{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_28816/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_28816","id":"gutenberg_28816","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28816","summary":null,"tags":["Ballads","Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Poetry"],"text":"Transcribed from the 1913 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email\nccx074@pglaf.org\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 SIGNELIL\n                         A TALE FROM THE CORNISH\n                            AND OTHER BALLADS\n\n\n                                    BY\n                              GEORGE BORROW\n\n                                 LONDON:\n                     PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION\n                                   1913\n\n               _Copyright in the United States of America_\n           _by Houghton_, _Mifflin & Co. for Clement Shorter_.\n\n\n\n\nSIGNELIL\n\n\nThe Lady her handmaid to questioning took:\n\"Why dost thou so sickly and colourless look?\"\n   _But sorrow gnaws so sorely_!\n\n\"'Tis little wonder if sickly I'm growing,\n   _Malfred my lady_!\nSo much am I busied with cutting and sewing.\"\n\n\"Erewhile was thy cheek as the blooming rose red,\nBut now thou art pale, even pale as the dead.\"\n\n\"To conceal the truth longer 'tis vain to essay,\nMy gallant young master has led me astray.\"\n\n\"And if the young noble has led thee astray,\nSay, what gave he thee for thy virtue in pay?\"\n\n\"He gave to me shoes were gold spangled all o'er,\nAnd them have I worn with affliction so sore.\n\n\"He gave to me also of silk a soft shift,\nAnd with sorrow most painful I've worn the fair gift.\n\n\"He gave me, Christ sain him! a gold ring so fine,\nWhose match I can see on no finger of thine.\"\n\n\"But what will avail thee his presents of price,\nIf he thee will not wed before God and men's eyes?\"\n\n\"O, he to espouse me so often has vowed,\nAnd rich presents beside upon me has bestowed.\"\n\n\"What will his vows help thee in secrecy spoke?\nTo many a maid them he has made and has broke.\"\n\n\"O, I on the gold harp will play me a tune,\nAnd the knight to his presence will summon me soon.\"\n\nWith her fingers so tapering she struck the first chord,\nThat heard, as he dozed in his bed, the young lord.\n\nThe gallant young lord to his waiting-boy said:\n\"Go straight, and call hither my mother's fair maid.\"\n\nThe bedside he stroked with so gentle an air:\n\"Dear heart, sit thee down, for thy weight it will bear.\"\n\n\"O no, by the Saints, I will never do that,\nFor there, noble Sir, I have ne'er before sat.\"\n\n\"Though thou ne'er hast placed thee upon my bedside,\nThou hast slept in my arms embraced many a tide.\n\n\"My spouse thou shalt be, yea, my heart's beloved spouse,\nAnd I in thine arms every night will repose.\"\n\n\n\n\nA TALE FROM THE CORNISH\n\n\n   In Lavan's parish once of yore,\nDwelt on the spot called Tshei an Hor,\nA loving couple, man and wife,\nBut poverty distressed their life.\nAnd thus the man his wife address'd:\n\"I'll wander forth of work in quest;\nAnd you, my dearest, you can earn\nYour living here till I return.\"\n\n   His home he leaves, and, far from gay,\nTowards the East he took his way.\nAt length a farmer's dwelling reaching,\nHe enter'd it, for work beseeching.\n\"What work canst do?\" the farmer cried;\n\"All kinds of work, Sir,\" John replied.\nThen straight they for a year agree,\nThree pounds the wages were to be.\n\nAnd when the year to end had come\nThe master paid him down the sum.\n\"John,\" said his master, \"here's your fee;\nBut if you'll it return to me,\nA point of wisdom I will teach you.\"\nSaid John: \"Give it me, I beseech you.\"\n\"No, no, to give is not my way.\"\n\"Take it,\" said John, \"and say your say.\"\nQuoth t'other: \"This in memory hold:\n_Ne'er for the new road leave the old_.\"\n\nThey for another year agree,\nThe wages just the same to be;\nAnd when the year its end had reached,\nThe farmer forth the three pounds fetched.\n\"John,\" said his master, \"here's your fee,\nBut if you'll it return to me,\nA point of wisdom I will teach you.\"\n\"Give it me, Sir, I do beseech you.