Lord Beichan- (Aberdeenshire) 1876 Christie
P. 31. LORD BEICHAN.—The following, from the " Percy Anecdotes,"—" Fidelity," p. 42 (Ed. 1821), is interesting from its connection with the supposed origin of the Ballad, " Lord Beichan :"—
"MOTHER OF THOMAS A BECKET.—Thomas a Becket may have inherited some portion of his romantic disposition from his mother, whose story is a singular one. His father, Gilbert Becket, who was afterwards a flourishing citizen, was in his youth a soldier in the Crusades, and being taken prisoner, became slave to an Emir, or Saracen prince. By degrees he obtained the confidence of his master, and was admitted to his company, where he met a personage who became more attached to him. This was the Emir's daughter. Whether by her means or not, does not appear; but after some time he effected his escape. The lady with her loving heart followed him. She knew but two words of the English language—London and Gilbert; and byrepeating the first, she obtained a passage in a vessel—arrived in England, and found her trusting way to the Metropolis. She then took to her other talisman, and went from street to street pronouncing ' Gilbert.' A crowd collected about her wherever she went, asking, of course, a thousand questions, and to all she had but one answer, 'Gilbert ! Gilbert!' She found her faith in it sufficient Chance, or the determination to go through every street, brought her at last to the one in which he, who had won her heart in slaver)-, was living in a prosperous condition. The crowd drew the family to the window; his servant recognised her, and Gilbert Becket took to his arms and his bridal bed his far-come princess, with her solitary fond word."
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This air was arranged by the Editor's father from the singing of old people in Aberdeenshire. The Editor heard a set of the air, almost the same, sung in Morayshire to "Lord Beichan" by an old woman, a native of that County. The first strain as well as that of the following air, appears to be from the same original as "The gallant Grahams" an air of one strain. The Ballad is an epitome of the one given by Kinloch, p. 260. (1827), having a few slight alterations by the Editor from the way he has heard it sung. The Ballad, in different forms, has been long current in England and Scotland. It has been said, by some, who have commented on this ballad,that the hero of it was Gilbert a Becket, father of St Thomas of Canterbury by his wife, the daughter of the Saracen Prince Admiraud, as stated by "Robert of Gloucester." Holinshed says, "This Becket" (St Thomas of Canterbury) "was born in London; his father hight Gilbert; but his mother was a Syrian born, and by religion a Saracen." It is supposed that Gilbert a Becket accompanied Richard Cosur de Lion to the Holy Wars, and was taken prisoner by the Saracens; and so the story in the Ballad is believed to be correct to a certain extent.
Lord Beichan
Young Beichan was in London born,
He was a man of hie degree;
He pass'd through monie kingdoms great,
Until he cam' unto Grand Turkie
He view'd the fashions of that land,
Their way of worship viewed he;
But unto onie of their stocks,
He wadna bend nor bow a knee.
Which made him to be taken straight,
And brought afore their high jurie;
The savage Moor did speak upricht,
And made him meikle ill to dree.
The Moor he had but ae dochter,
And her name it was Susie Pie;
And ilka day as she took the air,
The prison door she passed by.
But it fell ance upon a day,
As she was walking she heard him sing;
She listen'd to his tale of woe,
A happy day for young Beichan!
"My hounds they a' gae masterless,
My hawks they flee frae tree to tree,
My youngest brother will heir my lands,
My native land I'll never see!"
"O! ha'e houses and I ha'e lands,
Wi' monie castles fair to see,
And I wad gi'e a' to that lady gay,
Wha out of prison wad set me free."
She took him frae her father's prison,
And gied to him the best o' wine;
And a brave health she drank to him,—
"I wish. Lord Beichan, ye were mine!
"It's seven lang years I'll make a vow,
And seven lang years I'll keep it true,
If ye'll wed wi' na ither woman,
It's I will wed na man but you."
She's ta'en him to her father's port,
And gi'en to him a ship of fame,—
"Farewell, farewell, my Scottish lord,
I fear I'll ne'er see you again!"
Lord Beichan tum'd him round about,
And lowly, lowly, loutit he :—
"Ere seven lang years come to an end,
I'll tak' you to mine ain countrie."
Nae porter there stood at his yett;
Nae human creature he could see;
Except the screeching owls and bats,
Had he to bear him companie.
But gowd will gar the castles grow,
And he had gowd and jewels free;
And soon the pages around him thrang'd,
To serve him on their bended knee.
But Beichan courted a lady gay,
To heir wi' him his lands sae free,
Ne'er thinking that a lady fair
Was on her way frae grand Turkie.
For Susie Pye could get nae rest,
Nor day nor nicht could happy be,
Still thinking on the Scottish lord,
Till she was sick and like to dee.
But she has builded a bonnie ship,
Well mann'd wi' seamen o' hie degree;
And secretly she stept on board,
And bid adieu to her ain countrie.
And whan she cam' to the Scottish shore,
The bells were ringing sae merrilie;
It was Lord Beichan's wedding day,
Wi' a lady fair o' hie degree.
And whan she cam' to Lord Beichan's yetts.
She tirl'd gently at the pin,
Sae ready was the proud porter
To let the wedding guests come in.
"Is this Lord Beichan's house?" she says,
"Or is that noble lord within?"
"Yes, he is gane into the hall,
With his brave bride, and monie ant."
"Ye'll bid him send me a piece of bread,
Hot and a cup of his best wine;
And bid him mind the lady's love
That ance did lowse him out o' pyne."
Then in and cam' the porter bold,
I wat he gae three shouts and three,—
"The fairest lady stands at your yetts,
That ever my twa een did see.
My lord, she begs some o' your bread,
Bot and a cup o' your best wine,
And bids you mind the lady's love
That ance did lowse ye out o' pyne."
Then up and started Lord Beichan,
I wat he made the table flee,—
"I wad gi'e a' my yearly rent,
Twere Susie Pye come owre the sea.
"Syne up bespak' the bride's mither,
She was ne'er heard to speak sae free,—
"Ye'll no forsake my ae dochter,
Though Susie Pye has cross'd the sea."
"Tak' hame, tak' name your dochter, madam,
[For she may get a better than me;]
She cam' to me on horseback riding,
But she sail gang hame in chariot free."
He's ta'en Susie Pye by the milk-white hand,
And led her through his halls sae hie,—
"Ye're now Lord Beichan's lawful wife,
And thrice ye're welcome unto me."