Hind Etin [Child 41]

DESCRIPTION: Lady Margaret is lured by a sound to Elmond's Wood, where (Akin/Etin) keeps her while she bears 7 sons. The eldest seeks to know why his mother is sad, then accomplishes (a reunion with her family, a pardon for his father, and) a churching for all.
AUTHOR: unknown
EARLIEST DATE:
KEYWORDS: pregnancy captivity children escape
FOUND IN: Britain(Scotland)
REFERENCES (7 citations):
Child 41, "Hind Etin" (3 texts)
Bronson 41, "Hind Etin" (2 versions)
Leach, pp. 141-148, "Hind Etin" (2 text -- 1 from Danish)
OBB 36, "Hynd Etin" (1 text)
PBB 21, "Hind Etin" (1 text)
DBuchan 28, "Hind Etin" (1 text)
DT 41, HINDETIN*

Digital Tradition Mirror

Hind Eton

[GIF Score]

(This score available as ABC, SongWright, PostScript, Lilypond, or a MIDI file)
Pennywhistle notation and Dulcimer tab for this song is also available

 

Hind Eton

Lady Margaret sits in her bower door
Sewing at her silken seam;
She heard a note in Elmond's-wood,
And wish'd she there had been.

She loot the seam fa' frae her side,
And the needle to her tae;
And she is on to Elmond's-wood .
As fast as she cou'd gae.

She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but ane,
Till by it came a young hind chiel,
Says, Lady lat alane.

O why pu' ye the nut, the nut,
Or why brake ye the tree;
For I am forester o' this wood,
Ye shou'd spier leave at me?

I'll  ask  leave  at no living man,
Nor yet will I  at  thee;
My father is king o'er a' this realm,
This wood belongs to me.

She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but three,
Till by it came him young Akin,
And gar'd her lat them be.

The highest tree in Elmond's-wood,
He's pu'd it by the reet;
And he has built for her a bower
Near by a hallow seat.

He's built a bower, made it secure
Wi' carbuncle and stane;
Tho' travelers were never sae nigh
Appearance it had nane.

He's kept her there in Elmond's'wood,
For six lang years and one;
Till six pretty sons to him she bear,
And the seventh she's brought home.

It fell ance upon a day,
This guid lord went from home;
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi' him his eldest son.

And when they were on a good way
Wi' slowly pace did walk
The boy's heart being something wae
He thus began to talk

A question I wou'd ask, father,
Gin ye wou'dna angry be.
Say on, say on, my bonny boy,
Ye'se nae be quarrell'd by me.

I see my mither's cheeks aye weet,
I never can see them dry;
And I wonder what aileth my mither
To mourn continually.

Your mither was a king's daughter
Sprung frae a high degree
And she might ha'e wed some worthy prince
Had she nae been stown by me;

I was her father's cup-bearer,
Just at that fatal time;
l catch'd her on a misty night,
When summer was in prime;

My luve to her was most sincere,
Her luve was great for me;
But when she hardships doth endure,
Her folly she does see.

I'll shoot the buntin' o' the bush,
The linnet o' the tree,
And bring them to my dear mither,
See if she'll merrier be.

It fell upon another day
This good lord he thought lang
And he is to the hunting gane
Took wi' him his dog and gun

Wi' bow and arrow by his side
He's aff, single, alane
And left his seven children to stay
Wi' their mither at hame

O I will tell to you, mither
Gin ye wadna angry be
Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy
Ye'se nae be quarrelled by me

As we came frae the hynd-hunting
We heard fine music ring
My blessings on you, my bonnie boy
I wish I'd been there my lane

He's ta'en his mither by the hand,
His six brithers also,
And they are on thro' Elmond's-wood,
As fast as they cou'd go;

They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Wi' the stratlins o' their feet;
They wistna weel where they were gaen
Till at her father's yate.

I hae nae money in my pocket,
But royal rings hae three;
I'll gie them you, my little young son,
And ye'll walk there  for me;

Ye'll gi'e the first to the Proud porter,
And he will lat you in;
Ye'll gi'e the next to the butler boy,
And he will show you ben;

Ye'll gi'e the third to the minstrel
That plays before the king;
He'll play success to the bonny boy,
Came thro, the wood him lane.