\"\n\"For nought I will not speak, not I.\"\n\"Well, take it then,\" was John's reply.\nQuoth t'other: \"_Lodge not_, _for your life_,\n_With an old man who's a young wife_.\"\n\nFor yet a year they then agree,\nThe wages still the same to be.\nAnd when the year to end had roll'd,\nThe three pounds out the master told.\n\"John,\" said the master, \"here's your fee;\nBut if you'll it return to me,\nI'll the best point of wisdom learn you.\"\n\"For that, Sir, I'll the wage return you.\"\nThe farmer said: \"_Take this advice_,\n_Ere striking once_, _bethink thee twice_.\"\n\nNow John would serve no longer there,\nHome to his wife he would repair.\n\"Go not to-day,\" the farmer spake,\n\"To-morrow's my wife's day to bake;\nShe shall for you prepare a cake\nHome to your faithful wife to take.\"\n\nThe nine pounds in the loaf they hid,\nAnd when John them adieu had bid,\nThe farmer cried: \"I pray thee carry\nThis present home unto your deary;\nAnd as ye two there merry make,\nThen, and not till then, part the cake.\"\n\nJohn turned him homeward from the door;\nAnd when he reach'd St. Eler's Moor,\nHe met three Tre-ryn merchants there\nReturning home from Exeter.\n\"We're glad to see thee, John,\" they cried,\n\"Where hast thou been this long, long tide?\"\nSays John: \"I'm just from service come,\nAnd to my wife am journeying home.\"\n\"O travel with us,\" cried all three,\n\"And very welcome shalt thou be.\"\n\nBefore them two roads they behold;\nThey took the new, John kept the old.\nAnd as they passed by Keou Tshoy Un,\nWhen they had just lost sight of John,\nThieves set upon them furiously,\nWhereat they raised a doleful cry,\nWhich reaching John's ears on his rout,\n\"Murder!\" and \"Thieves!\" he bellowed out.\n\nHis clamour scared the robber train,\nWho from the merchants sped amain.\nAnd when they came to Market Jew\nThey to their joy met John anew,\nAnd cried: \"What thanks we owe thee, John!\nWe had for certain, every one,\nBeen ruined people, but for thee,\nCome with us, thou'lt most welcome be.\"\n\nAnd when they reached the hostelrie\nAt which it was their wont to lie,\nQuoth John: \"The master I must view.\"\n\"The master! what with him wouldst do?\"\nThey answered, \"we've a mistress here,\nAnd young enough she is, and fair;\nTo see the host, if you're inclined,\nHim in the kitchen you will find.\"\n\nInto the kitchen John he goes,\nAnd sees the master of the house,\nAn ancient man who turned the spit.\n\"O, ho!\" said John, \"this house I quit;\nNo sleeping place of it I'll make,\nBut in the next will quarters take.\"\n\"Do not go yet,\" they cried all three,\n\"Stay, sup with us, thou'lt welcome be.\"\n\nAnd now, with grief and shame, I say\nThat with a friar of orders grey\nThe mistress had contrived a plan\nTo murder the poor ancient man,\nWhen sleep had bound the merchants fast,\nAnd on their heads the crime to cast.\n\nJohn in the next house that same night\nSaw through a hole i' the wall a light.\nSo getting up and gently walking,\nHe heard the friar and woman talking.\nThe friar said: \"Against yon hole\nMy back I'll set, for fear some soul\nFrom the next house our deeds should spy.\"\n\nThe hostess then most cruelly,\nWith a silk handkerchief she bore,\nMurdered her ancient husband poor,\nStrangled him did the accursed slut.\nBut meanwhile through the hole John cut\nA round piece from the friar's gown,\nAnd then in bed again lay down.\n\nAt morn ran out the hostess crying\nThat murdered was her husband lying;\nAnd since nor man nor child had been,\nExcept the merchants, in the inn,\nThey should be hanged withouten fail;\nThey thereupon were led to jail.\nJohn quickly them a visit paid.\n\"O, John! we've evil luck,\" they said;\n\"Last night the host was choked in bed,\nAnd upon us the crime is laid.\"\n\n\"Dear gentlemen,\" was John's reply,\n\"Beseech the Justice instantly\nTo cause them who the murder wrought\nInto his presence to be brought.\"\n\n\"But who knows who the deed has done?\"\nThey faltered forth; then answered John:\n\"If I can't prove who did it, I\nWill hang for it most willingly.\"\n\n\"Speak out,\" they cried.  