King Malcolm and Six Colbin. [From Buchan's Ancient Ballads and Songs, &c.'] THERE ance liv'd a king in fair Scotland, And it fell ance upon a day, The king sat down to dine; And then he miss'd a favourite knight, But out it speaks another knight, Ane o' Sir Colvin's kin; 'O waes me,' said the royal king, She maun take bread and wine sae red, Then gently did she bear the bread, Her page did carry the wine; 'O well love I the wine, lady, Come frae your lovely hand; Than all fair Scotland's strand.' 'O hold your tongue now, Sir Colvin, My love must be by honour won, Or nane shall enjoy me. But on the head o' Elrick's hill, Near by yon sharp hawthorn, Where never a man with life e'er came Sin' our sweet Christ was born; O ye'll gang there and walk a' night, Then up it raise him, Sir Colvin, At midnight mark the meen upstarts, Then by the twinkling of an e'e, Then he cried high as he came nigh, Ye'll best take road before I come, Sir Colvin said, 'I'm not afraid Of any here I see; You ha'e not ta'en your God before, Sir Colvin then he drew his sword, And they fought there on Elrick's hill The first an' stroke the knight he strake, Ga'e Colvin a slight wound; The next an' stroke Lord Colvin strake, Brought's foe unto the ground. 'I yield, I yield,' the knight he said, I fairly yield to thee; Nae ane came e'er to Elrick-hill E'er gain'd such victorie. I and my forbears here did haunt 'An asking,' said the lady gay, 'Ye'll gi'e me hame my wounded knight Let me fare on my way; And I'se ne'er be seen on Elrick's hill, To trouble any Christian one We'll come nae mair unto this place, "O ye'se get hame your wounded knight, Ye shall not gang alane; But I maun ha'e a word o' him, Sir Colvin being a book-learn'd man. He's drawn a stroke behind his hand, Sae fierce a stroke Sir Colvin's drawn, The knight's brand, and sword hand, It flew sae high into the sky, The rings that were on these fingers, Up he has ta'en that bluidy hand, And the morn it was Wednesday, This old romantic tale,' says Dr. Percy, from whose Reliques' it is taken,- was preserved in the Editor's Folio MS., but in so very defective and mutilated a condition, (not from any chasm in the MS., but from great omission in the transcript, probably copied from the faulty recitation of some illiterate minstrel,) that it was necessary to supply several stanzas in the first part, and still more in the second, to connect and complete the story. Of the extent of the additions, by which the story was thus connected and completed by the Dr., some idea may be formed by comparing the ballad, as given by him, with one published by Mr. Buchan, in his Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland. (Edinb. 1828,)' entitled King Malcolm and Sir Colvin.' The similarity of names will be obvious at once; and, although in the catastrophe the two ballads differ widely, and there is not in King Malcolm and Sir Colvin any thing at all corresponding with the second part of Sir Cauline;' yet the resemblance of the latter to the former, as far as it goes, is, notwithstanding, very striking, and on the supposition of their being two independent ballads, not a little remarkable. Probably, however, the old Scotch ballad published by Mr. Buchan, or some version of it, formed the groundwork of Sir Cauline.' Or it may be regarded as 'some illiterate minstrel's faulty recitation." THE FIRST PART. N Ireland, ferr over the sea, There dwelleth a bonnye kinge; And with him a yong and comlye knighte, The kinge had a ladye to his daughter, Syr Cauline loveth her best of all, Till on a daye it so beffell, One while he spred his armes him fro, And whan our parish-masse was done, That is wont to serve the wyne? Then aunswerde him a courteous knighte, Fetche me downe my daughter deere, She is a leeche fulle fine: Goe take him doughe, and the baken bread, Fair Christabelle to his chaumber goes, O well, she sayth, how doth my lord? Nowe ryse up wightlye, man, for shame, For it is told in my fathers halle, You dye for love of mee. Fayre ladye, it is for your lov That all this dill I drye: For if you wold comfort me with a kisse, Then were I brought from bale to blisse, |