Old Friends [14]
even of a Ritson, the antique and venerable character of those compositions. I send you a copy of the Ballad, with the gaps (where the tooth of time or of the worm, edax rerum, hath impaired it) filled up with conjectural restorations of my own. But how far do they fall short of the original simplicity! Non cuivis contingit. As the title is lacking, as well as the imprint, I have styled it
THE FRAGMENT OF THE FAUSE LOVER AND THE DEAD LEMAN.
O Willie rade, and Willie gaed Atween the shore and sea, And still it was his dead Lady That kept him company.
O Willie rade, and Willie gaed Atween the [loch and heather], And still it was his dead Lady That [held his stirrup leather].
"O Willie, tak' me up by ye, Sae far it is I gang; O tak' me on your saddle bow, Or [your day shall not be lang]."
"Gae back, gae back, ye fause ill wife, To the grave wherein ye lie, It never was seen that a dead leman Kept lover's company!
"Gae back, gae back frae me," he said, "For this day maun I wed, And how can I kiss a living lass, When ye come frae the dead?
"If ye maun haunt a living man, Your brither haunt," says he, "For it was never my knife, but his That [twined thy life and thee!]
* * *
We are to understand, I make no doubt, that Willie had been too fortunate a lover, and that in his absence--the frailty of his lady becoming conspicuous--her brother had avenged the family honour according to that old law of Scotland which the courteous Ariosto styles "l' aspra legge di Scozia, empia e severa."
Pray let me know, at your leisure, what you think of this trouvaille. It is, of course, entirely at your service, if you think it worthy of a place in a new edition of the "Minstrelsy." I have no room to inflict more ballads or legends on you; and remain, most faithfully yours,
R. SURTEES.
LETTER: From Jonathan Oldbuck, Esq., of Monkbarns, to Robert Surtees, Esq., Mainsforth.
Monkbarns, June 1.
My Dear Sir,--How kind hath Fortune been to you, and, in a secondary degree, to myself. Your letter must dispel the unreasoning and I fear envious scepticism of MacCribb, who has put forth a plaunflet (I love that old spelling) in which he derides the history of Aldobrand Oldenbuck as a fable. The Ballad shall, indeed, have an honoured place in my poor Collection whenever the public taste calls for a new edition. But the original, what would I not give to have it in my hands, to touch the very parchment which came from the press of my revered ancestor, and, gloating on the crabbed letters, confute MacCribb to his face ipso visu et tactu of so inestimable a rarity. Exchanges--or "swaps," as the vulgar call them--are not unknown among our fraternity. Ask what you will for this treasure, to the half of my kingdom: my gold Aurelius (found at Bermuckety, on the very limits of Roman Caledonia), my "Complaynte of Scotland" (the only perfect copy known),
My copperplate, with almanacks Engrav'd upon't, and other knacks; My moon-dial, with Napier's bones And several constellation stones.
Make your choice, in fact, of all my Gabions, as honest old George Ruthven called them.
Nay, excuse the covetousness of an Antiquary, my dear sir; I well know that nothing I could offer were worth a tithe of your priceless discovery, the oldest printed Scots Ballad extant. It shall suffice for me to look on it, under the roof of Mainsforth, when next I make a raid across the Border. I have conquered my passions, and can obey the last of the Commandments. Haud equiden invideo, minor magis. I need not bid you be watchful of your booty.--Yours most faithfully,
JONATHAN OLDBUCK.
From Robert Surtees, Esq., to Jonathan Oldbuck, Esq.
June 11.
My Dear Sir,--Alas, your warning comes too late. An accursed example of womankind, fit descendant of that unhappy Betty Barnes, cook to Mr. Warburton, who destroyed his ancient manuscript plays, hath invaded my sanctum, and the original black-letter text of the ballad has gone to join Shakspeare's "Stephen" and "Henry II." She hath lit with it my study fire,
THE FRAGMENT OF THE FAUSE LOVER AND THE DEAD LEMAN.
O Willie rade, and Willie gaed Atween the shore and sea, And still it was his dead Lady That kept him company.
O Willie rade, and Willie gaed Atween the [loch and heather], And still it was his dead Lady That [held his stirrup leather].
"O Willie, tak' me up by ye, Sae far it is I gang; O tak' me on your saddle bow, Or [your day shall not be lang]."
"Gae back, gae back, ye fause ill wife, To the grave wherein ye lie, It never was seen that a dead leman Kept lover's company!
"Gae back, gae back frae me," he said, "For this day maun I wed, And how can I kiss a living lass, When ye come frae the dead?
"If ye maun haunt a living man, Your brither haunt," says he, "For it was never my knife, but his That [twined thy life and thee!]
* * *
We are to understand, I make no doubt, that Willie had been too fortunate a lover, and that in his absence--the frailty of his lady becoming conspicuous--her brother had avenged the family honour according to that old law of Scotland which the courteous Ariosto styles "l' aspra legge di Scozia, empia e severa."
Pray let me know, at your leisure, what you think of this trouvaille. It is, of course, entirely at your service, if you think it worthy of a place in a new edition of the "Minstrelsy." I have no room to inflict more ballads or legends on you; and remain, most faithfully yours,
R. SURTEES.
LETTER: From Jonathan Oldbuck, Esq., of Monkbarns, to Robert Surtees, Esq., Mainsforth.
Monkbarns, June 1.
My Dear Sir,--How kind hath Fortune been to you, and, in a secondary degree, to myself. Your letter must dispel the unreasoning and I fear envious scepticism of MacCribb, who has put forth a plaunflet (I love that old spelling) in which he derides the history of Aldobrand Oldenbuck as a fable. The Ballad shall, indeed, have an honoured place in my poor Collection whenever the public taste calls for a new edition. But the original, what would I not give to have it in my hands, to touch the very parchment which came from the press of my revered ancestor, and, gloating on the crabbed letters, confute MacCribb to his face ipso visu et tactu of so inestimable a rarity. Exchanges--or "swaps," as the vulgar call them--are not unknown among our fraternity. Ask what you will for this treasure, to the half of my kingdom: my gold Aurelius (found at Bermuckety, on the very limits of Roman Caledonia), my "Complaynte of Scotland" (the only perfect copy known),
My copperplate, with almanacks Engrav'd upon't, and other knacks; My moon-dial, with Napier's bones And several constellation stones.
Make your choice, in fact, of all my Gabions, as honest old George Ruthven called them.
Nay, excuse the covetousness of an Antiquary, my dear sir; I well know that nothing I could offer were worth a tithe of your priceless discovery, the oldest printed Scots Ballad extant. It shall suffice for me to look on it, under the roof of Mainsforth, when next I make a raid across the Border. I have conquered my passions, and can obey the last of the Commandments. Haud equiden invideo, minor magis. I need not bid you be watchful of your booty.--Yours most faithfully,
JONATHAN OLDBUCK.
From Robert Surtees, Esq., to Jonathan Oldbuck, Esq.
June 11.
My Dear Sir,--Alas, your warning comes too late. An accursed example of womankind, fit descendant of that unhappy Betty Barnes, cook to Mr. Warburton, who destroyed his ancient manuscript plays, hath invaded my sanctum, and the original black-letter text of the ballad has gone to join Shakspeare's "Stephen" and "Henry II." She hath lit with it my study fire,