{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44969/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44969","id":"gutenberg_44969","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44969","summary":null,"tags":["Ballads, English -- England -- Texts","Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts","Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore"],"text":"Transcriber's Notes\n\nThis book contains material in multiple languages, and numerous examples\nof archaic, non-standard and dialect forms of English. Therefore no\nattempts to standardize spelling would be appropriate. The only changes\nto the text are to resolve typographical errors etc. which are listed at\nthe end of the book. Minor corrections to format or punctuation have\nbeen made without comment.\n\nThis Plain Text version of the e-book includes unicode (UTF-8)\ncharacters and diacritics which should appear in the following list:\n\n \u0101 macron\n \u0103 \u012d breve\n \u0107 \u0144 \u015b \u1e83 acute accent\n \u010c \u010d \u011b \u0158 \u0159 \u0160 \u0161 \u017e caron/hacek\n \u021d yogh\n \u0142 l with stroke (Polish etc.)\n \u0152 \u0153 oe-ligature\n \u015f cedilla\n \u2020 dagger or upright cross symbol\n \u03b1\u03b2\u03b3\u03b4\u03b5 Greek script\n\n[a'] and ['s] denote editorial insertions of contracted forms, not\nspecial characters: e.g. on page 299 [a'] is an editorial insertion of\n\"a'\" (for \"all\"); on page 309 ['s] is an editorial insertion of \"'s\"\n(for \"has\"?).\n\n _underscore symbols_ represent italic typeface\n ~tilde symbols~ represent roman typeface within italics\n ALL CAPS represent small caps typeface\n #number signs# represent bold typeface\n $dollar symbols$ represent gesperrt (s p a c e d o u t) text\n ^x or ^{x, y} represents superscript text\n _x or _{xyz} represents subscript text\n\nBold mark-up is widely used to denote the distinctive font used by the\nauthor for ballad version references.\n\nSome sections of ballads are set in differently sized type and indicated\nin the introductions. Usually this is smaller type, but in the case of\nballad 39, larger. These passages are indicated by means of further\nindentation and side-lining (|) in the left margin. Ballad 53 versions M\nand N are entirely in smaller type, but without explanation.\n\nFootnotes have been numbered from [1] to [427] sequentially throughout\nthe whole volume, but are presented at the end of each ballad or section\nto which they refer.\n\nA line of 7 spaced dots indicates a missing line of poetry. A line of 7\nspaced asterisks indicates missing poetry material of one or more\nstanzas; this is distinct from a \"thought break\" or sub-section\nseparator of 5 widely spaced asterisks such as follow these notes.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n\n\n THE ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH\n POPULAR BALLADS\n\n[Illustration]\n\n THE\n ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH\n POPULAR BALLADS\n\n EDITED BY\n FRANCIS JAMES CHILD\n\n\n IN FIVE VOLUMES\n\n VOLUME I\n\n\n NEW YORK\n DOVER PUBLICATIONS, INC.\n\n This Dover edition, first published in 1965, is an\n unabridged and unaltered republication of the work\n originally published by Houghton, Mifflin and Company, as\n follows:\n\n Vol. I--Part I, 1882; Part II, 1884\n Vol. II--Part III, 1885; Part IV, 1886\n Vol. III--Part V, 1888; Part VI, 1889\n Vol. IV--Part VII, 1890; Part VIII, 1892\n Vol. V--Part IX, 1894; Part X, 1898.\n\n This edition also contains as an appendix to Part X an\n essay by Walter Morris Hart entitled \"Professor Child and\n the Ballad,\" reprinted _in toto_ from Vol. XXI, No. 4,\n 1906 [New Series Vol. XIV, No. 4] of the _Publications of\n the Modern Language Association of America_.\n\n\n _Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 65-24347_\n\n Manufactured in the United States of America\n\n Dover Publications, Inc.\n 180 Varick Street\n New York, N.Y. 10014\n\n\n _To_\n _FREDERICK J. FURNIVALL, ESQ._\n _OF LONDON_\n\n_MY DEAR FURNIVALL_:\n\n_Without the Percy MS. no one would pretend to make a collection of the\nEnglish Ballads, and but for you that manuscript would still, I think,\nbe beyond reach of man, yet exposed to destructive chances. Through your\nexertions and personal sacrifices, directly, the famous and precious\nfolio has been printed; and, indirectly, in consequence of the same, it\nhas been transferred to a place where it is safe, and open to\ninspection. This is only one of a hundred reasons which I have for\nasking you to accept the dedication of this book from_\n\n _Your grateful friend and fellow-student_,\n _F. J. CHILD._\n\n _Cambridge, Mass., December 1, 1882._\n\n\n\n\nADVERTISEMENT TO PART I\n\nNUMBERS 1-28\n\n\nIt was my wish not to begin to print The English and Scottish Popular\nBallads until this unrestricted title should be justified by my having\nat command every valuable copy of every known ballad. A continuous\neffort to accomplish this object has been making for some nine or ten\nyears, and many have joined in it. By correspondence, and by an\nextensive diffusion of printed circulars, I have tried to stimulate\ncollection from tradition in Scotland, Canada, and the United States,\nand no becoming means has been left unemployed to obtain possession of\nunsunned treasures locked up in writing. The gathering from tradition\nhas been, as ought perhaps to have been foreseen at this late day,\nmeagre, and generally of indifferent quality. Materials in the hands of\nformer editors have, in some cases, been lost beyond recovery, and very\nprobably have lighted fires, like that large cantle of the Percy\nmanuscript, _maxime deflendus_! Access to several manuscript collections\nhas not yet been secured. But what is still lacking is believed to bear\nno great proportion to what is in hand, and may soon come in, besides:\nmeanwhile, the uncertainties of the world forbid a longer delay to\npublish so much as has been got together.\n\nOf hitherto unused materials, much the most important is a large\ncollection of ballads made by Motherwell. For leave to take a copy of\nthis I am deeply indebted to the present possessor, Mr Malcolm Colquhoun\nThomson, of Glasgow, who even allowed the manuscript to be sent to\nLondon, and to be retained several months, for my accommodation. Mr J.\nWylie Guild, of Glasgow, also permitted the use of a note-book of\nMotherwell's which supplements the great manuscript, and this my\nunwearied friend, Mr James Barclay Murdoch, to whose solicitation I owe\nboth, himself transcribed with the most scrupulous accuracy. No other\ngood office, asked or unasked, has Mr Murdoch spared.\n\nNext in extent to the Motherwell collections come those of the late Mr\nKinloch. These he freely placed at my disposal, and Mr William Macmath,\nof Edinburgh, made during Mr Kinloch's life an exquisite copy of the\nlarger part of them, enriched with notes from Mr Kinloch's papers, and\nsent it to me across the water. After Mr Kinloch's death his collections\nwere acquired by Harvard College Library, still through the agency of Mr\nMacmath, who has from the beginning rendered a highly valued assistance,\nnot less by his suggestions and communications than by his zealous\nmediation.\n\nNo Scottish ballads are superior in kind to those recited in the last\ncentury by Mrs Brown, of Falkland. Of these there are, or were, three\nsets. One formerly owned by Robert Jamieson, the fullest of the three,\nwas lent me, to keep as long as I required, by my honored friend the\nlate Mr David Laing, who also secured for me copies of several ballads\nof Mrs Brown which are found in an Abbotsford manuscript, and gave me a\ntranscript of the Glenriddell manuscript. The two others were written\ndown for William Tytler and Alexander Fraser Tytler respectively, the\nformer of these consisting of a portion of the Jamieson texts revised.\nThese having for some time been lost sight of, Miss Mary Fraser Tytler,\nwith a graciousness which I have reason to believe hereditary in the\nname, made search for them, recovered the one which had been obtained by\nLord Woodhouselee, and copied it for me with her own hand. The same lady\nfurnished me with another collection which had been made by a member of\nthe family.\n\nFor later transcriptions from Scottish tradition I am indebted to Mr J.\nF. Campbell of Islay, whose edition and rendering of the racy West\nHighland Tales is marked by the rarest appreciation of the popular\ngenius; to Mrs A. F. Murison, formerly of Old Deer, who undertook a\nquest for ballads in her native place on my behalf; to Mr Alexander\nLaing, of Newburgh-upon-Tay; to Mr James Gibb, of Joppa, who has given\nme a full score; to Mr David Louden, of Morham, Haddington; to the late\nDr John Hill Burton and Miss Ella Burton; to Dr Thomas Davidson.\n\nThe late Mr Robert White, of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, allowed me to look\nthrough his collections in 1873, and subsequently made me a copy of such\nthings as I needed, and his ready kindness has been continued by Mrs\nAndrews, his sister, and by Miss Andrews, his niece, who has taken a\ngreat deal of trouble on my account.\n\nIn the south of the mother-island my reliance has, of necessity, been\nchiefly upon libraries. The British Museum possesses, besides early\ncopies of some of the older ballads, the Percy MS., Herd's MSS and\nBuchan's, and the Roxburgh broadsides. The library of the University of\nCambridge affords one or two things of first-rate importance, and for\nthese I am beholden to the accomplished librarian, Mr Henry Bradshaw,\nand to Professor Skeat. I have also to thank the Rev. F. Gunton, Dean,\nand the other authorities of Magdalen College, Cambridge, for permitting\ncollations of Pepys ballads, most obligingly made for me by Mr Arthur S.\nB. Miller. Many things were required from the Bodleian library, and\nthese were looked out for me, and scrupulously copied or collated, by Mr\nGeorge Parker.\n\nTexts of traditional ballads have been communicated to me in America by\nMr W. W. Newell, of New York, who is soon to give us an interesting\ncollection of Children's Games traditional in America; by Dr Huntington,\nBishop of Central New York; Mr G. C. Mahon, of Ann Arbor, Michigan; Miss\nMargaret Reburn, of New Albion, Iowa; Miss Perine, of Baltimore; Mrs\nAugustus Lowell, Mrs L. F. Wesselhoeft, Mrs. Edward Atkinson, of Boston;\nMrs Cushing, of Cambridge; Miss Ellen Marston, of New Bedford; Mrs\nMoncrieff, of London, Ontario.\n\nAcknowledgments not well despatched in a phrase are due to many others\nwho have promoted my objects: to Mr Furnivall, for doing for me\neverything which I could have done for myself had I lived in England; to\nthat master of old songs and music, Mr William Chappell, very specially;\nto Mr J. Payne Collier; Mr Norval Clyne, of Aberdeen; Mr Alexander\nYoung, of Glasgow; Mr Arthur Laurenson, of Lerwick, Shetland; Mr J.\nBurrell Curtis, of Edinburgh; Dr Vigfusson, of Oxford; Professor Edward\nArber, of Birmingham; the Rev. J. Percival, Mr Francis Fry, Mr J. F.\nNicholls, of Bristol; Professor George Stephens, of Copenhagen; Mr R.\nBergstr\u00f6m, of the Royal Library, Stockholm; Mr W. R. S. Ralston, Mr\nWilliam Henry Husk, Miss Lucy Toulmin Smith, Mr A. F. Murison, of\nLondon; Professor Sophocles; Mr W. G. Medlicott, of Longmeadow; to Mr M.\nHeilprin, of New York, Mme de Maltchyc\u00e9, of Boston, and Rabbi Dr Cohn,\nfor indispensable translations from Polish and Hungarian; to Mr James\nRussell Lowell, Minister of the United States at London; to Professor\nCharles Eliot Norton, for such \"pains and benefits\" as I could ask only\nof a life-long friend.\n\nIn the editing of these ballads I have closely followed the plan of\nGrundtvig's Old Popular Ballads of Denmark, a work which will be prized\nhighest by those who have used it most, and which leaves nothing to be\ndesired but its completion. The author is as much at home in English as\nin Danish tradition, and whenever he takes up a ballad which is common\nto both nations nothing remains to be done but to supply what has come\nto light since the time of his writing. But besides the assistance which\nI have derived from his book, I have enjoyed the advantage of Professor\nGrundtvig's criticism and advice, and have received from him unprinted\nDanish texts, and other aid in many ways.\n\nSuch further explanations as to the plan and conduct of the work as may\nbe desirable can be more conveniently given by and by. I may say here\nthat textual points which may seem to be neglected will be considered in\nan intended Glossary, with which will be given a full account of\nSources, and such indexes of Titles and Matters as will make it easy to\nfind everything that the book may contain.\n\nWith renewed thanks to all helpers, and helpers' helpers, I would invoke\nthe largest co\u00f6peration for the correction of errors and the supplying\nof deficiencies. To forestall a misunderstanding which has often\noccurred, I beg to say that every traditional version of a popular\nballad is desired, no matter how many texts of the same may have been\nprinted already.\n\n F. J. CHILD.\n\n [DECEMBER, 1882.]\n\n\n\n\nADVERTISEMENT TO PART II\n\nNUMBERS 29-53\n\n\nI have again to express my obligations and my gratitude to many who have\naided in the collecting and editing of these Ballads.\n\nTo Sir Hugh Hume Campbell, for the use of two considerable manuscript\nvolumes of Scottish Ballads.\n\nTo Mr Allardyce, of Edinburgh, for a copy of the Skene Ballads, and for\na generous permission to print such as I required, in advance of a\npossible publication on his part.\n\nTo Mr Mansfield, of Edinburgh, for the use of the Pitcairn manuscripts.\n\nTo Mrs Robertson, for the use of Note-Books of the late Dr Joseph\nRobertson, and to Mr Murdoch, of Glasgow, Mr Lugton, of Kelso, Mrs\nAlexander Forbes, of Edinburgh, and Messrs G. L. Kittredge and G. M.\nRichardson, former students of Harvard College, for various\ncommunications.\n\nTo Dr Reinhold K\u00f6hler's unrivalled knowledge of popular fiction, and his\nequal liberality, I am indebted for valuable notes, which will be found\nin the Additions at the end of this volume.\n\nThe help of my friend Dr Theodor Vetter has enabled me to explore\nportions of the Slavic ballad-field which otherwise must have been\nneglected.\n\nProfessors D. Silvan Evans, John Rhys, Paul Meyer, and T. Frederick\nCrane have lent me a ready assistance in literary emergencies.\n\nThe interest and co\u00f6peration of Mr Furnivall and Mr Macmath have been\ncontinued to me without stint or weariness.\n\nIt is impossible, while recalling and acknowledging acts of courtesy,\ngood will, and friendship, not to allude, with one word of deep personal\ngrief, to the irreparable loss which all who are concerned with the\nstudy of popular tradition have experienced in the death of Svend\nGrundtvig.\n\n F. J. C.\n\n JUNE, 1884.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nVOLUME I\n\n BALLAD PAGE\n\n BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF PROFESSOR CHILD xvii\n\n 1. RIDDLES WISELY EXPOUNDED 1\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 484; II, 495; III, 496;\n IV, 439; V, 205, 283.)\n\n 2. THE ELFIN KNIGHT 6\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 484; II, 495; III, 496;\n IV, 439; V, 205, 284.)\n\n 3. THE FAUSE KNIGHT UPON THE ROAD 20\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 485; II, 496; III, 496;\n IV, 440.)\n\n 4. LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT 22\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 485; II, 496; III, 496;\n IV, 440; V, 206, 285.)\n\n 5. GIL BRENTON 62\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 489; II, 498; III, 497;\n IV, 442; V, 207, 285.)\n\n 6. WILLIE'S LADY 81\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 498; III, 497; V, 207,\n 285.)\n\n 7. EARL BRAND 88\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 489; II, 498; III, 497;\n IV, 443; V, 207, 285.)\n\n 8. ERLINTON 106\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 498; IV, 445.)\n\n 9. THE FAIR FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND 111\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 493; II, 498; III, 499;\n V, 207.)\n\n 10. THE TWA SISTERS 118\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 493; II, 498; III, 499;\n IV, 447; V, 208, 286.)\n\n 11. THE CRUEL BROTHER 141\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 496; II, 498; III, 499;\n IV, 449; V, 208, 286.)\n\n 12. LORD RANDAL 151\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 498; II, 498; III, 499;\n IV, 449; V, 208, 286.)\n\n 13. EDWARD 167\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 501; II, 499; III, 499;\n V, 209, 287.)\n\n 14. BABYLON; OR, THE BONNIE BANKS O FORDIE 170\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 501; II, 499; III, 499;\n IV, 450; V, 209, 287.)\n\n 15. LEESOME BRAND 177\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 501; II, 499; III, 500;\n IV, 450; V, 209, 287.)\n\n 16. SHEATH AND KNIFE 185\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 499; III, 500; IV, 450;\n V, 210.)\n\n 17. HIND HORN 187\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 502; II, 499; III, 501;\n IV, 450; V, 210, 287.)\n\n 18. SIR LIONEL 208\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 500; IV, 451.)\n\n 19. KING ORFEO 215\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 500; III, 502; IV, 451;\n V, 211.)\n\n 20. THE CRUEL MOTHER 218\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 504; II, 500; III, 502;\n IV, 451; V, 211, 287.)\n\n 21. THE MAID AND THE PALMER (THE SAMARITAN WOMAN) 228\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 501; III, 502; IV, 451;\n V, 212, 288.)\n\n 22. ST. STEPHEN AND HEROD 233\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 505; II, 501; III, 502;\n IV, 451; V, 212, 288.)\n\n 23. JUDAS 242\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 288.)\n\n 24. BONNIE ANNIE 244\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 452.)\n\n 25. WILLIE'S LYKE-WAKE 247\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 506; II, 502; III, 503;\n IV, 453; V, 212, 289.)\n\n 26. THE THREE RAVENS 253\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 454; V, 212.)\n\n 27. THE WHUMMIL BORE 255\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 212.)\n\n 28. BURD ELLEN AND YOUNG TAMLANE 256\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 507; III, 503.)\n\n 29. THE BOY AND THE MANTLE 257\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 507; II, 502; III, 503;\n IV, 454; V, 212, 289.)\n\n 30. KING ARTHUR AND KING CORNWALL 274\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 507; II, 502; III, 503;\n V, 289.)\n\n 31. THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAIN 288\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 507; II, 502; IV, 454;\n V, 213, 289.)\n\n 32. KING HENRY 297\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 502; IV, 454; V, 289.)\n\n 33. KEMPY KAY 300\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 213, 289.)\n\n 34. KEMP OWYNE 306\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 502; III, 504; IV, 454;\n V, 213, 290.)\n\n 35. ALLISON GROSS 313\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 504; V, 214.)\n\n 36. THE LAILY WORM AND THE MACHREL OF THE SEA 315\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 214, 290.)\n\n 37. THOMAS RYMER 317\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 505; III, 504; IV, 454,\n 290.)\n\n 38. THE WEE WEE MAN 329\n\n 39. TAM LIN 335\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 507; II, 505; III, 504;\n IV, 455; V, 215, 290.)\n\n 40. THE QUEEN OF ELFAN'S NOURICE 358\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 505; III, 505; IV, 459;\n V, 215, 290.)\n\n 41. HIND ETIN 360\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 508; II, 506; III, 506;\n IV, 459; V, 215.)\n\n 42. CLERK COLVILL 371\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 506; III, 506; IV, 459;\n V, 215, 290.)\n\n 43. THE BROOMFIELD HILL 390\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 508; II, 506; III, 506;\n IV, 459, 290.)\n\n 44. THE TWA MAGICIANS 399\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 506; III, 506; IV, 459;\n V, 216, 290.)\n\n 45. KING JOHN AND THE BISHOP 403\n (Additions and Corrections: I, 508; II, 506; IV, 459;\n V, 216, 291.)\n\n 46. CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN'S COURTSHIP 414\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 507; III, 507; IV, 459;\n V, 216, 291.)\n\n 47. PROUD LADY MARGARET 425\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 460; V, 291.)\n\n 48. YOUNG ANDREW 432\n\n 49. THE TWA BROTHERS 435\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 507; III, 507; IV, 460;\n V, 217, 291.)\n\n 50. THE BONNY HIND 444\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 218.)\n\n 51. LIZIE WAN 447\n\n 52. THE KING'S DOCHTER LADY JEAN 450\n\n 53. YOUNG BEICHAN 454\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 508; III, 507; IV, 460;\n V, 218, 291.)\n\n ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS 484\n\n\nVOLUME II\n\n 54. THE CHERRY-TREE CAROL 1\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 509; V, 220.)\n\n 55. THE CARNAL AND THE CRANE 7\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 509; III, 507; IV. 462;\n V, 220.)\n\n 56. DIVES AND LAZARUS 10\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 510; III, 507; IV, 462;\n V, 220, 292.)\n\n 57. BROWN ROBYN'S CONFESSION 13\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 510; III, 508; IV, 462;\n V, 220, 292.)\n\n 58. SIR PATRICK SPENS 17\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 510; V, 220.)\n\n 59. SIR ALDINGAR 33\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 510; III, 508; IV, 463;\n V, 292.)\n\n 60. KING ESTMERE 49\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 510; III, 508; IV, 463.)\n\n 61. SIR CAWLINE 56\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 511; III, 508; IV, 463.)\n\n 62. FAIR ANNIE 63\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 511; IV, 463; V, 220.)\n\n 63. CHILD WATERS 83\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 511; III, 508; IV, 463;\n V, 220.)\n\n 64. FAIR JANET 100\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 508; IV, 464; V, 222,\n 292.)\n\n 65. LADY MAISRY 112\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 508; IV, 466; V, 222,\n 292.)\n\n 66. LORD INGRAM AND CHIEL WYET 126\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 511; III, 508; V, 223,\n 292.)\n\n 67. GLASGERION 136\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 511; III, 509; IV, 468;\n V, 293.)\n\n 68. YOUNG HUNTING 142\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 512; III, 509; IV, 468;\n V, 223.)\n\n 69. CLERK SAUNDERS 156\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 512; III, 509; IV, 468;\n V, 223, 293.)\n\n 70. WILLIE AND LADY MAISRY 167\n\n 71. THE BENT SAE BROWN 170\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 509; IV, 469; V, 223.)\n\n 72. THE CLERKS'S TWA SONS O OWSENFORD 173\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 512; III, 509; IV, 469;\n V, 293.)\n\n 73. LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET 179\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 512; III, 509; IV, 469;\n V, 223, 293.)\n\n 74. FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM 199\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 224, 293.)\n\n 75. LORD LOVEL 204\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 512; III, 510; IV, 471;\n V, 225, 294.)\n\n 76. THE LASS OF ROCH ROYAL 213\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 510; IV, 471; V, 225,\n 294.)\n\n 77. SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST 226\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 512; IV, 474; V, 225,\n 294.)\n\n 78. THE UNQUIET GRAVE 234\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 512; III, 512; IV, 474;\n V, 225, 294.)\n\n 79. THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL 238\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 513; V, 294.)\n\n 80. OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE 240\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 513; III, 514; IV, 476;\n V, 225, 295.)\n\n 81. LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD 242\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 513; IV, 476; V, 225.)\n\n 82. THE BONNY BIRDY 260\n\n 83. CHILD MAURICE 263\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 514; IV, 478.)\n\n 84. BONNY BARBARA ALLAN 276\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 514.)\n\n 85. LADY ALICE 279\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 514; V, 225.)\n\n 86. YOUNG BENJIE 281\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 478.)\n\n 87. PRINCE ROBERT 284\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 295.)\n\n 88. YOUNG JOHNSTONE 288\n\n 89. FAUSE FOODRAGE 296\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 513; III, 515; IV, 479.)\n\n 90. JELLON GRAME 302\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 513; III, 515; IV, 479;\n V, 226, 295.)\n\n 91. FAIR MARY OF WALLINGTON 309\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 513; III, 515; IV, 479;\n V, 227.)\n\n 92. BONNY BEE HOM 317\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 229.)\n\n 93. LAMKIN 320\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 513; III, 515; IV, 480;\n V, 229, 295.)\n\n 94. YOUNG WATERS 342\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 516.)\n\n 95. THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS 346\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 514; III, 516; IV, 481;\n V, 231, 296.)\n\n 96. THE GAY GOSHAWK 355\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 517; IV, 482; V, 234,\n 296.)\n\n 97. BROWN ROBIN 368\n\n 98. BROWN ADAM 373\n\n 99. JOHNIE SCOT 377\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 486; V, 234.)\n\n 100. WILLIE O WINSBURY 398\n (Additions and Corrections: II, 514; III, 517; IV, 491;\n V, 296.)\n\n 101. WILLIE O DOUGLAS DALE 406\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 517; V, 235.)\n\n 102. WILLIE AND EARL RICHARD'S DAUGHTER 412\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 518.)\n\n 103. ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILY 415\n\n 104. PRINCE HEATHEN 424\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 296.)\n\n 105. THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON 426\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 518; V, 237.)\n\n 106. THE FAMOUS FLOWER OF SERVING-MEN 428\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 518; IV, 492.)\n\n 107. WILL STEWART AND JOHN 432\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 237.)\n\n 108. CHRISTOPHER WHITE 439\n\n 109. TOM POTTS 441\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 518.)\n\n 110. THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER 457\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 492; V, 237.)\n\n 111. CROW AND PIE 478\n\n 112. THE BAFFLED KNIGHT 479\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 518; IV, 495; V, 239,\n 296.)\n\n 113. THE GREAT SILKIE OF SULE SKERRY 494\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 518; IV, 495.)\n\n ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS 495\n\n\nVOLUME III\n\n 114. JOHNIE COCK 1\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 495.)