Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. I. Early Poetry: Chaucer to Donne
BalladsHistorical: Edom o Gordon
I
When the wind blew shrill and cauld,
Said Edom o’ Gordon to his men,
‘We maun draw to a hauld.
My merry men and me?
We will gae to the house of the Rodes,
To see that fair ladye.’
Beheld baith dale and down;
There she was aware of a host of men
Came riding towards the town.
O see ye not what I see?
Methinks I see a host of men;
I marvel who they be.’
As he cam’ riding hame;
It was the traitor, Edom o’ Gordon,
Wha reck’d nor sin nor shame.
And putten on her gown,
Till Edom o’ Gordon an’ his men
Were round about the town.
Nae sooner said the grace,
But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his men
Were lighted about the place.
As fast as she could hie,
To see if by her fair speeches
She could wi’ him agree.
Come doun, come doun to me;
This night sall ye lig within mine arms,
To-morrow my bride sall be.’
I winna come down to thee;
I winna forsake my ain dear lord,—
And he is na far frae me.’
Gie owre your house to me;
Or I sall burn yoursell therein,
But an your babies three.’
To nae sic traitor as thee;
And if ye burn my ain dear babes,
My lord sall mak’ ye dree.
And charge ye weel my gun;
For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher,
My babes, we been undone!’
And let twa bullets flee:
She miss’d that bluidy butcher’s heart,
And only razed his knee.
Wud wi’ dule and ire:
‘Faus ladye, ye sall rue that shot
As ye burn in the fire!’
I paid ye weel your fee;
Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane,
Lets in the reek to me?
I paid ye weel your hire;
Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane,
To me lets in the fire?’
Ye paid me weel my fee:
But now I ’m Edom o’ Gordon’s man,—
Maun either do or dee.’
Sat on the nurse’s knee:
Says, ‘O mither dear, gie owre this house,
For the reek it smothers me.’
Sae wad I a’ my fee,
For ae blast o’ the western wind,
To blaw the reek frae thee.’
She was baith jimp and sma’:
‘O row’ me in a pair o’ sheets,
And tow me owre the wa’!’
And tow’d her owre the wa’;
But on the point o’ Gordon’s spear
She gat a deadly fa’.
And cherry were her cheeks,
And clear, clear was her yellow hair,
Whereon her red blood dreeps.
O gin her face was wan!
He said, ‘Ye are the first that e’er
I wish’d alive again.’
O gin her skin was white!
‘I might hae spared that bonnie face
To hae been some man’s delight.’
For ill dooms I do guess;—
I cannot look on that bonnie face
As it lies on the grass.’
It ’s freits will follow them;
Let it ne’er be said that Edom o’ Gordon
Was daunted by a dame.’
Come flaming o’er her head,
She wept, and kiss’d her children twain,
Says, ‘Bairns, we been but dead.’
And said, ‘Awa’, awa’!
This house o’ the Rodes is a’ in a flame;
I hauld it time to ga’.’
As he came owre the lea;
He saw his castle a’ in a lowe,
Sae far as he could see.
As fast as ye can dri’e!
For he that ’s hindmost o’ the thrang
Sall ne’er get good o’ me.’
Out-owre the grass and bent;
But ere the foremost could win up,
Baith lady and babes were brent.
Sae fast as he might dri’e;
And soon i’ the Gordon’s foul heart’s blude
He ’s wroken his fair ladye.