He ga'e the first to the proud porter,
And he open'd an' let him in;
He ga'e the next to the butler boy,
And he has shown him ben;

He ha'e the third to the minstrel
That play'd before the king;
And he play'd success to the bonny boy
Came thro, the wood him lane.

Now when he came before the king,
Fell low down on his knee;
The king he turned round about,
And the saut tear blinded his ee.

Win up, win up, my bonny boy,
Gang frae my companie;
Ye look sae like my dear daughter,
My heart will birst in three.

If I look like your dear daughter,
A wonder it is none;
If l look like your dear daughter,-
l am her eldest son.

Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy,
Where may my Margaret be ?
She's just now standing at your yates,
And my six brithers her wi '

O where are all my porter boys
That I pay meat and fee,
To open my yates baith wide and braid ?
Let her come in to me.

When she came in before the king,
Fell low down on her knee :
Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye'll dine wi' me.

Ae bit I canno' eat, father,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Till I see my mither and sister dear
For lang for them I think.

When she came before the queen,
Fell low down on her knee:
Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye'se dine wi' me.

Ae bit I canno' eat, mither,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear sister,
For lang for her I think.

When that these two sisters met,
She hail'd her courteouslie :
Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,
This day ye'se dine wi' me.

Ae bit I canno' eat, sister,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear husband,
For lang for him I think.

[ the rest is from Christie ]

"O where are all my rangers bold,
That I pay meat and fee,
To search the forest far an' wide,
And bring Akin to me?"

Then out it speaks the little wee boy,-
"Na, na, this manna be;
Without ye grant a free pardon,
l hope ye'll nae him see."

"O here I grant a free pardon,
Well seal'd by my own han' ;
Ye may make search for young Akin,
As soon as e'er you can."

They search'd the country wide and braid,
The forests far and near;
And found him into Elmond's-wood,
Tearing his yellow hair.

Win up, win up, now young Akin,
Win' up and boun wi' me;
We're messengers come from the court,
The king wants you to see."

"O lat him tak' frae me my head,
Or hang me on a tree;
For since I've lost my dear lady,
Life's no pleasure to me.

"Your head will nae be touch'd, Akin,
Nor hang'd upon a tree;
Your lady's in her father's court,
And all he wants is thee."

When he came in before the king,
He fell down on his knee:
"Win up, win up, now young Akin,
This day ye'se dine wi' me."

But as they were at dinner set
The boy asked a boun ;
"I wish we were in the good church,
For to get Christendoun'

We ha'e lived in guid green wood
This seven years and ane;
But all this time since e'er I mind
Was never a church within ''

"Your asking's nae sae great, my boy,
But granted it shall be ;
This day to guid church ye shall gang'
And your mother shall gang wi' ye.

Then out it speaks the parish priest,
And a sweet smile gae he;-
"Come ben, come ben, my lily flower,
Present your babes to me."

Charles, Vincent, Sam, and Dick,
And likewise James and John;
They call'd the eldest Young Akin,
Which was his father's name.

Then they staid in the royal court,
And liv'd wi' mirth and glee;
And when her father was deceas'd,
Heir of the crown was she.

Child #41
Printed in Bronson (tune available)
SOF


 

Hind Eton
[Child #41]

Lady Margaret sits in her bower door
Sewing at her silken seam;
She heard a note in Elmond's-wood,
And wish'd she there had been.

She loot the seam fa' frae her side,
And the needle to her tae;
And she is on to Elmond's-wood .
As fast as she cou'd gae.

She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but ane,
Till by it came a young hind chiel,
Says, Lady lat alane.

O why pu' ye the nut, the nut,
Or why brake ye the tree;
For I am forester o' this wood,
Ye shou'd spier leave at me?

I'll ask leave at no living man,
Nor yet will I at thee;
My father is king o'er a' this realm,
This wood belongs to me.

She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but three,
Till by it came him young Akin,
And gar'd her lat them be.

The highest tree in Elmond's-wood,
He's pu'd it by the reet;
And he has built for her a bower
Near by a hallow seat.

He's built a bower, made it secure
Wi' carbuncle and stane;
Tho' travelers were never sae nigh
Appearance it had nane.

He's kept her there in Elmond's'wood,
For six lang years and one;
Till six pretty sons to him she bear,
And the seventh she's brought home.