\n\n 115. ROBYN AND GANDELEYN 12\n\n 116. ADAM BELL, CLIM OF THE CLOUGH, AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY 14\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 518; IV, 496; V, 297.)\n\n 117. A GEST OF ROBYN HODE 39\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 519; IV, 496; V, 240,\n 297.)\n\n 118. ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE 89\n\n 119. ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK 94\n\n 120. ROBIN HOOD'S DEATH 102\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 240, 297.)\n\n 121. ROBIN HOOD AND THE POTTER 108\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 497.)\n\n 122. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BUTCHER 115\n\n 123. ROBIN HOOD AND THE CURTAL FRIAR 120\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 297.)\n\n 124. THE JOLLY PINDER OF WAKEFIELD 129\n\n 125. ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN 133\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 297.)\n\n 126. ROBIN HOOD AND THE TANNER 137\n\n 127. ROBIN HOOD AND THE TINKER 140\n\n 128. ROBIN HOOD NEWLY REVIVED 144\n\n 129. ROBIN HOOD AND THE PRINCE OF ARAGON 147\n\n 130. ROBIN HOOD AND THE SCOTCHMAN 150\n\n 131. ROBIN HOOD AND THE RANGER 152\n\n 132. THE BOLD PEDLAR AND ROBIN HOOD 154\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 240.)\n\n 133. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BEGGAR, I 155\n\n 134. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BEGGAR, II 158\n\n 135. ROBIN HOOD AND THE SHEPHERD 165\n\n 136. ROBIN HOOD'S DELIGHT 168\n\n 137. ROBIN HOOD AND THE PEDLARS 170\n\n 138. ROBIN HOOD AND ALLEN A DALE 172\n\n 139. ROBIN HOOD'S PROGRESS TO NOTTINGHAM 175\n\n 140. ROBIN HOOD RESCUING THREE SQUIRES 177\n\n 141. ROBIN HOOD RESCUING WILL STUTLY 185\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 497.)\n\n 142. LITTLE JOHN A BEGGING 188\n\n 143. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP 191\n\n 144. ROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP OF HEREFORD 193\n\n 145. ROBIN HOOD AND QUEEN KATHERINE 196\n\n 146. ROBIN HOOD'S CHASE 205\n\n 147. ROBIN HOOD'S GOLDEN PRIZE 208\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 519.)\n\n 148. THE NOBLE FISHERMAN, OR, ROBIN HOOD'S PREFERMENT 211\n\n 149. ROBIN HOOD'S BIRTH, BREEDING, VALOR AND MARRIAGE 214\n\n 150. ROBIN HOOD AND MAID MARIAN 218\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 519.)\n\n 151. THE KING'S DISGUISE, AND FRIENDSHIP WITH ROBIN HOOD 220\n\n 152. ROBIN HOOD AND THE GOLDEN ARROW 223\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 241.)\n\n 153. ROBIN HOOD AND THE VALIANT KNIGHT 225\n\n 154. A TRUE TALE OF ROBIN HOOD 227\n\n 155. SIR HUGH, OR, THE JEW'S DAUGHTER 233\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 519; IV, 497; V, 241,\n 297.)\n\n 156. QUEEN ELEANOR'S CONFESSION 257\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 498; V, 241, 297.)\n\n 157. GUDE WALLACE 265\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 242.)\n\n 158. HUGH SPENCER'S FEATS IN FRANCE 275\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 499; V, 243.)\n\n 159. DURHAM FIELD 282\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 297.)\n\n 160. THE KNIGHT OF LIDDESDALE 288\n\n 161. THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 289\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 520; IV, 499; V,\n 243, 297.)\n\n 162. THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT 303\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 502; V, 244, 297.)\n\n 163. THE BATTLE OF HARLAW 316\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 245.)\n\n 164. KING HENRY FIFTH'S CONQUEST OF FRANCE 320\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 245.)\n\n 165. SIR JOHN BUTLER 327\n\n 166. THE ROSE OF ENGLAND 331\n\n 167. SIR ANDREW BARTON 334\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 502; V, 245.)\n\n 168. FLODDEN FIELD 351\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 507; V, 298.)\n\n 169. JOHNIE ARMSTRONG 362\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 520; IV, 507; V,\n 298.)\n\n 170. THE DEATH OF QUEEN JANE 372\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 245, 298.)\n\n 171. THOMAS CROMWELL 377\n\n 172. MUSSELBURGH FIELD 378\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 507.)\n\n 173. MARY HAMILTON 379\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 507; V, 246, 298.)\n\n 174. EARL BOTHWELL 399\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 247.)\n\n 175. THE RISING IN THE NORTH 401\n\n 176. NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS 408\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 299.)\n\n 177. THE EARL OF WESTMORELAND 416\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 299.)\n\n 178. CAPTAIN CAR, OR, EDOM O GORDON 423\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 520; IV, 513; V,\n 247, 299.)\n\n 179. ROOKHOPE RYDE 439\n\n 180. KING JAMES AND BROWN 442\n\n 181. THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY 447\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 515.)\n\n 182. THE LAIRD O LOGIE 449\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 520; IV, 515; V,\n 299.)\n\n 183. WILLIE MACINTOSH 456\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 516.)\n\n 184. THE LADS OF WAMPHRAY 458\n (Additions and Corrections: III, 520.)\n\n 185. DICK O THE COW 461\n\n 186. KINMONT WILLIE 469\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 516.)\n\n 187. JOCK O THE SIDE 475\n\n 188. ARCHIE O CAWFIELD 484\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 516.)\n\n ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS 496\n\n\nVOLUME IV\n\n 189. HOBIE NOBLE 1\n\n 190. JAMIE TELFER OF THE FAIR DODHEAD 4\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 518; V, 249, 300.)\n\n 191. HUGHIE GRAME 8\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 518; V, 300.)\n\n 192. THE LOCHMABEN HARPER 16\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 300.)\n\n 193. THE DEATH OF PARCY REED 24\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 520.)\n\n 194. THE LAIRD OF WARISTON 28\n\n 195. LORD MAXWELL'S LAST GOODNIGHT 34\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 251.)\n\n 196. THE FIRE OF FRENDRAUGHT 39\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 521; V, 251, 301.)\n\n 197. JAMES GRANT 49\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 251.)\n\n 198. BONNY JOHN SETON 51\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 251.)\n\n 199. THE BONNIE HOUSE O AIRLIE 54\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 252.)\n\n 200. THE GYPSY LADDIE 61\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 522; V, 252, 301.)\n\n 201. BESSY BELL AND MARY GRAY 75\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 522; V, 253.)\n\n 202. THE BATTLE OF PHILIPHAUGH 77\n\n 203. THE BARON OF BRACKLEY 79\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 522; V, 253.)\n\n 204. JAMIE DOUGLAS 90\n\n 205. LOUDON HILL, OR, DRUMCLOG 105\n\n 206. BOTHWELL BRIDGE 108\n\n 207. LORD DELAMERE 110\n\n 208. LORD DERWENTWATER 115\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 522; V, 254.)\n\n 209. GEORDIE 123\n\n 210. BONNIE JAMES CAMPBELL 142\n\n 211. BEWICK AND GRAHAM 144\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 522.)\n\n 212. THE DUKE OF ATHOLE'S NURSE 150\n\n 213. SIR JAMES THE ROSE 155\n\n 214. THE BRAES O YARROW 160\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 522; V, 255.)\n\n 215. RARE WILLIE DROWNED IN YARROW, OR, THE WATER O GAMRIE 178\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 256.)\n\n 216. THE MOTHER'S MALISON, OR, CLYDE'S WATER 185\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 256, 301.)\n\n 217. THE BROOM OF COWDENKNOWS 191\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 523; V, 257.)\n\n 218. THE FALSE LOVER WON BACK 209\n\n 219. THE GARDENER 212\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 258.)\n\n 220. THE BONNY LASS OF ANGLESEY 214\n\n 221. KATHARINE JAFFRAY 216\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 523; V, 260.)\n\n 222. BONNY BABY LIVINGSTON 231\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 523; V, 261.)\n\n 223. EPPIE MORRIE 239\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 262.)\n\n 224. THE LADY OF ARNGOSK 241\n\n 225. ROB ROY 243\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 523; V, 262.)\n\n 226. LIZIE LINDSAY 255\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 524; V, 264.)\n\n 227. BONNY LIZIE BAILLIE 266\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 265.)\n\n 228. GLASGOW PEGGIE 270\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 266.)\n\n 229. EARL CRAWFORD 276\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 301.)\n\n 230. THE SLAUGHTER OF THE LAIRD OF MELLERSTAIN 281\n\n 231. THE EARL OF ERROL 282\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 267.)\n\n 232. RICHIE STORY 291\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 270.)\n\n 233. ANDREW LAMMIE 300\n\n 234. CHARLIE MACPHERSON 308\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 301.)\n\n 235. THE EARL OF ABOYNE 311\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 270, 301.)\n\n 236. THE LAIRD O DRUM 322\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 272.)\n\n 237. THE DUKE OF GORDON'S DAUGHTER 332\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 273.)\n\n 238. GLENLOGIE, OR, JEAN O BETHELNIE 338\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 273, 302.)\n\n 239. LORD SALTOUN AND AUCHANACHIE 347\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 273.)\n\n 240. THE RANTIN LADDIE 351\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 274.)\n\n 241. THE BARON O LEYS 355\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 275.)\n\n 242. THE COBLE O CARGILL 358\n\n 243. JAMES HARRIS (THE D\u00c6MON LOVER) 360\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 524.)\n\n 244. JAMES HATLEY 370\n\n 245. YOUNG ALLAN 375\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 275.)\n\n 246. REDESDALE AND WISE WILLIAM 383\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 276.)\n\n 247. LADY ELSPAT 387\n\n 248. THE GREY COCK, OR, SAW YOU MY FATHER? 389\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 302.)\n\n 249. AULD MATRONS 391\n\n 250. HENRY MARTYN 393\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 302.)\n\n 251. LANG JOHNNY MORE 396\n (Additions and Corrections: IV, 524.)\n\n 252. THE KITCHIE-BOY 400\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 277.)\n\n 253. THOMAS O YONDERDALE 409\n\n 254. LORD WILLIAM, OR, LORD LUNDY 411\n\n 255. WILLIE'S FATAL VISIT 415\n\n 256. ALISON AND WILLIE 416\n\n 257. BURD ISABEL AND EARL PATRICK 417\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 278.)\n\n 258. BROUGHTY WA'S 423\n\n 259. LORD THOMAS STUART 425\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 279.)\n\n 260. LORD THOMAS AND LADY MARGARET 426\n\n 261. LADY ISABEL 429\n\n 262. LORD LIVINGSTON 431\n\n 263. THE NEW-SLAIN KNIGHT 434\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 279.)\n\n 264. THE WHITE FISHER 435\n\n 265. THE KNIGHT'S GHOST 437\n\n ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS 439\n\n\nVOLUME V\n\n 266. JOHN THOMSON AND THE TURK 1\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 279.)\n\n 267. THE HEIR OF LINNE 11\n\n 268. THE TWA KNIGHTS 21\n\n 269. LADY DIAMOND 29\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 303.)\n\n 270. THE EARL OF MAR'S DAUGHTER 38\n\n 271. THE LORD OF LORN AND THE FALSE STEWARD 42\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 280.)\n\n 272. THE SUFFOLK MIRACLE 58\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 303.)\n\n 273. KING EDWARD THE FOURTH AND A TANNER OF TAMWORTH 67\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 303.)\n\n 274. OUR GOODMAN 88\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 281, 303.)\n\n 275. GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR 96\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 281, 304.)\n\n 276. THE FRIAR IN THE WELL 100\n\n 277. THE WIFE WRAPT IN WETHER'S SKIN 104\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 304.)\n\n 278. THE FARMER'S CURST WIFE 107\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 305.)\n\n 279. THE JOLLY BEGGAR 109\n\n 280. THE BEGGAR-LADDIE 116\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 305.)\n\n 281. THE KEACH I THE CREEL 121\n\n 282. JOCK THE LEG AND THE MERRY MERCHANT 126\n\n 283. THE CRAFTY FARMER 128\n\n 284. JOHN DORY 131\n\n 285. THE GEORGE ALOE AND THE SWEEPSTAKE 133\n\n 286. THE SWEET TRINITY (THE GOLDEN VANITY) 135\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 305.)\n\n 287. CAPTAIN WARD AND THE RAINBOW 143\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 305.)\n\n 288. THE YOUNG EARL OF ESSEX'S VICTORY OVER THE EMPEROR OF\n GERMANY 145\n\n 289. THE MERMAID 148\n\n 290. THE WYLIE WIFE OF THE HIE TOUN HIE 153\n\n 291. CHILD OWLET 156\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 305.)\n\n 292. THE WEST-COUNTRY DAMOSEL'S COMPLAINT 157\n\n 293. JOHN OF HAZELGREEN 159\n\n 294. DUGALL QUIN 165\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 305.)\n\n 295. THE BROWN GIRL 166\n\n 296. WALTER LESLY 168\n\n 297. EARL ROTHES 170\n\n 298. YOUNG PEGGY 171\n\n 299. TROOPER AND MAID 172\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 306.)\n\n 300. BLANCHEFLOUR AND JELLYFLORICE 175\n\n 301. THE QUEEN OF SCOTLAND 176\n\n 302. YOUNG BEARWELL 178\n\n 303. THE HOLY NUNNERY 179\n\n 304. YOUNG RONALD 181\n\n 305. THE OUTLAW MURRAY 185\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 307.)\n\n FRAGMENTS 201\n (Additions and Corrections: V, 307.)\n\n ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS 205, 283\n\n GLOSSARY 309\n\n SOURCES OF THE TEXTS 397\n\n INDEX OF PUBLISHED AIRS 405\n\n BALLAD AIRS FROM MANUSCRIPT:\n 3. The Fause Knight upon the Road 411\n 9. The Fair Flower of Northumberland 411\n 10. The Twa Sisters 411\n 11. The Cruel Brother 412\n 12. Lord Randal 412\n 17. Hind Horn 413\n 20. The Cruel Mother 413\n 40. The Queen of Elfan's Nourice 413\n 42. Clerk Colvill 414\n 46. Captain Wedderburn's Courtship 414\n 47. Proud Lady Margaret 414\n 53. Young Beichan 415\n 58. Sir Patrick Spens 415\n 61. Sir Colin 415\n 63. Child Waters 415\n 68. Young Hunting 416\n 75. Lord Lovel 416\n 77. Sweet William's Ghost 416\n 84. Bonny Barbara Allan 416\n 89. Fause Foodrage 416\n 95. The Maid freed from the Gallows 417\n 97. Brown Robin 417\n 98. Brown Adam 417\n 99. Johnie Scot 418\n 100. Willie o Winsbury 418\n 106. The Famous Flower of Serving-Men 418\n 144. Johnie Cock 419\n 157. Gudo Wallace 419\n 161. The Battle of Otterburn 419\n 163. The Battle of Harlaw 419\n 164. King Henry Fifth's Conquest of France 420\n 169. Johnie Armstrong 420\n 173. Mary Hamilton 421\n 182. The Laird o Logie 421\n 222. Bonny Baby Livingston 421\n 226. Lizie Lindsay 421\n 228. Glasgow Peggie 422\n 235. The Earl of Aboyne 422\n 247. Lady Elspat 422\n 250. Andrew Bartin 423\n 256. Alison and Willie 423\n 258. Broughty Wa's 423\n 278. The Farmer's Curst Wife 423\n 281. The Keach i the Creel 424\n 286. The Sweet Trinity 424\n 299. Trooper and Maid 424\n\n INDEX OF BALLAD TITLES 425\n\n TITLES OF COLLECTIONS OF BALLADS, OR BOOKS CONTAINING BALLADS,\n WHICH ARE VERY BRIEFLY CITED IN THIS WORK 455\n\n INDEX OF MATTERS AND LITERATURE 469\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHY 503\n\n CORRECTIONS TO BE MADE IN THE PRINT 567\n\n APPENDIX: PROFESSOR CHILD AND THE BALLAD 571\n\n\n\n\nFRANCIS JAMES CHILD\n\n\nFrancis James Child was born in Boston on the first day of February,\n1825. He was the third in a family of eight children. His father was a\nsailmaker, \"one of that class of intelligent and independent mechanics,\"\nwrites Professor Norton, \"which has had a large share in determining the\ncharacter of our democratic community, as of old the same class had in\nAthens and in Florence.\" The boy attended the public schools, as a\nmatter of course; and, his parents having no thought of sending him to\ncollege, he went, in due time, not to the Latin School, but to the\nEnglish High School of his native town. At that time the head master of\nthe Boston Latin School was Mr Epes Sargent Dixwell, who is still\nliving, at a ripe old age, one of the most respected citizens of\nCambridge. Mr Dixwell had a keen eye for scholarly possibilities in\nboys, and, falling in with young Francis Child, was immediately struck\nwith his extraordinary mental ability. At his suggestion, the boy was\ntransferred to the Latin School, where he entered upon the regular\npreparation for admission to Harvard College. His delight in his new\nstudies was unbounded, and the freshness of it never faded from his\nmemory. \"He speedily caught up with the boys who had already made\nconsiderable progress in Greek and Latin, and soon took the first place\nhere, as he had done in the schools which he had previously attended.\"\nMr Dixwell strongly advised his father to permit him to continue his\nstudies, and made arrangements by which his college expenses should be\nprovided for. The money Professor Child repaid, with interest, as soon\nas his means allowed. His gratitude to Mr. Dixwell and the friendship\nbetween them lasted through his life.\n\nIn 1842 Mr Child entered Harvard College. The intellectual condition of\nthe college at that time and the undergraduate career of Mr Child have\nbeen admirably described by his classmate and lifelong friend, Professor\nNorton, in a passage which must be quoted in full[1]:--\n\n\"Harvard was then still a comparatively small institution, with no\nclaims to the title of University; but she had her traditions of good\nlearning as an inspiration for the studious youth, and still better she\nhad teachers who were examples of devotion to intellectual pursuits, and\nwho cared for those ends the attainment of which makes life worth\nliving. Josiah Quincy was approaching the close of his term of service\nas President of the College, and stood before the eyes of the students\nas the type of a great public servant, embodying the spirit of\npatriotism, of integrity, and of fidelity in the discharge of whatever\nduty he might be called to perform. Among the Professors were Walker,\nFelton, Peirce, Channing, Beck, and Longfellow, men of utmost variety of\ntemperament, but each an instructor who secured the respect no less than\nthe gratitude of his pupils.\n\n\"The class to which Child belonged numbered hardly over sixty. The\nprescribed course of study which was then the rule brought all the\nmembers of the class together in recitations and lectures, and every man\nsoon knew the relative standing of each of his fellows. Child at once\ntook the lead and kept it. His excellence was not confined to any one\nspecial branch of study; he was equally superior in all. He was the best\nin the classics, he was Peirce's favorite in mathematics, he wrote\nbetter English than any of his classmates. His intellectual interests\nwere wider than theirs, he was a great reader, and his tastes in reading\nwere mature. He read for amusement as well as for learning, but he did\nnot waste his time or dissipate his mental energies over worthless or\npernicious books. He made good use of the social no less than of the\nintellectual opportunities which college life affords, and became as\ngreat a favorite with his classmates as he had been with his\nschoolfellows.\n\n\"The close of his college course was marked by the exceptional\ndistinction of his being chosen by his classmates as their Orator, and\nby his having the first part at Commencement as the highest scholar in\nthe class. His class oration was remarkable for its maturity of thought\nand of style. Its manliness of spirit, its simple directness of\npresentation of the true objects of life, and of the motives by which\nthe educated man, whatever might be his chosen career, should be\ninspired, together with the serious and eloquent earnestness with which\nit was delivered, gave to his discourse peculiar impressiveness and\neffect.\"\n\nGraduating with the degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1846, Mr Child\nimmediately entered the service of the college, in which he continued\ntill the day of his death. From 1846 to 1848 he was tutor in\nmathematics. In 1848 he was transferred, at his own request, to a\ntutorship in history and political economy, to which were annexed\ncertain duties of instruction in English. In 1849 he obtained leave of\nabsence for travel and study in Europe. He remained in Europe for about\ntwo years, returning, late in 1851, to receive an appointment to the\nBoylston Professorship of Rhetoric and Oratory, then falling vacant by\nthe resignation of Professor Edward T. Channing.\n\nThe tutorships which Mr Child had held were not entirely in accordance\nwith his tastes, which had always led him in the direction of literary\nand linguistic study. The faculty of the college was small, however, and\nit was not always possible to assign an instructor to the department\nthat would have been most to his mind. But the governors of the\ninstitution were glad to secure the services of so promising a scholar;\nand Mr Child, whose preference for an academic career was decided, had\nfelt that it was wise to accept such positions as the college could\noffer, leaving exacter adjustments to time and circumstances. Meantime\nhe had devoted his whole leisure to the pursuit of his favorite studies.\nHis first fruits were a volume entitled Four Old Plays[2] published in\n1848, when he was but twenty-three years old. This was a remarkably\ncompetent performance. The texts are edited with judgment and accuracy;\nthe introduction shows literary discrimination as well as sound\nscholarship, and the glossary and brief notes are thoroughly good. There\nare no signs of immaturity in the book, and it is still valued by\nstudents of our early drama.\n\nThe leave of absence granted to Mr Child in 1849 came at a most\nfavorable moment. His health had suffered from close application to\nwork, and a change of climate had been advised by his physicians. His\nintellectual and scholarly development, too, had reached that stage in\nwhich foreign study and travel were certain to be most stimulating and\nfruitful. He was amazingly apt, and two years of opportunity meant much\nmore to him than to most men. He returned to take up the duties of his\nnew office a trained and mature scholar, at home in the best methods and\ntraditions of German universities, yet with no sacrifice of his\nindividuality and intellectual independence.\n\nWhile in Germany Mr Child studied at Berlin and G\u00f6ttingen, giving his\ntime mostly to Germanic philology, then cultivated with extraordinary\nvigor and success. The hour was singularly propitious. In the three or\nfour decades preceding Mr Child's residence in Europe, Germanic\nphilology (in the wider sense) had passed from the stage of \"romantic\"\ndilettantism into the condition of a well-organized and strenuous\nscientific discipline, but the freshness and vivacity of the first half\nof the century had not vanished. Scholars, however severe, looked\nthrough the form and strove to comprehend the spirit. The ideals of\nerudition and of a large humanity were not even suspected of\nincompatibility. The imagination was still invoked as the guide and\nilluminator of learning. The bond between antiquity and medi\u00e6valism and\nbetween the Middle Ages and our own century was never lost from sight.\nIt was certainly fortunate for American scholarship that at precisely\nthis juncture a young man of Mr Child's ardent love of learning, strong\nindividuality, and broad intellectual sympathies was brought into close\ncontact with all that was most quickening in German university life. He\nattended lectures on classical antiquity and philosophy, as well as on\nGermanic philology; but it was not so much by direct instruction that he\nprofited as by the inspiration which he derived from the spirit and the\nideals of foreign scholars, young and old. His own greatest contribution\nto learning, The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, may even, in a\nvery real sense, be regarded as the fruit of these years in Germany.\nThroughout his life he kept a picture of William and James Grimm on the\nmantel over his study fireplace.\n\nMr Child wrote no \"dissertation,\" and returned to Cambridge without\nhaving attempted to secure a doctor's degree. Never eager for such\ndistinctions, he had been unwilling to subject himself to the\nrestrictions on his plan of study which candidacy for the doctorate\nwould have imposed. Three years after, however, in 1854, he was\nsurprised and gratified to receive from the University of G\u00f6ttingen the\ndegree of Doctor of Philosophy, accompanied by a special tribute of\nrespect from that institution. Subsequently he received the degree of\nLL. D. from Harvard (in 1884) and that of L. H. D. from Columbia (in\n1887); but the G\u00f6ttingen Ph. D., coming as it did at the outset of his\ncareer, was in a high degree auspicious.\n\nThe Boylston Professorship of Rhetoric and Oratory, to which, as has\nbeen already mentioned, Mr Child succeeded on his return to America\ntoward the end of 1851, was no sinecure. In addition to academic\ninstruction of the ordinary kind, the duties of the chair included the\nsuperintendence and criticism of a great quantity of written work, in\nthe nature of essays and set compositions prepared by students of all\ndegrees of ability. For twenty-five years Mr Child performed these\nduties with characteristic punctuality and devotion, though with\nincreasing distaste for the drudgery which they involved. Meantime a\ngreat change had come over Harvard: it had developed from a provincial\ncollege into a national seminary of learning, and the introduction of\nthe \"elective system\"--corresponding to the \"Lernfreiheit\" of\nGermany--had enabled it to become a university in the proper sense of\nthe word. One result of the important reform just referred to was the\nestablishment of a Professorship of English, entirely distinct from the\nold chair of Rhetoric. This took place on May 8, 1876, and on the 20th\nof the next month Mr Child was transferred to the new professorship. His\nduties as an instructor were now thoroughly congenial, and he continued\nto perform them with unabated vigor to the end. In the onerous details\nof administrative and advisory work, inseparable, according to our\nexacting American system, from the position of a university professor,\nhe was equally faithful and untiring. For thirty years he acted as\nsecretary of the Library Council, and in all that time he was absent\nfrom but three meetings. As chairman of the Department of English and of\nthe Division of Modern Languages, and as a member of many important\ncommittees, he was ever prodigal of time and effort. How steadily he\nattended to the regular duties of the class-room, his pupils, for fifty\nyears, are the best witnesses. They, too, will best understand the\nsatisfaction he felt that, in the fiftieth year of his teaching, he was\nnot absent from a single lecture. No man was ever less a formalist; yet\nthe most formal of natures could not, in the strictest observance of\npunctilio, have surpassed the regularity with which he discharged, as it\nwere spontaneously, the multifarious duties of his position.