The Book of Scottish Song/Helen of Kirkconnell

Helen of Kirkconnell.

[The story upon which this song is founded is thus related in the first edition of Sir John Sinclair's Statistical Account of Scotland:—"In the burial-ground of Kirkconnell, are still to be seen the tombstones of Fair Helen, and her favourite lover Adam Fleeming. She was a daughter of the family of Kirkconnell, and fell a victim to the jealousy of a lover. Being courted by two young gentlemen at the same time, the one of whom thinking himself slighted, vowed to sacrifice the other to his resentment, when he again discovered him in her company. An opportunity soon presented itself, when the faithful pair, walking along the romantic banks of the Kirtle, were discovered from the opposite banks by the assassin. Helen perceiving him lurking among the bushes, and dreading the fatal resolution, rushed to her lover's bosom, to rescue him from the danger; and thus receiving the wound intended for another, sunk and expired in her favourite's arms. He immediately revenged her death, and slew the murderer. The inconsolable Adam Fleeming, now sinking under the pressure of grief, went abroad and served under the banners of Spain, against the infidels. The impression, however, was too strong to be obliterated. The image of woe attended him thither; and the pleasing remembrance of the tender scenes that were past, with the melancholy reflection, that they could never return, harassed his soul, and deprived his mind of repose. He soon returned, and stretching himself on her grave, expired, and was buried by her side. Upon the tombstone are engraven a sword and cross, with 'Hic jacet Adam Fleeming.' The memory of this is preserved in an old Scots ballad, which relates the tragical event, and which is said to have been written by Adam Fleeming, when in Spain." The following is the modern version of this ballad, which is much abridged from the old, and which yet retains all the beauty and pathos of the original. The opening verse has been made use of by Gifford in his poem "To Anna."

"I wish I were where Anna lies!
For I am sick of lingering here;
And every hour affection cries,
Come, and partake my narrow bier!"]

I wish I were where Helen lies—
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies,
On fair Kirkconnell lea.

O Helen fair, beyond compare,
I'll make a garland of thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for evermair,
Until the day I die.

Cursed be the heart that thought the thought,
And cursed the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died for sake o' me.

O think na but my heart was sair
When my love fell and spak' nae mair;
I laid her down wi' meikle care,
On fair Kirkconnell lea.

I laid her down, my sword did draw,
Stern was our strife in Kirtle-shaw—
I hew'd him down in pieces sma',
For her that died for me.

O that I were where Helen lies,
Night and day on me she cries,
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
"O come, my love, to me!"

O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
Were I with thee I would be blest,
Where thou liest low, and tak'st thy rest
On fair Kirkconnell lea.

I wish I were where Helen lies,
Night and day on me she cries;
I'm sick of all beneath the skies,
Since my love died for me.

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