It fell ance upon a day,
This guid lord went from home;
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi' him his eldest son.

And when they were on a good way
Wi' slowly pace did walk
The boy's heart being something wae
He thus began to talk

A question I wou'd ask, father,
Gin ye wou'dna angry be.
Say on, say on, my bonny boy,
Ye'se nae be quarrell'd by me.

I see my mither's cheeks aye weet,
I never can see them dry;
And I wonder what aileth my mither
To mourn continually.

Your mither was a king's daughter
Sprung frae a high degree
And she might ha'e wed some worthy prince
Had she nae been stown by me;

I was her father's cup-bearer,
Just at that fatal time;
l catch'd her on a misty night,
When summer was in prime;

My luve to her was most sincere,
Her luve was great for me;
But when she hardships doth endure,
Her folly she does see.

I'll shoot the buntin' o' the bush,
The linnet o' the tree,
And bring them to my dear mither,
See if she'll merrier be.

It fell upon another day
This good lord he thought lang
And he is to the hunting gane
Took wi' him his dog and gun

Wi' bow and arrow by his side
He's aff, single, alane
And left his seven children to stay
Wi' their mither at hame

O I will tell to you, mither
Gin ye wadna angry be
Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy
Ye'se nae be quarrelled by me

As we came frae the hynd-hunting
We heard fine music ring
My blessings on you, my bonnie boy
I wish I'd been there my lane

He's ta'en his mither by the hand,
His six brithers also,
And they are on thro' Elmond's-wood,
As fast as they cou'd go;

They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Wi' the stratlins o' their feet;
They wistna weel where they were gaen
Till at her father's yate.

I hae nae money in my pocket,
But royal rings hae three;
I'll gie them you, my little young son,
And ye'll walk there for me;

Ye'll gi'e the first to the Proud porter,
And he will lat you in;
Ye'll gi'e the next to the butler boy,
And he will show you ben;

Ye'll gi'e the third to the minstrel
That plays before the king;
He'll play success to the bonny boy,
Came thro, the wood him lane.

He ga'e the first to the proud porter,
And he open'd an' let him in;
He ga'e the next to the butler boy,
And he has shown him ben;

He ha'e the third to the minstrel
That play'd before the king;
And he play'd success to the bonny boy
Came thro, the wood him lane.

Now when he came before the king,
Fell low down on his knee;
The king he turned round about,
And the saut tear blinded his ee.

Win up, win up, my bonny boy,
Gang frae my companie;
Ye look sae like my dear daughter,
My heart will birst in three.

If I look like your dear daughter,
A wonder it is none;
If l look like your dear daughter,-
l am her eldest son.

Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy,
Where may my Margaret be ?
She's just now standing at your yates,
And my six brithers her wi '

O where are all my porter boys
That I pay meat and fee,
To open my yates baith wide and braid ?
Let her come in to me.

When she came in before the king,
Fell low down on her knee :
Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye'll dine wi' me.

Ae bit I canno' eat, father,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Till I see my mither and sister dear
For lang for them I think.

When she came before the queen,
Fell low down on her knee:
Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye'se dine wi' me.

Ae bit I canno' eat, mither,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear sister,
For lang for her I think.

When that these two sisters met,
She hail'd her courteouslie :
Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,
This day ye'se dine wi' me.

Ae bit I canno' eat, sister,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear husband,
For lang for him I think.

[ the rest is from Christie ]

"O where are all my rangers bold,
That I pay meat and fee,
To search the forest far an' wide,
And bring Akin to me?"

Then out it speaks the little wee boy,-
"Na, na, this manna be;
Without ye grant a free pardon,
l hope ye'll nae him see."

"O here I grant a free pardon,
Well seal'd by my own han' ;
Ye may make search for young Akin,
As soon as e'er you can."

They search'd the country wide and braid,
The forests far and near;
And found him into Elmond's-wood,
Tearing his yellow hair.

Win up, win up, now young Akin,
Win' up and boun wi' me;
We're messengers come from the court,
The king wants you to see."

"O lat him tak' frae me my head,
Or hang me on a tree;
For since I've lost my dear lady,
Life's no pleasure to me.