\n\nThroughout his service as professor of rhetoric, Mr Child, hampered\nthough he was by the requirements of his laborious office, had pursued\nwith unquenchable ardor the study of the English language and\nliterature, particularly in their older forms, and in these subjects he\nhad become an authority of the first rank long before the establishment\nof the English chair enabled him to arrange his university teaching in\naccordance with his tastes. Soon after he returned from Germany he\nundertook the general editorial supervision of a series of the 'British\nPoets,' published at Boston in 1853 and several following years, and\nextending to some hundred and fifty volumes. Out of this grew, in one\nway or another, his three most important contributions to learning: his\nedition of Spenser, his Observations on the Language of Chaucer and\nGower, and his English and Scottish Popular Ballads.\n\nMr Child's Spenser appeared in 1855.[3] Originally intended, as he says\nin the preface, as little more than a reprint of the edition published\nin 1839 under the superintendence of Mr George Hillard, the book grew\nupon his hands until it had become something quite different from its\npredecessor. Securing access to old copies of most of Spenser's poems,\nMr Child subjected the text to a careful revision, which left little to\nbe done in this regard. His Life of Spenser was far better than any\nprevious biography, and his notes, though brief, were marked by a\nphilological exactness to which former editions could not pretend.\nAltogether, though meant for the general reader and therefore sparingly\nannotated, Mr Child's volumes remain, after forty years, the best\nedition of Spenser in existence.\n\nThe plan of the 'British Poets' originally contemplated an edition of\nChaucer, which Mr Child was to prepare. Becoming convinced, however,\nthat the time was not ripe for such a work, he abandoned this project,\nand to the end of his life he never found time to resume it. Thomas\nWright's print of the Canterbury Tales[4] from the Harleian MS. 7334\nhad, however, put into his hands a reasonably faithful reproduction of\nan old text, and he turned his attention to a minute study of Chaucer's\nlanguage. The outcome was the publication, in the Memoirs of the\nAmerican Academy of Arts and Sciences for 1863, of the great treatise to\nwhich Mr Child gave the modest title of Observations on the Language of\nChaucer's Canterbury Tales. It is difficult, at the present day, to\nimagine the state of Chaucer philology at the moment when this paper\nappeared. Scarcely anything, we may say, was known of Chaucer's grammar\nand metre in a sure and scientific way. Indeed, the difficulties to be\nsolved had not even been clearly formulated. Further, the accessible\nmass of evidence on Anglo-Saxon and Middle English was, in comparison\nwith the stores now at the easy command of every tyro, almost\ninsignificant. Yet, in this brief treatise, Mr Child not only defined\nthe problems, but provided for most of them a solution which the\nresearches of younger scholars have only served to substantiate. He also\ngave a perfect model of the method proper to such inquiries--a method\nsimple, laborious, and exact. The Observations were subsequently\nrearranged and condensed, with Professor Child's permission, by Mr A. J.\nEllis for his work On Early English Pronunciation; but only those who\nhave studied them in their original form can appreciate their merit\nfully. \"It ought never to be forgotten,\" writes Professor Skeat, \"that\nthe only full and almost complete solution of the question of the right\nscansion of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales is due to what Mr Ellis rightly\nterms 'the wonderful industry, acuteness, and accuracy of Professor\nChild.'\" Had he produced nothing else, this work, with its pendant, the\nObservations on Gower,[5] would have assured him a high place among\nthose very few scholars who have permanently settled important problems\nof linguistic science.\n\nMr Child's crowning work, however, was the edition of the English and\nScottish Popular Ballads, which the reader now has before him. The\nhistory of this is the history of more than half a lifetime.\n\nThe idea of the present work grew out of Mr Child's editorial labors on\nthe series of the 'British Poets,' already referred to. For this he\nprepared a collection in eight small volumes (1857-58) called English\nand Scottish Ballads.[6] This was marked by the beginnings of that\nmethod of comparative study which is carried out to its ultimate issues\nin the volumes of the present collection. The book circulated widely,\nand was at once admitted to supersede all previous attempts in the same\nfield. To Mr Child, however, it was but the starting-point for further\nresearches. He soon formed the plan of a much more extensive collection\non an altogether different model. This was to include every obtainable\nversion of every extant English or Scottish ballad, with the fullest\npossible discussion of related songs or stories in the \"popular\"\nliterature of all nations. To this enterprise he resolved, if need were,\nto devote the rest of his life. His first care was to secure trustworthy\ntexts. In his earlier collection he had been forced to depend almost\nentirely on printed books. No progress, he was convinced, could be made\ntill recourse could be had to manuscripts, and in particular to the\nPercy MS. Accordingly he directed his most earnest efforts to securing\nthe publication of the entire contents of the famous folio. The Percy\nMS. was at Ecton Hall, in the possession of the Bishop's descendants,\nwho would permit no one even to examine it. Two attempts were made by Dr\nFurnivall, at Mr Child's instance, to induce the owners to allow the\nmanuscript to be printed,--one as early as 1860 or 1861, the other in\n1864,--but without avail. A third attempt was more successful, and in\n1867-68 the long-secluded folio was made the common property of scholars\nin an edition prepared by Professor Hales and Dr Furnivall.[7]\n\nThe publication of the Percy MS. not only put a large amount of\ntrustworthy material at the disposal of Mr Child; it exposed the full\nenormity of Bishop Percy's sins against popular tradition. Some shadow\nof suspicion inevitably fell on all other ballad collections. It was\nmore than ever clear to Mr Child that he could not safely take anything\nat second hand, and he determined not to print a line of his projected\nwork till he had exhausted every effort to get hold of whatever\nmanuscript material might be in existence. His efforts in this direction\ncontinued through many years. A number of manuscripts were in private\nhands; of some the whereabouts was not known; of others the existence\nwas not suspected. But Mr Child was untiring. He was cordially assisted\nby various scholars, antiquaries, and private gentlemen, to whose\nco\u00f6peration ample testimony is borne in the Advertisements prefixed to\nthe volumes in the present work. Some manuscripts were secured for the\nLibrary of Harvard University--notably Bishop Percy's Papers, the\nKinloch MSS, and the Harris MS.,[8]--and of others careful copies were\nmade, which became the property of the same library. In all these\noperations the indispensable good offices of Mr William Macmath, of\nEdinburgh, deserve particular mention. For a long series of years his\nservices were always at Mr Child's disposal. His self-sacrifice and\ngenerosity appear to have been equalled only by his perseverance and\nwonderful accuracy. But for him the manuscript basis of The English and\nScottish Popular Ballads would have been far less strong than it is.\n\nGradually, then, the manuscript materials came in, until at last, in\n1882, Mr Child felt justified in beginning to print. Other important\ndocuments were, however, discovered or made accessible as time went on.\nEspecially noteworthy was the great find at Abbotsford (see the\nAdvertisement to Part VIII). In 1877 Dr David Laing procured, \"not\nwithout difficulty,\" leave to prepare for Mr Child a copy of the single\nmanuscript of ballads then known to remain in the library at Abbotsford.\nThis MS., entitled \"Scottish Songs,\" was so inconsiderable, in\nproportion to the accumulations which Sir Walter Scott had made in\npreparing his Border Minstrelsy, that further search seemed to be\nimperatively necessary. In 1890 permission to make such a search, and to\nuse the results, was given by the Honorable Mrs Maxwell-Scott. The\ninvestigation, made by Mr Macmath, yielded a rich harvest of ballads,\nwhich were utilized in Parts VII-IX. To dwell upon the details would be\nendless. The reader may see a list of the manuscript sources at pp. 397\nff. of the fifth volume; and, if he will observe how scattered they\nwere, he will have no difficulty in believing that it required years,\nlabor, and much delicate negotiation to bring them all together. One\nmanuscript remained undiscoverable, William Tytler's Brown MS., but\nthere is no reason to believe that this contained anything of\nconsequence that is not otherwise known.[9]\n\nMeanwhile, concurrently with the toil of amassing, collating, and\narranging texts, went on the far more arduous labor of comparative study\nof the ballads of all nations; for, in accordance with Mr Child's plan\nit was requisite to determine, in the fullest manner, the history and\nforeign relations of every piece included in his collection. To this end\nhe devoted much time and unwearied diligence to forming, in the Library\nof the University, a special collection of \"Folk-lore,\" particularly of\nballads, romances, and _M\u00e4rchen_. This priceless collection, the\nformation of which must be looked on as one of Mr Child's most striking\nservices to the university, numbers some 7000 volumes. But these figures\nby no means represent the richness of the Library in the departments\nconcerned, or the services of Mr Child in this particular. Medi\u00e6val\nliterature in all its phases was his province, and thousands of volumes\nclassified in other departments of the University Library bear testimony\nto his vigilance in ordering books, and his astonishing bibliographical\nknowledge. Very few books are cited in the present collection which are\nnot to be found on the shelves of this Library.\n\nIn addition, Mr Child made an effort to stimulate the collection of such\nremains of the traditional ballad as still live on the lips of the\npeople in this country and in the British Islands. The harvest was, in\nhis opinion, rather scanty; yet, if all the versions thus recovered from\ntradition were enumerated, the number would not be found inconsiderable.\nEnough was done, at all events, to make it clear that little or nothing\nof value remains to be recovered in this way.\n\nTo readers familiar with such studies, no comment is necessary, and to\nthose who are unfamiliar with them, no form of statement can convey even\na faint impression of the industry, the learning, the acumen, and the\nliterary skill which these processes required. In writing the history of\na single ballad, Mr Child was sometimes forced to examine hundreds of\nbooks in perhaps a dozen different languages. But his industry was\nunflagging, his sagacity was scarcely ever at fault, and his linguistic\nand literary knowledge seemed to have no bounds. He spared no pains to\nperfect his work in every detail, and his success was commensurate with\nhis efforts. In the Advertisement to the Ninth Part (1894), he was able\nto report that the three hundred and five numbers of his collection\ncomprised the whole extant mass of this traditional material, with the\npossible exception of a single ballad.[10]\n\nIn June, 1896, Mr Child concluded his fiftieth year of service as a\nteacher in Harvard College. He was at this time hard at work on the\nTenth and final Part, which was to contain a glossary, various indexes,\na bibliography, and an elaborate introduction on the general subject.\nFor years he had allowed himself scarcely any respite from work, and, in\nspite of the uncertain condition of his health,--or perhaps in\nconsequence of it,--he continued to work at high pressure throughout the\nsummer. At the end of August he discovered that he was seriously ill. He\ndied at Boston on the 11th day of September. He had finished his great\nwork except for the introduction and the general bibliography. The\nbibliography was in preparation by another hand and has since been\ncompleted. The introduction, however, no other scholar had the hardihood\nto undertake. A few pages of manuscript,--the last thing written by his\npen,--almost illegible, were found among his papers to show that he had\nactually begun the composition of this essay, and many sheets of\nexcerpts testified to the time he had spent in refreshing his memory as\nto the opinions of his predecessors, but he had left no collectanea that\ncould be utilized in supplying the Introduction itself. He was\naccustomed to carry much of his material in his memory till the moment\nof composition arrived, and this habit accounts for the fact that there\nare no jottings of opinions and no sketch of precisely what line of\nargument he intended to take.\n\nMr Child's sudden death was felt as a bitter personal loss, not only by\nan unusually large circle of attached friends in both hemispheres, but\nby very many scholars who knew him through his works alone. He was one\nof the few learned men to whom the old title of \"Master\" was justly due\nand freely accorded. With astonishing erudition, which nothing seemed to\nhave escaped, he united an infectious enthusiasm and a power of lucid\nand fruitful exposition that made him one of the greatest of teachers,\nand a warmth and openness of heart that won the affection of all who\nknew him. In most men, however complex their characters, one can\ndistinguish the qualities of the heart, in some degree, from the\nqualities of the head. In Professor Child no such distinction was\npossible, for all the elements of his many-sided nature were fused in\nhis marked and powerful individuality. In his case, the scholar and the\nman cannot be separated. His life and his learning were one; his work\nwas the expression of himself.\n\nAs an investigator Professor Child was at once the inspiration and the\ndespair of his disciples. Nothing could surpass the scientific exactness\nof his methods and the unwearied diligence with which he conducted his\nresearches. No possible source of information could elude him; no book\nor manuscript was too voluminous or too unpromising for him to examine\non the chance of its containing some fact that might correct or\nsupplement his material, even in the minutest point. Yet these qualities\nof enthusiastic accuracy and thoroughness, admirable as they undoubtedly\nwere, by no means dominated him. They were always at the command of the\nhigher qualities of his genius,--sagacity, acumen, and a kind of\nsympathetic and imaginative power in which he stood almost alone among\nrecent scholars. No detail of language or tradition or arch\u00e6ology was to\nhim a mere lifeless fact; it was transmuted into something vital, and\nbecame a part of that universal humanity which always moved him wherever\nhe found it, whether in the pages of a medi\u00e6val chronicle, or in the\nstammering accents of a late and vulgarly distorted ballad, or in the\nfaces of the street boys who begged roses from his garden. No man ever\nfelt a keener interest in his kind, and no scholar ever brought this\ninterest into more vivifying contact with the technicalities of his\nspecial studies. The exuberance of this large humanity pervades his\nedition of the English and Scottish ballads. Even in his last years,\nwhen the languor of uncertain health sometimes got the better, for a\nseason, of the spirit with which he commonly worked, some fresh bit of\ngenuine poetry in a ballad, some fine trait of pure nature in a stray\nfolk-tale, would, in an instant, bring back the full flush of that\nenthusiasm which he must have felt when the possibilities of his\nachievement first presented themselves to his mind in early manhood. For\nsuch a nature there was no old age.\n\nFrom this ready sympathy came that rare faculty--seldom possessed by\nscholars--which made Professor Child peculiarly fit for his greatest\ntask. Few persons understand the difficulties of ballad investigation.\nIn no field of literature have the forger and the manipulator worked\nwith greater vigor and success. From Percy's day to our own it has been\nthought an innocent device to publish a bit of one's own versifying, now\nand then, as an \"old ballad\" or an \"ancient song.\" Often, too, a late\nstall-copy of a ballad, getting into oral circulation, has been\ninnocently furnished to collectors as traditional matter. Mere learning\nwill not guide an editor through these perplexities. What is needed is,\nin addition, a complete understanding of the \"popular\" genius, a\nsympathetic recognition of the traits that characterize oral literature\nwherever and in whatever degree they exist. This faculty, which even the\nfolk has not retained, and which collectors living in ballad-singing and\ntale-telling times have often failed to acquire, was vouchsafed by\nnature herself to this sedentary scholar. In reality a kind of instinct,\nit had been so cultivated by long and loving study of the traditional\nliterature of all nations that it had become wonderfully swift in its\noperations and almost infallible. A forged or retouched piece could not\ndeceive him for a moment; he detected the slightest jar in the genuine\nballad tone. He speaks in one place of certain writers \"who would have\nbeen all the better historians for a little reading of romances.\" He was\nhimself the better interpreter of the poetry of art for this keen\nsympathy with the poetry of nature.\n\nConstant association with the spirit of the folk did its part in\nmaintaining, under the stress of unremitting study and research, that\nfreshness and buoyancy of mind which was the wonder of all who met\nProfessor Child for the first time, and the perpetual delight of his\nfriends and associates. It is impossible to describe the charm of his\nfamiliar conversation. There was endless variety without effort. His\npeculiar humor, taking shape in a thousand felicities of thought and\nphrase that fell casually and as it were inevitably from his lips,\nexhilarated without reaction or fatigue. His lightest words were full of\nfruitful suggestion. Sudden strains of melancholy or high seriousness\nwere followed, in a moment, by flashes of gaiety almost boyish. And\npervading it all one felt the attraction of his personality and the\ngoodness of his heart.\n\nProfessor Child's humor was not only one of his most striking\ncharacteristics as a man; it was of constant service to his scholarly\nresearches. Keenly alive to any incongruity in thought or fact, and the\nleast self-conscious of men, he scrutinized his own nascent theories\nwith the same humorous shrewdness with which he looked at the ideas of\nothers. It is impossible to think of him as the sponsor of some\nhypotheses which men of equal eminence have advanced and defended with\npassion; and, even if his goodness of nature had not prevented it, his\nsense of the ridiculous would not have suffered him to engage in the\nabsurdities of philological polemics. In the interpretation of\nliterature, his humor stood him in good stead, keeping his native\nsensibility under due control, so that it never degenerated into\nsentimentalism. It made him a marvelous interpreter of Chaucer, whose\nspirit he had caught to a degree attained by no other scholar or\ncritic.\n\nTo younger scholars Professor Child was an influence at once stimulating\nand benignant. To confer with him was always to be stirred to greater\neffort, but, at the same time, the serenity of his devotion to learning\nchastened the petulance of immature ambition in others. The talk might\nbe quite concrete, even definitely practical,--it might deal with\nindifferent matters; but, in some way, there was an irradiation of the\nmaster's nature that dispelled all unworthy feelings. In the presence of\nhis noble modesty the bustle of self-assertion was quieted and the petty\nspirit of pedantic wrangling could not assert itself. However severe his\ncriticism, there were no personalities in it. He could not be other than\noutspoken,--concealment and shuffling were abhorrent to him,--yet such\nwas his kindliness that his frankest judgments never wounded; even his\nreproofs left no sting. With his large charity was associated, as its\nnecessary complement in a strong character, a capacity for righteous\nindignation. \"He is almost the only man I know,\" said one in his\nlifetime, \"who _thinks no evil_.\" There could be no truer word. Yet when\nhe was confronted with injury or oppression, none could stand against\nthe anger of this just man. His unselfishness did not suffer him to see\noffences against himself, but wrong done to another roused him in an\ninstant to protesting action.\n\nProfessor Child's publications, despite their magnitude and\nimportance, are no adequate measure either of his acquirements or of\nhis influence. He printed nothing about Shakspere, for example, yet he\nwas the peer of any Shaksperian, past or present, in knowledge and\ninterpretative power. As a Chaucer scholar he had no superior, in this\ncountry or in Europe: his published work was confined, as we have\nseen, to questions of language, but no one had a wider or closer\nacquaintance with the whole subject. An edition of Chaucer from his\nhand would have been priceless. His acquaintance with letters was not\nconfined to special authors or centuries. He was at home in modern\nEuropean literature and profoundly versed in that of the Middle Ages.\nIn his immediate territory,--English,--his knowledge, linguistic and\nliterary, covered all periods, and was alike exact and thorough. His\ntaste and judgment were exquisite, and he enlightened every subject\nwhich he touched. As a writer, he was master of a singularly\nfelicitous style, full of individuality and charm. Had his time not\nbeen occupied in other ways, he would have made the most delightful of\nessayists.\n\nFortunately, Professor Child's courses of instruction in the\nuniversity--particularly those on Chaucer and Shakspere--gave him an\nopportunity to impart to a constantly increasing circle of pupils the\nchoicest fruits of his life of thought and study. In his later years he\nhad the satisfaction to see grow up about him a school of young\nspecialists who can have no higher ambition than to be worthy of their\nmaster. But his teaching was not limited to these,--it included all\nsorts and conditions of college students; and none, not even the idle\nand incompetent, could fail to catch something of his spirit. One thing\nmay be safely asserted: no university teacher was ever more beloved.\n\nAnd with this may fitly close too slight a tribute to the memory of a\ngreat scholar and a good man. Many things remain unsaid. His gracious\nfamily life, his civic virtues, his patriotism, his bounty to the\npoor,--all must be passed by with a bare mention, which yet will signify\nmuch to those who knew him. In all ways he lived worthily, and he died\nhaving attained worthy ends.\n\n G. L. KITTREDGE.\n\n\n[1] C. E. Norton, 'Francis James Child,' in the Proceedings of the\nAmerican Academy of Arts and Sciences, XXXII, 334, 335; reprinted, with\nsome additions, in the Harvard Graduates' Magazine, VI, 161-169 (Boston,\n1897). I have used this biographical sketch freely in my brief account\nof Professor Child's boyhood.\n\n[2] Four Old Plays | Three Interludes: Thersytes Jack Jugler | and\nHeywoods Pardoner and Frere: | and Jocasta a Tragedy | by Gascoigne and\n| Kinwelmarsh | with an | Introduction and Notes | Cambridge | George\nNichols | MDCCCXLVIII. The editor's name does not appear in the\ntitle-page, but the Preface is signed with the initials F. J. C. Jocasta\nwas printed from Steevens's copy of the first edition of Garcoigne's\nPosies, which had come into Mr Child's possession.\n\n[3] The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser. The text carefully revised,\nand illustrated with notes, original and selected, by Francis J. Child.\nBoston: Little, Brown, and Company. 1855. 5 vols.\n\n[4] The Canterbury Tales of Geoffrey Chaucer. A new text, with\nillustrative notes. Edited by Thomas Wright. London, printed for the\nPercy Society, 1847-51. 3 vols.\n\n[5] The paper entitled Observations on the Language of Chaucer was laid\nbefore the American Academy of Arts and Sciences on June 3, 1862, and\nwas published in the Memoirs of the Academy, Vol. VIII, pt. ii, 445-502\n(Boston, 1863). The second paper, entitled Observations on the Language\nof Gower's Confessio Amantis, was laid before the Academy on January 9,\n1866, and appeared in Memoirs, IX, ii, 265-315 (Boston, 1873). A few\ncopies of each paper were struck off separately, but these are now very\nhard to find. Mr Ellis's rearrangement and amalgamation of the two\npapers, which is by no means a good substitute for the papers\nthemselves, may be found in Part I of his Early English Pronunciation,\nLondon, 1869, pp. 343-97.\n\n[6] English and Scottish Ballads. Selected and edited by Francis James\nChild. Boston, 1857-58.\n\n[7] How inseparable were the services of Dr Furnivall and those of\nProfessor Child in securing this devoutly wished consummation may be\nseen by comparing Dr Furnivall's Forewords (I, ix, x), in which he gives\nmuch of the credit to Mr Child, with Mr Child's Dedication (in vol. I of\nthe present collection), in which he gives the credit to Dr Furnivall.\n\n[8] Since Mr Child's death the important \"Buchan original MS\" has been\nsecured for the Child Memorial Library of the University,--a collection\nendowed by friends and pupils of the dead master.\n\n[9] See V, 397 b.\n\n[10] This is 'Young Betrice,' No 5 in William Tytler's lost Brown MS.\n(V, 397), which \"may possibly be a version of 'Hugh Spencer's Feats in\nFrance'\" (see II, 377; III, 275).\n\n\n\n\n1\n\nRIDDLES WISELY EXPOUNDED\n\n #A. a.# 'A Noble Riddle Wisely Expounded; or, The Maid's\n Answer to the Knight's Three Questions,' 4to, Rawlinson,\n 566, fol. 193, Bodleian Library; Wood, E. 25, fol. 15,\n Bod. Lib. #b.# Pepys, III, 19, No 17, Magdalen College,\n Cambridge. #c.# Douce, II, fol. 168 b, Bod. Lib. #d.# 'A\n Riddle Wittily Expounded,' Pills to Purge Melancholy, IV,\n 129, ed. 1719. \"II, 129, ed. 1712.\"\n\n #B.# 'The Three Sisters.' Some Ancient Christmas Carols\n ... together with two Ancient Ballads, etc. By Davies\n Gilbert, 2d ed., p. 65.\n\n #C.# 'The Unco Knicht's Wowing,' Motherwell's MS., p. 647.\n\n #D.# Motherwell's MS., p. 142.\n\n\nThe four copies of #A# differ but very slightly: #a#, #b#, #c# are\nbroadsides, and #d# is evidently of that derivation, #a# and #b# are of\nthe 17th century. There is another broadside in the Euing collection,\nformerly Halliwell's, No 253. The version in The Borderer's Table Book,\nVII, 83, was compounded by Dixon from others previously printed.