The Ballad of Tam Lin

O I forbid you, maidens a’,

Who wear gold on your hair,

To come or go by Carterha’,

For young Tam Lin is there.

Those that go by Carterhaugh

Leave him a reward, you see,

Either their rings, or green mantles,

Or else their virginity.

Janet has kilted her green kirtle

A little above her knee,

And she has braided her yellow hair

A little above her bree,

And she’s awa’ to Carterha’,

As fast as she can gae.

When she came to Carterhaugh

Tam Lin was at the well,

And there she found his steed standing,

But away was himsel.

She had now pulled a double rose,

A rose with heads two,

Till up then started young Tam Lin,

Says, ‘Lady, why’d you do so?’

‘Why’d you pull my rose, Janet,

And why’d you break my tree?

And why’d come to Carterhaugh

Without the leave of me?’

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‘Carterhaugh, it is my own,

My father gave it me;

I’ll come and go by Carterhaugh,

And ask no leave of thee.’

Janet has kilted her green kirtle

A little above her knee,

And she has braided her yellow hair

A little above her bree,

And she’s gone to her father’s ha’,

As fast as she can gae.

Four and twenty ladies fair

Were playing football,

And out then came fair Janet,

The fairest flower among them all.

Four and twenty ladies fair

Sat there playing chess,

Till out then came the fair Janet,

As green as any glass.

Out then spoke an old grey knight,

Lay o’er the castle wall,

And says, ‘Alas, fair Janet, for thee

But we’ll be blamed all.’

‘Hold your tongue, you old-faced knight,

Some ill death may ye die!

Father my child on whom I will,

I’ll father none on thee.’

Out then spoke her father dear,

And he spoke meek and mild;

‘And ever alas, sweet Janet,’ he says,

‘I think that you go with child.’

‘If that I go with child, father,

I alone must bear the blame;

There’s not a laird about your house

After whom the child I shall name.

‘If my love were an earthly knight,

As he’s an elf-knight grey,

I’d never leave my own true-love

For any lord that you hae.

‘The steed that my true-love rides on

Is lighter than the wind;

With silver he is shod before,

With burning gold behind.’

Janet has kilted her green kirtle

A little above her knee,

And she has braided her yellow hair

A little above her bree,

And she’s awa’ to Carterha’,

As fast as she can gae.

When she came to Carterhaugh,

Tam Lin was at the well,

And there she found his steed standing,

But away was himsel.

She had now pulled a double rose,

A rose with heads two,

Till up then started young Tam Lin,

Says ‘Lady, why’d you do so?’

Why’d you pull my rose, Janet,

Among the groves so green,

And all to kill the bonny babe

That we gat us between?

‘O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin,’ she says,

‘For the sake of God that died on tree,

If e’er you were in holy chapel,

Or in Christendom were seen?’

‘Roxburgh was my grandfather,

Took me with him to bide,

And once it fell upon a day

That woe did me betide.

‘And once it fell upon a day,

A cold day and a snell,

When we were from the hunting come,

That from my horse I fell;

The Queen o’ Fairies she caught me,

In yon green hill to dwell.

‘And pleasant is the fairy land,

But, an eerie tale to tell,

Ay at the end of seven years

We pay a tithe to Hell;

I am so fair, and pure of flesh,

I’m afraid it be myself.

‘But the night is Hallowe’en, lady,

The morn is Hallowday;

Then win me, win me, and you will,

For well I know that you may.

‘Just at the mirk and midnight hour

The fairy folk will ride,

And they that would their true-love win,

At Miles Cross they must bide.’

‘But how shall I ken you, Tam Lin,

Or how my true-love know,

Among so many eldritch knights

The like of whom I never saw?’

‘O first let the black steed pass, lady,

And soon let pass the brown,

But quickly run to the milk-white steed,

And pull his rider down.

‘For I’ll ride on the milk-white steed,

And aye, nearest to the town;

Because I was an earthly knight

They give me that renown.

‘My right hand will be gloved, lady,

My left hand will be bare,

Cocked up shall my bonnet be,

And combed down shall be my hair,

And these are the tokens I give you,

No doubt I will be there.

‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady,

Into a lizard and an adder;

But hold me fast, and fear me not,

I am your child’s father.

‘They’ll turn me into a bear so grim,

And then a lion bold;

But hold me fast, and fear me not,

As you shall love your child.

‘Again they’ll turn me in your arms

To a red hot bar of iron;

But hold me fast, and fear me not,

I’ll do to you no harm.

‘And last they’ll turn me in your arms

Into the burning gleed;

Then throw me into well water,

O, throw me in with speed.

‘And then I’ll be your own true-love,

I’ll become a naked knight;

Then cover me with your green mantle,

And cover me out of sight.’