"Your head will nae be touch'd, Akin,
Nor hang'd upon a tree;
Your lady's in her father's court,
And all he wants is thee."

When he came in before the king,
He fell down on his knee:
"Win up, win up, now young Akin,
This day ye'se dine wi' me."

But as they were at dinner set
The boy asked a boun ;
"I wish we were in the good church,
For to get Christendoun'

We ha'e lived in guid green wood
This seven years and ane;
But all this time since e'er I mind
Was never a church within ''

"Your asking's nae sae great, my boy,
But granted it shall be ;
This day to guid church ye shall gang'
And your mother shall gang wi' ye.

Then out it speaks the parish priest,
And a sweet smile gae he;-
"Come ben, come ben, my lily flower,
Present your babes to me."

Charles, Vincent, Sam, and Dick,
And likewise James and John;
They call'd the eldest Young Akin,
Which was his father's name.

Then they staid in the royal court,
And liv'd wi' mirth and glee;
And when her father was deceas'd,
Heir of the crown was she.

Child #41
Printed in Bronson (tune available)

Child 41A: Hind Etin

41A.1 LADY MARGARET sits in her bower door,
Sewing at her silken seam;
She heard a note in Elmond’s wood,
And wishd she there had been.
41A.2 She loot the seam fa frae her side,
And the needle to her tae,
And she is on to Elmond’s wood
As fast as she coud gae.
41A.3 She hadna pu’d a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but ane,
Till by it came a young hind chiel,
Says, Lady, lat alane.
41A.4 O why pu ye the nut, the nut,
Or why brake ye the tree?
For I am forester o this wood:
Ye shoud spier leave at me.
41A.5 ‘I’ll ask leave at no living man,
Nor yet will I at thee;
My father is king oer a’ this realm,
This wood belongs to me.’
41A.6 She hadna pu’d a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but three,
Till by it came him Young Akin,
And gard her lat them be.
41A.7 The highest tree in Elmond’s wood,
He’s pu’d it by the reet,
And he has built for her a bower,
Near by a hallow seat.
41A.8 He’s built a bower, made it secure
We carbuncle and stane;
Tho travellers were never sae nigh,
Appearance it had nane.
41A.9 He’s kept her there in Elmond’s wood,
For six lang years and one,
Till six pretty sons to him she bear,
And the seventh she’s brought home.
41A.10 It fell ance upon a day,
This guid lord went from home,
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi him his eldest son.
41A.11 And when they were on a guid way,
Wi slowly pace did walk,
The boy’s heart being something wae,
He thus began to talk:
41A.12 ‘A question I woud ask, father,
Gin ye woudna angry be:’
‘Say on, say on, my bonny boy,
Ye’se nae be quarrelld by me.’
41A.13 ‘I see my mither’s cheeks aye weet,
I never can see them dry;
And I wonder what aileth my mither,
To mourn continually.’
41A.14 ‘Your mither was a king’s daughter,
Sprung frae a high degree,
And she might hae wed some worthy prince,
Had she nae been stown by me.
41A.15 ‘I was her father’s cup-bearer,
Just at that fatal time;
I catchd her on a misty night,
Whan summer was in prime.
41A.16 ‘My luve to her was most sincere,
Her luve was great for me,
But when she hardships doth endure,
Her folly she does see.’
41A.17 ‘I’ll shoot the buntin o the bush,
The linnet o the tree,
And bring them to my dear mither,
See if she’ll merrier be.’
41A.18 It fell upo another day,
This guid lord he thought lang,
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi him his dog and gun.
41A.19 Wi bow and arrow by his side,
He’s aff, single, alane,
And left his seven children to stay
Wi their mither at hame.
41A.20 ‘O I will tell to you, mither,
Gin ye wadna angry be:’
‘Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy,
Ye’se nae be quarrelld by me.’
41A.21 ‘As we came frae the hynd-hunting,
We heard fine music ring:’
‘My blessings on you, my bonny boy,
I wish I’d been there my lane.’
41A.22 He’s taen his mither by the hand,
His six brithers also,
And they are on thro Elmond’s wood,
As fast as they coud go.
41A.23 They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Wi the stratlins o their feet;
They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Till at her father’s yate.