\n\nRiddles, as is well known, play an important part in popular story, and\nthat from very remote times. No one needs to be reminded of Samson,\n\u0152dipus, Apollonius of Tyre. Riddle-tales, which, if not so old as the\noldest of these, may be carried in all likelihood some centuries beyond\nour era, still live in Asiatic and European tradition, and have their\nrepresentatives in popular ballads. The largest class of these tales is\nthat in which one party has to guess another's riddles, or two rivals\ncompete in giving or guessing, under penalty in either instance of\nforfeiting life or some other heavy wager; an example of which is the\nEnglish ballad, modern in form, of 'King John and the Abbot of\nCanterbury.' In a second class, a suitor can win a lady's hand only by\nguessing riddles, as in our 'Captain Wedderburn's Courtship' and 'Proud\nLady Margaret.' There is sometimes a penalty of loss of life for the\nunsuccessful, but not in these ballads. Thirdly, there is the tale\n(perhaps an offshoot of an early form of the first) of The Clever Lass,\nwho wins a husband, and sometimes a crown, by guessing riddles, solving\ndifficult but practicable problems, or matching and evading\nimpossibilities; and of this class versions #A# and #B# of the present\nballad and #A-H# of the following are specimens.\n\nBallads like our 1, #A#, #B#, 2, #A-H#, are very common in #German#. Of\nthe former variety are the following:\n\n#A.# 'R\u00e4thsellied,' B\u00fcsching, W\u00f6chentliche Nachrichten, I, 65, from the\nneighborhood of Stuttgart. The same, Erlach, III, 37; Wunderhorn, IV,\n139; Liederhort, p. 338, No 153; Erk u. Irmer, H. 5, p. 32, No 29;\nMittler, No 1307 (omits the last stanza); Zuccalmaglio, II, 574, No 317\n[with change in st. 11]. A knight meets a maid on the road, dismounts,\nand says, \"I will ask you a riddle; if you guess it, you shall be my\nwife.\" She answers, \"Your riddle shall soon be guessed; I will do my\nbest to be your wife;\" guesses eight pairs of riddles, is taken up\nbehind him, and they ride off. #B.# 'R\u00e4thsel um R\u00e4thsel,' Wunderhorn,\nII, 407 [429, 418]==Erlach, I, 439. Zuccalmaglio, II, 572, No 316,\nrearranges, but adds nothing. Mittler, No 1306, inserts three stanzas\n(7, 9, 10). This version begins: \"Maid, I will give you some riddles,\nand if you guess them will marry you.\" There are seven pairs, and, these\nguessed, the man says, \"I can't give you riddles; let's marry;\" to\nwhich she gives no coy assent: but this conclusion is said not to be\ngenuine (Liederhort, p. 341, note). #C.# 'R\u00e4thsellied,' Erk, Neue\nSammlung, Heft 3, p. 64, No 57, and Liederhort, 340, No 153^a two\nBrandenburg versions, nearly agreeing, one with six, the other with\nfive, pairs of riddles. A proper conclusion not having been obtained,\nthe former was completed by the two last stanzas of #B#, which are\nsuspicious. #C# begins like #B#. #D.# 'R\u00e4thselfragen,' Peter,\nVolksth\u00fcmliches aus \u00d6sterreichisch-Schlesien, I, 272, No 83. A knight\nrides by where two maids are sitting, one of whom salutes him, the other\nnot. He says to the former, \"I will put you three questions, and if you\ncan answer them will marry you.\" He asks three, then six more, then\nthree, and then two, and, all being answered, bids her, since she is so\nwitty, build a house on a needle's point, and put in as many windows as\nthere are stars in the sky; which she parries with, \"When all streams\nflow together, and all trees shall fruit, and all thorns bear roses,\nthen come for your answer.\" #E.# 'R\u00e4thsellied,' Tschischka u. Schottky,\nOesterreichische Volkslieder, 2d ed., p. 28, begins like #B#, #C#, has\nonly three pairs of riddles, and ends with the same task of building a\nhouse on a needle's point. #F.# 'R\u00e4thsellied,' Hocker, Volkslieder von\nder Mosel, in Wolf's Zeits. f\u00fcr deutsche Myth., I, 251, from Trier,\nbegins with the usual promise, has five pairs of riddles, and no\nconclusion. #G.# 'R\u00e4thsel,' Ditfurth, Fr\u00e4nkische V. L., II, 110, No 146,\nhas the same beginning, six pairs of riddles, and no conclusion.\n\nSome of the riddles occur in nearly all the versions, some in only one\nor two, and there is now and then a variation also in the answers. Those\nwhich are most frequent are:\n\n Which is the maid without a tress? #A-D#, #G#.\n And which is the tower without a crest? #A-D#, #F#, #G#.\n (Maid-child in the cradle; tower of Babel.)\n Which is the water without any sand? #A#, #B#, #C#, #F#, #G#.\n And which is the king without any land? #A#, #B#, #C#, #F#, #G#.\n (Water in the eyes; king in cards.)\n Where is no dust in all the road? #A-G.#\n Where is no leaf in all the wood? #A-G.#\n (The milky way, or a river; a fir-wood.)\n Which is the fire that never burnt? #A#, #C-G#.\n And which is the sword without a point? #C-G.#\n (A painted fire; a broken sword.)\n Which is the house without a mouse? #C-G.#\n Which is the beggar without a louse? #C-G.#\n (A snail's house; a painted beggar.)[11]\n\nA ballad translated in Ralston's Songs of the Russian People, p. 356,\nfrom Buslaef's Historical Sketches of National Literature and Art, I,\n31, resembles very closely German #A#. A merchant's son drives by a\ngarden where a girl is gathering flowers. He salutes her; she returns\nher thanks. Then the ballad proceeds:\n\n 'Shall I ask thee riddles, beauteous maiden?\n Six wise riddles shall I ask thee?'\n 'Ask them, ask them, merchant's son,\n Prithee ask the six wise riddles.'\n 'Well then, maiden, what is higher than the forest?\n Also, what is brighter than the light?\n Also, maiden, what is thicker than the forest?\n Also, maiden, what is there that's rootless?\n Also, maiden, what is never silent?\n Also, what is there past finding out?'\n 'I will answer, merchant's son, will answer,\n All the six wise riddles will I answer.\n Higher than the forest is the moon;\n Brighter than the light the ruddy sun;\n Thicker than the forest are the stars;\n Rootless is, O merchant's son, a stone;\n Never silent, merchant's son, the sea;\n And God's will is past all finding out.'\n 'Thou hast guessed, O maiden fair, guessed rightly,\n All the six wise riddles hast thou answered;\n Therefore now to me shalt thou be wedded,\n Therefore, maiden, shalt thou be the merchant's wife.'[12]\n\nAmong the Gaels, both Scotch and Irish, a ballad of the same description\nis extremely well known. Apparently only the questions are preserved in\nverse, and the connection with the story made by a prose comment. Of\nthese questions there is an Irish form, dated 1738, which purports to be\ncopied from a manuscript of the twelfth century. Fionn would marry no\nlady whom he could pose. Graidhne, \"daughter of the king of the fifth of\nUllin,\" answered everything he asked, and became his wife. Altogether\nthere are thirty-two questions in the several versions. Among them are:\nWhat is blacker than the raven? (There is death.) What is whiter than\nthe snow? (There is the truth.) 'Fionn's Questions,' Campbell's Popular\nTales of the West Highlands, III, 36; 'Fionn's Conversation with\nAilbhe,'Heroic Gaelic Ballads, by the same, pp. 150, 151.\n\nThe familiar ballad-knight of #A#, #B# is converted in #C# into an \"unco\nknicht,\" who is the devil, a departure from the proper story which is\nfound also in #2 J#. The conclusion of #C#,\n\n As soon as she the fiend did name,\n He flew awa in a blazing flame,\n\nreminds us of the behavior of trolls and nixes under like circumstances,\nbut here the naming amounts to a detection of the Unco Knicht's\nquiddity, acts as an exorcism, and simply obliges the fiend to go off in\nhis real character. #D# belongs with #C#: it was given by the reciter as\na colloquy between the devil and a maiden.\n\nThe earlier affinities of this ballad can be better shown in connection\nwith No 2.\n\nTranslated, after #B# and #A#, in Grundtvig's Engelske og skotske\nFolkeviser, p. 181: Herder, Volkslieder, I, 95, after #A d#.\n\n\nA\n\n#a.# Broadside in the Rawlinson collection, 4to, 566, fol. 193, Wood, E.\n25, fol. 15. #b.# Pepys, III, 19, No 17. #c.# Douce, II, fol. 168 b.\n#d.# Pills to Purge Melancholy, IV, 130, ed. 1719.\n\n 1\n There was a lady of the North Country,\n Lay the bent to the bonny broom\n And she had lovely daughters three.\n Fa la la la, fa la la la ra re\n\n 2\n There was a knight of noble worth\n Which also lived in the North.\n\n 3\n The knight, of courage stout and brave,\n A wife he did desire to have.\n\n 4\n He knocked at the ladie's gate\n One evening when it was late.\n\n 5\n The eldest sister let him in,\n And pin'd the door with a silver pin.\n\n 6\n The second sister she made his bed,\n And laid soft pillows under his head.\n\n 7\n The youngest daughter that same night,\n She went to bed to this young knight.\n\n 8\n And in the morning, when it was day,\n These words unto him she did say:\n\n 9\n 'Now you have had your will,' quoth she,\n 'I pray, sir knight, will you marry me?'\n\n 10\n The young brave knight to her replyed,\n 'Thy suit, fair maid, shall not be deny'd.\n\n 11\n 'If thou canst answer me questions three,\n This very day will I marry thee.'\n\n 12\n 'Kind sir, in love, O then,' quoth she,\n 'Tell me what your [three] questions be.'\n\n 13\n 'O what is longer than the way,\n Or what is deeper than the sea?\n\n 14\n 'Or what is louder than the horn,\n Or what is sharper than a thorn?\n\n 15\n 'Or what is greener than the grass,\n Or what is worse then a woman was?'\n\n 16\n 'O love is longer than the way,\n And hell is deeper than the sea.\n\n 17\n 'And thunder is louder than the horn,\n And hunger is sharper than a thorn.\n\n 18\n 'And poyson is greener than the grass,\n And the Devil is worse than woman was.'\n\n 19\n When she these questions answered had,\n The knight became exceeding glad.\n\n 20\n And having [truly] try'd her wit,\n He much commended her for it.\n\n 21\n And after, as it is verifi'd,\n He made of her his lovely bride.\n\n 22\n So now, fair maidens all, adieu,\n This song I dedicate to you.\n\n 23\n I wish that you may constant prove\n Vnto the man that you do love.\n\n\nB\n\n Gilbert's Christmas Carols, 2d ed., p. 65, from the\n editor's recollection. West of England.\n\n 1\n There were three sisters fair and bright,\n Jennifer gentle and rosemaree\n And they three loved one valiant knight.\n As the dew flies over the mulberry tree\n\n 2\n The eldest sister let him in,\n And barred the door with a silver pin.\n\n 3\n The second sister made his bed,\n And placed soft pillows under his head.\n\n 4\n The youngest sister, fair and bright,\n Was resolved for to wed with this valiant knight.\n\n 5\n 'And if you can answer questions three,\n O then, fair maid, I will marry with thee.\n\n 6\n 'What is louder than an horn,\n And what is sharper than a thorn?'\n\n 7\n 'Thunder is louder than an horn,\n And hunger is sharper than a thorn.'\n\n 8\n 'What is broader than the way,\n And what is deeper than the sea?'\n\n 9\n 'Love is broader than the way,\n And hell is deeper than the sea.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 10\n . . . . . . .\n 'And now, fair maid, I will marry with thee.'\n\n\nC\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 647. From the recitation of Mrs\n Storie.\n\n 1\n There was a knicht riding frae the east,\n Sing the Cather banks, the bonnie brume\n Wha had been wooing at monie a place.\n And ye may beguile a young thing sune\n\n 2\n He came unto a widow's door\n And speird whare her three dochters were.\n\n 3\n The auldest ane's to a washing gane,\n The second's to a baking gane.\n\n 4\n The youngest ane's to a wedding gane,\n And it will be nicht or she be hame.\n\n 5\n He sat him doun upon a stane,\n Till thir three lasses came tripping hame.\n\n 6\n The auldest ane's to the bed making,\n And the second ane's to the sheet spreading.\n\n 7\n The youngest ane was bauld and bricht,\n And she was to lye with this unco knicht.\n\n 8\n 'Gin ye will answer me questions ten,\n The morn ye sall be made my ain.\n\n 9\n 'O what is heigher nor the tree?\n And what is deeper nor the sea?\n\n 10\n 'Or what is heavier nor the lead?\n And what is better nor the breid?\n\n 11\n 'O what is whiter nor the milk?\n Or what is safter nor the silk?\n\n 12\n 'Or what is sharper nor a thorn?\n Or what is louder nor a horn?\n\n 13\n 'Or what is greener nor the grass?\n Or what is waur nor a woman was?'\n\n 14\n 'O heaven is higher nor the tree,\n And hell is deeper nor the sea.\n\n 15\n 'O sin is heavier nor the lead,\n The blessing's better nor the bread.\n\n 16\n 'The snaw is whiter nor the milk,\n And the down is safter nor the silk.\n\n 17\n 'Hunger is sharper nor a thorn,\n And shame is louder nor a horn.\n\n 18\n 'The pies are greener nor the grass,\n And Clootie's waur nor a woman was.'\n\n 19\n As sune as she the fiend did name,\n He flew awa in a blazing flame.\n\n\nD\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 142.\n\n 1\n 'O what is higher than the trees?\n Gar lay the bent to the bonny broom\n And what is deeper than the seas?\n And you may beguile a fair maid soon\n\n 2\n 'O what is whiter than the milk?\n Or what is softer than the silk?\n\n 3\n 'O what is sharper than the thorn?\n O what is louder than the horn?\n\n 4\n 'O what is longer than the way?\n And what is colder than the clay?\n\n 5\n 'O what is greener than the grass?\n And what is worse than woman was?'\n\n 6\n 'O heaven's higher than the trees,\n And hell is deeper than the seas.\n\n 7\n 'And snow is whiter than the milk,\n And love is softer than the silk.\n\n 8\n 'O hunger's sharper than the thorn,\n And thunder's louder than the horn.\n\n 9\n 'O wind is longer than the way,\n And death is colder than the clay.\n\n 10\n 'O poison's greener than the grass,\n And the Devil's worse than eer woman was.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n _Title._ A Noble Riddle wisely Expounded: or, The Maids answer\n to the Knights Three Questions.\n\n She with her excellent wit and civil carriage,\n Won a young Knight to joyn with him in marriage;\n This gallant couple now is man and wife,\n And she with him doth lead a pleasant Life.\n\n Tune of Lay the bent to the bonny broom.\n\n +---------------+ +--------------+\n | | | |\n | WOODCUT OF | | WOODCUT OF |\n | THE KNIGHT. | | THE MAID. |\n | | | |\n +---------------+ +--------------+\n\n #c.# Knights questions. Wed a knight ... with her in\n marriage.\n\n #a.# Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, I. Wright, and I. Clarke.\n\n #b.# Printed for W. Thackeray, E.M. and A.M.\n\n #c.# Licens'd according to Order. London. Printed by Tho.\n Norris, at the L[o]oking glass on London-bridge. And sold by\n J. Walter, in High Holborn.\n\n _In Rawlinson and Wood the first seven lines are in Roman and\n Italic type; the remainder being in black letter and Roman.\n The Pepys copy has one line of the ballad in black letter\n and one line in Roman type. The Douce edition is in Roman\n and Italic._\n\n#A.#\n\n 1^1, #c#, i' th' North: #d#, in the.\n\n 3^1. #c#, This knight.\n\n 5^1. #a#, #b#, #c#, #d#, The youngest sister.\n\n 7^1. #b#, #d#, The youngest that same. #c#, that very same.\n\n 7^2. #a#, with this young knight.\n\n 9^2. #d#, sir knight, you marry me.\n\n _After 10, there is a wood-cut of the knight and the maid in\n #a#; in #b# two cuts of the knight._\n\n 11^2. #c#, I'll marry. #d#, I will.\n\n 12^1. #c# _omits_ in love.\n\n 12^2. #b#, #c#, #d#, three questions.\n\n 14^1. #d#, a horn.\n\n _After 15_: #a#, Here follows the Damosel's answer to the\n Knight's Three Questions: #c#, The Damsel's Answers To The\n Knight's Questions: #d#, The Damsel's Answer to the Three\n Questions.\n\n 17, 18. #b#, #c#, #d#, thunder's, hunger's, poyson's, devil's.\n\n 18^2. #d#, the woman.\n\n 19^1. #c#, those.\n\n 20. #a#, #b# _omit_ truly.\n\n 21^1. #b#, #c#, #d#, as 't is.\n\n#B.#\n\n _The burden is printed by Gilbert, in the text, \"~Jennifer\n gentle and Rosemaree~.\" He appears to take ~Jennifer~ and\n ~Rosemaree~ to be names of the sisters. As printed under the\n music, the burden runs,_\n\n Juniper, Gentle and Rosemary.\n\n _No doubt, ~juniper and rosemary~, simply, are meant; ~Gentle~\n might possibly be for ~gentian~. In #2 H# the burden is,_\n\n Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme:\n\n _curiously varied in #I# thus:_\n\n Every rose grows merry wi thyme:\n\n _and in #G#,_\n\n Sober and grave grows merry in time.\n\n#C.#\n\n 18. \"_~Vergris~ in another set._\" M.\n\n#D.#\n\n _MS. before st. 1, \"~The Devil speaks~;\" before st. 6, \"~The\n maiden speaks~.\"_\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[11] #D# 4, What is green as clover? What is white as milk? comes near\nto English #A# 15, #C# 13, #D# 5, What is greener than grass? #C# 11,\n#D# 2, What is whiter than milk? We have again, What is greener than\ngrass? in 'Capt. Wedderburn's Courtship,' #A# 12; What is whiter than\nsnow? What is greener than clover? in 'R\u00e4thselfragen,' Firmenich,\nGermaniens V\u00f6lkerstimmen, III, 634; in 'Kranzsingen,' Erk's Liederhort,\np. 342, 3; 'Traugemundslied,' 11; 'Ein Spiel von den Freiheit,'\nFastnachtspiele aus dem 15n Jahrhundert, II, 555; Altdeutsche W\u00e4lder,\nIII, 138. So, What is whiter than a swan? in many of the versions of\nSvend Vonved, Grundtvig, III, 786; IV, 742-3-7-8; Afzelius, II, 139,\netc.; and Sin is blacker than a sloe, or coal (cf. C 15, Sin is heavier\nnor the lead), Grundtvig, I, 240, 247; IV, 748, 9; Afzelius, II, 139.\nThe road without dust and the tree without leaves are in 'Ein Spiel von\nden Freiheit,' p. 557; and in Meier, Deutsche Kinderreime, p. 84, no\ndoubt a fragment of a ballad, as also the verses in Firmenich. The\nquestion in German, #A# 4, Welches ist das trefflichste Holz? (die Rebe)\nis in the Anglo-Saxon prose Salomon and Saturn: Kemble, Sal. and Sat.\n188, No 40; 204; see also 287, 10. Riddle verses with little or no story\n(sometimes fragments of ballads like #D#) are frequent. The\nTraugemundslied, Uhland, I, 3, and the Spiel von den Freiheit,\nFastnachtspiele, II, 553, have only as much story as will serve as an\nexcuse for long strings of riddles. Shorter pieces of the kind are\n(Italian) Kadeu, Italiens Wunderhern, p. 14; (Servian) 'The Maid and the\nFish,' Vuk, I, 196, No 285, Talvj, II, 176, Goetze, Serbische V. L., p.\n75, Bowring, Servian Popular Poetry, p. 184; (Polish) Wojcicki, I, 203;\n(Wendish) Haupt and Schmaler, I, 177, No 150, II, 69, No 74; (Russian)\nWenzig, Bibliothek Slav. Poesie, p. 174; (Esthonian) Neus, Ehstnische V.\nL., 390 ff, and Fosterl\u00e4ndskt Album, I, 13, Prior, Ancient Danish\nBallads, II, 341.\n\n[12] 'Capt. Wedderburn's Courtship,' 12: What's higher than the tree?\n(heaven). Wojcicki, Pie\u015bni, I, 203, l. 11, 206, l. 3; What grows\nwithout a root? (a stone).\n\n\n\n\n2\n\nTHE ELFIN KNIGHT\n\n #A.# 'A proper new ballad entituled The Wind hath blown my\n Plaid away, or, A Discourse betwixt a young [Wo]man and\n the Elphin Knight;' a broadside in black letter in the\n Pepysian library, bound up at the end of a copy of Blind\n Harry's 'Wallace,' Edin. 1673.\n\n #B.# 'A proper new ballad entitled The Wind hath blawn my\n Plaid awa,' etc. Webster, A Collection of Curious Old\n Ballads, p. 3.\n\n #C.# 'The Elfin Knicht,' Kinloch's Anc. Scott. Ballads, p.\n 145.\n\n #D.# 'The Fairy Knight,' Buchan, II, 296.\n\n #E.# Motherwell's MS., p. 492.\n\n #F.# 'Lord John,' Kinloch MSS, I, 75.\n\n #G.# 'The Cambrick Shirt,' Gammer Gorton's Garland, p. 3,\n ed. 1810.\n\n #H.# 'The Deil's Courtship,' Motherwell's MS., p. 92.\n\n #I.# 'The Deil's Courting,' Motherwell's MS., p. 103.\n\n #J.# Communicated by Rev. Dr Huntington, Bishop of Western\n New York, as sung at Hadley, Mass.\n\n #K.# Halliwell's Nursery Rhymes of England, p. 109, No\n 171, 6th ed.\n\n #L.# Notes and Queries, 1st S., VII, 8.\n\n\nPinkerton gave the first information concerning #A#, in Ancient Scotish\nPoems ... from the MS. collections of Sir Richard Maitland, etc., II,\n496, and he there printed the first and last stanzas of the broadside.\nMotherwell printed the whole in the appendix to his Minstrelsy, No I.\nWhat stands as the last stanza in the broadside is now prefixed to the\nballad, as having been the original burden. It is the only example, so\nfar as I remember, which our ballads afford of a burden of this kind,\none that is of greater extent than the stanza with which it was sung,\nthough this kind of burden seems to have been common enough with old\nsongs and carols.[13]\n\nThe \"old copy in black letter\" used for #B# was close to #A#, if not\nidentical, and has the burden-stem at the end like #A#. 'The Jockey's\nLamentation,' Pills to Purge Melancholy, v, 317, has the burden,\n\n 'Tis oer the hills and far away [_thrice_],\n The wind hath blown my plaid away.\n\nThe 'Bridal Sark,' Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p.\n108, and 'The Bridegroom Darg,' p. 113, are of modern manufacture and\nimpostures; at least, they seem to have imposed upon Cromek.\n\nA like ballad is very common in German. A man would take, or keep, a\nwoman for his love or his wife [servant, in one case], if she would spin\nbrown silk from oaten straw. She will do this if he will make clothes\nfor her of the linden-leaf. Then she must bring him shears from the\nmiddle of the Rhine. But first he must build her a bridge from a single\ntwig, etc., etc. To this effect, with some variations in the tasks set,\nin #A#, 'Eitle Dinge,' Rhaw, Bicinia (1545), Uhland, I, 14, No 4 A,\nB\u00f6hme, p. 376, No 293. #B.# 'Van ideln unm\u00f6glichen Dingen,' Neocorus\n(\u2020 c. 1630), Chronik des Landes Ditmarschen, ed. Dahlmann, p.\n180==Uhland, p. 15, No 4 B, M\u00fcllenhof, p. 473, B\u00f6hme, p. 376, No 294.\n#C.# Wunderhorn, II, 410 [431]==Erlach, I, 441, slightly altered in\nKretzschmer [Zuccalmaglio], II, 620. #D.# 'Unm\u00f6glichkeiten,' Schmeller,\nDie Mundarten Bayerns, p. 556. #E.# Schlesische Volkslieder, p. 115, No\n93. #F.# 'Liebes-Neckerei,' Meier, Schw\u00e4bische V. L., p. 114, No 39.\n#G.# 'Liebesspielereien,' Ditfurth, Fr\u00e4nkische V. L., II, 109, No 144.\n#H.# 'Von eitel unm\u00f6glichen Dingen,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 337, No\n152^b. #I.# 'Unm\u00f6gliches Begehren,' V. L. aus Oesterreich, Deutsches\nMuseum, 1862, II, 806, No 16. #J.# 'Unm\u00f6gliche Dinge,' Peter,\nVolksth\u00fcmliches aus \u00d6sterreichisch-Schlesien, I, 270, No 82. In #K#,\n'Wettgesang,' Meinert, p. 80, and #L#, Liederhort, p. 334, No 152, there\nis a simple contest of wits between a youth and a maid, and in #M#, Erk,\nNeue Sammlung, #H.# 2, No 11, p. 16, and #N#, 'Wunderbare Aufgaben,'\nPr\u00f6hle, Weltliche u. geistliche Volkslieder, p. 36, No 22 B, the\nwit-contest is added to the very insipid ballad of 'Gemalte Rosen.'\n\n'Store Fordringar,' Kristensen, Jydske Folkeviser, I, 221, No 82, and\n'Opsang,' Lindeman, Norske Fjeldmelodier, No 35 (Text Bilag, p. 6),\nclosely resemble German #M#, #N#. In the Stev, or alternate song, in\nLandstad, p. 375, two singers vie one with another in propounding\nimpossible tasks.\n\nA Wendish ballad, Haupt and Schmaler, I, 178, No 151, and a Slovak,\n\u010celakowsky, II, 68, No 12 (the latter translated by Wenzig, Slawische\nVolkslieder, p. 86, Westslavischer M\u00e4rchenschatz, p. 221, and Bibliothek\nSlavischer Poesien, p. 126), have lost nearly all their story, and, like\nGerman #K#, #L#, may be called mere wit-contests.\n\nThe Graidhne whom we have seen winning Fionn for husband by guessing his\nriddles, p. 3, afterwards became enamored of Diarmaid, Fionn's nephew,\nin consequence of her accidentally seeing a beauty spot on Diarmaid's\nforehead. This had the power of infecting with love any woman whose eye\nshould light upon it: wherefore Diarmaid used to wear his cap well down.\nGraidhne tried to make Diarmaid run away with her. But he said, \"I will\nnot go with thee. I will not take thee in softness, and I will not take\nthee in hardness; I will not take thee without, and I will not take thee\nwithin; I will not take thee on horseback, and I will not take thee on\nfoot.\" Then he went and built himself a house where he thought he should\nbe out of her way. But Graidhne found him out. She took up a position\nbetween the two sides of the door, on a buck goat, and called to him to\ngo with her. For, said she, \"I am not without, I am not within; I am not\non foot, and I am not on a horse; and thou must go with me.\" After this\nDiarmaid had no choice. 'Diarmaid and Grainne,' Tales of the West\nHighlands, III, 39-49; 'How Fingal got Graine to be his wife, and she\nwent away with Diarmaid,' Heroic Gaelic Ballads, p. 153; 'The Death of\nDiarmaid,' ib., p. 154. The last two were written down c. 1774.\n\nIn all stories of the kind, the person upon whom a task is imposed\nstands acquitted, if another of no less difficulty is devised which must\nbe performed first. This preliminary may be something that is essential\nfor the execution of the other, as in the German ballads, or equally\nwell something that has no kind of relation to the original requisition,\nas in the English ballads.\n\nAn early form of such a story is preserved in Gesta Romanorum, c. 64,\nOesterley, p. 374. It were much to be wished that search were made for a\nbetter copy, for, as it stands, this tale is to be interpreted only by\nthe English ballad. The old English version, Madden, XLIII, p. 142, is\neven worse mutilated than the Latin. A king, who was stronger, wiser,\nand handsomer than any man, delayed, like the Marquis of Saluzzo, to\ntake a wife. His friends urged him to marry, and he replied to their\nexpostulations, \"You know I am rich enough and powerful enough; find me\na maid who is good looking and sensible, and I will take her to wife,\nthough she be poor.\" A maid was found who was eminently good looking and\nsensible, and of royal blood besides. The king wished to make trial of\nher sagacity, and sent her a bit of linen three inches square, with a\npromise to marry her if she would make him a shirt of this, of proper\nlength and width. The lady stipulated that the king should send her \"a\nvessel in which she could work,\" and she would make the shirt: \"michi\nvas concedat in quo operari potero, et camisiam satis longam ei\npromitto.\" So the king sent \"vas debitum et preciosum,\" the shirt was\nmade, and the king married her.[14] It may be doubted whether the\nsagacious maid did not, in the unmutilated story, deal with the problem\nas is done in a Transylvanian tale, Haltrich, Deutsche Volksm\u00e4rchen,\nu.s.w., No 45, p. 245, where the king requires the maid to make a shirt\nand drawers of two threads. The maid, in this instance, sends the king a\ncouple of broomsticks, requiring that he should first make her a loom\nand bobbin-wheel out of them.\n\nThe tale just cited, 'Der Burgh\u00fcter und seine kluge Tochter,' is one of\nseveral which have been obtained from tradition in this century, that\nlink the ballads of The Clever Lass with oriental stories of great age.\nThe material points are these. A king requires the people of a parish\nto answer three questions, or he will be the destruction of them all:\nWhat is the finest sound, the finest song, the finest stone? A poor\nwarder is instructed by his daughter to reply, the ring of bells, the\nsong of the angels, the philosopher's stone. \"Right,\" says the king,\n\"but that never came out of your head. Confess who told you, or a\ndungeon is your doom.\" The man owns that he has a clever daughter, who\nhad told him what to say. The king, to prove her sagacity further,\nrequires her to make a shirt and drawers of two threads, and she\nresponds in the manner just indicated. He next sends her by her father\nan earthen pot with the bottom out, and tells her to sew in a bottom so\nthat no seam or stitch can be seen. She sends her father back with a\nrequest that the king should first turn the pot inside out, for cobblers\nalways sew on the inside, not on the out. The king next demanded that\nthe girl should come to him, neither driving, nor walking, nor riding;\nneither dressed nor naked; neither out of the road nor in the road; and\nbring him something that was a gift and no gift. She put two wasps\nbetween two plates, stripped, enveloped herself in a fishing net, put\nher goat into the rut in the road, and, with one foot on the goat's\nback, the other stepping along the rut, made her way to the king. There\nshe lifted up one of the plates, and the wasps flew away: so she had\nbrought the king a present and yet no present. The king thought he could\nnever find a shrewder woman, and married her.