{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/celt/tfm/tfm166.htm","path":"neu/celt/tfm/tfm166.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/celt/tfm/tfm166.htm","text":"LAI D'YWENEC\nI HAVE in thought and purpose too,\nOf Ywenec to tellon you--\nOf whom he born was, his sire's fame,\nHow first he to his mother came.\nHe who did beget Ywenec\nY-clepod was Eudemarec.\nThere formerly lived in Britain a man who was rich and old. He was Avoez or governor of Caerwent on the Doglas, and lord of the surrounding country. Desirous of having an heir to his estates, he espoused a maiden \"courteous and sage, and passing fair.\" She was given to him because he was rich, and loved by him for her beauty. Why should I say more, but that her match was not to be found between Lincoln and Ireland? \"Great sin did they who gave her him,\" adds the poet.\nOn account of her rare beauty, the jealous husband now turned all his thoughts to keeping her safe. To this end he shut her up in his tower, in a large room, to which no one had access but himself and his sister, an old widow, without whose permission the young wife was forbidden to speak to any even of her female attendants. In this tower the suspicious husband immured his lovely bride for seven years, during which time they had no children, nor did she ever leave her confinement on any account. She had neither chamberlain nor huissier to light the tapers in her chamber when she would retire, and the poor lady passed her time weeping, sighing, and lamenting; and from grief and neglect of herself losing all her beauty.\nThe month of April was entering,\nWhen every bird begins to sing;\nHer lord arose at early day,\nAnd to the wood he takes his way.\nBefore he set out he called up the old dame to fasten the door after him. This done, she took her psalter and retired to another room to chant it. The imprisoned lady awoke in tears, seeing the brightness of the sun, and thus began her moan:\nAlas! said she, why born was l?\nRight grievous is my destiny:\nIn this tow\u00e9re imprisoned,\nI ne'er shall leave it till I'm dead.\nShe marvels at the unreasonable jealousy of her old husband, curses her parents, and all concerned in giving her to a man not only so unamiable, but who was of so tough a constitution that the chance of his dying seemed infinitely remote.\nWhen baptised he was to be,\nIn hell's rivere deep dipt was he;\nHard are his sinews, hard each vein,\nAnd lively blood they all contain.\nOft have I heard the people tell,\nThat in this country there befell\nAdventures in the days of yore,\nThat did to joy grieved hearts restore;\nKnights met with damsels, fair and gent,\nIn all things unto their talent;\nAnd dames met lovers courteous,\nHandsome, and brave, and generous;\nSo that they never blamed were,\nFor save themselves none saw them e'er. [a]\nIf this may be, or ever was,\nOr any it befallen has,\nMay God, who hath all might and power,\nMy wish perform for me this hour.\nScarcely had she uttered this pious wish, when she perceived the shadow of a large bird at a narrow window. The bird now flew into the room. He had jesses on his legs, and appeared to be a goss-hawk. [b] He placed himself before the lady, and in a few minutes after became a handsome gentle knight. The lady was terrified at the sight, and covered her head; but the knight was courteous, and addressed her,\nLady, said he, be not thus stirred;\nA goss-hawk is a gentle bird.\nIf my secr\u00e9te should be obscure,\nAttend, and I will you assure;\nMaketh now of me your lov\u00e9re,\nFor that it is I am come here.\nLong have I loved you and admired,\nAnd in my heart have much desired;\nI ne'er have loved save you alone,\nAnd save you never shall love none;\nBut I could never come to you,\nNor from own countrie issue,\nIf you had not required me:\nYour lover now I may well be.\nThe lady was now re-assured: she uncovered her head, and told the knight she would accept him as her Dru, if she were satisfied that he believed in God. On this head, he assures her,\nI in the Cr\u00e9ator believe,\nWho did from misery us relieve,\nIn which us Adam our sire put,\nBy eating of that bitter fruit:\nHe is, and was, and ever he\nTo sinners life and light will be.\nAnd to put the matter out of all doubt, he directs her to feign sickness, and send for the chaplain, when he undertakes to assume her form, and receive the holy Sacrament. The dame does accordingly; and the old woman, after many objections, at length sends for the chaplain.