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116

XII. ADAM O' GORDON,

A Scottish Ballad

[_]

—was printed at Glasgow, by Robert and Andrew Foulis, MDCCLV. 8vo. 12 pages.—We are indebted for its publication (with many other valuable things in those volumes) to Sir David Dalrymple, Bart. who gave it as it was preserved in the memory of a lady, that is now dead.

The reader will here find it improved, and enlarged with several fine stanzas, recovered from a fragment of the same ballad, in the Editor's folio MS. It is remarkable that the latter is intitled Captain Adam Carre, and is in the English idiom. But whether the author was English or Scotch, the difference originally was not great. The English Ballads are generally of the North of England, the Scottish are of the South of Scotland, and of consequence the country of Ballad-singers was sometimes subject to one crown, and sometimes to the other, and most frequently to neither. Most of the finest old Scotch songs have the scene laid within 20 miles of England; which is indeed all poetic ground, green hills, remains of woods, clear brooks. The pastoral scenes remain: Of the rude chivalry of former ages happily nothing remains, but the ruins of the castles, where the more daring and successful robbers resided. The House, or Castle of the Rodes, stood about a measured mile south from Duns in Berwickshire: some of the ruins of it may be seen to this day. The Gordons were anciently seated in the same county: the two villages of East and West Gordon lie


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about 10 miles from the castle of the Rodes . Whether this ballad hath any foundation in fact, we have not been able to discover. It contains however but too just a picture of the violences practised in the feudal times all over Europe.

From the different titles of this ballad, it should seem that the old strolling bards or minstrels (who gained a livelihood by reciting these poems) made no scruple of changing the names of the personages they introduced, to humour their hearers. For instance, if a Gordon's conduct was blame-worthy in the opinion of that age, the obsequious minstrel would, when among Gordons, change the name to Car, whose clan or sept lay further west, and vice versâ. In the third volume the reader will find a similar instance. See the song of Gil Morris, the hero of which had different names given him, perhaps from the same cause.

It may be proper to mention, that in the English copy, instead of the “Castle of the Rodes,” it is the “Castle of Bittons-borrow,” (or “Diactours-borrow,” for it is very obscurely written), and “Capt. Adam Carre” is called the “Lord of Westerton-town.” Uniformity required that the additional stanzas supplied from that copy should be clothed in the Scottish orthography and idiom: this has therefore been attempted, though perhaps imperfectly.

It fell about the Martinmas,
Quhen the wind blew schril and cauld,
Said Edom o' Gordon to his men,
We maun draw to a hauld.

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And quhat a hauld sall we draw to,
My mirry men and me?
We wul gae to the house o' the Rodes,
To see that fair ladìe.
The lady stude on hir castle wa',
Beheld baith dale and down:
There she was ware of a host of men
Cum ryding towards the toun.
O see ze nat, my mirry men a'?
O see ze nat quhat I see?
Methinks I see a host of men:
I marveil quha they be.
She weend it had been hir luvely lord,
As he cam ryding hame;
It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon,
Quha reckt nae sin nor shame.
She had nae sooner buskit hirsel,
And putten on hir goun,
Till Edom o' Gordon and his men
Were round about the toun.
They had nae sooner supper sett,
Nae sooner said the grace,
Till Edom o' Gordon and his men,
Were light about the place.

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The lady ran up to hir towir head,
Sa fast as she could drie,
To see if by hir fair speechès
She could wi' him agree.
But quhan he see this lady saif,
And hir yates all locked fast,
He fell into a rage of wrath,
And his hart was all aghast.
Cum doun to me, ze lady gay,
Cum doun, cum doun to me:
This night sall ye lig within mine armes,
To-morrow my bride sall be.
I winnae cum doun, ze fals Gordòn,
I winnae cum doun to thee;
I winnae forsake my ain dear lord,
That is sae far frae me.
Give owre zour house, ze lady fair,
Give owre zour house to me,
Or I sall brenn yoursel therein,
Bot and zour babies three.
I winnae give owre, ze false Gordòn,
To nae sik traitor as zee;
And if ze brenn my ain dear babes,
My lord sall make ze drie.