41A.24 ‘I hae nae money in my pocket,
But royal rings hae three;
I’ll gie them you, my little young son,
And ye’ll walk there for me.
41A.25 ‘Ye’ll gie the first to the proud porter,
And he will lat you in;
Ye’ll gie the next to the butler-boy,
And he will show you ben;
41A.26 ‘Ye’ll gie the third to the minstrel
That plays before the king;
He’ll play success to the bonny boy
Came thro the wood him lane.’
41A.27 He gae the first to the proud porter,
And he opend an let him in;
He gae the next to the butler-boy,
And he has shown him ben;
41A.28 He gae the third to the minstrel
That playd before the king;
And he playd success to the bonny boy
Came thro the wood him lane.
41A.29 Now when he came before the king,
Fell low down on his knee;
The king he turned round about,
And the saut tear blinded his ee.
41A.30 ‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy,
Gang frae my companie;
Ye look sae like my dear daughter,
My heart will birst in three.’
41A.31 ‘If I look like your dear daughter,
A wonder it is none;
If I look like your dear daughter,
I am her eldest son.’
41A.32 ‘Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy,
Where may my Margaret be?’
‘She’s just now standing at your yates,
And my six brithers her wi.’
41A.33 ‘O where are all my porter-boys
That I pay meat and fee,
To open my yates baith wide and braid?
Let her come in to me.’
41A.34 When she came in before the king,
Fell low down on her knee;
‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye’ll dine wi me.’
41A.35 ‘Ae bit I canno eat, father,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Till I see my mither and sister dear,
For lang for them I think.’
41A.36 When she came before the queen,
Fell low down on her knee;
‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear
This day ye’se dine wi me.’
41A.37 ‘Ae bit I canno eat, mither,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear sister,
For lang for her I think.’
41A.38 When that these two sisters met,
She haild her courteouslie;
‘Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,
This day ye’se dine wi me.’
41A.39 ‘Ae bit I canno eat, sister,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear husband,
For lang for him I think.’
41A.40 ‘O where are all my rangers bold
That I pay meat and fee,
To search the forest far an wide,
And bring Akin to me?’
41A.41 Out it speaks the little wee boy:
Na, na, this maunna be;
Without ye grant a free pardon,
I hope ye’ll nae him see.
41A.42 ‘O here I grant a free pardon,
Well seald by my own han;
Ye may make search for Young Akin,
As soon as ever you can.’
41A.43 They searchd the country wide and braid,
The forests far and near,
And found him into Elmond’s wood,
Tearing his yellow hair.
41A.44 ‘Win up, win up now, Young Akin,
Win up, and boun wi me;
We’re messengers come from the court,
The king wants you to see.’
41A.45 ‘O lat him take frae me my head,
Or hang me on a tree;
For since I’ve lost my dear lady,
Life’s no pleasure to me.’
41A.46 ‘Your head will nae be touchd, Akin,
Nor hangd upon a tree;
Your lady’s in her father’s court,
And all he wants is thee.’
41A.47 When he came in before the king,
Fell low down on his knee;
‘Win up, win up now, Young Akin,
This day ye’se dine wi me.’
41A.48 But as they were at dinner set,
The boy asked a boun:
‘I wish we were in the good church,
For to get christendoun.
41A.49 ‘We hae lived in guid green wood
This seven years and ane;
But a’ this time, since eer I mind,
Was never a church within.’
41A.50 ‘Your asking’s nae sae great, my boy,
But granted it shall be;
This day to guid church ye shall gang,
And your mither shall gang you wi.’
41A.51 When unto the guid church she came,
She at the door did stan;
She was sae sair sunk down wi shame,
She coudna come farer ben.
41A.52 Then out it speaks the parish priest,
And a sweet smile gae he:
‘Come ben, come ben, my lily flower,
Present your babes to me.’
41A.53 Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick,
And likewise James and John;
They calld the eldest Young Akin,
Which was his father’s name.
41A.54 Then they staid in the royal court,
And livd wi mirth and glee,
And when her father was deceasd,
Heir of the crown was she.