\nAnd he with all due speed did hie,\nAnd brought the Corpus Domini.\nThe knight received the holy sign,\nAnd from the chalice drank the wine [c]\nThe chaplain then his way is gone--\nThe old dame shut the doors anon.\nThe scruples of the lady being now entirely removed, she grants le don d'amoureuse merci, and the bliss of the lovers is complete. At length the knight takes his leave, and in reply to the lady's question, of when she should see him again, he tells her that she has only to wish for him, and the wish will be fulfilled by his appearance; [d] but he warns her to beware of the old woman, who will closely watch her, assuring her at the same time that a discovery will be his certain death.\nThe lady now bids adieu to all sadness and melancholy, and gradually regains all her former beauty. She desires no longer to leave her tower; for, night or day, she has only to express a wish, and her knight is with her. The old lord marvels greatly at this sudden change, and begins to distrust the fidelity of his sister. On revealing his suspicions, her replies fully satisfy him on that head, and they concert between them how to watch the young wife, and to discover her secret. After an interval of three days, the old lord tells his wife that the king has sent for him, and that he must attend him, but will soon return. He sets out, and the old woman having closed the door as usual after him, gets behind a curtain to watch. The lady now wishes for her lover, and instantly he is with her, and they continue together till it is time to rise. He then departs, leaving the spy, who had seen how he came and went, terrified at the strange metamorphosis.\nWhen the husband, who was at no great distance, came home, his spy informed him of the strange affair. Greatly grieved and incensed at this, he began to meditate the destruction of his rival. He accordingly got four pikes made, with steel-heads so sharp that\nNo razor under heaven's sheen\nWas ever yet so sharp and keen.\nThese he set at the window through which the knight was used to enter. Next day he feigns to go to the chase, the old woman returns to her bed to sleep, and the lady anxiously expects \"him whom she loveth loyally,\"\nAnd says that he may come safely,\nAnd with her at all leisure be.\nSo said, so done: the bird was at the window; but alas! too eager for caution, he overlooked the pikes, and, flying against them, was mortally wounded. Still he entered the chamber and threw himself on the bed, which his blood soon filled, and thus addressed his distracted mistress:\nHe said unto her-- \" My sweet friend,\nFor you my life comes to an end;\nI often told you 't would be so,\nThat your fair cheer would work us woe.\"\nWhen she heard this she swooned away,\nAnd long time there for dead she lay;\nHer gently to herself he brought,\nAnd said, that grief availeth nought;\nThat she by him a son would bear,\nValiant and wise, and debonair;\nHe would dispel her sorrows all.\nYwenec she should him call.\nHe would\u00e8 vengeance for their sake\nUpon their trait'rous enemy take. [e]\nExhausted with loss of blood, he can stay no longer. He departs; and the lady, uttering loud cries of woe, leaps after him, unapparelled as she is, out of the window, which was twenty feet from the ground, and pursues him by the traces of his blood.\nAlong his path strayed the dame,\nUntil unto a hill she came. [f]\nInto this hill one entrance led;\nIt with the blood was all sprinkled.\nBefore her she can nothing see;\nWhereat she thinketh full surely\nHer lover thither is gone in.\nShe entereth with mickle teen;\nWithin it light ne found she none;\nThorow it still she goeth on,\nUntil she from the hill issued\nIn a fair meadow, rich and good.\nWith blood she stained found the grass,\nAt which she much dismayed was;\nThe trace lay of it on the ground.\nQuite near she there a city found;\nWith walls it was enclosed all--\nThere was not house, nor tower, nor hall,\nThat did not seem of silver fair:\nThe Mandevent [g] right wealthy are.\nBefore the town lay marshes rude,\nThe forest, and wild solitude.\nOn the other side, toward the donj\u00f3n,\nThe water all around did run;\nAnd here the shipp\u00e8s did enter,\nMore thann\u00e8 three hundr\u00e9d they were.\nThe lower gate wide open lay;\nTherein the lady took her way,\nStil following the blood, that fell\nThe town\u00e8 thorow to the cast\u00e9l.\nUnto her spake there no one,\nNe man nor woman found she none.