  A.D. 1400 It was Earl Haldan’s daughter, She looked across the sea; She looked across the water, And long and loud laughed she: “The locks of six Princesses Must be my marriage-fee, So hey bonny boat, and ho bonny boat! Who comes a-wooing me!” It was Earl Haldan’s daughter, She walked along the sand; When she was aware of a Knight so fair, Come sailing to the land. His sails were all of velvet, His mast of beaten gold, And “hey bonny boat, and ho bonny boat, Who saileth here so bold?” “The locks of five Princesses I won beyond the sea; I shore their golden tresses, To fringe a cloak for thee. One handful yet is wanting, But one of all the tale; So hey bonny boat, and ho bonny boat! Furl up thy velvet sail!” He leapt into the water, That rover young and bold; He gript Earl Haldan’s daughter, He shore her locks of gold; “Go weep, go weep, proud Maiden, The tale is full to-day. Now hey bonny boat, and ho bonny boat! Sail Westward ho, and away!” Charles Kingsley “Are ye out of your mind, my Nurse, my Nurse,” Said Lady Clare, “that ye speak so wild?” “As God’s above,” said Alice the nurse, “I speak the truth: you are my child. “The old Earl’s daughter died at my breast; I speak the truth, as I live by bread! I buried her like my own sweet child, And put my child in her stead.” “Falsely, falsely have ye done, O Mother,” she said, “if this be true, To keep the best man under the sun So many years from his due.” “Nay now, my Child,” said Alice the nurse, “But keep the secret for your life, And all you have will be Lord Ronald’s When you are man and wife.” “If I’m a beggar born,” she said, “I will speak out, for I dare not lie. Pull off, pull off, the brooch of gold, And fling the diamond necklace by.” “Nay now, my Child,” said Alice the nurse, “But keep the secret all ye can.” She said, “Not so; but I will know If there be any faith in man.” “Nay now, what faith?” said Alice the nurse; “The man will cleave unto his right.” “And he shall have it,” the lady replied, “Tho’ I should die to-night.” “Yet give one kiss to your mother dear! Alas, my Child, I sinned for thee!” “O Mother, Mother, Mother,” she said, “So strange it seems to me. “Yet here’s a kiss for my mother dear, My mother dear, if this be so, And lay your hand upon my head, And bless me, Mother, ere I go.” She clad herself in a russet gown, She was no longer Lady Clare; She went by dale, and she went by down, With a single rose in her hair. The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought Leapt up from where she lay, Dropt her head in the maiden’s hand, And followed her all the way. Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower: “O Lady Clare, you shame your worth! Why come you drest like a village maid, That are the flower of the earth?” “If I come drest like a village maid, I am but as my fortunes are; I am a beggar born,” she said, “And not the Lady Clare.” “Play me no tricks,” said Lord Ronald, “For I am yours in word and in deed. Play me no tricks,” said Lord Ronald, “Your riddle is hard to read.” Oh, and proudly stood she up! Her heart within her did not fail; She looked into Lord Ronald’s eyes, And told him all her nurse’s tale. He laughed a laugh of merry scorn; He turned, and kissed her where she stood; “If you are not the heiress born, And I,” said he, “the next in blood,— “If you are not the heiress born, And I,” said he, “the lawful heir, We two will wed to-morrow morn, And you shall still be Lady Clare.” Alfred, Lord Tennyson Fair Margret was a rich ladye, The king’s cousin was she; Fair Margaret was a rich ladye, An vain as vain could be. She war’d her wealth on the gay cleedin That comes frae yont the sea, She spent her time frae morning till night Adorning her fair bodye. Ae night she sate in her stately ha, Kaimin her yellow hair, When in there cum like a gentle knight, An a white scarf he did wear. “O what’s your will wi me, sir knight, O what’s your will wi me? You’re the likest to my ae brother That ever I did see. “You’re the likest to my ae brother That ever I hae seen, But he’s buried in Dunfermline kirk, A month an mair bygane.” “I’m the likest to your ae brother That ever ye did see, But I canna get rest into my grave, A’ for the pride of thee. “Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret, Leave pride an vanity; Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen, Sair altered ye maun be. “O ye come in at the