Stories of the Scottish Border — Chapter 10 The Corbies
*The Corbies* Two ancient songs have come down to us in which the principal speakers are supposed to be Corbies, carrion-crows or ravens, birds which feed on the flesh of the dead.
In both songs the birds discuss a dead knight upon whose rich body they wish to feed.
But deep interest lies in the fact that the two song-writers present entirely different views of the case.
One appeals to our feelings with a beautiful and touching picture of devotion, the knight's companions proving true to him in death.
The other is far more grim, and causes us to shudder at the utter loneliness of the dead man, deserted by all those who in life were beholden to his friendship.
Both are powerful and striking examples of ancient vigour and directness.
THE TWA CORBIES
As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies making a mane;[#] The tane unto the t'other say, "Where sall we gang and dine to-day?"
-- [#] moan.
"In behint yon auld fail dyke, I wot there lies a new-slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there, But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.
His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk, to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en another mate, Sa we may mak our dinner sweet.
Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,[#] And I'll pick out his bonny blue een: Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair, We'll theek[#] our nest when it grows bare.
[#] [#] neck.
[#] thatch.
[#] Variant reading--"We'll theek our nest--it's a' blawn hare."
Mony a one for him makes mane, But nane sall ken where he is gane;
O'er his white banes, when they are bare, The wind sall blaw for evermair."
[Illustration: The Twa Corbies] THE THREE RAVENS
There were three ravens sat on a tre, They were as black as they might be: The one of them said to his mate, "Where shall we our breakfast take?"
-- "Downe in yonder greene field, There lies a knight slain under his shield;
"His hounds they lie downe at his feete, So well they their master keepe;
"His hawkes they flie so eagerlie, There's no fowle dare come him nie.
"Down there comes a fallow doe, As great with yong as she might goe.
"She lift up his bloudy hed, And kist his wounds that were so red.
"She got him up upon her backe, And carried him to earthen lake.
"She buried him before the prime, She was dead her selfe ere even song time.
"God send every gentleman, Such hawkes, such houndes, and such a leman."
*Chapter XI* *Otterbourne and Chevy Chase*
