Tragedy of Sir James the Rose (1815)/Sir James the Rose
SIR JAMES THE ROSE.
O heard you of Sir James the Roſe,
the young heir o'Buleighan?
For he has kill'd a gallant 'Squire,
Whaſe friends are out to tak him.
Now he has gane to the houſe o'Mar,
whare nane might ſeik to find him;
To ſee his dear he did repair,
Weining ſhe would befriend him.
Whar are you gaing Sir James? ſhe ſaid,
O whar awa' are ye riding?
I maun be bound to a foreign land,
and now I'm under hiding.
Whar fall I gae, whar fall I rin,
whar fall i rin to lay me?
For I hae kill'd a gallant 'Squire,
and his friends ſeek to ſlay me.
O gae ye down to yon laigh houſe,
I fall pay there your lawing:
And as I am your leman trew,
I'll meet you at the dawing.
He turn'd him richt and round about,
and row'd him in his brechan;
And laid him down to tak a ſleep,
in the lowlands o'Buleighan.
He was nae well gane out o' ſight,
nor was he paſt Milſtrethen,
Whan four-and twenty belted Knights
came riding owr the Leathen.
O hae ye ſeen Sir James the Roſe,
the young heir o' Buleighan?
For he has kill'd a gallant 'Squire,
and we are ſent to tak him.
Yea, I hae ſeen Sir James the Roſe,
he paſt by here on Munday;
Gin the ſteed be ſwift that he rides on,
he's paſt the heights of Lundie.
But as wi' ſpeid they rade awa,
ſhe loudly cry'd behind them,
Gin ye'll gie me a worthy meid,
I'll tell ye whar to find him.
O tell, fair maid, and, on our band,
ye'ſe get his purſe and brechan.
He's in the bank aboon the mi!!,
in the lawlands o' Buleighan.
Then out and ſpak Sir John the Graham,
wha had the charge a-keiping,
It's ne'er be ſaid, my ſtalwart feres,
we kill'd him when a-ſleiping.
They ſeiz'd his broad-ſword and his targe,
and closely him surrounded:
O pardon̜̙—mercy! gentlemen,
he then ſou' loudly sounded.
Sic as ye gae, ſic ye sall hae,
nae grace we ſhaw to thee can.
Donald, my man, wait till I fa,
and ye sall hae my brechan;
Ye'll get my purse, tho’ fu' o'gowd,
to tak me to Loch-Lagan.
Syne they tuke out his bleeding heart,
and set it on a spear;
Then tuke it to the house o' Mar,
and ſhaw'd it to his dear.
We could nae gie Sir James's purse,
we can nae gie his brechan,
But ye sall hae his bleeding heart,
but and his bleeding tartan.
Sir James the Rose, O for thy sake
my heart is now a-breaking!
Curs'd be the day, I wrought thy wae,
thou brave heir of Buleighan!
Then up ſhe raise, and forth ſhe gaesː
and, in that hour o' tein,
She wandered to the dowie glen,
and never mair was seen.