Said John: \"Last night,\nBeing in bed, I saw a light;\nI rose, as if I'd had a call--\nThere was a hole in the house wall,\n'Gainst which his back a certain friar\nPlaced, thereby blinding it entire,\nLest, as he said, some curious eye\nFrom the next house their deeds should spy.\nI cut, meanwhile, to him unknown,\nA large round piece from off his gown.\nTo prove that what I've said is true\nI've in my pouch the piece to shew.\"\nThe merchants then were soon set free;\nThe murderers died on gallows tree.\n\nAll three depart from Market Jew,\nTogether with their comrade true,\nFar as Kuz carn na Huila went,\nAnd thence their ways lay different.\nNow though the merchants earnest were\nThat John should with them home repair,\nHe steadfastly refused their plea,\nLonging his wife and home to see.\n\nWhen of the merchants he lost sight\nHe lounged away his time till night.\nHe'd fain know whether, while he roved\nAbroad, his consort faithful proved.\n\nArrived, he listened at the door,\nAnd heard a man's voice, he was sure,\nWithin the bed; his knife he drew,\nResolved to slay the guilty two.\nBut soon remembering the advice,\n\"_Ere striking once_, _bethink thee twice_,\"\nIn hurry from the door he strode,\nBut soon returning knocked aloud.\n\n\"In name of God, who's there?\" she cried;\n\"'Tis I am here, wife,\" John replied.\n(\"Now in the name of blest Marie,\nWhom heard I in her company?\")\n\"If John thou art, pray enter free.\"\n\"First bring the light here,\" answered he.\n'Twas brought, he stepped the threshold o'er.\nQuoth he: \"On coming to the door\nI heard a man's voice in the bed.\"\n\"Ah, Johnny, when away you sped\nIn distant parts for work to roam,\nI then with child was three months gone;\nIn bed there lies a comely boy,\nUnto us both he'll be a joy.\"\n\nSaid John, \"I've something to disclose.\nMy master, when I left his house,\nGave me this cake I have in hand,\nAnd with it gave the strict command\nWhen I with thee should merry make\nThen and not till then it to break.\nI'll now accomplish what he bade,\nMayhap we've wherefor to be glad.\"\n\nThey broke the cake in anxious haste,\nThe nine pounds in it, lo! were placed.\nThey took the money, ate the bread,\nAnd I for truth have heard it said\nNo quarrel e'er or noisy word\n'Twixt them from that time forth occurr'd.\n\n   Now, Gentles all, my tale is done,\nI hope it has your favour won!\n\n\n\n\nSIR VERNER AND DAME INGEBORG\n\n\n         In Linholm's house\nThe swains they were drinking and making carouse.\n   _The Dames ne'er could so gallant a prisoner keep in_.\n\nThe swains they drank deep and they made themselves gay,\nAnd so did Sir Verner in prison that lay.\n\nDame Ingeborg woke, and she lifts up her eyes:\n\"O, which of my maidens doth sing in that guise?\"\n\n\"O, none of your maidens can sing in such guise,\n'Tis Sir Verner who's singing, in durance he lies.\"\n\nDame Ingeborg straightway two servants addressed:\n\"To come to my presence Sir Verner request.\"\n\nIn through the portal Sir Verner he strode,\nAnd up to receive him Dame Ingeborg stood.\n\nTo the cushion Dame Ingeborg points with a smile:\n\"Go thither, Sir Verner, and rest thee awhile.\n\n\"Now hark thou, Sir Verner, what I to thee say:\nI beg thou wilt sing me a pretty love lay.\"\n\n\"A love lay I've never learnt up to this hour,\nBut I'll sing to oblige thee the best in my power.\"\n\nSir Verner began, and he sang such a lay,\nThat soon in deep slumber Dame Ingeborg lay.\n\nThe Dames and the maids fell to sleep and to doze,\nDame Ingeborg sank to a peaceful repose.\n\nSir Verner he glanced then so cautiously round,\nThe keys great and small in a nook he has found.\n\nTo the door hied Sir Verner as fast as he might,\nHe forgot to bid Dame Ingeborg a good-night.\n\nWhen out of the castle himself he perceived,\nHis voice in a ditty again he upheaved.\n\nSir Verner he waved up his hat with delight:\n\"Dame Ingeborg bid ye a very good night!\n\n\"And hear thou, Sir Warden, who stand'st on thy watch,\nOf my ditty the burden I pray thee to catch.\n\n\"She'd this e'en not have taken a bushel of gold,\nNow no penny for me shall she ever behold.\"\n\nSo fast to the door went Sir Verner the knight,\nHe forgot to bid Damsel or Lady good-night.