The Douglas Tragedy- Anon (Edin) 1827 Motherwell, Child E
[No informant named or location. From: "Minstrelsy: ancient and modern, with an historical intr. and notes," by William Motherwell, 1827, p. 180. Motherwell's notes follow. The first part of his notes quotes Scott. It is unknown whether Motherwell had received the 13 stanza, corrupt fragment collected by Thomas Macqueen in Ayr before Minstrelsy was finalized then published in 1827. Motherwell gives six stanzas from tradition and arranges the rest from Scott's version or similar versions. The six stanzas are not from Macqueen as taken from Rachel Rodgers from Ayr.
At the bottom of the page are the six stanzas as published by Child,
R. Matteson 2018]
THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY from Motherwell's Minstrelsy 1827
"The Ballad of The Douglas Tragedy is one of the few to which popular tradition has ascribed complete locality. The farm of Blackhouse, in Selkirkshire, is said to have been the scene of this melancholy event There are the remains of a very ancient tower, adjacent to the farmhouse, in a wild solitary glen, upon a torrent named Douglas Burn, which joins the Yarrow after passing a craggy rock, called the Douglas Craig. From this ancient tower, Lady Margaret is said to have been carried by her lover. Seven large stones, erected upon the neighbouring heights of Blackhouse are shewn as marking the spot where the seven brothers were slain; and the Douglas Burn is averred to have been the stream at which the lovers stopped to drink: so minute is tradition in ascertaining the scene of a tragical tale, which, considering the rude state of former times, had probably foundation in some real event"—Border Minstrelsy, Vol. II.
The copy here followed is that given in the work from which the above extract has been taken. Any recited copy that we have heard has been incomplete, wanting not only the circumstance of the lovers halting at the stream, but likewise that of their death and burial Our copy supplies these unimportant variations.
He has lookit over his left shoulder,
And through his bonnie bridle rein,
And he spy'd her father and her seven bold brethren,
Come riding down the glen.
"O hold my horse, Lady Marg'ret," he said,
"O hold my horse by the bonnie bridle rein,
Till I fight your father and seven bold brethren,
As they come riding down the glen."
Some time she rade, and some time she gaed,
Till she that place did near;
And there she spy'd her seven bold brethren slain,
And her father who loved her so dear.
"O hold your hand, Sweet William," she said,
"Your bull baits are wondrous sair;
Sweet-hearts I may get many a one,
But a father I will never get main"
She has taken a napkin from off her neck,
That was of the cambrick so fine,
And aye as she wiped her father's bloody wounds,
The blood ran red as the wine.
Two stanzas are here omitted, in which Lord William offers her the choice of returning to her mother, or of accompanying him; and the ballad concludes with this stanza, which is twice repeated in singing:—
He sat her upon the milk-white steed,
Himself upon the brown;
He took a horn out of his pocket,
And they both went weeping along.
"Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she says,
"And put on your armour so bright;
Let it never be said, that a daughter of thine,
Was married to a lord under night.
"Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
And put on your armour so bright;
And take better care of your youngest sister,
For your eldest's awa' the last night."
He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple gray,
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And lightly they rode away.
Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder,
To see what he could see;
And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold,
Come riding over the lee.
"Light down, light down, Lady Marg'ret," he said,
"And hold my steed in your hand,
Until that against your seven brethren bold
And your father I make a stand."
She held his steed in her milk-white hand,
And never shed one tear,
Until that she saw her seven brethren fa',
And her father hard fighting, who lov'd her so dear.
"O hold your hand, Lord William 1" she said,
"For your strokes they are wondrous sair;
True lovers I can get many a ane,
But a father I can never get mair."
O she's ta'en out her handkerchief,
It was o' the holland sae fine,
And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds,
That were redder than the wine.
"O chuse, O chuse, Lady Marg'ret," he said,
"O whether will ye gang or bide?"
"I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William," she said,
"For ye have left me no other guide."
He's lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple gray,
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,
And slowly they baith rade away.
O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a' by the light of the moon,
Until they came to yon wan water,
And there they lighted down.
They lighted down to tak' a drink
Of the spring that ran so clear;
And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood,
And sair she 'gan to fear.
"Hold up, hold up, Lord William," she says,
"For I fear that you are slain!"
"Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak,
That shines in the water sae plain."
O they rade on, and on they rade,
And a' by the light of the moon,
Until they came to his mother's ha' door,
And there they lighted down.
"Get up, get up, Lady Mother," he says,
"Get up and let me in I—
Get up, get up, Lady Mother," he says,
"For this night my fair Lady I've win.
"O mak' my bed, Lady Mother," he says,
"O mak' it braid and deep!
And lay Lady Marg'ret close at my back,
And the sounder I will sleep."
Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,
Lady Marg'ret lang ere day—
And all true lovers that go thegither,
May they have mair luck than they!
Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk,
Lady Marg'ret in Marie's quire;
Out o' the Lady's grave grew a bonny red rose,
And out o' the Knight's a brier.
And they twa met, and they twa plet,
And fain they wad be near;
And a' the warld might ken right weel
They were twa lovers dear.
But bye and rade the Black Douglas,
And wow but he was rough!
For he pulled up the bonny brier,
And flang'd it in St. Marie's loch.
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'The Douglas Tragedy' (Child E text)
Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 180. From recitation.
1 He has lookit over his left shoulder,
And through his bonnie bridle rein,
And he spy'd her father and her seven bold brethren,
Come riding down the glen.
2 'O hold my horse, Lady Margret,' he said,
O hold my horse by the bonnie bridle rein,
Till I fight your fatber and seven bold brethren
As they come riding down the glen.'
3 Some time she rade, and some time she gaed,
Till she that place did near,
And there she spy'd her seven bold brethren slain,
And her father who loved her so dear.
4 'O hold your hand, sweet William,' she said,
'Your bull baits are wondrous sair;
Sweet-hearts I may get many a one,
But a father I wili never get mair.'
5 She has taken a napkin from off her neck,
That was of the cambrick so fine,
And aye as she wiped her father's bloody wounds,
The blood ran red as the wine.
* * * * *
6 He set her upon the milk-white steed,
Himself upon the brown;
He took a horn out of his pocket,
And they both went weeping along.