‘Ye’se na get the rings that’s on his finger, Ye’se na get them frae me; Ye’se na get the rings that’s on his finger, An’ your heart suld burst in three.’ XVIII She’s turn’d her back unto the wa’, And her face unto a rock, And there, before the mother’s face, Her very heart it broke. FOOTNOTES: [410] roudès = hag-like. _59. Young Andrew_ I As I was cast in my first sleepe, A dreadfull draught[411] in my mind I drew, For I was dreamèd of a young man, Some men callèd him Yonge Andrew. II The moone shone bright, and it cast a fayre light: ‘Welcome,’ says she, ‘my honey, my sweete! For I have loved thee this seven long yeare, And our chance it was we co’ld never meete’ III Then he tooke her in his armès two And kissèd her both cheeke and chin, And twise or thrise he kissèd this may[412] Before they two did part in twin. IV ‘Faire maid I cannot do as I wo’ld; [Yet what I can will I pleasure thee] Goe home and fett[413] thy father’s red gold, And I’le goe to the church and marry thee.’ V This ladye is gone to her father’s hall, And well she knew where his red gold [lain], And counted forth five hundred pound, Besides all other jewels and chaines: VI And brought it all to Younge Andrew, It was well counted upon his knee: Then he tooke her by the lilye-white hand And led her up to an hill sae hie. VII She had on a gowne of blacke velvett, (A pityfull sight after ye shall see) ‘Put off thy clothes, bonny wenche,’ he sayes, ‘For no foot further thou’st gang with mee.’ VIII But then she put off her gowne of velvett, With many a salt teare from her e’e, And in a kirtle of fine breaden[414] silke She stood before Yonge Andrew’s e’e. IX Sayes, ‘O put off thy kirtle of silke, For some and all shall goe with mee; Unto my owne lady I must it beare, Whom I must needs love better than thee!’ X Then she put off her kirtle of silke, With many a salt teare still from her e’e; In a petticoate of scarlett redd She stood before Yonge Andrew’s e’e. XI Sayes, ‘O put off thy petticoate, For some and all shall goe with mee; Unto my owne ladye I will it beare, That dwells soe far in a strange countrye.’ XII But then she put off her petticoate, With many a salt teare still from her e’e, And in a smocke of brave white silk She stood before Yonge Andrew’s e’e. XIII Sayes, ‘O put off thy smocke of silke, For some and all shall goe with me; Unto my owne ladye I will it beare, That dwells soe far in a strange countrye.’-- XIV Sayes, ‘O remember, Yonge Andrew, Once of a woman you were borne; And for the birth that Marye bore I pray you let my smocke be upon!’-- XV