\nShe to the palace came; with blood\nThe steps she found were all embrued;\nShe entered then a low chamb\u00e9re;\nA knight she found fast sleeping there;\nShe knew him not--she passed on--\nTo a larger chamber came anon;\nA bed, and nothing more, there found,\nA knight was on it sleeping sound.\nStill farther passed on the dame;\nUnto the third chamb\u00e9re she came,\nWhere she gan find her lover's bed.\nThe posts were gold enamelled;\nI could not price the clothes aright:\nThe chandeliers and tapers bright,\nWhich night and day burned constantly,\nWere worth the gold of a citee.\nShe finds her lover at the point of death.\nAt seeing his wretched state the unhappy lady swoons again. The expiring knight endeavours to console her; and, foretelling his own death on that day, directs her to depart, lest his people in their grief should ill treat her as the cause of his death. She, however, protests that she will stay and die with him, as, if she returns, her husband will put her to death. The knight repeats his consolations, and gives her a ring, which, while she wears, her husband will retain no remembrance of what relates to her. At the same time he gives her his sword, which she is to keep safely and to give to her son when grown up and become a valiant knight. He says, she then\nUnto a festival will go;\nHer lord will thither wend also;\nUnto an abbey they will come,\nWhere they will see a stately tomb,\nWill learn the story of the dead,\nAnd how he was there buried.\nThere thou the sword shalt to him reach,\nAnd all the adventure then teach,\nHow he was born, who was his sire;\nHis deeds enough will then admire.\nHe then gave her a dress of fine silk, and insisted on her departure. She is with difficulty induced to leave him, and is hardly half a league from the place when she hears the bells tolling, and the cries of grief of the people for the death of their lord. She faints four times, but at length recovering retraces her steps, and returns to her tower. Her husband makes no inquiry, and gives her no farther uneasiness. She bare a son, as Eudemarec had foretold, and named him Ywenec. As he grew up, there was not his peer in the kingdom for beauty, valour, and generosity.\nAfter Ywenec had been dubbed a knight, his supposed father was summoned to attend the feast of St. Aaron at Carlion. He went, accompanied by his wife and Ywenec. On their way, they stopped at a rich abbey, where they were received with the utmost hospitality. Next day, when they asked to depart, the abbot entreated them to stay a little longer till he should show them the rest of the abbey. They consented, and after dinner,\nOn entering the chapter-room,\nThey found a large and stately tomb,\nCovered with rich tapestry,\nBordered with gold embroidery.\nAt head and feet and sides there were\nTwenty tapers burning clear;\nOf fine gold were the chandeliers;\nOf amethyst were the cens\u00e9res,\nWith which they incensed alw\u00e1y,\nFor great honour, this tomb each day.\nThe curiosity of the visitors was excited by the sight of this magnificent tomb, and they learned, on inquiry, that therein lay one of the noblest and most valiant knights that had ever lived. He had been king of that country, and had been slain at Caerwent for the love of a lady, leaving a vacancy in the throne which had never been since filled, it being reserved, according to his last commands, for his son by that lady.\nWhen the Dame heard this, she called aloud to her son,\n\"Fair son, you now have heard,\" she said, \n\"That God hath us to this place led.\nIt is your father here doth lie,\nWhom this old man slew wrongfully.\"\nShe then gave him the sword she had kept so long, relating the whole story to him. At the conclusion she fainted on the tomb, and expired. Filled with rage and grief, Ywenec at one blow struck off the head of the old man, and avenged both his father and mother. The lady was buried in the coffin with him whom she had loved, and the people joyfully acknowledged Ywenec as king of the country.\nLong time after maden they,\nWho heard this adventure, a Lay\nOf the grief and the dolour\nThat for love these did endure.\nThere are still to be seen in Brittany the rock, the cavern, the fountain, the hole, the valley, etc., of the F\u00e9es.\nThe forest of Brezeliande, near Quintin, was, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, regarded as the chief seat of Breton wonders. It contained the tomb of Merlin. Robert de Ware, hearing of the wonders of this forest, visited it; but, by his own account, to little purpose.