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But reach my pistol, Glaud, my man,
And charge ze weil my gun:
For, but if I pierce that bluidy butcher,
My babes we been undone.
She stude upon hir castle wa',
And let twa bullets flee:
She mist that bluidy butchers hart,
And only raz'd his knee.
Set fire to the house, quo' fals Gordòn,
All wood wi' dule and ire:
Fals lady, ze sall rue this deid,
As ze brenn in the fire.
Wae worth, wae worth ze, Jock my man,
I paid ze weil zour fee;
Quhy pow ze out the ground-wa stane,
Lets in the reek to me?
And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man,
I paid ze weil zour hire;
Quhy pow ze out the ground-wa stane,
To me lets in the fire?

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Ze paid me weil my hire, lady;
Ze paid me weil my see:
But now Ime Edom o' Gordons man,
Maun either doe or die.
O than bespaik hir little son,
Sate on the nourice' knee:
Sayes, Mither deare, gi owre this house,
For the reek it smithers me.
I wad gie a' my gowd, my childe,
Sae wad I a' my fee,
For ane blast o' the westlin wind,
To blaw the reek frae thee.
O then bespaik hir dochter dear,
She was baith jimp and sma:
O row me in a pair o' sheits,
And tow me owre the wa.
They rowd hir in a pair o' sheits,
And towd hir owre the wa:
But on the point of Gordons spear,
She gat a deadly fa.
O bonnie bonnie was hir mouth,
And cherry were hir cheiks,
And clear clear was hir zellow hair,
Whereon the reid bluid dreips.

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Then wi' his spear he turnd hir owre,
O gin hir face was wan!
He sayd, Ze are the first that eir
I wisht alive again.
He turnd hir owre and owre again,
O gin hir skin was whyte!
I might ha spared that bonnie face
To hae been sum mans delyte.
Busk and boun, my merry men a',
For ill dooms I doe guess;
I cannae luik in that bonnie face,
As it lyes on the grass.
Thame, luiks to freits, my master deir,
Then freits wil follow thame:
Let it neir be said brave Edom o' Gordon
Was daunted by a dame.
But quhen the ladye see the fire
Cum flaming owre hir head,
She wept and kist her children twain,
Sayd, Bairns, we been but dead.

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The Gordon then his bougill blew,
And said, Awa', awa';
This house o' the Rodes is a' in flame,
I hauld it time to ga'.
O then bespyed hir ain dear lord,
As hee cam owre the lee;
He sied his castle all in blaze
Sa far as he could see.
Then sair, O sair his mind misgave,
And all his hart was wae:
Put on, put on, my wighty men,
So fast as ze can gae.
Put on, put on, my wighty men,
Sa fast as ze can drie;
For he that is hindmost of the thrang,
Sall neir get guid o' me.
Than sum they rade, and sum they rin,
Fou fast out-owre the bent;
But eir the foremost could get up,
Baith lady and babes were brent.
He wrang his hands, he rent his hair,
And wept in teenefu' muid:
O traitors, for this cruel deid
Ze sall weip teirs o' bluid.

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And after the Gordon he is gane,
Sa fast as he micht drie;
And soon i' the Gordon's foul hartis bluid,
He's wroken his dear ladìe.
 

This ballad is well known in that neighbourhood, where it is intitled Adam o' Gordon. It may be observed, that the famous freebooter, whom Edward I. fought with, hand to hand, near Farmham, was named Adam Gordon.

The two foregoing stanzas have been apparently modernized.

a Scottish idiom to express great admiration.

a Scottish idiom to express great admiration.

i.e. Them that look after omens of ill luck, ill luck will follow.

i.e. Them that look after omens of ill luck, ill luck will follow.