kirk-door Wi the gowd plaits in your hair; But wud ye see what I hae seen, Ye maun them a’ forbear. “O ye come in at the kirk-door Wi the gowd prins i your sleeve; But wad ye see what I hae seen, Ye maun gie them a’ their leave. “Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret, Leave pride an vanity; Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen, Sair altered ye maun be.” He got her in her stately ha, Kaimin her yellow hair, He left her on her sick sick bed, Sheding the saut saut tear. Yet, though my heart was full of care, Heaven would not suffer me to despair; Wherefore in hast I chang’d my name From Fair Elise to Sweet William. And therewithal I cut my hair, And drest my self in man’s attire, My doublet, hose, and bever-hat, And a golden band about my neck. With a silver rapier by my side, So like a gallant I did ride; The thing that I delighted on, Was for to be a serving-man. Thus in my sumptuous man’s array I bravely rode along the way; And at the last it chanced so That I unto the king’s court did go. Then to the king I bowed full low, My love and duty for to show, And so much favour I did crave That I a serving-man’s place might have. “Stand up, brave youth,” the king replyd, “Thy service shall not be denyd; But tell me first what thou canst do; Thou shalt be fitted thereunto. “Wilt thou be usher of my hall, To wait upon my nobles all? Or wilt thou be taster of my wine, To wait on me when I shall dine? “Or wilt thou be my chamberlain, To make my bed both soft and fine? Or wilt thou be one of my guard? And I will give thee thy reward.” Sweet William, with a smiling face, Said to the king, “If’t please your grace To show such favour unto me, Your chamberlain I fain would be.” The king then did the nobles call, To ask the counsel of them all, Who gave consent Sweet William he The king’s own chamberlain should be. PART IINow mark what strange things came to pass: As the king one day a hunting was, With all his lords and noble train, Sweet William did at home remain. Sweet William had no company then With him at home but an old man; And when he saw the coast was clear, He took a lute which he had there. Upon the lute Sweet William plaid, And to the same he sung and said, With a pleasant and most noble voice, Which made the old man to rejoyce: My father was as brave a lord As ever Europe did afford; My mother was a lady bright, My husband was a valiant knight. And I my self a lady gay, Bedeckt with gorgeous rich array; The bravest lady in the land Had not more pleasures to command. I had my musick every day, Harmonious lessons for to play; I had my virgins fair and free, Continually to wait on me. But now, alas! my husband’s dead, And all my friends are from me fled; My former joys are past and gone, For now I am a serving-man. At last the king from hunting came, And presently upon the same He called for the good old man, And thus to speak the king began. “What news, what news, old man?” quod he; “What news hast thou to tell to me?” “Brave news,” the old man he did say; “Sweet William is a lady gay.” “If this be true thou tellest me I ’le make thee a lord of high degree; But if thy words do prove a lye, Thou shalt be hanged up presently.” But when the king the truth had found, His joys did more and more abound; According as the old man did say, Sweet William was a lady gay. Therefore the king without delay Put on her glorious rich array, And upon her head a crown of gold, Which was most famous to behold. And then, for fear of further strife, He took Sweet William for his wife; The like before was never seen, A serving-man to be a queen. She rose over the bed ere the second cock, Went jimply along the floor; She’s stown her father’s death warrant, Whilst the lubber loud did snore. She’s gained the hills ere the hue and cry They raised on Cochrane’s daughter! PART IIBut the King can write another brief, For all the first be stown; And once again the fellow rode, With the warrant from London town. Now out and alas! What can she do? For the heart of Grizzy sank! The red sun went down o’er the sea, And the wind blew stiff and snell, And as it shot by Grizzy’s lugs, It sounded old Cochrane’s knell. “But downa despair, ’tis a kittle carle!” Said Cochrane’s Bonny daughter! The larch and the tall fir shrieked with pain, As they bent before the wind, And down there fell the heavy rain, Till sense and eyes were