\n\nOf the same tenor are a tale in Zingerle's Tyrolese Kinder u.\nHausm\u00e4rchen, 'Was ist das Sch\u00f6nste, St\u00e4rkste und Reichste?' No 27, p.\n162, and another in the Colshorns' Hanoverian M\u00e4rchen u. Sagen, 'Die\nkluge Dirne,' No 26, p. 79. Here a rich and a poor peasant [a farmer and\nhis bailiff] have a case in court, and wrangle till the magistrate, in\nhis weariness, says he will give them three questions, and whichever\nanswers right shall win. The questions in the former tale are: What is\nthe most beautiful, what the strongest, what the richest thing in the\nworld? In the other, What is fatter than fat? How heavy is the moon? How\nfar is it to heaven? The answers suggested by the poor peasant's\ndaughter are: Spring is the most beautiful of things, the ground the\nstrongest, autumn the richest. And the bailiff's daughter answers: The\nground is fatter than fat, for out of it comes all that's fat, and this\nall goes back again; the moon has four quarters, and four quarters make\na pound; heaven is only one day's journey, for we read in the Bible,\n\"Today shalt thou be with me in Paradise.\" The judge sees that these\nreplies are beyond the wit of the respondents, and they own to having\nbeen prompted by a daughter at home. The judge then says that if the\ngirl will come to him neither dressed nor naked, etc., he will marry\nher; and so the shrewd wench becomes a magistrate's wife.\n\n'Die kluge Bauerntochter,' in the Grimms' K. u. H. m\u00e4rchen, No 94, and\n'Die kluge Hirtentochter,' in Pr\u00f6hle's M\u00e4rchen f\u00fcr die Jugend, No 49, p.\n181, afford another variety of these tales. A peasant, against the\nadvice of his daughter, carries the king a golden mortar, as he had\nfound it, without any pestle. The king shuts him up in prison till he\nshall produce the pestle [Grimms]. The man does nothing but cry, \"Oh,\nthat I had listened to my daughter!\" The king sends for him, and,\nlearning what the girl's counsel had been, says he will give her a\nriddle, and if she can make it out will marry her. She must come to him\nneither clothed nor naked, neither riding nor driving, etc. The girl\nwraps herself in a fishing net [Grimms, in bark, Pr\u00f6hle], satisfies the\nother stipulations also, and becomes a queen.[15]\n\nAnother story of the kind, and very well preserved, is No 25 of Vuk's\nVolksm\u00e4rchen der Serben, 'Von dem M\u00e4dchen das an Weisheit den Kaiser\n\u00fcbertraf,' p. 157. A poor man had a wise daughter. An emperor gave him\nthirty eggs, and said his daughter must hatch chickens from these, or it\nwould go hard with her. The girl perceived that the eggs had been\nboiled. She boiled some beans, and told her father to be ploughing along\nthe road, and when the emperor came in sight, to sow them and cry, \"God\ngrant my boiled beans may come up!\" The emperor, hearing these\nejaculations, stopped, and said, \"My poor fellow, how _can_ boiled beans\ngrow?\" The father answered, according to instructions, \"As well as\nchickens can hatch from boiled eggs.\" Then the emperor gave the old man\na bundle of linen, and bade him make of it, on pain of death, sails and\neverything else requisite for a ship. The girl gave her father a piece\nof wood, and sent him back to the emperor with the message that she\nwould perform what he had ordered, if he would first make her a distaff,\nspindle, and loom out of the wood. The emperor was astonished at the\ngirl's readiness, and gave the old man a glass, with which she was to\ndrain the sea. The girl dispatched her father to the emperor again with\na pound of tow, and asked him to stop the mouths of all the rivers that\nflow into the sea; then she would drain it dry. Hereupon the emperor\nordered the girl herself before him, and put her the question, \"What is\nheard furthest?\" \"Please your Majesty,\" she answered, \"thunder and\nlies.\" The emperor then, clutching his beard, turned to his assembled\ncounsellors, and said, \"Guess how much my beard is worth.\" One said so\nmuch, another so much. But the girl said, \"Nay, the emperor's beard is\nworth three rains in summer.\" The emperor took her to wife.\n\nWith these traditional tales we may put the story of wise Petronelle and\nAlphonso, king of Spain, told after a chronicle, with his usual\nprolixity, by Gower, Confessio Amantis, Pauli, I, 145 ff. The king\nvalued himself highly for his wit, and was envious of a knight who\nhitherto had answered all his questions. Determined to confound his\nhumbler rival, he devised three which he thought unanswerable, sent for\nthe knight, and gave him a fortnight to consider his replies, which\nfailing, he would lose his goods and head. The knight can make nothing\nof these questions, which are, What is that which needs help least and\ngets most? What is worth most and costs least? What costs most and is\nworth least? The girl, who is but fourteen years old, observing her\nfather's heavy cheer, asks him the reason, and obtains his permission to\ngo to court with him and answer the questions. He was to say to the king\nthat he had deputed her to answer, to make trial of her wits. The answer\nto the first question is the earth, and agrees in the details with the\nsolution of the query, What is fatter than fat? in the Tyrolese and the\nHanoverian tale. Humility is the answer to the second, and pride the\nthird answer. The king admires the young maid, and says he would marry\nher if her father were noble; but she may ask a boon. She begs for her\nfather an earldom which had lately escheated; and, this granted, she\nreminds the king of what he had said; her father is now noble. The king\nmarries her.\n\nIn all these seven tales a daughter gets her father out of trouble by\nthe exercise of a superior understanding, and marries an emperor, a\nking, or at least far above her station. The Grimms' story has the\nfeature, not found in the others, that the father had been thrown into\nprison. Still another variety of these stories, inferior, but preserving\nessential traits, is given by Schleicher, Litauische M\u00e4rchen, p. 3, 'Vom\nschlauen M\u00e4dchen.'\n\nA Turkish tale from South Siberia will take us a step further, 'Die\nbeiden F\u00fcrsten,' Radloff, Proben der Volkslitteratur der t\u00fcrkischen\nSt\u00e4mme S\u00fcd-Sibiriens, I, 197. A prince had a feeble-minded son, for whom\nhe wished to get a wife. He found a girl gathering fire-wood with\nothers, and, on asking her questions, had reason to be pleased with her\nsuperior discretion. He sent an ox to the girl's father, with a message\nthat on the third day he would pay him a visit, and if by that time he\nhad not made the ox drop a calf and give milk, he would lose his head.\nThe old man and his wife fell to weeping. The daughter bade them be of\ngood cheer, killed the ox, and gave it to her parents to eat. On the\nthird day she stationed herself on the road by which the prince would\ncome, and was gathering herbs. The prince asked what this was for. The\ngirl said, \"Because my father is in the pangs of child-birth, and I am\ngoing to spread these herbs under him.\" \"Why,\" said the prince, \"it is\nnot the way, that men should bear children.\" \"But if a man can't bear\nchildren,\" answered the girl, \"how can an ox have a calf?\" The prince\nwas pleased, but said nothing. He went away, and sent his messenger\nagain with three stones in a bag. He would come on the third day, and if\nthe stones were not then made into boots, the old man would lose his\nhead. On the third day the prince came, with all his grandees. The girl\nwas by the roadside, collecting sand in a bag. \"What are you going to do\nwith that sand?\" asked the prince. \"Make thread,\" said she. \"But who\never made thread out of sand?\" \"And who ever made boots out of stones?\"\nshe rejoined. The prince laughed in his sleeve, prepared a great\nwedding, and married the girl to his son. Soon after, another prince\nwrote him a letter, saying, \"Do not let us be fighting and killing, but\nlet us guess riddles. If you guess all mine, I will be your subject; if\nyou fail, I will take all your having.\" They were a whole year at the\nriddles. The other prince \"knew three words more,\" and threw ours into a\ndeep dungeon. From the depths of this dungeon he contrived to send a\nprofoundly enigmatic dispatch to his daughter-in-law, who understood\neverything, disguised herself as one of his friends, and proposed to the\nvictor to guess riddles again. The clever daughter-in-law \"knew seven\nwords more\" than he, took her father-in-law out of the dungeon, threw\nhis rival in, and had all the people and property of the vanquished\nprince for her own.\n\nThis Siberian tale links securely those which precede it with a\nremarkable group of stories, covering by representatives still extant,\nor which may be shown to have existed, a large part of Asia and of\nEurope. This group includes, besides a Wallachian and a Magyar tale from\nrecent popular tradition, one Sanskrit form; two Tibetan, derived from\nSanskrit; one Mongol, from Tibetan; three Arabic and one Persian, which\nalso had their source in Sanskrit; two Middle-Greek, derived from\nArabic, one of which is lost; and two old Russian, from lost\nMiddle-Greek versions.[16]\n\nThe gist of these narratives is that one king propounds tasks to\nanother; in the earlier ones, with the intent to discover whether his\nbrother monarch enjoys the aid of such counsellors as will make an\nattack on him dangerous; in the later, with a demand that he shall\nacquit himself satisfactorily, or suffer a forfeit: and the king is\ndelivered from a serious strait by the sagacity either of a minister\n(whom he had ordered to be put to death, but who was still living in\nprison, or at least seclusion) or of the daughter of his minister, who\ncame to her father's assistance. Which is the prior of these two last\ninventions it would not be easy to say. These tasks are always such as\nrequire ingenuity of one kind or another, whether in devising practical\nexperiments, in contriving subterfuges, in solving riddles, or even in\nconstructing compliments.[17]\n\nOne of the Tibetan tales, which, though dating from the beginning of\nour era, will very easily be recognized in the Siberian tradition of\nthis century, is to this effect. King Rabssaldschal had a rich minister,\nwho desired a suitable wife for his youngest son. A Brahman, his trusty\nfriend, undertook to find one. In the course of his search, which\nextended through many countries, the Brahman saw one day a company of\nfive hundred maidens, who were making garlands to offer to Buddha. One\nof these attracted his notice by her behavior, and impressed him\nfavorably by replies to questions which he put.[18] The Brahman made\nproposals to her father in behalf of the minister's son. These were\naccepted, and the minister went with a great train to fetch home the\nbride. On the way back his life was twice saved by taking her advice,\nand when she was domiciliated, she so surpassed her sisters-in-law in\nhousekeeping talents and virtues that everything was put under her\ndirection. Discord arose between the king of the country she had left\nand Rabssaldschal, under whom she was now living. The former wished to\nmake trial whether the latter had an able and keen-witted minister or\nnot, and sent him two mares, dam and filly, exactly alike in appearance,\nwith the demand that he should distinguish them. Neither king nor\ncounsellor could discern any difference; but when the minister's\ndaughter heard of their difficulty, she said, \"Nothing is easier. Tie\nthe two together and put grass before them; the mother will push the\nbest before the foal.\" This was done; the king decided accordingly, and\nthe hostile ambassador owned that he was right. Soon after, the foreign\nprince sent two snakes, of the same size and form, and demanded which\nwas male, which female. The king and his advisers were again in a\nquandary. The minister resorted to his daughter-in-law. She said, \"Lay\nthem both on cotton-wool: the female will lie quiet, the male not; for\nit is of the feminine nature to love the soft and the comfortable, which\nthe masculine cannot tolerate.\" They followed these directions; the king\ngave his verdict, the ambassador acquiesced, the minister received\nsplendid presents. For a final trial the unfriendly king sent a long\nstick of wood, of equal thickness, with no knots or marks, and asked\nwhich was the under and which the upper end. No one could say. The\nminister referred the question to his daughter. She answered, \"Put the\nstick into water: the root end will sink a little, the upper end float.\"\nThe experiment was tried; the king said to the ambassador, \"This is the\nupper end, this the root end,\" to which he assented, and great presents\nwere again given to the minister. The adverse monarch was convinced that\nhis only safe course was peace and conciliation, and sent his ambassador\nback once more with an offering of precious jewels and of amity for the\nfuture. This termination was highly gratifying to Rabssaldschal, who\nsaid to his minister, How could you see through all these things? The\nminister said, It was not I, but my clever daughter-in-law. When the\nking learned this, he raised the young woman to the rank of his younger\nsister.\n\nThe wise daughter is not found in the Sanskrit tale,[19] which also\ndiffers from the Buddhist versions in this: that in the Sanskrit the\nminister had become an object of displeasure to the king, and in\nconsequence had long been lying in prison when the crisis occurred which\nrendered him indispensable, a circumstance which is repeated in the tale\nof The Wise Heykar (Arabian Nights, Breslau transl., XIII, 73 ff,\nCabinet des F\u00e9es, XXXIX, 266 ff) and in the Life of \u00c6sop. But The Clever\nWench reappears in another tale in the same Sanskrit collection (with\nthat express title), and gives her aid to her father, a priest, who has\nbeen threatened with banishment by his king if he does not clear up a\ndark matter within five days. She may also be recognized in Moradbak, in\nVon der Hagen's 1001 Tag, VIII, 199 ff, and even in the minister's wife\nin the story of The Wise Heykar.\n\nThe tasks of discriminating dam and filly and the root end from the tip\nend of a stick, which occur both in the Tibetan tales and the\nShukasaptati, are found again, with unimportant changes, in the\nWallachian popular story, and the Hungarian, which in general resemble\nthe Arabic. Some of those in the Arabian tale and in the Life of \u00c6sop\nare of the same nature as the wit-trials in the Servian and German\npopular tales, the story in the Gesta Romanorum, and the German and\nEnglish ballads. The wise Heykar, e.g., is required to sew together a\nburst mill-stone. He hands the king a pebble, requesting him first to\nmake an awl, a file, and scissors out of that. The king of Egypt tells\n\u00c6sop, the king of Babylon's champion sage, that when his mares hear the\nstallions neigh in Babylon, they cast their foal. \u00c6sop's slaves are told\nto catch a cat, and are set to scourging it before the Egyptian public.\nGreat offense is given, on account of the sacred character of the\nanimal, and complaint is made to the king, who sends for \u00c6sop in a rage.\n\u00c6sop says his king has suffered an injury from this cat, for the night\nbefore the cat had killed a fine fighting-cock of his. \"Fie, \u00c6sop!\" says\nthe king of Egypt; \"how could the cat go from Egypt to Babylon in one\nnight?\" \"Why not,\" replies \u00c6sop, \"as well as mares in Egypt hear the\nstallions neigh in Babylon and cast their foal?\"\n\nThe tales in the Shukasaptati and in the Dsanglun represent the object\nof the sending of the tasks to be to ascertain whether the king retains\nthe capable minister through whom he has acquired supremacy. According\nto the Arabian tale, and those derived from it, tribute is to be paid by\nthe king whose riddles are guessed, or by him who fails to guess. This\nform of story, though it is a secondary one, is yet by no means late, as\nis shown by the anecdote in Plutarch, Septem Sapientum Convivium (6),\nitself probably a fragment of such a story, in which the king of the\n\u00c6thiops gives a task to Amasis, king of Egypt, with a stake of many\ntowns and cities. This task is the favorite one of draining [drinking]\nall the water in the sea, which we have had in the Servian tale (it also\nis in the Life of \u00c6sop), and Bias gives the customary advice for dealing\nwith it.[20]\n\nFrom the number of these wise virgins should not be excluded the king's\ndaughter in the Gesta Romanorum who guesses rightly among the riddles of\nthe three caskets and marries the emperor's son, though Bassanio has\nextinguished her just fame: Madden's Old English Versions, p. 238, No\n66; Collier, Shakspere's Library, II, 102.\n\nThe first three or four stanzas of #A-E# form the beginning of 'Lady\nIsabel and the Elf-Knight,' and are especially appropriate to that\nballad, but not to this. The two last stanzas of #A#, #B#, make no kind\nof sense here, and these at least, probably the opening verses as well,\nmust belong to some other and lost ballad. An elf setting tasks, or even\ngiving riddles, is unknown, I believe, in Northern tradition, and in no\nform of this story, except the English, is a preternatural personage of\nany kind the hero. Still it is better to urge nothing more than that the\nelf is an intruder in this particular ballad, for riddle-craft is\npractised by a variety of preternatural beings: notoriously by Odin,\nThor, the giant Vaf\u00fer\u00fa\u00f0nir, and the dwarf Alw\u00edss in the Edda, and again\nby a German \"berggeist\" (Ey, Harzm\u00e4rchenbuch, p. 64, 'Die verw\u00fcnschte\nPrinzessin'), a Greek dragon (Hahn, Griechisebe u. Albanesische\nM\u00e4rchen, II, 210), the Russian rusalka, the Servian vila,[21] the Indian\nrakshas. For example: a rusalka (water-nymph) pursues a pretty girl, and\nsays, I will give you three riddles: if you guess them, I will let you\ngo home to your father; if you do not, I shall take you with me. What\ngrows without a root? What runs without any object? What blooms without\nany flower? She answers, Stones grow without a root; water runs without\nany object; the fern blooms without any flower. These answers seem\nsatisfactory, as riddles go, but the ballad concludes (with an injustice\ndue to corruption?), \"The girl did not guess the riddles: the rusalka\ntickled her to death.\" (Wojcicki, Pie\u015bni, I, 205.) A rakshas (ogre)\nsays he will spare a man's life if he can answer four questions, and\nshall devour him if he cannot. What is cruel? What is most to the\nadvantage of a householder? What is love? What best accomplishes\ndifficult things? These questions the man answers, and confirms his\nanswers by tales, and gains the rakshas' good will. (Jacob, Hindoo\nTales, or the Adventures of Ten Princes, a translation of the Sanskrit\nDasakumaracharitam, p. 260 ff.)\n\nThe auld man in #J# is simply the \"unco knicht\" of #1 C#, #D#, over\nagain. He has clearly displaced the elf-knight, for the elf's attributes\nof hill-haunting and magical music remain, only they have been\ntransferred to the lady. That the devil should supplant the knight, unco\nor familiar, is natural enough. He may come in as the substitute of the\nelfin knight because the devil is the regular successor to any heathen\nsprite, or as the embodiment of craft and duplicity, and to give us the\npleasure of seeing him outwitted. We find the devil giving riddles, as\nthey are called (tasks), in the Grimms' K. u. H. m\u00e4rchen, No 125 (see\nalso the note in vol. III); Pr\u00f6hle's K. u. V. m\u00e4rchen, No 19;\nVernaleken, Oesterreichische K. u. H. m\u00e4rchen, No 37. He also appears as\na riddle-monger in one of the best stories in the Golden Legend. A\nbishop, who was especially devoted to St Andrew, was tempted by Satan\nunder the semblance of a beautiful woman, and was all but lost, when a\nloud knocking was heard at the door. A pilgrim demanded admittance. The\nlady, being asked her pleasure about this, recommended that three\nquestions should be put to the stranger, to show whether he were fit to\nappear in such presence. Two questions having been answered\nunexceptionably, the fiend proposed a third, which was meant to be a\nclincher: How far is it from earth to heaven? \"Go back to him that sent\nyou,\" said the pilgrim (none other than St Andrew) to the messenger,\n\"and say that he himself knows best, for he measured the distance when\nhe fell.\" _Antiquus hostis de medio evanuit._ Much the same is related\nin the legend of St Bartholomew, and, in a Slovenian ballad, of St\nUlrich, who interposes to save the Pope from espousing Satan in\ndisguise.[22]\n\n#J#, #K#, #L#, have completely lost sight of the original story.\n\nTranslated, after #A#, #C#, and #D#, in Grundtvig's Engelske og skotske\nFolkeviser, p. 251; R. Warrens, Schottische Lieder der Vorzeit, p. 8;\nKnortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 54.\n\n\nA\n\n A broadside in black letter, \"printed, I suppose,\" says\n Pinkerton, \"about 1670,\" bound up with five other pieces\n at the end of a copy of Blind Harry's 'Wallace,' Edin.\n 1673, in the Pepysian Library.\n\n My plaid awa, my plaid awa,\n And ore the hill and far awa,\n And far awa to Norrowa,\n My plaid shall not be blown awa.\n\n 1\n The elphin knight sits on yon hill,\n Ba, ba, ba, lilli ba\n He blaws his horn both lowd and shril.\n The wind hath blown my plaid awa\n\n 2\n He blowes it east, he blowes it west,\n He blowes it where he lyketh best.\n\n 3\n 'I wish that horn were in my kist,\n Yea, and the knight in my armes two.'\n\n 4\n She had no sooner these words said,\n When that the knight came to her bed.\n\n 5\n 'Thou art over young a maid,' quoth he,\n 'Married with me thou il wouldst be.'\n\n 6\n 'I have a sister younger than I,\n And she was married yesterday.'\n\n 7\n 'Married with me if thou wouldst be,\n A courtesie thou must do to me.\n\n 8\n 'For thou must shape a sark to me,\n Without any cut or heme,' quoth he.\n\n 9\n 'Thou must shape it knife-and-sheerlesse,\n And also sue it needle-threedlesse.'\n\n 10\n 'If that piece of courtesie I do to thee,\n Another thou must do to me.\n\n 11\n 'I have an aiker of good ley-land,\n Which lyeth low by yon sea-strand.\n\n 12\n 'For thou must eare it with thy horn,\n So thou must sow it with thy corn.\n\n 13\n 'And bigg a cart of stone and lyme,\n Robin Redbreast he must trail it hame.\n\n 14\n 'Thou must barn it in a mouse-holl,\n And thrash it into thy shoes soll.\n\n 15\n 'And thou must winnow it in thy looff,\n And also seck it in thy glove.\n\n 16\n 'For thou must bring it over the sea,\n And thou must bring it dry home to me.\n\n 17\n 'When thou hast gotten thy turns well done,\n Then come to me and get thy sark then.'\n\n 18\n 'I'l not quite my plaid for my life;\n It haps my seven bairns and my wife.'\n The wind shall not blow my plaid awa\n\n 19\n 'My maidenhead I'l then keep still,\n Let the elphin knight do what he will.'\n The wind's not blown my plaid awa\n\n\nB\n\n A Collection of Curious Old Ballads, etc., p. 3. Partly\n from an old copy in black letter, and partly from the\n recitation of an old lady.\n\n My plaid awa, my plaid awa,\n And owre the hills and far awa,\n And far awa to Norrowa,\n My plaid shall not be blawn awa.\n\n 1\n The Elphin knight sits on yon hill,\n Ba, ba, ba, lillie ba\n He blaws his horn baith loud and shrill.\n The wind hath blawn my plaid awa\n\n 2\n He blaws it east, he blaws it west,\n He blaws it where he liketh best.\n\n 3\n 'I wish that horn were in my kist,\n Yea, and the knight in my arms niest.'\n\n 4\n She had no sooner these words said,\n Than the knight came to her bed.\n\n 5\n 'Thou art oer young a maid,' quoth he,\n 'Married with me that thou wouldst be.'\n\n 6\n 'I have a sister, younger than I,\n And she was married yesterday.'\n\n 7\n 'Married with me if thou wouldst be,\n A curtisie thou must do to me.\n\n 8\n 'It's ye maun mak a sark to me,\n Without any cut or seam,' quoth he.\n\n 9\n 'And ye maun shape it, knife-, sheerless,\n And also sew it needle-, threedless.'\n\n 10\n 'If that piece of courtisie I do to thee,\n Another thou must do to me.\n\n 11\n 'I have an aiker of good ley land,\n Which lyeth low by yon sea strand.\n\n 12\n 'It's ye maun till 't wi your touting horn,\n And ye maun saw 't wi the pepper corn.\n\n 13\n 'And ye maun harrow 't wi a thorn,\n And hae your wark done ere the morn.\n\n 14\n 'And ye maun shear it wi your knife,\n And no lose a stack o 't for your life.\n\n 15\n 'And ye maun stack it in a mouse hole,\n And ye maun thrash it in your shoe sole.\n\n 16\n 'And ye maun dight it in your loof,\n And also sack it in your glove.\n\n 17\n 'And thou must bring it over the sea,\n Fair and clean and dry to me.\n\n 18\n 'And when that ye have done your wark,\n Come back to me, and ye'll get your sark.'\n\n 19\n 'I'll not quite my plaid for my life;\n It haps my seven bairns and my wife.'\n\n 20\n 'My maidenhead I'll then keep still,\n Let the elphin knight do what he will.'\n\n\nC\n\n Kinloch's A. S. Ballads, p. 145. From the recitation of M.\n Kinnear, a native of Mearnsshire, 23 Aug., 1826.\n\n 1\n There stands a knicht at the tap o yon hill,\n Oure the hills and far awa\n He has blawn his horn loud and shall.\n The cauld wind's blawn my plaid awa\n\n 2\n 'If I had the horn that I hear blawn,\n And the knicht that blaws that horn!'\n\n 3\n She had na sooner thae words said,\n Than the elfin knicht cam to her side.\n\n 4\n 'Are na ye oure young a may\n Wi onie young man doun to lie?'\n\n 5\n 'I have a sister younger than I,\n And she was married yesterday.'\n\n 6\n 'Married wi me ye sall neer be nane\n Till ye mak to me a sark but a seam.\n\n 7\n 'And ye maun shape it knife-, sheer-less,\n And ye maun sew it needle-, threed-less.\n\n 8\n 'And ye maun wash it in yon cistran,\n Whare water never stood nor ran.\n\n 9\n 'And ye maun dry it on yon hawthorn,\n Whare the sun neer shon sin man was born.'\n\n 10\n 'Gin that courtesie I do for thee,\n Ye maun do this for me.\n\n 11\n 'Ye'll get an acre o gude red-land\n Atween the saut sea and the sand.\n\n 12\n 'I want that land for to be corn,\n And ye maun aer it wi your horn.\n\n 13\n 'And ye maun saw it without a seed,\n And ye maun harrow it wi a threed.\n\n 14\n 'And ye maun shear it wi your knife,\n And na tyne a pickle o't for your life.\n\n 15\n 'And ye maun moue it in yon mouse-hole\n And ye maun thrash it in your shoe-sole.\n\n 16\n 'And ye maun fan it wi your luves,\n And ye maun sack it in your gloves.\n\n 17\n 'And ye maun bring it oure the sea,\n Fair and clean and dry to me.\n\n 18\n 'And whan that your wark is weill deen,\n Yese get your sark without a seam.'\n\n\nD\n\n Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 296.\n\n 1\n The Elfin knight stands on yon hill,\n Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw\n Blawing his horn loud and shrill.\n And the wind has blawin my plaid awa\n\n 2\n 'If I had yon horn in my kist,\n And the bonny laddie here that I luve best!