenzk Fornkvæði, No 34, I, 332.
Färöe, 'Faðir og dottir,' communicated by
Hammershaimb to the Antiquarisk Tidsskrift,
1849-51, p. 88.
Norwegian, 'Far aa dótter,' Bugge, Gamle
Norske Folkeviser, p. 115, A (with two fragments,
B, C).
A father [king, Icelandic A-H] asks his
daughter if she is ready to marry. She has no
such thought.[104] [She swore by God, by man,
that she had never had the thought, had no
private connection, was as clear as a nun; but
nobody knew what was in her mind: Färöe.]
Who, then, he asks, is the fair knight that rode
to your bower? No fair knight, but one of
her knaves. Whose was that horse I saw at
your door? It was no horse, but a hind from
the fell. Who was that fair knight you kissed
at the spring? It was no knight, but her
maid that she kissed. Does her maid wear a
sword at her side? It was no sword, but a
bunch of keys. Does her maid wear spurs?
It was no spurs, but gold on her shoes. Has
her maid short hair? Her plaits were coiled
on her head. Does she wear short clothes,
like men? Maids hold up their coats when
there is a dew. What babe was crying in her
chamber? It was no babe, but her dog.
What was that cradle standing by her bed?
It was no cradle, but her little silk-loom.
In the Färöe ballad the father then rides to
the wood, meets a knight, cuts him in two,
hangs his foot, hand, and head to his saddle,
and returns. Do you know this foot? he
asks. It has often found the way to her chamber.
Do you know this hand? Many a
night it has lain on her arm. Do you know
this head? Many a kiss have the lips had.
In the other versions these bloody tokens are
produced on the spot, with a more startling
effect. The daughter wishes a fire in her father's
house, him in it, and herself looking on.
Instantly a blaze bursts forth, the king is
burnt up, and all that belongs to him. The
daughter sets the fire herself in the Färöe and
the Norwegian ballad. She dies of grief in
Icelandic C, takes to the wood in E, F,[105] goes
into a cloister in D, G (cf. English C).
A briefer form of this same story is 'Den
grymma Brodern,' Afzelius, No 86, III, 107.
In this a brother takes the place of the father.
After several questions he asks his sister if she
knows the man's hand that hangs at his saddle.
She bursts out into an exclamation of
grief. 'Thore och hans Syster,' Arwidsson,
No 55, I, 358,[106] has lost its proper conclusion,
for we have not come to the conclusion when
the brother says that his sister's false inventions
will never give out till the sea wants
water, a comment which we also find in the
Färöe ballad (where, however, it is misplaced).
This is the case, also, with 'Det hurtige Svar,'
Danske Viser, No 204, IV, 228[106] and 362, but
in the Danish ballad a perversion towards the
comic has begun, the end being:
'Brother, would you question more,
I have answers still in store.'
'When women lack a quick reply,
The German Ocean shall be dry.'
In a Spanish and Portuguese romance a
woman has received a lover in the absence of
her husband. The husband returns before he
is expected, and puts questions similar to those
in the ballads already spoken of: whose horse,
lance, sword, is this? whose spurs, whose arms
are these? and is answered after the same
fashion. There is considerable variety in the
conclusion; the husband kills his wife, kills
the paramour, kills both, both he and his rival
lose their lives, the wife dies of fright, or is
even pardoned. Spanish: 'De Blanca-Niña,'
Wolf and Hofmann, Primavera, No 136, II,
52; 'Romance del Conde Lombardo,' the same,
No 136 a, II, 53; 'La adúltera castigada,'
Milá, Romancerillo, No 254, A-M, pp 241-45;
'Lo retorn soptat,' Briz, IV, 183; Fernan
Caballero, La Gaviota, p. 82, ed. Leipzig,
1868.[107]
In an Illyrian ballad, husband, wife, and a
young Clerk are the parties. Three watches
are set to give notice of the husband's return,
one in the field, one in the house-court, one
before the chamber. They give due warning,
but the woman, like Lady Barnard, in 'Little
Musgrave,' will not heed. After some questions
and evasions the husband strikes off her
head: 'Nevérnost,' Vraz, Narodne Pésni Ilirske,
p. 72; 'Bestrafte Untreue,' A. Grün,
Volkslieder aus Krain, p. 41.
Nothing could be easier than to give these
questions, prevarications, and comments a humorous
turn, and this is done in a large number
of ballads: see 'Our good man came hame
at een.'
The two ballads which immediately follow
have connections with 'Clerk Saunders.'
Scott's copy is translated by Schubart, p.
79; Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 45, Hausschatz,
p. 202; Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen
Alt-Englands, No 13. F, in Afzelius, III,
110.
A
Herd's MSS, a, I, 177; b, II, 419.
1
Clark Sanders and May Margret
Walkt ower yon graveld green,
And sad and heavy was the love,
I wat, it fell this twa between.
2
'A bed, a bed,' Clark Sanders said,
'A bed, a bed for you and I;'
'Fye no, fye no,' the lady said,
'Until the day we married be.
3
'For in it will come my seven brothers,
And a' their torches burning bright;
They'll say, We hae but ae sister,
And here her lying wi a knight.'
4
'Ye'l take the sourde fray my scabbord,
And lowly, lowly lift the gin,
And you may say, your oth to save,
You never let Clark Sanders in.
5
'Yele take a napken in your hand,
And ye'l ty up baith your een,
An ye may say, your oth to save,
That ye saw na Sandy sen late yestreen.
6
'Yele take me in your armes twa,
Yele carrey me ben into your bed,
And ye may say, your oth to save,
In your bower-floor I never tread.'
