O then bespake her little son, Sat on the nurse's knee : Says, 'O mither dear, gie owre this house, For the reek it smothers me.' 'I wad gie a' my goud, my bairn, For ae blast o' the western wind, O then bespake the daughter dear,- They row'd her in a pair o' sheets, O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth, Then wi' his spear he turn'd her owre; He said, 'Ye are the first that e'er Wha looks to freits1, my master dear, Let it ne'er be said that Edom o' Gordon But when the ladye saw the fire Come flaming o'er her head, She wept, and kiss'd her children twain, The Gordon then his bugle blew, And said, 'Awa', awa'! This house o' the Rodes is a' in a flame; I hauld it time to ga'.' And this way lookit her ain dear lord, As he came owre the lea; He saw his castle a' in a lowe2, Sae far as he could see. 'Put on, put on, my wighty men, As fast as ye can dri'e! For he that's hindmost o' the thrang Sall ne'er get good o' me.' Then some they rade, and some they ran, But ere the foremost could win up, And after the Gordon he is gane, And soon i' the Gordon's foul heart's blude He's wroken his fair ladye. ROMANTIC. GLASGERION. [Glasgerion, or Kurion the Pale, was a Celtic minstrel, whom Chaucer places in the company of such bards as Orpheus, Arion, and Eacydes Chiron.' This ballad exists in the Scotch version of Glenkindie (Jamieson, i. 93). It is here printed from Percy's Reliques, Bohn's ed.] Glasgerion was a kings owne sonne, And soe did hee in the queens chambere, And then bespake the kinges daughter, 'Strike on, strike on, Glasgerion, 'Faire might he fall,' quoth hee, 'Who taught you nowe to speake! I have loved you, ladye, seven longe yeere, 'But come to my bower, my Glasgerion, As I am a ladie true of my promise, Home then came Glasgerion, A glad man, lord! was hee: 'And, come thou hither, Jacke my boy, 'For the kinges daughter of Normandye Beffore the cocke have crowen.' 'O master, master,' then quoth hee, But up then rose that lither ladd, And when he came to the ladyes chamber, He thrild upon a pinn: The lady was true of her promise, And rose and lett him inn. He did not take the lady gaye To boulster nor to bed: Nor thoughe hee had his wicked wille, He did not kisse that ladyes mouthe, But home then came that lither ladd, 'Awake, awake, my deere master, 'For I have saddled your horse, mastèr, Well bridled I have your steede, And I have served you a good breakfast, For thereof ye have need.' Up then rose good Glasgerion, And when he came to the ladyes chambere, The lady was more than true of promise, 'O whether have you left with me Glasgerion swore a full great othe, 'O then it was your lither foot-page, He hath beguiled mee:' Then shee pulled forth a little pen-kniffe, That hanged by her knee. Sayes, 'There shall never noe churlès blood Within my bodye spring: No churlès blood shall eer defile The daughter of a kinge.' Home then went Glasgerion, And woe, good lord! was hee: Sayes, 'Come thou hither, Jacke my boy, Come hither unto mee. |