\n\n 3\n 'I hae a sister eleven years auld,\n And she to the young men's bed has made bauld.\n\n 4\n 'And I mysell am only nine,\n And oh! sae fain, luve, as I woud be thine.'\n\n 5\n 'Ye maun make me a fine Holland sark,\n Without ony stitching or needle wark.\n\n 6\n 'And ye maun wash it in yonder well,\n Where the dew never wat, nor the rain ever fell.\n\n 7\n 'And ye maun dry it upon a thorn\n That never budded sin Adam was born.'\n\n 8\n 'Now sin ye've askd some things o me,\n It's right I ask as mony o thee.\n\n 9\n 'My father he askd me an acre o land,\n Between the saut sea and the strand.\n\n 10\n 'And ye maun plow 't wi your blawing horn,\n And ye maun saw 't wi pepper corn.\n\n 11\n 'And ye maun harrow 't wi a single tyne,\n And ye maun shear 't wi a sheep's shank bane.\n\n 12\n 'And ye maun big it in the sea,\n And bring the stathle dry to me.\n\n 13\n 'And ye maun barn 't in yon mouse hole,\n And ye maun thrash 't in your shee sole.\n\n 14\n 'And ye maun sack it in your gluve,\n And ye maun winno 't in your leuve.\n\n 15\n 'And ye maun dry 't without candle or coal,\n And grind it without quirn or mill.\n\n 16\n 'Ye'll big a cart o stane and lime,\n Gar Robin Redbreast trail it syne.\n\n 17\n 'When ye've dune, and finishd your wark,\n Ye'll come to me, luve, and get your sark.'\n\n\nE\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 492.\n\n 1\n The Elfin Knight sits on yon hill,\n Ba ba lilly ba\n Blowing his horn loud and shill.\n And the wind has blawn my plaid awa\n\n 2\n 'I love to hear that horn blaw;\n I wish him [here] owns it and a'.'\n\n 3\n That word it was no sooner spoken,\n Than Elfin Knight in her arms was gotten.\n\n 4\n 'You must mak to me a sark,\n Without threed, sheers or needle wark.'\n\n\nF\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 75. From Mary Barr.\n\n 1\n 'Did ye ever travel twist Berwick and Lyne?\n Sober and grave grows merry in time\n There ye'll meet wi a handsome young dame,\n Ance she was a true love o mine.\n\n 2\n 'Tell her to sew me a holland sark,\n And sew it all without needle-wark:\n And syne we'll be true lovers again.\n\n 3\n 'Tell her to wash it at yon spring-well,\n Where neer wind blew, nor yet rain fell.\n\n 4\n 'Tell her to dry it on yon hawthorn,\n That neer sprang up sin Adam was born.\n\n 5\n 'Tell her to iron it wi a hot iron,\n And plait it a' in ae plait round.'\n\n 6\n 'Did ye ever travel twixt Berwick and Lyne?\n There ye'll meet wi a handsome young man,\n Ance he was a true lover o mine.\n\n 7\n 'Tell him to plough me an acre o land\n Betwixt the sea-side hot and the sea-sand,\n And syne we'll be true lovers again.\n\n 8\n 'Tell him to saw it wi ae peck o corn,\n And harrow it a' wi ae harrow tine.\n\n 9\n 'Tell him to shear it wi ae hook-tooth,\n And carry it hame just into his loof.\n\n 10\n 'Tell him to stack it in yon mouse-hole,\n And thrash it a' just wi his shoe-sole.\n\n 11\n 'Tell him to dry it on yon ribless kiln,\n And grind it a' in yon waterless miln.\n\n 12\n Tell this young man, whan he's finished his wark,\n He may come to me, and hese get his sark.'\n\n\nG\n\n Gammer Gurten's Garland, p. 3, ed. 1810.\n\n 1\n 'Can you make me a cambrick shirt,\n Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme\n Without any seam or needle work?\n And you shall be a true lover of mine\n\n 2\n 'Can you wash it in yonder well,\n Where never sprung water nor rain ever fell?\n\n 3\n 'Can you dry it on yonder thorn,\n Which never bore blossom since Adam was born?'\n\n 4\n 'Now you have askd me questions three,\n I hope you'll answer as many for me.\n\n 5\n 'Can you find me an acre of land\n Between the salt water and the sea sand?\n\n 6\n 'Can you plow it with a ram's horn,\n And sow it all over with one pepper corn?\n\n 7\n 'Can you reap it with a sickle of leather,\n And bind it up with a peacock's feather?\n\n 8\n 'When you have done, and finishd your work,\n Then come to me for your cambrick shirt.'\n\n\nH\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 92.\n\n 1\n 'Come, pretty Nelly, and sit thee down by me,\n Every rose grows merry wi thyme\n And I will ask thee questions three,\n And then thou wilt be a true lover of mine.\n\n 2\n 'Thou must buy me a cambrick smock\n Without any stitch of needlework.\n\n 3\n 'Thou must wash it in yonder strand,\n Where wood never grew and water neer ran.\n\n 4\n 'Thou must dry it on yonder thorn,\n Where the sun never shined on since Adam was formed.'\n\n 5\n 'Thou hast asked me questions three;\n Sit down till I ask as many of thee.\n\n 6\n 'Thou must buy me an acre of land\n Betwixt the salt water, love, and the sea-sand.\n\n 7\n 'Thou must plow it wi a ram's horn,\n And sow it all over wi one pile o corn.\n\n 8\n 'Thou must shear it wi a strap o leather,\n And tie it all up in a peacock feather.\n\n 9\n 'Thou must stack it in the sea,\n And bring the stale o 't hame dry to me.\n\n 10\n 'When my love's done, and finished his work,\n Let him come to me for his cambric smock.'\n\n\nI\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 103. From the recitation of John\n McWhinnie, collier, Newtown Green, Ayr.\n\n 1\n A lady wonned on yonder hill,\n Hee ba and balou ba\n And she had musick at her will.\n And the wind has blown my plaid awa\n\n 2\n Up and cam an auld, auld man,\n Wi his blue bonnet in his han.\n\n 3\n 'I will ask ye questions three;\n Resolve them, or ye'll gang wi me.\n\n 4\n 'Ye maun mak to me a sark,\n It maun be free o woman's wark.\n\n 5\n 'Ye maun shape it knife-sheerless,\n And ye maun sew it needle-threedless.\n\n 6\n 'Ye maun wash it in yonder well,\n Whare rain nor dew has ever fell.\n\n 7\n 'Ye maun dry it on yonder thorn,\n Where leaf neer grew since man was born.'\n\n 8\n 'I will ask ye questions three;\n Resolve them, or ye'll neer get me.\n\n 9\n 'I hae a rig o bonnie land\n Atween the saut sea and the sand.\n\n 10\n 'Ye maun plow it wi ae horse bane,\n And harrow it wi ae harrow pin.\n\n 11\n 'Ye maun shear 't wi a whang o leather,\n And ye maun bind 't bot strap or tether.\n\n 12\n 'Ye maun stack it in the sea,\n And bring the stale hame dry to me.\n\n 13\n 'Ye maun mak a cart o stane,\n And yoke the wren and bring it hame.\n\n 14\n 'Ye maun thresh't atween your lufes,\n And ye maun sack't atween your thies.'\n\n 15\n 'My curse on those wha learn\u00ebd thee;\n This night I weend ye'd gane wi me.'\n\n\nJ\n\n Communicated by Rev. F. D. Huntington, Bishop of Western\n New York, as sung to him by his father in 1828, at Hadley,\n Mass.; derived from a rough, roystering \"character\" in the\n town.\n\n 1\n Now you are a-going to Cape Ann,\n Follomingkathellomeday\n Remember me to the self-same man.\n Ummatiddle, ummatiddle, ummatallyho, tallyho, follomingkathellomeday\n\n 2\n Tell him to buy me an acre of land\n Between the salt-water and the sea-sand.\n\n 3\n Tell him to plough it with a ram's horn,\n Tell him to sow it with one peppercorn.\n\n 4\n Tell him to reap it with a penknife,\n And tell him to cart it with two mice.\n\n 5\n Tell him to cart it to yonder new barn\n That never was built since Adam was born.\n\n 6\n Tell him to thrash it with a goose quill,\n Tell him to fan it with an egg-shell.\n\n 7\n Tell the fool, when he's done his work,\n To come to me, and he shall have his shirt.\n\n\nK\n\n Halliwell's Nursery Rhymes of England, 6th ed., p. 109, No\n 171.\n\n 1\n My father left me three acres of land,\n Sing ivy, sing ivy\n My father left me three acres of land.\n Sing holly, go whistle and ivy\n\n 2\n I ploughed it with a ram's horn,\n And sowed it all over with one pepper corn.\n\n 3\n I harrowed it with a bramble bush,\n And reaped it with my little penknife.\n\n 4\n I got the mice to carry it to the barn,\n And thrashed it with a goose's quill.\n\n 5\n I got the cat to carry it to the mill;\n The miller he swore he would have her paw,\n And the cat she swore she would scratch his face.\n\n\n#L#\n\n Notes and Queries, 1st S., VII, 8. Signed D.\n\n 1\n My father gave me an acre of land,\n Sing ivy, sing ivy\n My father gave me an acre of land.\n Sing green bush, holly and ivy\n\n 2\n I ploughd it with a ram's horn.\n\n 3\n I harrowd it with a bramble.\n\n 4\n I sowd it with a pepper corn.\n\n 5\n I reapd it with my penknife.\n\n 6\n I carried it to the mill upon the cat's back.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 7\n I made a cake for all the king's men.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _The verses here prefaced to the ballad are appended to\n the last stanza in the broadside._ _For_ Norrowa, _v. 3,\n Pinkerton has_ To-morrow. 9^1, needle and sheerlesse.\n\n#B.#\n\n 'A Proper New Ballad entitled The Wind hath blawn my Plaid\n awa, or a Discourse between a Young Woman and the Elphin\n Knight. To be sung with its own proper tune.'\n\n \"This ballad is printed partly from an old copy in black\n letter, and partly from the recitation of an old lady,\n which appears to be the Scottish version, and is here\n chiefly adhered to.\"\n\n#D.#\n\n 3^2. hae made.\n\n 9^1. askd _should perhaps be_ left, _or_ gave, _as in_\n #K^1#, #L^1#.\n\n#E.#\n\n _Burden_^2, _in MS._, 1, blown her; 2, 3, blawn her; 4,\n blawn my.\n\n 2^1, blow;\n\n 2^2, and a.\n\n#H.#\n\n 1^1. He speaks, _in the margin of MS_.\n\n _Burden_^1, _time in margin_.\n\n 5^1. Maid speaks, _in margin_.\n\n#I.#\n\n _Not divided regularly into stanzas in the MS._\n\n 4^2. needlewark _in margin_.\n\n 10^1. shin? _in margin_.\n\n#L.#\n\n _After_ 6: \"Then follows some more which I forget, but I\n think it ends thus.\"\n\n\n[13] All that was required of the burden, Mr Chappell kindly writes me,\nwas to support the voice by harmonious notes under the melody; it was\nnot sung _after_ each half of the stanza, or after the stanza, and it\nwas heard separately only when the voices singing the air stopped. Even\nthe Danish ballads exhibit but a few cases of these \"burden-stems,\" as\nGrundwig calls them: see Danmarks Gamle Folkeviser, II, 221, B 1; 295, B\n1; 393, A 1: III, 197, D; 470, A. Such burden-stems are, however, very\ncommon in Icelandic ballads. They are, for the most part, of a different\nmetre from the ballad, and very often not of the same number of lines as\nthe ballad stanza. A _part_ of the burden stem would seem to be taken\nfor the refrain; as \u00cdslenzk Fornkv\u00e6\u00f0i, I, 30, of four verses, 1, 2, 4;\n129, of two, the last half of the first and all the second; 194, of\nfour, the last; 225, of five, the last two; II, 52, of five, the second\nand last two.\n\nIn later times the Danish stev-stamme was made to conform to the metre\nof the ballad, and sung as the first stanza, the last line perhaps\nforming the burden. Compare the stev-stamme, Grundwig, III, 470, with\nthe first stanza of the ballad at p. 475. If not so changed, says\nGrundtvig, it dropped away. Lyngbye, at the end of his F\u00e6r\u00f6iske Qv\u00e6der,\ngives the music of a ballad which he had heard sung. The whole stem is\nsung first, and then repeated as a burden at the end of every verse. The\nmodern way, judging by Berggreen, Folke-Sange og Melodier, 3d ed., I,\n352, 358, is simply to sing the whole stem after each verse, and so says\nGrundtvig, III, 200, D. The whole stem is appended to the last stanza\n(where, as usual, the burden, which had been omitted after stanza 1, is\nagain expressed) in the F\u00e6r\u00f6e ballad in Grundtvig, III, 199, exactly as\nin our broadside, or in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. iii. I\nmust avow myself to be very much in the dark as to the exact relation of\nstem and burden.\n\n[14] Grundtvig has noticed the resemblance of G.R. 64 and the\nballad.--Much of what follows is derived from the admirable Benfey's\npapers, 'Die kluge Dirne, Die indischen M\u00e4rchen von den klugen\nR\u00e4thsell\u00f6sern, und ihre Verbreitung \u00fcber Asien und Europa,' Ausland,\n1859, p. 457, 486, 511, 567, 589, in Nos 20, 21, 22, 24, 25.\n\n[15] Ragnar Lo\u00f0br\u00f3k (Saga, c. 4, Rafn, Fornaldar S\u00f6gur, I, 245), as\npointed out by the Grimms, notes to No 94, requires Kraka (Aslaug) to\ncome to him clothed and not clothed, fasting and not fasting, alone and\nnot without a companion. She puts on a fishing net, bites a leek, and\ntakes her dog with her. References for the very frequent occurrence of\nthis feature may be found in Oesterley's note to Gesta Romanorum, No\n124, at p. 732.\n\n[16] Benfey, Das Ausland, 1859, p. 459. The versions referred to are:\nShukasaptati (Seventy Tales of a Parrot), 47th and 48th night; the\nBuddhist Kanjur, Vinaya, III, fol. 71-83, and Dsanglun, oder der Weise\nu. der Thor, also from the Kanjur, translated by I.J. Schmidt, c. 23;\nthe Mongol translation of Dsanglun [see Popow, Mongolische\nChrestomathie, p. 19, Schiefner's preface to Radloff, I, xi, xii]; an\nimperfect Singhalese version in Spence Hardy's Manual of Buddhism, p.\n220, 'The History of Wis\u00e1kh\u00e1;' 'Geschichte des weisen Heykar,' 1001\nNacht, Habicht, v. d. Hagen u. Schall, XIII, 71, ed. 1840; 'Histoire de\nSinkarib et de ses deux Visirs,' Cabinet des F\u00e9es, XXXIX, 266 (Persian);\ntwo old Russian translations of Greek tales derived from Arabic, Pypin,\n'in the Papers of the Second Division of the Imperial Acad. of Sciences,\nSt Petersburg, 1858, IV, 63-85;' Planudes, Life of \u00c6sop; A. and A.\nSchott, Walachische M\u00e6hrchen, p. 125, No 9, 'Vom weissen und vom rothen\nKaiser;' Erd\u00e9lyi, N\u00e9pdalok \u00e9s Mond\u00e1k, III, 262, No 8, 'The Little Boy\nwith the Secret and his Little Sword.' To these is to be added,\n'L'Histoire de Moradbak,' Caylus, Nouveaux Contes Orientaux, \u0152uvres\nBadines, VII, 289 ff, Cabinet des F\u00e9es, XXV, 9-406 (from the Turkish?).\nIn the opinion of Benfey, it is in the highest degree likely, though not\ndemonstrable, that the Indian tale antedates our era by several\ncenturies. Ausland, p. 511; see also pp. 487, 459.\n\n[17] Ingenuity is one of the six transcendental virtues of\nMah\u0101y\u0101na Buddhism. Schlagintweit, Buddhism in T\u00edbet, p. 36.\n\n[18] The resemblance to the Siberian tale is here especially striking.\n\n[19] The Shukasaptati, in the form in which we have them, are supposed\nto date from about the 6th century, and are regarded as abridgments of\nlonger tales. The Vinaya probably took a permanent shape as early as the\nbeginning of the Christian era. As already remarked, there is scarcely a\ndoubt that the Indian story is some centuries older still.\n\n[20] Amasis in return (8) puts some of the questions which we are apt to\nthink of as peculiarly medi\u00e6val: What is oldest? What is most beautiful,\nbiggest, wisest, strongest? etc. Two of these we have had in Zingerle's\nstory. They are answered in a commonplace way by the \u00c6thiop, with more\nrefinement by Thales. Seven similar questions were propounded by David\nto his sons, to determine who was worthiest to succeed him, and answered\nby Solomon, according to an Arabian writer of the 14th century: Rosen\u00f6l,\nI, 167. Amasis also sent a victim to Bias (2), and asked him to cut out\nthe best and worst of the flesh. Bias cut out the tongue. Here the two\nanticipate the Anglo-Saxon Salomon and Saturn: \"Tell me what is best and\nworst among men.\" \"I tell thee word is best and worst:\" Kemble, p. 188,\nNo 37; Adrian and Ritheus, p. 204, No 43; and Bed\u00e6 Collectanea, p. 326.\nThis is made into a very long story in the Life of \u00c6sop, 11. See other\nexamples in Knust, Mittheilungen aus dem Eskurial, p. 326 f, note b, and\nNachtrag, p. 647; Oesterley's Kirchhof, V, 94, note to 3, 129; and\nLandsberger, Die Fabeln des Sophos, CX, ff. We may add that Plutarch's\nquestion, Which was first, the bird or the egg? (Qu\u00e6st. Conviv. l. 2, q.\n3), comes up again in The Demaundes Joyous, No 41, Kemble's Salomon and\nSaturn, p. 290.\n\n[21] Afanasief, Poetic Views of the Slavonians about Nature, I, 25. The\npoludnitsa seems to belong to the same class: Afanasief, III, 76;\nRalston, Songs of the Russian People, p. 147.\n\n[22] The legend of St Andrew in Legenda Aurea, Gr\u00e4sse, cap. II, 9, p. 19\nff; also in the Fornsvenskt Legendarium, I, 143 ff; Zambrini, Leggende\nInedite, II, 94 ff; Pitr\u00e9, Canti pop. Siciliani, II, 232 ff: that of St\nBartholomew, Gr\u00e4sse, p. 545, cap. CXXIII, 5, and in a German Passional,\nMone's Anzeiger, 1839, VIII, col. 319 f: that of St Ulrich in Achazel\nand Korytko, I, 76, 'Sv\u00e9ti Ureh,' translated by A. Gr\u00fcn, Volkslieder aus\nKrain, p. 136 ff. The third question and answer are in all the same. St\nSerf also has the credit of having baffled the devil by answering occult\nquestions in divinity: Wintown's Scottish Chronicle, I, 131, V, 1238 ff,\nfirst pointed out by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. lxxiv, who besides cites\nthe legend of St Andrew.\n\n\n\n\n3\n\nTHE FAUSE KNIGHT UPON THE ROAD\n\n #A.# 'The Fause Knight upon the Road,' Motherwell's\n Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. lxxiv.\n\n #B.# 'The False Knight,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy,\n Appendix, Musick, p. xxiv.\n\n\nThis singular ballad is known only through Motherwell. The opening\nstanza of a second version is given by the editor of the music, Mr.\nBlaikie, in the Appendix to the Minstrelsy. The idea at the bottom of\nthe piece is that the devil will carry off the wee boy if he can nonplus\nhim. So, in certain humorous stories, a fool wins a princess by\ndumfounding her: e.g., Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery-Tales, p.\n32; Von der Hagen's Gesammtabenteuer, No 63, iii, 179; Asbj\u00f8rnsen og\nMoe, Norske Folkeeventyr, No 4. But here the boy always gets the last\nword. (See further on, under 'Captain Wedderburn's Courtship.')\n\nAn extremely curious Swedish ballad of the same description, from the\nLappfiord, Finland, with the substitution of an old crone, possibly a\nwitch, and clearly no better than one of the wicked, for the false\nknight, is given by Oskar Rancken in N\u00e5gra Prof af Folks\u00e5ng och Saga i\ndet svenska \u00d6sterbotten, p. 25, No 10. It is a point in both that the\nreplicant is a wee boy (gossen, som liten var).\n\n 1\n 'Why are you driving over my field?' said the carlin:\n 'Because the way lies over it,' answered the boy, who was a little\n fellow.\n\n 2\n 'I will cut [hew] your traces,' said etc.:\n 'Yes, you hew, and I'll build,' answered etc.\n\n 3\n 'I wish you were in the wild wood:'\n 'Yes, you in, and I outside.'\n\n 4\n 'I wish you were in the highest tree-top:'\n 'Yes, you up in the top, and I at the roots.'\n\n 5\n 'I wish you were in the wild sea:'\n 'Yes, you in the sea, and I in a boat.'\n\n 6\n 'I'll bore a hole in your boat:'\n 'Yes, you bore, and I'll plug.'\n\n 7\n 'I wish you were in hell:'\n 'Yes, you in, and I outside.'\n\n 8\n 'I wish you were in heaven:'\n 'Yes, I in, and you outside.'\n\nChambers, in his Popular Rhymes of Scotland, p. 66 of the new edition,\ngives, without a word of explanation, a piece, 'Harpkin,' which seems to\nhave been of the same character, but now sounds only like a\n\"flyting.\"[23] The first stanza would lead us to expect that Harpkin is\nto be a form of the Elfin Knight of the preceding ballad, but Fin is\nseen to be the uncanny one of the two by the light of the other ballads.\nFinn (Fin) is an ancestor of Woden, a dwarf in V\u00f6lusp\u00e1 16 (19), and also\na trold (otherwise a giant), who is induced by a saint to build a\nchurch: Thiele, Danske Folkesagn, I, 45, Grimm, Mythologie, p. 455. The\nname is therefore diabolic by many antecedents.\n\n\nHARPKIN.\n\n 1\n Harpkin gaed up to the hill,\n And blew his horn loud and shrill,\n And by came Fin.\n\n 2\n 'What for stand you there?' quo Fin:\n 'Spying the weather,' quo Harpkin.\n\n 3\n 'What for had you your staff on your shouther?' quo Fin:\n 'To haud the cauld frae me,' quo Harpkin.\n\n 4\n 'Little cauld will that haud frae you,' quo Fin:\n 'As little will it win through me,' quo Harpkin.\n\n 5\n 'I came by your door,' quo Fin:\n 'It lay in your road,' quo Harpkin.\n\n 6\n 'Your dog barkit at me,' quo Fin:\n 'It's his use and custom,' quo Harpkin.\n\n 7\n 'I flang a stane at him,' quo Fin:\n 'I'd rather it had been a bane,' quo Harpkin.\n\n 8\n 'Your wife's lichter,' quo Fin:\n 'She'll clim the brae the brichter,' quo Harpkin.\n\n 9\n 'Of a braw lad bairn,' quo Fin:\n 'There'll be the mair men for the king's wars,' quo Harpkin.\n\n 10\n 'There's a strae at your beard,' quo Fin:\n 'I'd rather it had been a thrave,' quo Harpkin.\n\n 11\n 'The ox is eating at it,' quo Fin:\n 'If the ox were i the water,' quo Harpkin.\n\n 12\n 'And the water were frozen,' quo Fin:\n 'And the smith and his fore-hammer at it,' quo Harpkin.\n\n 13\n 'And the smith were dead,' quo Fin:\n 'And another in his stead,' quo Harpkin.\n\n 14\n 'Giff, gaff,' quo Fin:\n 'Your mou's fou o draff,' quo Harpkin.\n\nThe peit (peat) in st. 3, below, as I am informed by Dr Davidson, is the\nwee boy's contribution to the school firing.\n\n\nA\n\n Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. lxxiv. From\n Galloway.\n\n\n 1\n 'O whare are ye gaun?'\n Quo the fause knicht upon the road:\n 'I'm gaun to the scule,'\n Quo the wee boy, and still he stude.\n\n 2\n 'What is that upon your back? ' quo etc.\n 'Atweel it is my bukes,' quo etc.\n\n 3\n 'What's that ye've got in your arm?'\n 'Atweel it is my peit.'\n\n 4\n 'Wha's aucht they sheep?'\n 'They are mine and my mither's.'\n\n 5\n 'How monie o them are mine?'\n 'A' they that hae blue tails.'\n\n 6\n 'I wiss ye were on yon tree:'\n 'And a gude ladder under me.'\n\n 7\n 'And the ladder for to break:'\n 'And you for to fa down.'\n\n 8\n 'I wiss ye were in yon sie:'\n 'And a gude bottom under me.'\n\n 9\n 'And the bottom for to break:'\n 'And ye to be drowned.'\n\n\nB\n\n Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xxiv, No xxxii.\n\n\n 'O whare are ye gaun?' quo the false knight,\n And false, false was his rede:\n\n 'I'm gaun to the scule,' says the pretty little boy,\n And still, still he stude.\n\n\n[23] At the last moment I come upon this: \"The only safeguard against\nthe malice of witches is 'to flight wi dem,' that is, draw them into a\ncontroversy and scold them roundly:\" (Mrs Saxby, in an interesting\ncontribution of folk-lore from Unst, Shetland, in The Leisure Hour, for\nMarch 27, 1880, p. 199.) This view, which has apparently affected\n'Harpkin,' is clearly a modern misunderstanding. Let no one trust to\nscolding for foiling a witch, unless he \"knows more words.\"\n\n\n\n\n4\n\nLADY ISABEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT\n\n #A. a.# 'The Gowans sae gay,' Buchan's Ballads of the\n North of Scotland, I, 22. #b.# 'Aye as the Gowans grow\n gay,' Motherwell's MS., p. 563.\n\n #B.# 'The Water o Wearie's Well.' #a.# Buchan's MSS, II,\n fol. 80. #b.# Buchan's B. N. S., II, 201. #c.#\n Motherwell's MS., p. 561. #d.# 'Wearie's Wells,' Harris\n MS., No 19.\n\n #C. a.# 'May Colven,' Herd's MSS, I, 166. #b.# 'May\n Colvin,' Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 93. #c.# 'May\n Colvin, or, False Sir John,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p.\n 67.\n\n #D. a.# 'May Collin,' Sharpe's Ballad Book, No 17, p. 45.\n #b.# 'Fause Sir John and May Colvin,' Buchan, B. N. S.,\n II, 45. #c.# 'May Collean,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy,\n Appendix, p. xxi.\n\n #E.# 'The Outlandish Knight,' Dixon, Ancient Poems,\n Ballads, etc., p. 74 == Bell, Ancient Poems, Ballads,\n etc., p. 61.\n\n #F.# 'The False Knight Outwitted,' Roxburgh Ballads,\n British Museum, III, 449.\n\n\nOf all ballads this has perhaps obtained the widest circulation. It is\nnearly as well known to the southern as to the northern nations of\nEurope. It has an extraordinary currency in Poland. The Germans, Low and\nHigh, and the Scandinavians, preserve it, in a full and evidently\nancient form, even in the tradition of this generation. Among the Latin\nnations it has, indeed, shrunk to very meagre proportions, and though\nthe best English forms are not without ancient and distinctive marks,\nmost of these have been eliminated, and the better ballads are very\nbrief.\n\n#A# has but thirteen two-line stanzas. An elf-knight, by blowing his\nhorn, inspires Lady Isabel with love-longing. He appears on her first\nbreathing a wish for him, and induces her to ride with him to the\ngreenwood.[24] Arrived at the wood, he bids her alight, for she is come\nto the place where she is to die. He had slain seven kings' daughters\nthere, and she should be the eighth. She persuades him to sit down, with\nhis head on her knee, lulls him asleep with a charm, binds him with his\nown sword-belt, and stabs him with his own dagger, saying, If seven\nkings' daughters you have slain, lie here a husband to them all.\n\n#B#, in fourteen four-line stanzas, begins unintelligibly with a bird\ncoming out of a bush for water, and a king's daughter sighing, \"Wae 's\nthis heart o mine.\" A personage not characterized, but evidently of the\nsame nature as the elf-knight in #A#, lulls everybody but this king's\ndaughter asleep with his harp,[25] then mounts her behind him, and rides\nto a piece of water called Wearie's Well. He makes her wade in up to her\nchin; then tells her that he has drowned seven kings' daughters here,\nand she is to be the eighth. She asks him for one kiss before she dies,\nand, as he bends over to give it, pitches him from his saddle into the\nwater, with the words, Since ye have drowned seven here, I'll make you\nbridegroom to them all.[26]\n\n#C# was first published by David Herd, in the second edition of his\nScottish Songs, 1776, and afterwards by Motherwell, \"collated\" with a\ncopy obtained from recitation. #D#,[27] #E#, #F# are all broadside or\nstall copies, and in broadside style. #C#, #D#, #E#, #F# have nearly the\nsame story. False Sir John, a knight from the south country [west\ncountry, north lands], entices May Colven, #C#, #D# [a king's daughter,\n#C# 16, #E# 16; a knight's daughter, Polly, #F# 4, 9], to ride off with\nhim, employing, in #D#, a charm which he has stuck in her sleeve. At the\nknight's suggestion, #E#, #F#, she takes a good sum of money with her,\n#D#, #E#, #F#. They come to a lonely rocky place by the sea [river-side,\n#F#], and the knight bids her alight: he has drowned seven ladies here\n[eight #D#, six #E#, #F#], and she shall be the next. But first she is\nto strip off her rich clothes, as being too good to rot in the sea. She\nbegs him to avert his eyes, for decency's sake, and, getting behind him,\nthrows him into the water. In #F# he is absurdly sent for a sickle, to\ncrop the nettles on the river brim, and is pushed in while thus\noccupied. He cries for help, and makes fair promises, #C#, #E#, but the\nmaid rides away, with a bitter jest [on his steed, #D#, leading his\nsteed, #E#, #F#], and reaches her father's house before daybreak. The\ngroom inquires in #D# about the strange horse, and is told that it is a\nfound one. The parrot asks what she has been doing, and is silenced with\na bribe; and when the father demands why he was chatting so early, says\nhe was calling to his mistress to take away the cat. Here #C#, #E#, #F#\nstop, but #D# goes on to relate that the maid at once tells her parents\nwhat has happened, and that the father rides off at dawn, under her\nconduct, to find Sir John. They carry off the corpse, which lay on the\nsands below the rocks, and bury it, for fear of discovery.