 Child 41B: Hind Etin

41B.1 MAY MARGRET stood in her bouer door,
Kaiming doun her yellow hair;
She spied some nuts growin in the wud,
And wishd that she was there.
41B.2 She has plaited her yellow locks
A little abune her bree,
And she has kilted her petticoats
A little below her knee,
And she’s aff to Mulberry wud,
As fast as she could gae.
41B.3 She had na pu’d a nut, a nut,
A nut but barely ane,
Till up started the Hynde Etin,
Says, Lady, let thae alane!
41B.4 ‘Mulberry wuds are a’ my ain;
My father gied them me,
To sport and play when I thought lang;
And they sall na be tane by thee.’
41B.5 And ae she pu’d the tither berrie,
Na thinking o’ the skaith,
And said, To wrang ye, Hynde Etin,
I wad be unco laith.
41B.6 But he has tane her by the yellow locks,
And tied her till a tree,
And said, For slichting my commands,
An ill death sall ye dree.
41B.7 He pu’d a tree out o the wud,
The biggest that was there,
And he howkit a cave monie fathoms deep,
And put May Margret there.
41B.8 ‘Now rest ye there, ye saucie may;
My wuds are free for thee;
And gif I tak ye to mysell,
The better ye’ll like me.’
41B.9 Na rest, na rest May Margret took,
Sleep she got never nane;
Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor,
Her head upon a stane.
41B.10 ‘O tak me out,’ May Margret cried,
‘O tak me hame to thee,
And I sall be your bounden page
Until the day I dee.’
41B.11 He took her out o the dungeon deep,
And awa wi him she’s gane;
But sad was the day an earl’s dochter
Gaed hame wi Hynde Etin.
* * * * *
41B.12 It fell out ance upon a day
Hynde Etin’s to the hunting gane,
And he has tane wi him his eldest son,
For to carry his game.
41B.13 ‘O I wad ask ye something, father,
An ye wadna angry be;’
‘Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me.’
41B.14 ‘My mother’s cheeks are aft times weet,
Alas! they are seldom dry;’
‘Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho she should brast and die.
41B.15 ‘For your mother was an earl’s dochter,
Of noble birth and fame,
And now she’s wife o Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame.
41B.16 ‘But we’ll shoot the laverock in the lift,
The buntlin on the tree,
And ye’ll tak them hame to your mother,
And see if she’ll comforted be.’
* * * * *
41B.17 ‘I wad ask ye something, mother,
An ye wadna angry be;’
‘Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me.’
41B.18 ‘Your cheeks they are aft times weet,
Alas! they’re seldom dry;’
‘Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho I whould brast and die.
41B.19 ‘For I was ance an earl’s dochter,
Of noble birth and fame,
And now I am the wife of Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame.’
* * * * *


 Child 41C: Hind Etin

41C.1 ‘O WELL like I to ride in a mist,
And shoot in a northern win,
And far better a lady to steal,
That’s come of a noble kin.’
41C.2 Four an twenty fair ladies
Put on this lady’s sheen,
And as mony young gentlemen
Did lead her ower the green.
41C.3 Yet she preferred before them all
Him, young Hastings the Groom;
He’s coosten a mist before them all,
And away this lady has taen.
41C.4 He’s taken the lady on him behind,
Spared neither grass nor corn,
Till they came to the wood o Amonshaw,
Where again their loves were sworn.
41C.5 And they hae lived in that wood
Full mony a year and day,
And were supported from time to time
By what he made of prey.
41C.6 And seven bairns, fair and fine,
There she has born to him,
And never was in gude church-door,
Nor ever got gude kirking.
41C.7 Ance she took harp into her hand,
And harped them a’ asleep,
Then she sat down at their couch-side,
And bitterly did weep.
41C.8 Said, Seven bairns hae I born now
To my lord in the ha;
I wish they were seven greedy rats,
To run upon the wa,
And I mysel a great grey cat,
To eat them ane and a’.
41C.9 For ten lang years now I hae lived
Within this cave of stane,
And never was at gude church-door,
Nor got no gude churching.
41C.10 O then out spake her eldest child,
And a fine boy was he:
O hold your tongue, my mother dear;
I’ll tell you what to dee.
41C.11 Take you the youngest in your lap,
The next youngest by the hand,
Put all the rest of us you before,
As you learnt us to gang.
41C.12 And go with us unto some kirk-+-
You say they are built of stane-+-
And let us all be christened,
And you get gude kirking.
41C.13 She took the youngest in her lap,
The next youngest by the hand,
Set all the rest of them her before,
As she learnt them to gang.
41C.14 And she has left the wood with them,
And to the kirk has gane,
Where the gude priest them christened,
And gave her gude kirking.


