There are at least 4 US version from 1890 and earlier. Henry J. Wehman published a version in song collection No. 28, p. 23 that is dated 1890. Two of the versions from manuscripts are early 1800s (NY and OH).
One question is how is it related to "The Constant Farmer's Son." Malcolm Douglas gave version of both. "The Constant Farmer's Son" was printed as a broadside, where Bramble was only printed in Wehman's and that version was communicated from tradition.
Here's a translation posted by Steve of the 1620 'Isabella and the Pot of Basil' in the Decameron:
Isabella's Tragedy
In Messina there dwelt three young men, Brethren and merchants all they were. Very rich by their father's death then, And lived in fame with little care.
They had a sister Isabella, And she was beautiful and fair, And as of yet she remained unmarried And with great portion it was her share.
The trading of the brothers' business That brought them plenty of store and gain, Was by a factor, thus a servant, Lorenzo was this factor's name.
Lorenzo being of fair complexion, Gracious in this young maid's eyes, Isabella placed her whole affection, Gave him many looks and sighs.
Lorenzo noting her behaviour Fixed his heart on her likewise; Both respected one another But kept their secret from prying eyes.
It was one day the eldest brother At length he chanced upon the scene; He told it to his other brethren The secret meeting he had seen.
With no sign unto Lorenzo From the city they rode all three, And talking with him kind manner, Took Lorenzo in their company.
When they came to a lonely valley Such as matched their vile intent, They ran upon him, quickly slew him, Interred his body where no-one went.
When they returned unto Messina They gave it forth they had him sent To do some trading in a far country As formerly it was their bent.
Many demands she made unto them To which far country he had gone. What do you mean by all these questions? The brothers said, you do us wrong.
One night as she lay sore afflicted Lorenzo came to her bedside, In torn and unbefitting garments, With looks so pale and eyes so wide.
My dear, he said, do not torment you, Nor call my name and thus repine; Thy brethren they cruelly slew me, My mangled body you soon shall find.
In the morning she rode a journey Directly to the designed place: She found the body of her Lorenzo And held him close in fond embrace.
His body was so little corrupted, She washed it over with many a tear; Infinite kisses bestowed upon him, My love's no more, to me so dear.
Returning back to her cruel brethren This maiden wept and pined away, She could not cease from all her mourning, Died upon the very next day.
As their offence might be discovered, From Messina all three were bound And sailing on their way to Naples, Their ship was lost, all three were drowned.