\nLa allai je merveilles querre (chercher),\nVis lit for\u00eat et via la terre;\nMerveilles quis (cherchai) main ne troval,\nFol m'en revins, fol y allai;\nFol y allai, fol men revins,\nFolie quis, por fol me tins. [h]\nThere were also the Fountain of Berenton and the Perron (block, or steps) Merveilleux.\nEn Bretagne ce treuve-on\nUne Fontaine et un Perron;\nQuant on gette l'iaue (eau) dessus\nSi vente et tonne et repluit jus (\u00e0 bas).\nHuon do M\u00e9ry was more fortunate than Ware. He sprinkled the Perron from the golden basin which hung from the oak that shaded it, and beheld all the marvels. [i]\nSuch is the result of our inquiries respecting the Fairy system of the \"old\u00e8 gentil Bretons.\" Owing to the praiseworthy labours of a Breton gentleman of the present day, [j] we are enabled to give the following account of it as it actually prevails in Brittany.\nOur author divides the Breton fairies into two classes,--the Fays (F\u00e9es) and the Dwarfs (Nains); of which the Breton name seems to be Korrig or Korrigan, and Korr or Korred. [k] The former he identifies, as we have seen, very plausibly, with the Gallicenae of Mela; for he says that the ancient Welsh bards declare that they reverenced a being of the female sex named Korid-gwen, i. e. Korid-woman, to whom they assigned nine virgins as attendants. To this being Taliesin gives a magic vase, the edges of which are adorned with pearl, and it contains the wondrous water of bardic genius and of universal knowledge.\nThe Korrigan, our authority further states, can predict the future, assume any form they please, move from place to place with the rapidity of thought, cure maladies by the aid of charms which they communicate to their favourites. Their size is said not to exceed two feet, but their proportions are most exact; and they have long flowing hair, which they comb out with great care. Their only dress is a long white veil, which they wind round their body. Seen at night, or in the dusk of the evening, their beauty is great; but in the daylight their eyes appear red, their hair white, and their faces wrinkled; hence they rarely let themselves be seen by day. They are fond of music, and have fine voices, but are not much given to dancing. Their favourite haunts are the springs, by which they sit and comb their hair. They are said to celebrate there every returning spring a great nocturnal festival. On the sod at its brink is spread a table-cloth white as the driven snow, covered with the most delicious viands. In the centre is a crystal cup, which emits such light that there is no need of lamps. At the end of the banquet a cup goes round filled with a liquor, one drop of which would make one as wise as God himself. At the approach of a mortal the whole vanishes.\nLike fairies in general the Korrigan steal children, against which the remedy usually employed is, to place the child under the protection of the Virgin, by putting a rosary or a scapulary about its neck. They are also fond of uniting themselves with handsome young men to regenerate, as the peasants say, their accursed race. The general belief respecting them is, that they were great princesses who, having refused. to embrace Christianity when it was preached in Armorica by the Apostles, were struck by the curse of God. Hence it is that they are said to be animated by a violent hatred of religion and the clergy. The sight of a soutane, or the sound of a bell, puts them to flight; but the object of greatest abhorrence to them is the Holy Virgin. The last trait to be noticed. of these beings is, that, like simiilar beings in other countries, their breath is deadly.\nThe reader must have observed. the strong resemblance which the Korrigan bear to the Elle-maids of Scandinavia. In like manner the Korred are very similar to the Trolls. [l] These are usually represented as short and stumpy with shaggy hair, dark wrinkled faces, little deep-set eyes, but bright as carbuncles. Their voice is cracked and hollow:\ntheir hands have claws like a cat's; their feet are horny like those of a goat. They are expert smiths and coiners; the are said to have great treasures in the dolmen [m] in which they dwell, and of which they are regarded as the builders. They dance around them by night, and wo to the belated peasant who, passing by, is forced to join in their roundel; he usually dies of exhaustion. Wednesday is their holiday; the first Wednesday in May their annual festival, which they celebrate with dancing, singing, and music. They have the same aversion to holy things as the Korrigan; like them, too, they can fortell events to come. The Korrid is always furnished with a large leathern purse, which is said to be full of gold; but if any one succeeds in getting it from him, he finds nothing in it but hair and a pair of scissors.