 

Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (1863–1944).  The Oxford Book of Ballads.  1910.
 
36. Hynd Etin
 
 
I


MAY Margaret sits in her bower door

 
  Sewing her silken seam;  
She heard a note in Elmond’s wood,  
  And wish’d she there had been.  
 
II


She loot the seam fa’ frae her side,

        5
  The needle to her tae,  
And she is on to Elmond’s wood  
  As fast as she could gae.  
 
III


She hadna pu’d a nut, a nut,

 
  Nor broken a branch but ane,         10
Till by there came the Hynd Etin,  
  Says, ‘Lady, lat alane.  
 
IV


‘O why pu’ ye the nut, the nut,

 
  Or why break ye the tree?  
For I am forester o’ this wood:         15
  Ye should spier leave at me.’—  
 
V


I’ll ask leave at nae living man,

 
  Nor yet will I at thee;  
My father is king o’er a’ this realm,  
  This wood belongs to me.’         20
 
VI


The highest tree in Elmond’s wood,

 
  He’s pu’d it by the reet,  
And he has built for her a bower  
  Near by a hallow seat.  
 
VII


He’s kept her there in Elmond’s wood

        25
  For six lang years and ane,  
Till six pretty sons to him she bare,  
  And the seventh she’s brought hame.  
 
VIII


It fell out ance upon a day

 
  He’s to the hunting gane,         30
And a’ to carry his game for him  
  He’s tane his eldest son.  
 
IX


‘A question I will ask, father,

 
  Gin ye wadna angry be.’—  
‘Say on, say on, my bonny boy,         35
  Ye’se nae be quarrell’d by me.’  
 
X


‘I see my mither’s cheeks aye weet,

 
  I never can see them dry;  
And I wonder what aileth my mither  
  To mourn [sae constantly].’—         40
 
XI


‘Your mither was a king’s daughtèr,

 
  Sprung frae a high degree;  
She might hae wed some worthy prince  
  Had she na been stown by me.  
 
XII


‘Your mither was a king’s daughtèr

        45
  Of noble birth and fame,  
But now she’s wife o’ Hynd Etin,  
  Wha ne’er gat christendame.  
 
XIII


‘But we’ll shoot the buntin’ o’ the bush,

 
  The linnet o’ the tree,         50
And ye’se tak’ them hame to your dear mither,  
  See if she’ll merrier be.’  
 
XIV


It fell upon anither day,

 
  He’s to the hunting gane  
And left his seven [young] children         55
  To stay wi’ their mither at hame.  
 
XV


‘O I will tell to you, mither,

 
  Gin ye wadna angry be.’—  
‘Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy,  
  Ye’se nae be quarrell’d by me.’—         60
 
XVI


‘As we came frae the hind-hunting,

 
  We heard fine music ring.’—  
‘My blessings on you, my bonny boy,  
  I wish I’d been there my lane.’  
 
XVII


They wistna weel where they were gaen,

        65
  Wi’ the stratlins o’ their feet;  
They wistna weel where they were gaen,  
  Till at her father’s yate.  
 
XVIII


‘I hae nae money in my pocket,

 
  But royal rings hae three;         70
I’ll gie them you, my little young son,  
  And ye’ll walk there for me.  
 
XIX


‘Ye’ll gi’e the first to the proud portèr

 
  And he will let you in;  
Ye’ll gi’e the next to the butler-boy         75
  And he will show you ben;  
 
XX


‘Ye’ll gi’e the third to the minstrel

 
  That plays before the King;  
He’ll play success to the bonny boy  
  Came thro’ the wood him lane.’         80
 
XXI


He ga’e the first to the proud portèr

 
  And he open’d and let him in;  
He ga’e the next to the butler-boy,  
  And he has shown him ben.  
 
XXII


He ga’e the third to the minstrel

        85
  That play’d before the King,  
And he play’d success to the bonny boy  
  Came thro’ the wood him lane.  
 
XXIII


Now when he came before the King,

 
  Fell low upon his knee;         90
The King he turn’d him round about,  
  And the saut tear blint his e’e.  
 