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HEDDEBY SPECTRE {22}\n\n\nAt evening fall I chanced to ride,\nMy courser to a tree I tied.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\nAgainst a stump my head I laid,\nAnd then to slumber I essay'd.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\nAs soon as sleep had closed my eye,\nThe murdered man to me drew nigh.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"And if thy race to mine belongs,\nI call thee to avenge my wrongs.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"And them to Heddeby shalt ride,\nFor there my kith and kin reside.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"My father dwells there, and my mother,\nThere dwell my sister and my brother.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"There Kirsten dwells, my lovely wife,\nAnd it was she who took my life.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"Her sleeping husband stifled she,\nWith aid of cursed beldames three.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"Then in a truss of hay concealed,\nThey brought me forth to this wide field.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"The page I loved the best of all,\nNow rides upon my courser tall.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"Eats daily with my silver knife,\nAnd sleeps with Kirsten fair, my wife.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"He sitteth highest at the board,\nMy children tremble at his word.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"To them he gives so little bread,\nAnd mocks them now that I am dead.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"He rides about the forest grounds,\nAnd hunts the red deer with my hounds.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"Each time the caitiff slays a deer,\nHe wakes me in my grave so drear.\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\"But if I to him once repair,\nWith him 'twill sorely, sorely fare.\"\n   _So wide thereof the story goes_.\n\n\n\n\nFROM GOUDELI\n\n\nYestere'en when the bat, and the owl, and his mate,\n   Were holding discourse their small matters about;\n   And the sun, that the wee little stars might shine out,\nHad extinguished the lamp of his lustre so great.\n\nA shepherd exclaimed: \"O 'twas folly that I\n   My love should bestow upon one never kind,\n   Upon Siris the lovely, whose cold, cruel mind,\nWould suffer unmoved a true lover to die.\n\n\"Often times, when our flocks on the common did browse,\nI'd approach her to pour in her ear my fond vows,\n   But unto her companions to haste she was sure.\nO, light of my eyes! wouldst thou render me blest,\nAnd wouldst grant me two kisses on thy snowy breast,\n   I swear that each one should an hour endure!\"\n\n\n\n\nPEASANT SONGS OF SPAIN\n\n\n1.\n\n\nWhen Jesu our Redeemer\n   To him the twelve did call,\nBy threes and fours he called them,\n   Till they were mustered all.\n\nAnd when they all were mustered,\n   'Twas thus to them he spake:\n\"O which of ye, my children,\n   Will perish for my sake?\"\n\nThen, gazing on each other,\n   They stood abashed and still;\nAll save Saint John the Baptist,\n   And Peter of the Hill.\n\n\"We'll die for thee, O Jesus,\n   Upon to-morrow's morn.\"\nFor him died John the Baptist,\n   And suffered pain and scorn.\n\n\n\n2.\n\n\nThere stands a stone, a rounded stone,\n   'Midst ocean's surges hoary,\nOn which sweet Jesus set his foot\n   When mounting to his glory.\n\nThere grows a rose, a blooming rose,\n   'Midst ocean's briny waters,\nThat o'er may pass, to hear the mass,\n   Havanah's dusky daughters.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                                 LONDON:\n               Printed for THOMAS J. WISE, Hampstead, N.W.\n\n                   _Edition limited to Thirty Copies_.\n\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n{22}  An earlier, and utterly different, version of this ballad was\nprinted in _Romantic Ballads_, 1826, pp. 37-39.  Borrow afterwards\ndescribed this earlier version as \"a paraphrase.\"","title":"Signelil, A Tale from the Cornish, and Other Ballads","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":2765}