7
She has taen the sourde fray his scabbord,
And lowly, lowly lifted the gin;
She was to swear, her oth to save,
She never let Clerk Sanders in.
8
She has tain a napkin in her hand,
And she ty'd up baith her eeen;
She was to swear, her oth to save,
She saw na him sene late yestreen.
9
She has taen him in her armes twa,
And carried him ben into her bed;
She was to swear, her oth to save,
He never in her bower-floor tread.
10
In and came her seven brothers,
And all their torches burning bright;
Says thay, We hae but ae sister,
And see there her lying wi a knight.
11
Out and speaks the first of them,
'A wat they hay been lovers dear;'
Out and speaks the next of them,
'They hay been in love this many a year.'
12
Out an speaks the third of them,
'It wear great sin this twa to twain;'
Out an speaks the fourth of them,
'It wear a sin to kill a sleeping man.'
13
Out an speaks the fifth of them,
'A wat they'll near be twaind by me;'
Out an speaks the sixt of them,
'We'l tak our leave an gae our way.'
14
Out an speaks the seventh of them,
'Altho there wear no a man but me,
. . . . . . .
I bear the brand, I'le gar him die.'
15
Out he has taen a bright long brand,
And he has striped it throw the straw,
And throw and throw Clarke Sanders' body
A wat he has gard cold iron gae.
16
Sanders he started, an Margret she lapt,
Intill his arms whare she lay,
And well and wellsom was the night,
A wat it was between these twa.
17
And they lay still, and sleeped sound,
Untill the day began to daw;
And kindly till him she did say
'It's time, trew-love, ye wear awa.'
18
They lay still, and sleeped sound,
Untill the sun began to shine;
She lookt between her and the wa,
And dull and heavy was his eeen.
19
She thought it had been a loathsome sweat,
A wat it had fallen this twa between;
But it was the blood of his fair body,
A wat his life days wair na lang.
20
'O Sanders, I'le do for your sake
What other ladys would na thoule;
When seven years is come and gone,
There's near a shoe go on my sole.
21
'O Sanders, I'le do for your sake
What other ladies would think mare;
When seven years is come an gone,
Ther's nere a comb go in my hair.
22
'O Sanders, I'le do for your sake
What other ladies would think lack;
When seven years is come an gone,
I'le wear nought but dowy black.'
23
The bells gaed clinking throw the towne,
To carry the dead corps to the clay,
An sighing says her May Margret,
'A wat I bide a doulfou day.'
24
In an come her father dear,
Stout steping on the floor;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
25
'Hold your toung, my doughter dear,
Let all your mourning a bee;
I'le carry the dead corps to the clay,
An I'le come back an comfort thee.'
26
'Comfort well your seven sons,
For comforted will I never bee;
For it was neither lord nor loune
That was in bower last night wi mee.'
B
Herd's MSS, a, I, 163; b, II, 46.
1
Clerk Saunders and a gay lady
Was walking in yonder green,
And heavy, heavy was the love
That fell this twa lovers between.
2
'A bed, a bed,' Clerk Saunders said,
'And ay a bed for you and me;'
'Never a ane,' said the gay lady,
'Till ance we twa married be.
3
'There would come a' my seven brethern,
And a' their torches burning bright,
And say, We hae but ae sister,
And behad, she's lying wi you the night.'
4
'You'll take a napkain in your hand,
And then you will tie up your een;
Then you may swear, and safe your aith,
You sawna Sandy sin yestreen.
5
'You'll take me up upo your back,
And then you'll carry me to your bed;
Then you may swear, and save your aith,
Your board [-floor] Sandy never tred.'
6
She's taen him upo her back,
And she's carried him unto her bed,
That she might swear, and safe her aith,
Her board-floor Sandy never tread.
7
She's taen a napkin in her hand,
And lo she did tie up her een,
That she might swear, and safe her aith,
She sawna Sandy syne yestreen.
8
They were na weel into the room,
Nor yet laid weel into the bed,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
9
When in came a' her seven brethern,
And a' their torches burning bright;
Says they, We hae but ae sister,
And behold, she's lying wi you this night.
10
'I,' bespake the first o them,
A wat an ill death mat he die!
'I bear a brand into my hand
Shall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.'
11
'I,' bespake the second of them,
A wat a good death mat he die!
'We will gae back, let him alane,
His father has nae mair but he.'
12
'I,' bespake the third o them,
A wat an ill death mat he die!
'I bear the brand into my hand
Shall quickly help to gar him die.'
13
'I,' bespake the fourth o them,
A wat a good death mat he die!
'I bear the brand into my hand
Shall never help to gar him die.'
14
'I,' bespake the fifth o them,
A wat an ill death mat he die!
'Altho his father hae nae mair,
I'll quickly help to gar him die.'
15
'I,' bespake the sixth o them,
A wat a good death mat he die!
'He's a worthy earl's son,
I'll never help to gar him die.'
16
'I,' bespake the seventh of them,
A wat an ill death mat he die!
'I bear the brand into my hand
Shall quickly gar Clerk Saunders die.'
17
They baith lay still, and sleeped sound,
Untill the sun began to sheen;
She drew the curtains a wee bit,
And dull and drowsie was his een.
18
'This night,' said she, 'the sleepiest man
That ever my twa eyes did see
Hay lyen by me, and sweat the sheets;
A wite they're a great shame to see.'
19
She rowd the claiths a' to the foot,
And then she spied his deadly wounds:
'O wae be to my seven brethern,
A wat an ill death mat they die!
20
'I'm sure it was neither rogue nor loun
I had into my bed wi me;
'T was Clerk Saunders, that good earl's son,
That pledgd his faith to marry me.'
C