IV.

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET,

A SCOTTISH BALLAD,

seems to be composed (not without improvements) out of two ancient English ones, printed in the former part of this volume. See book I. ballad XV. and book II. ballad IV.—If this had been the original, the authors of those two ballads would hardly have adopted two such different stories: besides, this contains enlargements not to be found in either of the others. It is given, with some corrections, from a MS. copy transmitted from Scotland.

LORD Thomas and fair Annet
Sate a' day on a hill;

Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,
They had not talkt their fill.

O rede, O rede, mither, he says,

O sall I tak the nut-browne bride,

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A gude rede gie to mee:

And let faire Annet bee?

The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear,

Fair Annet she has gat nane;

And the little beauty fair Annet has,

O it wull soon be gane!

And he has till his brother gane:

Now, brother, rede ye mee;

A' sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,

And let fair Annet bee?

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The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother,

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The nut-browne bride has kye;

I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,
And cast fair Annet bye.

Her oxen may dye i' the house, Billie,

And her kye into the byre;

And I sall hae nothing to my sell,

Bot a fat fadge by the fyre.

And he has till his sister gane:

Now, sister, rede ye mee;

O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,

And set fair Annet free?

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Ise rede ye tak fair Annet, Thomas,
And let the browne bride alane;

Lest ye sould sigh and say, Alace!

What is this we brought hame?

No, I will tak my mithers counsel,

And marrie me owt o'hand;

And I will tak the nut-browne bride;

Fair Annet may leive the land.

Up then rose fair Annets father
Twa hours or it wer day,

And he is gane into the bower,
Wherein fair Annet lay.

Rise up, rise up, fair Annet, he says,

Put on your silken sheene;

Let us gae to St. Maries kirke,

And see that rich weddeen.

My maides, gae to my dressing-roome,

And dress to me my hair;

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Whair-eir yee laid a plait before,

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See yee lay ten times mair.

My maids, gae to my dressing-room,
And dress to me my smock;

The one half is o' the holland fine,
The other o' needle-work

The horse fair Annet rade upon,
He amblit like the wind,

Wi' siller he was shod before,

W burning gowd behind.

Four and twanty siller bells
Wer a' tyed till his mane,
And

yae tift o' the norland wind,

They tinkled ane by ane.

Four and twanty gay gude knichts

Rade by fair Annets side,

And four and twanty fair ladies,

As gin she had bin a bride.

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She sat her by the nut-browne bride,
And her een they wer sae clear,
Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,
Whan fair Annet she drew near.

He had a rose into his hand,

And he gave it kisses three,

And reaching by the nut-browne bride,
Laid it on fair Annets knee.

Up than spak the nut-browne bride.

She spak wi' meikle spite;

And whair gat ye that rose-water,
That does mak yee sae white?

OI did get the rose-water
Whair ye wull neir get nane,

For I did get that very rose-water
Into my mithers wame.

The bride she drew a long bodkin,
Frae out her gay head-gear,

And strake fair Annet unto the heart,
That word she nevir spak mair.

Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wex pale,

And marvelit what mote bee:

But whan he saw her dear hearts blude,

A' wood-wroth wexed hee.

He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp,
That was sae sharp and meet,
And drave into the nut-browne bride,
That fell deid at his feit.

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