blind; “A lang night ’tis ne’er sees a day,” Quo’ Cochrane’s undaunted Grizzy! The Warlocks are dancing threesome reels, On Goswick’s haunted links, The red fire shoots by Ladythorne, And Tam wi’ the Lanthorne falls and sinks. On Kyloe’s hills there’s awful sounds, But they frighted not Cochrane’s Grizzy! The moon beams shot from the troubled sky, In glints of flickering light, The horseman came skelping thro’ the mire, For his mind was in affright: His pistol cocked he held in his hand, But the sient a fear had Grizzy! As he came fornents the Fenwicke woods, From the whin-bushes shot out a flame; His dappled filly reared up in affright, And backward over he came; There’s a hand on his craig, and a foot on his mouth, ’Twas Cochrane’s Bonny Grizzy! “I will not take thy life,” she said, “But give me thy London news; No blood of thine shall syle my blad, Gin me ye dinna refuse:” She’s prie’d the warrant, and away she flew, With the speed and strength of the wild curlew! Love will make a foe grow kind, Love will bring blossom where bud is naught. Love hath softened a kingly mind, Grizzy hath mercy to councillors taught. Her friends at Court have prieven the life O’ Grizzy’s banished father! She’s wedded unto a German Knight, Her bairnies blithe with her sire remain, She’s cast the laddie’s clouts away, And her raven hair is growing again. What think ye, gentles o’ every degree, Of Cochrane’s Bonny Grizzy? (Englished) A noble Knight came forward and galloped round the wall; The Lady Kunigunde of Kynast, The lady without lifting a finger saw him fall. And yet another galloped around the battlement; The Lady Kunigunde, The lady saw him tumble, yet did she not relent. And rider after rider spurred round his snorting horse; The Lady Kunigunde Saw him vanish o’er the rampart, and never felt remorse. Long time the folly lasted, then came no rider more; The Lady Kunigunde, They would not ride to win her, the trial was too sore. She stood upon her towers, she looked upon the land, The Lady Kunigunde of Kynast: “I’m all alone at home here, will no one seek my hand? “Is there none will ride to win me, to win me for his bride, The Lady Kunigunde of Kynast? Oh fie! the paltry rider who dreads the bridal ride!” Then out and spake from ThÜringen the Landgrave Adelbert, “The Lady Kunigunde of Kynast! Well may the haughty damsel her worthiness assert.” He trains his horse to gallop on narrow walls of stone; The Lady Kunigunde of Kynast! “The lady shall not see us break neck or limb or bone. “See here, O noble Lady, I’m he that dares the ride!” The Lady Kunigunde, She looks in thoughtful silence, to see him sit in pride. She saw him now make ready, then trembled she and sighed The Lady Kunigunde: “Woe’s me that I so fearful have made the bridal ride!” Then rode he round the Kynast; her face she turned away, The Lady Kunigunde: “Woe’s me, the Knight is riding down to his grave to-day!” He rides around the Kynast, right round the narrow wall; The Lady Kunigunde! She cannot stir for terror her lily hand at all. He rides around the Kynast, dear round the battlement; The Lady Kunigunde! As if a breath might kill him, she held her breath suspent. He rode around the Kynast and straight to her rode he; Said the Lady Kunigunde of Kynast: “Thanks be to God in Heaven, who gave thy life to thee! “Thanks be to God that into thy grave thou didst not ride!” Said the Lady Kunigunde: “Come down from off thy horse now, O Knight, unto thy bride!” Then spake the noble rider, and greeted, as he sate, The Lady Kunigunde: “Oh, trust a Knight for horsemanship! well have I taught thee that. “Now wait till comes another who can the same thing do, O Lady Kunigunde of Kynast! I’ve wife and child already, can be no spouse for you!” He gave his steed the spur, now; rode back the way he came; The Lady Kunigunde! The lady saw him vanish, she swooned with scorn and shame. And she remains a virgin, her pride had such a fall, The Lady Kunigunde! Changed to a wooden image she stands in sight of all. An image, like a hedgehog, with spines for hair, is now The Lady Kunigunde of Kynast! The stranger has to kiss it, who climbs the Kynast’s brow. We bring it him to kiss it; and if it shocks his pride, The Lady Kunigunde Kynast! He must pay down his forfeit, who will not kiss the bride, The Lady Kunigunde! Charles T. Brooks, from RÜckert |
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