\n\nThere is in Hone's Table Book, III, 130, ed. 1841, a _rifacimento_ by\nDixon of the common English broadside in what passes for old-ballad\nstyle. This has been repeated in Richardson's Borderer's Table Book, VI,\n367; in Dixon's Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p.\n101; and, with alterations, additions, and omissions, in Sheldon's\nMinstrelsy of the English Border, p. 194.\n\nJamieson (1814) had never met with this ballad in Scotland, at least in\nanything like a perfect state; but he says that a tale to the same\neffect, intermixed with scraps of verse, was familiar to him when a boy,\nand that he afterwards found it, \"in much the same state, in the\nHighlands, in Lochaber and Ardnamurchan.\" According to the tradition\nreported by Jamieson, the murderer had seduced the younger sister of his\nwife, and was seeking to prevent discovery, a difference in the story\nwhich might lead us to doubt the accuracy of Jamieson's recollection.\n(Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 348.)\n\nStories like that of this ballad will inevitably be attached, and\nperhaps more or less adapted, to localities where they become known. May\nCollean, says Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p. 232, note, \"finds locality\nin that wild portion of the coast of Carrick (Ayrshire) which intervenes\nbetwixt Girvan and Ballantrae. Carlton Castle, about two miles to the\nsouth of Girvan (a tall old ruin, situated on the brink of a bank which\noverhangs the sea, and which gives title to Sir John Cathcart, Bart, of\nCarlton), is affirmed by the country people, who still remember the\nstory with great freshness, to have been the residence of 'the fause Sir\nJohn;' while a tall rocky eminence called Gamesloup, overhanging the sea\nabout two miles still further south, and over which the road passes in a\nstyle terrible to all travellers, is pointed out as the place where he\nwas in the habit of drowning his wives, and where he was finally drowned\nhimself. The people, who look upon the ballad as a regular and proper\nrecord of an unquestionable fact, farther affirm that May Collean was a\ndaughter of the family of Kennedy of Colzean,\" etc. Binyan's (Bunion)\nBay, in #D#, is, according to Buchan, the old name of the mouth of the\nriver Ugie.\n\nFar better preserved than the English, and marked with very ancient and\nimpressive traits, is the Dutch ballad 'Halewijn,' which, not many years\nago, was extensively sung in Brabant and Flanders, and is still popular\nas a broadside, both oral tradition and printed copies exhibiting\nmanifold variations. A version of this ballad (#A#) was communicated by\nWillems to Mone's Anzeiger in 1836, col. 448 ff, thirty-eight two-line\nstanzas, and afterwards appeared in Willems's Oude vlaemsche Liederen\n(1848), No 49, p. 116, with some changes in the text and some various\nreadings. Uhland, I, 153, 74 D, gave the Anzeiger text, with one\ncorrection. So Hoffmann, Niederl\u00e4ndische Volkslieder, 2d ed., No 9, p.\n39, but substituting for stanzas 19, 20 four stanzas from the margin of\nO.v.L., and making other slighter changes. Baecker, Chants historiques\nde la Flandre, No 9, p. 61, repeats Willems's second text, with one\ncareless omission and one transposition. Coussemaker, Chants populaires\ndes Flamands de France, No 45, p. 142, professes to give the text of\nOude vlaemsche Liederen, and does so nearly. Snellaert, Oude en nieuwe\nLiedjes, 3d ed., 1864, No 55, p. 58, inserts seven stanzas in the place\nof 33, 34 of O.v.L., and two after 35, making forty-five two- (or\nthree-) line stanzas instead of thirty-eight. These additions are also\nfound in an excessively corrupt form of the ballad (#B#), Hoffmann, No\n10, p. 43, in which the stanzas have been uniformly extended to three\nverses, to suit the air, which required the repetition of the second\nline of the original stanza.\n\nHeer Halewijn (#A#), like the English elf-knight, sang such a song that\nthose who heard it longed to be with him. A king's daughter asked her\nfather if she might go to Halewijn. No, he said; those who go that way\nnever come back [sixteen have lost their lives, #B#]. So said mother and\nsister, but her brother's answer was, I care not where you go, so long\nas you keep your honor. She dressed herself splendidly, took the best\nhorse from her father's stable, and rode to the wood, where she found\nHalewijn waiting for her.[28] They then rode on further, till they came\nto a gallows, on which many women were hanging. Halewijn says, Since you\nare the fairest maid, choose your death [#B# 20 offers the choice\nbetween hanging and the sword]. She calmly chooses the sword. \"Only take\noff your coat first, for a maid's blood spirts a great way, and it would\nbe a pity to spatter you.\" His head was off before his coat, but the\ntongue still spake. This dialogue ensues:\n\n 'Go yonder into the corn,\n And blow upon my horn,\n That all my friends you may warn.'\n\n 'Into the corn I will not go,\n And on your horn I will not blow:\n A murderer's bidding I will not do.'\n\n 'Go yonder under the gallows-tree,\n And fetch a pot of salve for me,\n And rub my red neck lustily.'\n\n 'Under the gallows I will not go,\n Nor will I rub your red neck, no,\n A murderer's bidding I will not do.'\n\nShe takes the head by the hair and washes it in a spring, and rides back\nthrough the wood. Half-way through she meets Halewijn's mother, who asks\nafter her son; and she tells her that he is gone hunting, that he will\nnever be seen again, that he is dead, and she has his head in her lap.\nWhen she came to her father's gate, she blew the horn like any man.\n\n And when the father heard the strain,\n He was glad she had come back again.\n\n Thereupon they held a feast,\n The head was on the table placed.\n\nSnellaert's copy and the modern three-line ballad have a meeting with\nfather, brother, sister, and mother successively. The maid's answer to\neach of the first three is that Halewijn is amusing himself with sixteen\nmaids, or to that effect, but to the mother that he is dead, and she has\nhis head in her lap. The mother angrily replies, in #B#, that if she had\ngiven this information earlier she would not have got so far on her way\nhome. The maid retorts, Wicked woman, you are lucky not to have been\nserved as your son; then rides, \"like Judith wise,\" straight to her\nfather's palace, where she blows the horn blithely, and is received with\nhonor and love by the whole court.[29]\n\nAnother Flemish version (#C#) has been lately published under the title,\n'Roland,' by which only, we are informed, is this particular form known\nin Bruges and many parts of Flanders:[30] Chants populaires recueillis\n\u00e0 Bruges par Adolphe Lootens et J. M. E. Feys, No 37, p. 60, 183 vv, in\nsixty-three stanzas, of two, three, four, or five lines. This text dates\nfrom the last century, and is given with the most exact fidelity to\ntradition. It agrees with #A# as to some main points, but differs not a\nlittle as to others. The story sets out thus:\n\n It was a bold Roland,\n He loved a lass from England;\n He wist not how to get her,\n With reading or with writing,\n With brawling or with fighting.\n\n\nRoland has lost Halewyn's art of singing. Louise asks her father if she\nmay go to Roland, to the fair, as all her friends do. Her father\nrefuses: Roland is \"een stoute kalant,\" a bad fellow that betrays pretty\nmaids; he stands with a drawn sword in his hand, and all his soldiers in\narmor. The daughter says she has seen Roland more than once, and that\nthe tale about the drawn sword and soldiers is not true. This scene is\nexactly repeated with mother and brother. Louise then tries her\nshrift-father. He is easier, and does not care where she goes, provided\nshe keeps her honor and does not shame her parents. She tells father,\nmother, and brother that she has leave from her confessor, makes her\ntoilet as in #A#, takes the finest horse in the stable, and rides to the\nwood. There she successively meets Roland's father, mother, and brother,\neach of whom asks her where she is going, and whether she has any right\nto the crown she wears. To all she replies, Whether I have or not, be\noff; I know you not. She does not encounter Roland in the wood, they do\nnot ride together, and there is no gallows-field. She enters Roland's\nhouse, where he is lying abed. He bids her gather three rose-wreaths \"at\nhis hands\" and three at his feet; but when she approaches the foot of\nthe bed he rises, and offers her the choice to lose her honor or kneel\nbefore the sword. She chooses the sword, advises him to spare his coat,\nand, while he is taking it off, strikes off his head, all as in #A#. The\nhead speaks: Go under the gallows (of which we have heard nothing\nhitherto), fetch a pot of salve, rub it on my wounds, and they shall\nstraight be well. She declines to follow a murderer's rede, or to learn\nmagic. The head bids her go under the blue stone and fetch a pot of\nmaidens-grease, which also will heal the wounds. This again she refuses\nto do, in the same terms; then seizes the head by the hair, washes it in\na spring, and rides off with it through the wood, duly meeting Roland's\nfather, mother, and brother once more, all of whom challenge her, and to\nall of whom she answers,\n\n Roland your son is long ago dead;\n God has his soul and I his head;\n For in my lap here I have his head,\n And with the blood my apron is red.\n\nWhen she came back to the city the drums and the trumpets struck up.[31]\nShe stuck the head out of the window, and cried, \"Now I am Roland's\nbride!\" She drew it in, and cried, \"Now I am a heroine!\"\n\n#Danish.# Eleven versions of this ballad are known in Danish, seven of\nwhich are given in Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, No 183, 'Kvindemorderen,'\n#A-G#. Four more, #H-L#, are furnished by Kristensen, Jydske Folkeviser,\nI, Nos 46, 47, 91; II, No 85. #A#, in forty-one two-line stanzas\n(previously printed in Grundtvig's Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p.\n233), is from a 16th century MS.; #B#, thirty stanzas, #C#,\ntwenty-four, #D#, thirty-seven, from MSS of the 17th century; #E#,\nfifty-seven, from a broadside of the end of the 18th; #F#, thirty, from\none of the beginning of the 19th; and #G-L#, thirty-five, twenty-three,\nthirty-one, twenty-six, thirty-eight stanzas, from recent oral\ntradition.\n\nThe four older versions, and also #E#, open with some lines that occur\nat the beginning of other ballads.[32] In #A# and #E#, and, we may add,\n#G#, the maid is allured by the promise of being taken to a paradise\nexempt from death and sorrow; #C#, #D#, #F# promise a train of handmaids\nand splendid presents. All the versions agree very well as to the kernel\nof the story. A false knight prevails upon a lady to elope with him, and\nthey ride to a wood [they simply meet in a wood, #H#, #K#]. He sets to\nwork digging a grave, which she says is too long for his [her] dog and\ntoo narrow for his [her] horse [all but #F#, #H#]. She is told that the\ngrave is for her. He has taken away the life [and honor, #B#, #C#, #I#]\nof eight maids, and she shall be the ninth. The eight maids become nine\nkings' daughters in #E#, ten in #F#, nineteen in #G#, and in #E# and #F#\nthe hard choice is offered of death by sword, tree, or stream. In #A#,\n#E#, #I#, #L# the knight bids the lady get her gold together before she\nsets out with him, and in #D#, #H#, #K#, #L# he points out a little\nknoll under which he keeps the gold of his previous victims. The maid\nnow induces the knight to lie down with his head in her lap, professing\na fond desire to render him the most homely of services[33] [not in #C#,\n#G#, #I#, #K#]. He makes an express condition in #E#, #F#, #G#, #H#, #L#\nthat she shall not betray him in his sleep, and she calls Heaven to\nwitness that she will not. In #G# she sings him to sleep. He slept a\nsleep that was not sweet. She binds him hand and foot, then cries, Wake\nup! I will not betray you in sleep.[34] Eight you have killed; yourself\nshall be the ninth. Entreaties and fair promises and pretences that he\nhad been in jest, and desire for shrift, are in vain. Woman-fashion she\ndrew his sword, but man-fashion she cut him down. She went home a maid.\n\n#E#, #F#, #G#, however, do not end so simply. On her way home through\nthe wood [#E#], she comes upon a maid who is working gold, and who says,\nThe last time I saw that horse my brother rode it. She answers, Your\nbrother is dead, and will do no more murdering for gold; then turns her\nhorse, and sets the sister's bower on fire. Next she encounters seven\nrobbers on the heath, who recognize the horse as their master's, and are\ninformed of his death and of the end of his crimes. They ask about the\nfire. She says it is an old pig-sty. She rides on, and they call to her\nthat she is losing her horse's gold shoe. But nothing can stop her; she\nbids them pick it up and drink it in wine; and so comes home to her\nfather's. #F# has nothing of the sister; in place of seven robbers there\nare nine of the robber's brothers, and the maid sets their house on\nfire. #G# indulges in absurd extravagances: the heroine meets the\nrobber's sister with twelve fierce dogs, and then his twelve swains, and\ncuts down both dogs and swains.\n\nThe names in the Danish ballads are, #A#, Ulver and V\u00e6nelil; #B#, Olmor,\nor Oldemor, and Vindelraad; #C#, Hollemen and Vendelraad; #D#, Romor,\nReimord, or Reimvord, and the maid unnamed; #F#, Herr Peder and Liden\nKirsten; #H-L#, Ribold, Rigbold [#I#, Rimmelil] and Guldborg.\n\nFour #Swedish# versions are known, all from tradition of this century.\n#A#, 'Den Falske Riddaren,' twenty-three two-line stanzas, Arwidsson, 44\nB, I, 301. #B#, 'R\u00f6fvaren Brun,' fifteen stanzas, Afzelius, 83, III, 97.\n#C#, twenty-seven stanzas, Arwidsson, 44 A, I, 298. #D#, 'R\u00f6fvaren\nRymer,' sixteen stanzas, Afzelius, 82, III, 94. #A#, #B#, #D# have\nresemblances, at the beginning, to the Ribold ballads, like the Danish\n#A#, #B#, #E#, #G#, while the beginning of #C# is like the Danish #C#,\n#D#, #F#. #A# has the grave-digging; there have been eight maids before;\nthe knight lays his head in the lady's lap for the same reason as in\nmost of the Danish ballads, and under the same assurance that he shall\nnot be betrayed in sleep; he is bound, and conscientiously waked before\nhis head is struck off; and the lady rides home to her father's. There\nhave been eight previous victims in #C#, and they king's daughters; in\n#B#, eleven (maids); #D# says not how many, but, according to an\nexplanation of the woman that sang it, there were seven princesses. #C#,\n#D#, like Danish #E#, #F#, #G#, make the maid encounter some of the\nrobber's family on the way home. By a misconception, as we perceive by\nthe Dutch ballad, she is represented as blowing the robber's horn. Seven\nsisters come at the familiar sound to bury the murdered girl and share\nthe booty, but find that they have their brother to bury.\n\nThe woman has no name in any of the Swedish ballads. #A# calls the\nrobber \"an outlandish man\" (en man ifr\u00e5n fremmande land), #B#, simple\nBrun, #C#, a knight, and #D#, Riddaren Rymer, or Herr Rymer.\n\nOf #Norwegian# versions, but two have been printed: #A#, 'Svein\nNor\u00f0mann,' twenty two-line stanzas, Landstad, 69, p. 567; #B#,\n'Rullemann og Hildeborg,' thirty stanzas, Landstad, 70, p. 571, both\nfrom recent recitation. Bugge has communicated eight others to\nGrundtvig. Both #A# and #B# have the paradise at the beginning, which is\nfound in Danish #A#, #E#, #G#, and Swedish #D#. In both the lady gets\nher gold together while the swain is saddling his horse. They come to a\ngrave already dug, which in #B# is said to be made so very wide because\nRulleman has already laid nine maidens in it. The stanza in #A# which\nshould give the number is lost, but the reciter or singer put it at\nseven or nine. The maid gets the robber into her power by the usual\nartifice, with a slight variation in #B#. According to #A#, she rides\nstraight home to her father. #B#, like Danish #F#, has an encounter with\nher false lover's [five] brothers. They ask, Where is Rullemann, thy\ntruelove? She answers, He is lying down, in the green mead, and bloody\nis his bridal bed.\n\nOf the unprinted versions obtained by Professor Bugge, two indicate that\nthe murderer's sleep was induced by a spell, as in English #A#. #F# 9\nhas,\n\n Long time stood Gullbj\u00f6r; to herself she thought,\n May none of my _runes_ avail me ought?\n\nAnd #H# 18, as also a variant to #B# 20, says it was a rune-slumber that\ncame over him. Only #G#, #H#, #I#, #K# give the number of the murdered\nwomen: in #G#, #H#, eight, in #I#, nine, in #K#, five.\n\nThe names are, in #A#, Svein Nor\u00f0mann and Gu\u00f0bj\u00f6rg; #B#, Rulleman and\nHildeborg [or Signe]; #C#, #D#, #E#, #F#, Svein N\u00f3rmann and Gullbj\u00f6r\n[Gunnbj\u00f6r]; #G#, Rullemann and Kjersti; #H#, Rullball and Signelill;\n#I#, Alemarken and Valer\u00f3s; #K#, Rulemann and a fair maid.\n\nSuch information as has transpired concerning #Icelandic# versions of\nthis ballad is furnished by Grundtvig, IV, 4. The Icelandic form, though\ncurtailed and much injured, has shown tenacity enough to preserve itself\nin a series of closely agreeing copies from the 17th century down. The\neldest, from a manuscript of 1665, runs thus:\n\n 1\n \u00c1sa went along the street, she heard a sweet sound.\n\n 2\n \u00c1sa went into the house, she saw the villain bound.\n\n 3\n 'Little \u00c1sa, loose me! I will not beguile thee.'\n\n 4\n 'I dare not loose thee, I know not whether thou'lt beguile me.'\n\n 5\n 'God almighty take note who deceives the other!'\n\n 6\n She loosed the bands from his hand, the fetter from his foot.\n\n 7\n 'Nine lands have I visited, ten women I've beguiled;\n\n 8\n 'Thou art now the eleventh, I'll not let thee slip.'\n\nA copy, from the beginning of the 18th century, has, in stanza 2, \"\u00c1sa\nwent into the _wood_,\" a recent copy, \"over the fields;\" and stanza 3,\nin the former, with but slight differences in all the modern copies,\nreads,\n\n 'Welcome art thou, \u00c1sa maid! thou wilt mean to loose me.'\n\nSome recent copies (there is one in Berggreen, Danske Folkesange, 2d\ned., I, 162) allow the maid to escape, adding,\n\n 9\n 'Wait for me a little space, whilst I go into the green wood.'\n\n 10\n He waited for her a long time, but she never came back to him.\n\n 11\n \u00c1sa took her white steed, of all women she rode most.\n\n 12\n \u00c1sa went into a holy cell, never did she harm to man.\n\nThis is certainly one of the most important of the #German# ballads, and\nadditions are constantly making to a large number of known versions.\nExcepting two broadsides of about 1560, and two copies from recitation\nprinted in 1778, all these, twenty-six in number, have been obtained\nfrom tradition since 1800.[35] They are as follows: #A a#, 'Gert\nOlbert,' 'Die M\u00f6rners Sang,' in Low German, as written down by William\nGrimm, in the early years of this century, 61 vv, Reifferscheid, p. 161,\nII. #A b#, \"from the M\u00fcnster region,\" communicated to Uhland by the\nBaroness Annette von Droste-H\u00fcllshof, 46 vv, Uhland, I, 151, No 74 C;\nrepeated in Mittler, No 79. #A c#, a fragment from the same source as\nthe preceding, and written down at the beginning of this century, 35 vv,\nReifferscheid, p. 161, I. #B#, 'Es wollt sich ein Markgraf ausreiten,'\nfrom B\u00f6kendorf, Westphalia, as taken down by W. Grimm, in 1813, 41 vv,\nReifferscheid, p. 116. #C a#, 'Die Gerettete,' \"from the Lower Rhine,\"\ntwenty-six two-line stanzas, Zuccalmaglio, No 28, p. 66; Mittler, No 85.\n#C b#, eleven two-line stanzas, Montanus (==Zuccalmaglio) Die deutschen\nVolksfeste, p. 45. #D#, 'Von einem wackern M\u00e4gdlein, Odilia geheissen,'\netc., from the Rhine, 34 vv [Longard], No 24, p. 48. #E#, 'Schondilie,'\nMenzenberg and Breitbach, 59 vv, Simrock, No 7, p. 19; Mittler, No 86.\n#F#, 'Jungfrau Linnich,' communicated by Zuccalmaglio as from the Rhine\nregion, Berg and Mark, fourteen two-line stanzas, Erlach, IV, 598, and\nKretzschmer (nearly), No 92, p. 164; Mittler, No 87. #G a#, 'Ulinger,'\n120 vv, Nuremberg broadside \"of about 1555\" (B\u00f6hme) in Wunderhorn, ed.\n1857, IV, 101, B\u00f6hme, No 13^a, p. 56. #G b c#, Basel broadsides, \"of\nabout 1570\" (B\u00f6hme), and of 1605, in Uhland, No 74 A, I, 141; Mittler,\nNo 77. #H#, 'Adelger,' 120 vv, an Augsburg broadside, \"of about 1560\"\n(B\u00f6hme), Uhland, No 74 B, I, 146; B\u00f6hme, No 13^b, p. 58; Mittler, No\n76. #I#, 'Der Brautm\u00f6rder,' in the dialect of the Kuhl\u00e4ndchen (Northeast\nMoravia and Austrian Silesia), 87 vv, Meinert, p. 61; Mittler, No 80.\n#J#, 'Annele,' Swabian, from Hirrlingen and Obernau, 80 vv, Meier,\nSchw\u00e4bische V. L., No 168, p. 298. #K#, another Swabian version, from\nHirrlingen, Immenried, and many other localities, 80 vv, Scherer,\nJungbrunnen, No 5 B, p. 25. #L a#, from the Swabian-W\u00fcrtemberg border,\n81 VV, Birlinger, Schw\u00e4bisch-Augsburgisches W\u00f6rterbuch, p. 458. #L b#,\n[Birlinger], Schw\u00e4bische V. L., p. 159, from Immenried, nearly word for\nword the same. #M#, 'Der falsche S\u00e4nger,' 40 vv, Meier, No 167, p. 296.\n#N#, 'Es reitets ein Ritter durch Haber und Klee,' 43 vv, a fifth\nSwabian version, from Hirrlingen, Meier, p. 302. #O#, 'Alte Ballade die\nin Entlebuch noch gesungen wird,' twenty-three double stanzas, in the\nlocal dialect, Schweizerbl\u00e4tter von Henne und Reithard, 1833, II^R\nJahrgang, 210-12. #P#, 'Das Guggibader-Lied,' twenty-one treble stanzas\n(23?), in the Aargau dialect, Rochholz, Schweizersagen aus dem Aargau,\n#I# 24. #Q#, 'Es sitzt gut Ritter auf und ritt,' a copy taken down in\n1815 by J. Grimm, from the recitation of a lady who had heard it as a\nchild in German Bohemia, 74 vv, Reifferscheid, p. 162. #R#, 'Bie wr\u00fce\ni\u015ft auv der ritter\u015fm\u00e0n, 'in the dialect of Gottschee, Carniola,\n86 vv, Schr\u00f6er, Sitzungsberichte der Wiener Ak., phil-hist. Cl, LX, 462.\n#S#, 'Das Lied von dem falschen Rittersmann,' 60 vv, from Styria,\nRosegger and Heuberger, Volkslieder aus Steiermark, No 19, p. 17. #T#,\n'Ulrich und \u00c4nnchen,'[36] 49 vv, Herder's Volkslieder, 1778, I, 79;\nMittler, No 78. #U#, 'Sch\u00f6n Ulrich und Roth-Aennchen,' 46 vv, in\nTaschenbuch f\u00fcr Dichter und Dichterfreunde, Abth. viii, 126, 1778, from\nUpper Lusatia (slightly altered by the contributor, Meissner); Mittler,\nNo 84. A copy from Kapsdorf, in Hoffmann and Richter's Schlesische V.\nL., No 13, p. 27, is the same, differing by only three words. #V#,\n'Sch\u00f6n-Aennelein,' 54 vv, from the eastern part of Brandenburg, Erk u.\nIrmer, 6th Heft, p. 64, No 56 (stanzas 4-8 from the preceding). #W#,\n'Sch\u00f6n Ullerich und Hanselein,' twenty-nine two-line stanzas, from the\nneighborhood of Breslau, in Gr\u00e4ter's Idunna und Hermode, No 35, Aug. 29,\n1812, following p. 140. The same in Schlesische V. L., No 12, p. 23,\n'Sch\u00f6n Ulrich u. Rautendelein,' with a stanza (12) inserted; and\nMittler, No 81. #X#, 'Der Albrecht u. der Hanselein,' 42 vv, from\nNatangen, East Prussia, in Neue preussische Provinzial-Bl\u00e4tter, 2d\nseries, III, 158, No 8. #Y#, 'Ulrich u. Annle,' nineteen two-line\nstanzas, a second Kuhl\u00e4ndchen version, Meinert, p. 66; Mittler, No 83.\n#Z a#, 'Von einem frechen R\u00e4uber, Herr Ulrich geheissen,' nineteen\ntwo-line stanzas, from the Rhine [Longard], No 23, p. 46. #Z b#,\n'Ulrich,' as sung on the Lower Rhine, the same ballad, with unimportant\nverbal differences, and the insertion of one stanza (7, the editor's?),\nZuccalmaglio, No 15, p. 39; Mittler, No 82.\n\nThe German ballads, as Grundtvig has pointed out, divide into three\nwell-marked classes. The first class, embracing the versions #A-F# (6),\nand coming nearest to English and Dutch tradition, has been found along\nthe lower half of the Rhine and in Westphalia, or in Northwest Germany;\nthe second, including #G-S# (13), is met with in Swabia, Switzerland,\nBohemia, Moravia, Styria, Carniola, or in South Germany; the third,\n#T-Z# (7), in East Prussia, the eastern part of Brandenburg and of\nSaxony, Silesia, and, again, Moravia, or, roughly speaking, in North and\nEast Germany; but, besides the Moravian, there is also of this third\nclass one version, in two copies, from the Rhine.\n\n(I.) #A# runs thus. She that would ride out with Gert Olbert must dress\nin silk and gold. When fair Helena had so attired herself, she called\nfrom her window, Gert Olbert, come and fetch the bride. He took her by\nher silken gown and swung her on behind him, and they rode three days\nand nights. Helena then said, We must eat and drink; but Gert Olbert\nsaid, We must go on further. They rode over the green heath, and Helena\nonce more tenderly asked for refreshment. Under yon fir [linden], said\nGert Olbert, and kept on till they came to a green spot, where nine\nmaids were hanging. Then it was, Wilt thou choose the fir-tree, the\nrunning stream, or the naked sword? She chose the sword, but begged him\nto take off his silken coat, \"for a maid's blood spirts far, and I\nshould be sorry to spatter it.\" While he was engaged in drawing off his\ncoat, she cut off his head. But still the false tongue spoke. It bade\nher blow in his horn; then she would have company enough. She was not so\nsimple as to do this. She rode three days and nights, and blew the horn\nwhen she reached her father's castle. Then all the murderers came\nrunning, like hounds after a hare. Frau Clara [Jutte] called out, Where\nis my son? Under the fir-tree, sporting with nine maids; he meant me to\nbe the tenth, said Helena.\n\n#B# is the same story told of a margrave and Fair Annie, but some\nimportant early stanzas are lost, and the final ones have suffered\ninjury; for the ballad ends with this conceit, \"She put the horn to her\nmouth, and blew the margrave quite out of her heart.\" Here, by a\ntransference exceedingly common in tradition, it is the man, and not the\nmaid, that \"would ride in velvet and silk and red gold.\"\n\n#C a# has the names Odilia and Hilsinger, a trooper (reiter). Odilia was\nearly left an orphan, and as she grew up \"she grew into the trooper's\nbosom.\" He offered her seven pounds of gold to be his, and \"she thought\nseven pounds of gold a good thing.\" We now fall into the track of #A#.\nOdilia dresses herself like a bride, and calls to the trooper to come\nand get her. They ride first to a high hill, where she asks to eat and\ndrink, and then go on to a linden-tree, on which seven maids are\nhanging. The choice of three deaths is offered, the sword chosen, he is\nentreated to spare his coat, she seizes his sword and hews off his head.\nThe false tongue suggests blowing the horn. Odilia thinks \"much biding\nor blowing is not good.\" She rides away, and presently meets the\ntrooper's \"little foot-page\" (bot), who fancies she has Hilsinger's\nhorse and sword. \"He sleeps,\" she says, \"with seven maids, and thought I\nwas to be the eighth.\" This copy concludes with a manifestly spurious\nstanza. #C b# agrees with #C a# for ten stanzas, as to the matter, and\nso far seems to be #C a# improved by Zuccalmaglio, with such\nsubstitutions as a princely castle for \"seven pounds of gold.\" The last\nstanza (11),\n\n Und als die Sternlein am Himmel klar,\n Ottilia die achte der Todten war,\n\nwas, no doubt, suggested by the last of #F#, another of Zuccalmaglio's\nversions, and, if genuine, would belong to a ballad of the third class.