\nThe Bretons also believe in Mermaids; they name them Morgan (sea-women) and Morverc'h (sea-daughters), and say that they draw down to their palaces of gold and crystal at the bottom of the sea or of ponds, those who venture imprudently too neat the edge of the water. Like the mermaids they sing and comb their golden hair. In one of the ballads we read, \"Fisher, hast thou seen the mermaid combing her hair, yellow as gold, by the noontide sun, at the edge of the water?\" \"I have seen the fair mermaid. I have also heard her singing; her, songs were plaintive as the waves.\" [n]\nIn M. Villemarqu\u00e9's collection there are three ballads relating to the Korrigan and Korred. The following is a faithful translation of the first of them in the exact measure of the original. All the Breton poetry is rimed, very frequently in triads or tercets.\n[a] This manifestly alludes to Laval or Graeleat, or similar stories.\n[b] It follows, in M. de Roquefort's edition, \n\"Deci ne muez fu ou d\u00e9eis\"\nOf which we can make no sense, and the French translation gives no aid. In the Harleian MS. it is\n\"De cinc muez fu ou de sis,\"\nwhich is more intelligible.\n[c] This tends to prove that this is a translation from the Breton; for Innocent III., in whose pontificate the cup was first refused to the laity, died in 1216, when Henry III., to whom Marie is supposed to have dedicated her Lais, was a child.\n[d] The same was the case with the W\u00fcnschelweib (Wish-woman) of German romance.\nSwenne du ein\u00east w\u00fcnachest nach mir,\nSo bin ich endelichen bi dir,\nsays the lady to the Staufenberger. She adds,\nWar ich wil da bin ich,\nDen Wunsch hat mir Got gegeben.\nHe finds it to be true,\nEr w\u00fcnschte nach der frouwen sin,\nBi im so war diu schiune sin.\nGRIMM, Deut. Mythol, p. 391.\n[e] In the Shah-nameh, Siyawush, when he foresees his own death by the treachery of Afrasiab, tells his wife Ferengis, the daughter of that monarch, that she will bear a son whom she is to name Ky Khosroo, and who will avenge the death of his father: see G\u00f6rres, Heldenbuch von Iran, ii. 32.\n[f] Desi k'a une hoge vint:\nEn cele hoge ot une entree.\nM. de Roquefort, in his Glossaire de Ia Langue Romaine, correctly renders hoge by colline. In his translation of this Lai he renders it by cabane, not, perhaps, understanding how a hill could be pervious. The story, however, of Prince Ahmed, and the romance of Orfeo and Heurodis, are good authority on this point.\n[g] In the Harleian MS. Mandement. M. Ce Roquefort confesses his total ignorance of this people; we follow his example. May it not, however, be connected with manant, and merely signify people, inhabitants?\n[h] Roman de Roux, v. ii. 234.\n[i] See Roquefort, Suppl\u00e9ment au Glossaire de la Langue Romaine s. v. Perron.\n[j] Barzan-Breiz, Chants Populaires de la Bretagne, recueilles et publi\u00e9s par Th. Hersart de la Villemarqu\u00e9. Paris, 1846. This is a most valuable work and deserving to take its place with the Ballads of Scotland, Scandinavia, and Servia, to none of which is it inferior. To the credit of France the edition which we use is the fourth. How different would the fate of such a work be in this country!\n[k] We make this distinction, because in the ballads in which the personage is a Fay, the word used is Korrigan or Korrig, while in that in which the Dwarfs are actors, the words are Korr and Korred. But the truth is, they are all but different forms of Korr. They are all the same, singular and plural. The Breton changes its first consonant like the Irish. We also meet with Crion, Goric, Couril, as names of these beings, but they are only forms of those given above.\n[l] Hence we may infer that they came originally from Scandinavia, communicated most probably by the Normans.\n[m] Stone-tables. They are called by the same name in Devon and Cornwall; is Irish their appellation is Cromleach.\n[n] Barzan-Breiz., l. xlix. 69.","title":"The Fairy Mythology: Celts and Cymry: Lai D'Ywenec","type":"page"}