The English and Scottish Popular Ballads/Part 4/Chapter 92

Arthur's Dale as late I went I heard a heavy moan; I heard a ladie lammenting sair, And ay she cried Ohone! 'Ohon, alas! what shall I do, Tormented night and day! I never loved a love but ane, And now he's gone away. 'But I will do for my true-love What ladies woud think sair; For seven year shall come and go Ere a kaim gang in my hair. 'There shall neither a shoe gang on my foot, Nor a kaim gang in my hair, Nor eer a coal nor candle-light Shine in my bower nae mair.' She thought her love had been on the sea, Fast sailling to Bee Hom; But he was in a quiet chamer, Hearing his ladie's moan. 'Be husht, be husht, my ladie dear, I pray thee mourn not so; For I am deep sworn on a book To Bee Hom for to go.' She has gien him a chain of the beaten gowd, And a ring with a ruby stone: 'As lang as this chain your body binds, Your blude can never be drawn. 'But gin this ring shoud fade or fail, Or the stone shoud change its hue, Be sure your love is dead and gone, Or she has proved untrue.' He had no been at Bonny Bee Hom A twelve month and a day, Till, looking on his gay gowd ring, The stone grew dark and gray. 'O ye take my riches to Bee Hom, And deal them presentlie, To the young that canna, the auld that maunna, And the blind that does not see.' Now death has come into his bower, And split his heart in twain; So their twa souls flew up to heaven, And there shall ever remain.

Lauderdale I chanc'd to walk, And heard a lady's moan, Lamenting for her dearest dear, And aye she cried, Ohon! 'Sure never a maid that eer drew breath Had harder fate than me; I'd never a lad but one on earth, They forc'd him to the sea. 'The ale shall neer be brewin o malt, Neither by sea nor land, That ever mair shall cross my hause, Till my love comes to hand. 'A handsome lad, wi shoulders broad, Gold yellow was his hair; None of our Scottish youths on earth That with him could compare.' She thought her love was gone to sea, And landed in Bahome; But he was in a quiet chamber, Hearing his lady's moan. 'Why make ye all this moan, lady? Why make ye all this moan? For I'm deep sworn on a book, I must go to Bahome. 'Traitors false for to subdue Oer seas I'll make me boun, That have trepand our kind Scotchmen, Like dogs to ding them down.' 'Weell, take this ring, this royal thing, Whose virtue is unknown; As lang's this ring's your body on, Your blood shall neer be drawn. 'But if this ring shall fade or stain, Or change to other hue, Come never mair to fair Scotland, If ye're a lover true.' Then this couple they did part, With a sad heavy moan; The wind was fair, the ship was rare, They landed in Bahome. But in that place they had not been A month but barely one, Till he lookd on his gay gold ring, And riven was the stone. Time after this was not expir'd A month but scarcely three, Till black and ugly was the ring, And the stone was burst in three. 'Fight on, fight on, you merry men all, With you I'll fight no more; I will gang to some holy place, Pray to the King of Glore.' Then to the chapel he is gone, And knelt most piteouslie, For seven days and seven nights, Till blood ran frae his knee. 'Ye'll take my jewels that's in Bahome, And deal them liberallie, To young that cannot, and old that mannot, The blind that does not see. 'Give maist to women in child-bed laid, Can neither fecht nor flee; I hope she's in the heavens high, That died for love of me.' The knights they wrang their white fingers, The ladies tore their hair; The women that neer had children born, In swoon they down fell there. But in what way the knight expir'd, No tongue will eer declare; So this doth end my mournful song, From me ye'll get nae mair.