Gloomy, gloomy was the night,

And eerie was the way,

As fair Janet in her green mantle

To Miles Cross she did gae.

About the middle of the night

She heard the bridles ring;

This lady was as glad at that

As any earthly thing.

First she let the black steed pass by,

And soon she let the brown;

But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed,

And pulled the rider down.

So well she minded what he did say,

And young Tam Lin did win;

Soon she covered him with her green mantle,

As blithe as a bird in spring.

Out then spoke the Queen o’ Fairies,

Out of a bush of broom:

‘She who has gotten young Tam Lin

Has gotten a stately groom.’

Out then spoke the Queen o Fairies,

And an angry woman was she:

‘Shame betide her ill-fared face,

And an ill death may she die,

For she’s taken away the bonniest knight

In all my company.

‘But had I known, Tam Lin,’ she says,

‘What now this night I see,

I’d have taken out your two grey eyes,

And put in two from a tree.'

The Ballad of Thomas The Rhymer

True Thomas lay on Huntleigh bank,

And he beheld a lady gay,

A lady that was brisk and bold,

Come riding o’er the ferny bray.

Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,

Her mantel of the velvet fine,

At every lock of her horse’s mane

Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

True Thomas he took off his hat,

And he bowed down upon his knee:

‘All hail, O Mary, thou Queen of Heaven!

For your peer on earth I never did see.’

‘O no, O no, True Thomas,’ she says,

‘That name does not belong to me;

For I’m but the queen of fair Elfland,

And I’ve come here for to visit thee.

But you must go with me now, Thomas,

True Thomas, you must go with me,

For you must serve me seven years,

Through well or woe as may chance to be.’

She turned about her milk-white steed,

And took True Thomas up behind,

And aye whene’er her bridle rang,

The steed flew swifter than the wind.

For forty days and forty nights

They rode through red blood up to the knee,

And they saw neither sun nor moon,

But heard the roaring of the sea.

O they rode on, and further on,

Until they came to a garden green:

‘Light down, light down, you lady free,

Some of that fruit let me pull for thee.’

‘O no, O no, True Thomas,’ she says,

‘That fruit must not be touched by thee,

For all of the plagues that are in hell

Fall upon the fruit of this country.

‘But I have a loaf here in my lap,

Likewise a bottle of claret wine,

And when we’ve gone farther on,

We’ll rest a while, and you may dine.’

When he’d eaten and drunk his fill,

The lady said, ‘Lay down your head upon my knee,

Ere we go and climb yon hill,

I will show you marvels three.

O, don’t you see yon narrow road,

So thickly beset with thorns and briars?

That is the path of righteousness,

Though after it but few enquire.

O, don’t you see that broad, broad road,

That lies across yon lily leaven?

That is the path of wickedness,

Though some call it the road to heaven.

And don’t you see that bonny broad road,

Which winds about the ferny bray?

That is the road to fair Elfland,

Where you and I this night must gae.

‘But Thomas, you must hold your tongue,

Whatever you may hear or see,

For if you should chance to speak a word,

You’ll never get back to your own country.’

He’s gotten a coat of the even cloth,

And a pair of shoes of velvet green,

Aye, till seven years were past and gone,

True Thomas on earth was never seen.

The Death of Trystan

King March seethed with rage, And hatred strange, As his steed trod the forest floor, He turned o’er the spear in his hand, And thought of his land, Where his son made his bride a whore. Young Trystan was wed to Esyllt the fair, March’s own wife—this fact he could not bear, And so he whetted his spear, thought ‘Fair’s fair— I must exact revenge.’ His steed cantered hence Through the forest dense And headed toward the glade, ‘That orgulous one Has ta’en my dearest one— I’ll purge his sin with this blade.’ Under an ancient oak-tree Trystan played sweetly, Upon an ancient harp, Esyllt sat nearby, With her hand on his thigh, As she listened to him carp. He told her the tale of Diviciacus the strong, Who took Britain single-handed, regardless of right or wrong, With Betis and Gadiferre by his side, And how these two saw that Darnant died, How good Gadiferre gained his name, ‘Forest-piercer’—that gave him great fame, And how Arthur’s line bore the name Of his symbol, red as fire, The fearsome dragon, the hero’s desire, How Zellanda came to Gadiferre’s court— But Trystan’s story was cut short, Because suddenly there came a snort, And a spear shot through the air, And swiftly that dart Pierced his tender heart, And sanguine rushed everywhere. The glade’s green cud was all wet with blood, And the strings of that harp, With which he did carp, Were all rent in twain, And deep was his pain, And Esyllt grieved herself sore, For spilt was the gore, And Trystan sang no more.