XXIV


‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy,

 
  Gang frae my companie;  
Ye look sae like my dear daughtèr,         95
  My heart will burst in three.’—  
 
XXV


‘If I look like your dear daughtèr,

 
  A wonder it is none;  
If I look like your dear daughtèr,  
  I am her eldest son.’—         100
 
XXVI


‘Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy,

 
  Where may my Margaret be?’—  
‘She’s just now standing at your yates,  
  And my six brithers her wi’.’—  
 
XXVII


‘O where are a’ my porter-boys

        105
  That I pay meat and fee,  
To open my yates baith wide and braid,  
  Let her come in to me?’  
 
XXVIII


When she cam’ in before the King,

 
  Fell low down on her knee:         110
‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear,  
  This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’—  
 
XXIX


‘Ae bit I canna eat, father,

 
  Nor ae drop can I drink,  
Until I see my mither dear,         115
  For lang for her I think.’  
 
XXX


When she cam’ in before the queen,

 
  Fell low down on her knee;  
‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear,  
  This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’—         120
 
XXXI


‘Ae bit I canna eat, mither,

 
  Nor ae drop can I drink,  
Until I see my sister dear,  
  For lang for her I think.’  
 
XXXII


When that these twa sisters met,

        125
  She hail’d her courteouslie;  
‘Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,  
  This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’—  
 
XXXIII


‘Ae bit I canna eat, sister,

 
  Nor ae drop can I drink,         130
Until I see my dear husband,  
  So lang for him I think.’—  
 
XXXIV


‘O where are a’ my rangers bold

 
  That I pay meat and fee,  
To search the forest far an’ wide,         135
  And bring Etin back to me?’  
 
XXXV


Out it speaks the little wee boy:

 
  ‘Na, na, this mauna be;  
Without ye grant a free pardon,  
  I hope ye’ll nae him see.’—         140
 
XXXVI


‘O here I grant a free pardon,

 
  Well seal’d by my own han’;  
Ye may mak’ search for Young Etin  
  As soon as ever ye can.’  
 
XXXVII


They search’d the country wide and braid,

        145
  The forests far and near,  
And they found him into Elmond’s wood,  
  Tearing his yellow hair.  
 
XXXVIII


‘Win up, win up now, Hynd Etin,

 
  Win up an’ boun wi’ me;         150
We’re messengers come frae the court;  
  The King wants you to see.’—  
 
XXXIX


‘O lat them tak’ frae me my head,

 
  Or hang me on a tree;  
For since I’ve lost my dear lady,         155
  Life’s no pleasure to me.’—  
 
XL


‘Your head will na be touch’d, Etin,

 
  Nor you hang’d on a tree;  
Your lady’s in her father’s court  
  And a’ he wants is thee.’         160
 
XLI


When he cam’ in before the King,

 
  Fell low down on his knee;  
‘Win up, win up now, Young Etin,  
  This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’  
 
XLII


But as they were at dinner set

        165
  The wee boy ask’d a boon:  
‘I wish we were in a good kirk  
  For to get christendoun.  
 
XLIII


‘For we hae lived in gude green wood

 
  This seven years and ane;         170
But a’ this time since e’er I mind  
  Was never a kirk within.’—  
 
XLIV


‘Your asking ’s na sae great, my boy,

 
  But granted it sall be;  
This day to gude kirk ye sall gang         175
  And your mither sall gang you wi’.’  
 
XLV


When unto the gude kirk she came,

 
  She at the door did stan’;  
She was sae sair sunk down wi’ shame,  
  She couldna come farther ben.         180
 
XLVI


Then out and spak’ the parish priest,

 
  And a sweet smile ga’e he:  
‘Come ben, come ben, my lily-flower,  
  Present your babes to me.’  
 
XLVII


Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick,

        185
  And likewise John and James;  
They call’d the eldest Young Etin,  
  Which was his father’s name.  
 
GLOSS:  cloutie] full of clouts, patched.  stown] stolen.  loot] let.  tae] toe.  spier] ask.  reet] root.  hallow seat] holy man’s or hermit’s cave.  stown] stolen.  stratlins]? stragglings.  yate] gate.  ben] further in.  blint] blinded.  boun] go.