\n\n#D# has the name Odilia for the maid, but the knight, or trooper, has\nbecome expressly a robber (ritter, reiter, r\u00e4uber). They ride to a green\nheath, where there is a cool spring. Odilia asks for and gets a draught\nof water, and is told that at the linden-tree there will be eating and\ndrinking for them. And when they come to the linden, there hang six,\nseven maids! All proceeds as before. The talking head is lost. Odilia\nmeets the robber's mother, and makes the usual reply.[37]\n\n#E# resembles #C# closely. Odilia becomes Schondilg (Sch\u00f6n Odilie),\nR\u00e4uber returns to Ritter, or Reiter, and the servant-maid bribe of seven\npounds of gold rises to ten tons.[38] Schondilg's toilet, preparatory to\ngoing off (6-8), is described with a minuteness that we find only in the\nDutch ballad (12-16). After this, there is no important variation. She\nmeets the trooper's three brothers, and makes the same replies to them\nas to the mother in #D#.\n\n#F.# The personages here are Linnich (i.e., Nellie) and a knight from\nEngland. The first twelve stanzas do not diverge from #C#, #D#, #E#. In\nstanza 13 we find the knight directing the lady to strip off her silk\ngown and gold necklace, as in the English #C#, #D#, #E#; but certainly\nthis inversion of the procedure which obtains in German #C#, #D#, #E# is\nan accident arising from confused recollection. The 14th and last stanza\nsimilarly misunderstands the maid's feigned anxiety about the knight's\nfine coat, and brings the ballad to a false close, resembling the\ntermination of those of the third class, still more those of certain\nmixed forms to be spoken of presently.\n\n(II.) The second series, #G-S#, has three or four traits that are not\nfound in the foregoing ballads. #G#, which, as well as #H#, was in print\nmore than two hundred years before any other copy is known to have been\ntaken down, begins, like the Dutch Halewijn, with a knight (Ulinger)\nsinging so sweetly that a maid (Fridburg) is filled with desire to go\noff with him. He promises to teach her his art. This magical song is\nwanting only in #R#, of class II, and the promise to teach it only in\n#Q#, #R#. She attires herself splendidly; he swings her on to his horse\nbehind him, and they ride to a wood. When they came to the wood there\nwas no one there but a white dove on a hazel-bush, that sang, Listen,\nFridburg: Ulinger has hanged eleven[39] maids; the twelfth is in his\nclutches. Fridburg asked what the dove was saying. Ulinger replied, It\ntakes me for another; it lies in its red bill; and rode on till it\nsuited him to alight. He spread his cloak on the grass, and asked her to\nsit down:\n\n Er sprach sie solt ihm lausen,\n Sein gelbes Haar zerzausen.[40]\n\nLooking up into her eyes, he saw tears, and asked why she was weeping.\nWas it for her sorry husband? Not for her sorry husband, she said. But\nhere some stanzas, which belong to another ballad,[41] have crept in,\nand she is, with no reason, made to ride further on. She comes to a\nlofty fir, and eleven maids hanging on it. She wrings her hands and\ntears her hair, and implores Ulinger to let her be hanged in her clothes\nas she is.\n\n 'Ask me not that, Fridburg,' he said;\n 'Ask me not that, thou good young maid;\n Thy scarlet mantle and kirtle black\n Will well become my young sister's back.'\n\nThen she begs to be allowed three cries.\n\n 'So much I may allow thee well,\n Thou art so deep within the dell;\n So deep within the dell we lie,\n No man can ever hear thy cry.'\n\nShe cries, \"Help, Jesu!\" \"Help, Mary!\" \"Help, dear brother!\"\n\n 'For if thou come not straight,\n For my life 't will be too late!'\n\nHer brother seems to hear his sister's voice \"in every sense.\"\n\n He let his falcon fly,\n Rode off with hounds in full cry;\n With all the haste he could\n He sped to the dusky wood.\n\n 'What dost thou here, my Ulinger?\n What dost thou here, my master dear?'\n 'Twisting a withe, and that is all,\n To make a halter for my foal.'\n\n 'Twisting a withe, and that is all,\n To make a halter for thy foal!\n I swear by my troth thus shall it be,\n Thyself shalt be the foal for me.'\n\n 'Then this I beg, my Fridburger,\n Then this I beg, my master dear,\n That thou wilt let me hang\n In my clothes as now I stand.'\n\n 'Ask me not that, thou Ulinger,\n Ask me not that, false perjurer;\n Thy scarlet mantle and jerkin black\n Will well become my scullion's back.'\n\n His shield before his breast he slung,\n Behind him his fair sister swung,\n And so he hied away\n Where his father's kingdom lay.\n\n#H#, the nearly contemporaneous Augsburg broadside, differs from #G# in\nonly one important particular. The \"reuter\" is Adelger, the lady\nunnamed. A stanza is lost between 6 and 7, which should contain the\nwarning of the dove, and so is Adelger's version of what the bird had\nsaid. The important feature in #H#, not present in #G#, is that the halt\nis made near a spring, about which blood is streaming, \"der war mit blut\numbrunnenn.\" This adds a horror to this powerful scene which well suits\nwith it. When the maid begins to weep, Adelger asks whether her tears\nare for her father's land, or because she dislikes him so much. It is\nfor neither reason, but because on yon fir she sees eleven maids\nhanging. He confirms her fears:\n\n 'Ah, thou fair young lady fine,\n O palsgravine, O empress mine,\n Adelger 's killed his eleven before,\n Thou 'lt be the twelfth, of that be sure.'[42]\n\nThe last two lines seem, by their form, to be the dove's warning that\nhas dropped out between stanzas 6 and 7. The maid's clothes in #H# are\ndestined to be the perquisite of Adelger's mother, and the brother says\nthat Adelger's are to go to his shield-bearer. The unhappy maid cries\nbut twice, to the Virgin and to her brother. When surprised by the\nbrother, Adelger feigns to be twisting a withe for his falcon.\n\n#I# begins, like #G#, #H#, with the knight's seductive song. Instead of\nthe dove directly warning the maid, it upbraids the man: \"Whither now,\nthou Ollegehr?[43] Eight hast thou murdered already; and now for the\nninth!\" The maid asks what the dove means, and is told to ride on, and\nnot mind the dove, who takes him for another man. There are eight maids\nin the fir. The cries are to Jesus, Mary, and her brothers, one of whom\nhastens to the rescue. He is struck with the beauty of his sister's\nattire,--her velvet dress, her virginal crown, \"which you shall wear\nmany a year yet.\" So saying, he draws his sword, and whips off his\n\"brother-in-law's\" head, with this epicedium:\n\n 'Lie there, thou head, and bleed,\n Thou never didst good deed.\n\n 'Lie there, thou head, and rot,\n No man shall mourn thy lot.\n\n 'No one shall ever be sorry for thee\n But the small birds on the greenwood tree.'[44]\n\nIn #J#, again, the knight comes riding through the reeds, and sings such\na song that Brown Annele, lying under the casement, exclaims, \"Could I\nbut sing like him, I would give my troth and my honor!\" There are, by\nmistake, two[45] doves in stanza 4, that warn Annele not to be beguiled,\nbut this error is set right in the next stanza. When she asks what the\ndove is cooing, the answer is, \"It is cooing about its red foot; it went\nbarefoot all winter.\" We have here again, as in #H#, the spring in the\nwood, \"mit Blute umrunnen,\" and the lady asks again the meaning of the\nbloody spring. The knight replies, in a stanza which seems both\ncorrupted and out of place, \"This is where the eleven pure virgins\nperished.\" Then follow the same incidents as in #G-I#. He says she must\nhang with the eleven in the fir, and be queen over all. Her cries are\nfor her father, for Our Lady, and for her brother, who is a hunter in\nthe forest. The hunter makes all haste to his sister, twists a withe,\nand hangs the knight without a word between them, then takes his sister\nby the hand and conducts her home, with the advice never more to trust a\nknight: for all which she returns her devout thanks.[46]\n\n#K# and #L# are of the same length and the same tenor as #J#. There are\nno names in #L#; in #K# both Annele and Ulrich, but the latter is very\nlikely to have been inserted by the editor. #K#, #L# have only one dove,\nand in neither does the lady ask the meaning of the dove's song. The\nknight simply says, \"Be still; thou liest in thy throat!\" Both have the\nbloody spring, but out of place, for it is very improperly spoken of by\nthe knight as the spot he is making for:\n\n 'Wir wollen ein wenig weiter vorw\u00e4rts faren,\n Bis zu einem k\u00fchlen Waldbrunnen,\n Der ist mit Blut \u00fcberronnen.'[47]\n\n L 26-28, 17-19.\n\nThe three cries are for father, mother, brother. In #K# the brother\nfights with \"Ulrich\" two hours and a half before he can master him, then\ndespatches him with his two-edged sword, and hangs him in a withe. He\nfires his rifle in #L#, to announce his coming, and hears his sister's\nlaugh; then stabs the knight through the heart. The moral of #J# is\nrepeated in both: Stay at home, and trust no knight.\n\n#M# smacks decidedly of the b\u00e4nkels\u00e4nger, and has an appropriate moral\nat the tail: _animi index cauda!_ The characters are a cavalier and a\ngirl, both nameless, and a brother. The girl, hearing the knight sing\n\"ein Liedchen von dreierlei Stimmen,\" which should seem to signify a\nthree-part song, says, \"Ah, could I sing like him, I would straightway\ngive him my honor.\" They ride to the wood, and come upon a hazel-bush\nwith _three_ doves, one of which informs the maid that she will be\nbetrayed, the second that she will die that day, and the third that she\nwill be buried in the wood. The second and third doves, as being false\nprophets, and for other reasons, may safely be pronounced intruders. All\nis now lost till we come to the cries, which are addressed to father,\nmother, and brother. The brother stabs the traitor to the heart.[48]\n\n#N# is as short as #M#, and, like it, has no names, but has all the\nprincipal points: the fascinating song, the dove on the bush, eleven\nmaids in the fir, the three cries, and the rescue by the\nhuntsman-brother, who cocks his gun and shoots the knight. The reciter\nof this ballad gave the editor to understand that if the robber had\nsucceeded in his twelfth murder, he would have attained such powers that\nnobody after that could harm him.[49]\n\n#O# is a fairly well-preserved ballad, resembling #G-J# as to the course\nof the story. Anneli, lying under the casement, hears the knight singing\nas he rides through the reeds. The elaborate toilet is omitted, as in\n#I#, #J#. The knight makes haste to the dark wood. They come to a cold\nspring, \"mit Bluot war er \u00fcberrunnen;\" then to a hazel, behind which a\ndove coos ominously. Anneli says, Listen. The dove coos you are a false\nman, that will not spare my life. No, says the knight, that is not it;\nthe dove is cooing about its blue foot, for its fate is to freeze in\nwinter. The cloak is thrown on the grass, the eleven maids in the fir\nare descried, and Anneli is told she must hang highest, and be empress\nover all. He concedes her as many cries as she likes, for only the\nwood-birds will hear. She calls on God, the Virgin, and her brother. The\nbrother thinks he hears his sister's voice, calls to his groom to\nsaddle, comes upon the knight while he is twisting a withe for his\nhorse, as he says, ties him to the end of the withe, and makes him pay\nfor all he has perpetrated in the wood. He then swings Anneli behind\nhim, and rides home with her.\n\n#P#, the other Swiss ballad, has been retouched, and more than\nretouched in places, by a modern pen. Still the substance of the story,\nand, on the whole, the popular tone, is preserved. Fair Anneli, in the\nmiller's house, hears the knight singing as he rides through the rushes,\nand runs down-stairs and calls to him: she would go off with him if she\ncould sing like that, and her clothes are fit for any young lady. The\nknight promises that he will teach her his song if she will go with him,\nand bids her put these fine clothes on. They ride to the wood. A dove\ncalls from the hazel, \"He will betray thee.\" Anneli asks what the dove\nis saying, and is answered much as in #J# and #O#, that it is talking\nabout its frost-bitten feet and claws. The knight tears through the\nwood, to the great peril of Anneli's gown and limbs, and when he has\ncome to the right place, spreads his cloak on the grass, and makes the\nusual request. She weeps when she sees eleven maids in the fir-tree, and\nreceives the customary consolation:\n\n 'Weep not too sore, my Anneli,\n 'Tis true thou art doomed the twelfth to be;\n Up to the highest tip must thou go,\n And a margravine be to all below;\n Must be an empress over the rest,\n And hang the highest of all as the best.'\n\nThe request to be allowed three cries is lost. The knight tells her to\ncry as much as she pleases, he knows no one will come; the wild birds\nwill not hear, and the doves are hushed. She cries to father, mother,\nand brother. The brother, who is sitting over his wine at the inn,\nhears, saddles his best horse, rides furiously, and comes first to a\nspring filled with locks of maid's hair and red with maid's blood; then\nto a bush, where the knight (R\u00fcdeli, Rudolph) is twisting his withe. He\nbids his sister be silent, for the withe is not for her; the villain is\ntwisting it for his own neck, and shall be dragged at the tail of his\nhorse.\n\n#Q# resembles the Swabian ballads, and presents only these variations\nfrom the regular story. The dove adds to the warning, \"Fair maid, be not\nbeguiled,\" what we find nowhere else, \"Yonder I see a cool spring,\naround which blood is running.\" The knight, to remove the maid's\nanxiety, says, \"Let it talk; it does not know me; I am no such\nmurderer.\" The end is excessively feeble. When the brother, a hunter as\nbefore, reaches his sister, \"a robber runs away,\" and then the brother\ntakes her by the hand, conducts her to her father's land, and enjoins\nher to stay at home and spin silk. There are no names.\n\nThere is one feature entirely peculiar to #R#. The knight carries off\nthe maid, as before, but when they come to the hazel bush there are\neleven doves that sing this \"new song:\"\n\n 'Be not beguiled, maiden,\n The knight is beguiling thee:\n\n 'We are eleven already,\n Thou shalt be the twelfth.'\n\nThe eleven doves are of course the spirits of the eleven preceding\nvictims. The maid's inquiry as to what they mean is lost. The knight's\nevasion is not ingenious, but more likely to allay suspicion than simply\nsaying, \"I am no such murderer.\" He says, \"Fear not: the doves are\nsinging a song that is common in these parts.\" When they come to the\nspring \"where blood and water are running,\" and the maid asks what\nstrange spring is this, the knight answers in the same way, and perhaps\ncould not do better: \"Fear not: _there is_ in these parts a spring that\nruns blood and water.\" This spring is misplaced, for it occurs before\nthey enter the wood. The last scene in the ballad is incomplete, and\ngoes no further than the brother's exclamation when he comes in upon the\nknight: \"Stop, young knight! Spare my sister's life.\" The parties in #R#\nare nameless.\n\nSo again in #S#, which also has neither the knight's enchanting song nor\nthe bloody spring. There are two doves, as in #J#, stanza 4. The cries\nare addressed to mother, father, brother, as in #N#, and, as in #N#,\nagain, the brother cocks his gun, and shoots the knight down;[50] then\ncalmly leads his sister home, with the warning against knights.\n\n(III.) #T#, the first of the third series, has marked signs of\ndeterioration. Ulrich does not enchant \u00c4nnchen by his song, and promise\nto teach it to her; he offers to teach her \"bird-song.\" They _walk_ out\ntogether, apparently, and come to a hazel, with no dove; neither is\nthere any spring. Annie sits down on the grass; Ulrich lays his head in\nher lap; she weeps, and he asks why. It is for eleven maids in the\nfir-tree, as so often before. Ulrich's style has become much tamer:\n\n 'Ah, Annie, Annie, dear to me,\n How soon shalt thou the twelfth one be!'\n\nShe begs for three cries, and calls to her father, to God, to her\nyoungest brother. The last is sitting over the wine and hears. He\ndemands of Ulrich where she is, and is told, Upon yon linden, spinning\nsilk. Then ensues this dialogue: Why are your shoes blood-red? Why not?\nI have shot a dove. That dove my mother bare under her breast. Annie is\nlaid in the grave, and angels sing over her; Ulrich is broken on the\nwheel, and round him the ravens cry.\n\nThere is no remnant or reminiscence of the magical singing in #U#. Sch\u00f6n\nUlrich and Roth \u00c4nnchen go on a walk, and come first to a fir-tree, then\na green mead. The next scene is exactly as in #T#. Ulrich says the\neleven maids were his wives, and that he had thrust his sword through\ntheir hearts. Annie asks for three _sighs_, and directs them to God, to\nJesus, and to her youngest brother. He is sitting over his wine, when\nthe sigh comes into the window, and Ulrich simultaneously in at the\ndoor. The remainder is very much as in #T#.\n\n#V# differs from #U# only in the names, which are Sch\u00f6n-Heinrich and\nSch\u00f6n-\u00c4nnelein, and in the \"sighs\" returning to cries, which invoke God,\nfather, and brother.\n\n#W# begins with a rivalry between Ulrich and Hanselein[51] for the hand\nof Rautendelein (Rautendchen). Ulrich is successful. She packs up her\njewels, and he takes her to a wood, where she sees eleven maids hanging.\nHe assures her she shall presently be the twelfth. It is then they sit\ndown, and she leans her head on his breast and weeps, \"because,\" as she\nsays, \"I must die.\" His remark upon this, if there was any, is lost.\nHoffmann inserts a stanza from another Silesian copy, in which Ulrich\nsays, Rather than spare thy life, I will run an iron stake through thee.\nShe asks for three cries, and he says, Four, if you want. She prefers\nfour, and calls to her father, mother, sister, brother. The brother, as\nhe sits over the wine, hears the cry, and almost instantly Ulrich comes\nin at the door. He pretends to have killed a dove; the brother knows\nwhat dove, and hews off Ulrich's head, with a speech like that in #I#.\nStill, as Rautendchen is brought to the grave, with toll of bells, so\nUlrich is mounted on the wheel, where ravens shriek over him.\n\n#X.# Albrecht and H\u00e4nselein woo Alalein. She is promised to Albrecht,\nbut H\u00e4nsel gets her. He takes her to a green mead, spreads his mantle on\nthe grass, and she sits down. His lying in her lap and her discovery of\nthe awful tree are lost. She weeps, and he tells her she shall be \"his\neleventh.\" Her cries are condensed into one stanza:\n\n 'Gott Vater, Sohn, Herr Jesu Christ,\n Mein j\u00fcngster Bruder, wo Du bist!'\n\nHer brother rides in the direction of the voice, and meets H\u00e4nselein in\nthe wood, who says Alalein is sitting with princes and counts. The\nconclusion is as in #T#, #U#, #V#.\n\n#Y# has Ansar Uleraich wooing a king's daughter, Annle, to the eighth\nyear. He takes her to a fir-wood, then to a fir, a stump of a tree, a\nspring; in each case bidding her sit down. At the spring he asks her if\nshe wishes to be drowned, and, upon her saying no, cuts off her head.\nHe has not walked half a mile before he meets her brother. The brother\ninquires where Ulrich has left his sister, and the reply is, \"By the\ngreen Rhine.\" The conclusion is as in #W#. Ulrich loses his head, and\nthe brother pronounces the imprecation which is found there and in\nI.[52]\n\n#Z#, which takes us back from Eastern Germany to the Rhine, combines\nfeatures from all the three groups. Ulrich fascinates a king's daughter\nby his song. She collects her gold and jewels, as in #W#, and goes to a\nwood, where a dove warns her that she will be betrayed. Ulrich\nappropriates her valuables, and they wander about till they come to the\nRhine. There he takes her into a wood, and gives her a choice between\nhanging and drowning, and, she declining both, says she shall die by his\nsword. But first she is allowed three cries,--to God, her parents, her\nyoungest brother. The youngest brother demands of Ulrich where he has\nleft his sister. \"Look in my pocket, and you shall find fourteen\ntongues, and the last cut [reddest] of all is your sister's.\" The words\nwere scarcely out of his mouth before Ulrich's sword had taken off his\nhead.\n\nThe three classes of the German ballad, it will be observed, have for\ntheir principal distinction that in I the maid saves her own life by an\nartifice, and takes the life of her treacherous suitor; in II, she is\nrescued by her brother, who also kills the traitor; in III, she dies by\nthe villain's hand, and he by her brother's, or by a public execution.\nThere are certain subordinate traits which are constant, or nearly so,\nin each class. In I, #A-F#, a choice of deaths is invariably offered;\nthe maid gets the advantage of the murderer by persuading him to take\noff his coat [distorted in #F#, which has lost its conclusion]; and, on\nher way home, she falls in with one or more of the robber's family,\nmother, brothers, servant, who interrogate her [except #F#, which, as\njust said, is a fragment]. Class II has several marks of its own. All\nthe thirteen ballads [#G-S#], except the last, represent the knight as\nfascinating the maid by his singing; in all but #Q# she is warned of her\ndanger by a dove,[53] or more than one; in all but the much-abridged\n#M#, #N#, the knight spreads his cloak on the grass, they sit down, and,\nexcepting #M#, #N#, #R#, the unromantic service is repeated which she\nundertakes in Danish #A#, #B#, #D#, #E#, #F#, #H#, #L#, Swedish #A#,\nNorwegian #A#, #B#. The bloody spring occurs in some form, though often\nnot quite intelligible, in #H#, #J#, #K#, #L#, #O#, #P#, #Q#, #R# (also\nin #D#, #Y#). All but the much-abridged #M#, #N# have the question, What\nare you weeping for? your father's land, humbled pride, lost honor?\netc.; but this question recurs in #T#, #U#, #V#, #W#. The cries for help\nare a feature of both the second and the third class, and are wanting\nonly in #Y#. Class III differs from I, and resembles II, in having the\ncries for help, and, in the less impaired forms, #T-W#, the knight\nspreads his cloak, lies down with his head in the lady's lap, and asks\nthe cause of her tears. Beyond this, and the changed catastrophe, the\nballads of Class III are distinguished by what they have lost.\n\nForms in which the story of this is mixed with that of some other German\nballad remain to be noticed.\n\n#A.# A ballad first published in Nicolai's Almanach, II, 100, No 21\n(1778), and since reprinted, under the titles, 'Liebe ohne Stand,' 'Der\nRitter und die K\u00f6nigstochter,' etc., but never with absolute fidelity,\nin Wunderhorn (1819), I, 37 (==Erlach, II, 120), Kretzschmer, No 72, I,\n129; Mittler, No 89; Erk, Neue Sammlung, iii, 18, No 14; also, with a\nfew changes, by Zuccalmaglio, No. 95, p. 199, as 'aus Schwaben;' by Erk,\nLiederhort, No 28, p. 90, as \"corrected from oral tradition;\" and as\n\"from oral tradition,\" in Erk's Wunderhorn (1857), I, 39. Independent\nversions are given by Mittler, No 90, p. 83, from Oberhessen; Pr\u00f6hle,\nWeltliche u. geistliche Volkslieder, No 5, p. 10, from the Harz;\nReifferscheid, No 18, p. 36, from B\u00f6kendorf. Erk refers to still another\ncopy, five stanzas longer than Nicolai's, from Hesse-Darmstadt, Neue\nSammlung, iii, 19, note.\n\nWhat other ballad is here combined with Ulinger, it is impossible to\nmake out. The substance of the narrative is that a knight rides singing\nthrough the reeds, and is heard by a king's daughter, who forthwith\ndesires to go with him. They ride till the horse is hungry [tired]; he\nspreads his cloak on the grass, and makes, _sans fa\u00e7on_, his usual\nrequest. The king's daughter sheds many tears, and he asks why. \"Had I\nfollowed my father's counsel, I might have been empress.\" The knight\ncuts off her head at the word, and says, Had you held your tongue, you\nwould have kept your head. He throws the body behind a tree, with Lie\nthere and rot; my young heart must mourn [no knight, a knight, shall\nmourn over thee]. Another stanza or two, found in some versions, need\nnot be particularly noticed.\n\n'Stolz Sieburg,' Simrock, No 8, p. 21, from the Rhine, Mittler, No 88,\nis another and somewhat more rational form of the same story. To the\nquestion whether she is weeping for Gut, Muth, Ehre, the king's daughter\nanswers:\n\n 'Ich wein um meine Ehre,\n Ich wollt gern wieder umkehren.'\n\nFor this Stolz Sieburg strikes off her head, with a speech like that\nwhich we have just had, and throws it into a spring; then resolves to\nhang himself.[54]\n\nA #Dutch# version of this ballad, Le Jeune, No 92, p. 292; Willems, No\n72, p. 186; Hoffmann, No 29, p. 92, has less of the Halewyn in it, and\nmore motive than the German, though less romance. \"If you might have\nbeen an empress,\" says the knight, \"I, a margrave's son, will marry you\nto-morrow.\" \"I would rather lose my head than be your wife,\" replies the\nlady; upon which he cuts off her head and throws it into a fountain,\nsaying, Lie there, smiling mouth! Many a thousand pound have you cost\nme, and many pence of red gold. Your head is clean cut off.\n\n#B.# The Ulinger story is also found combined with that of the beautiful\nballad, 'Wassermanns Braut.'[55] (1.) In a Transylvanian ballad,\n'Brautm\u00f6rder,' Schuster, Siebenb\u00fcrgisch-s\u00e4chsische Volkslieder, p. 57,\nNo 54 #A#, 38 vv, with variations, and p. 59, #B#, a fragment of 10 vv;\n(#A# in a translation, B\u00f6hme, No 14, p. 61.) A king from the Rhine sues\nseven years for a king's daughter, and does not prevail till the eighth.\nShe begs her mother not to consent, for she has seen it in the sun that\nshe shall not long be her daughter, in the moon that she shall drown\nbefore the year is out, in the bright stars that her blood shall be\ndispersed far and wide. He takes her by the hand, and leads her through\na green wood, at the end of which a grave is already made. He pushes her\ninto the grave, and drives a stake through her heart. The princess'\nbrother asks what has become of his sister. \"I left her on the Rhine,\ndrinking mead and wine.\" \"Why are your skirts so bloody?\" \"I have shot a\nturtle-dove.\" \"That turtle-dove was, mayhap, my sister.\" They spit him\non a red-hot stake, and roast him like a fish. Lines 1-4 of this ballad\ncorrespond to 1-4 of #Y# (which last agree with 1-4 of Meinert's\n'Wassermanns Braut'); 17, 18, to #Y# 5, 6; 25-34 to 21-30; and we find\nin verse 22 the stake through the heart which Hoffmann has interpolated\nin #W#, stanza 12.\n\n(2.) A Silesian copy of 'Wassermanns Braut,' co[llecte]d by [Ho]ffman\ncontributed to Deutsches Museum, 1852, II, 164, represents the bride,\nafter she has fallen into the water and has been recovered by the nix,\nas asking for three cries, and goes on from this point like the Ulrich\nballad #W#, the conclusion being that the sister is drowned before the\nbrother comes to her aid.[56]\n\n'Nun sch\u00fcrz dich, Gredlein,' \"Forster's Frische Liedlein, No 66,\" B\u00f6hme,\nNo 53, Uhland, No 256 A, which is of the date 1549, and therefore older\nthan the Nuremberg and Augsburg broadsides, has derived stanzas 7-9 from\nan Ulinger ballad, unless this passage is to be regarded as common\nproperty. Some copies of the ballad commonly called 'M\u00fcllert\u00fccke' have\nalso adopted verses from Ulinger, especially that in Meier's Schw\u00e4bische\nVolkslieder, No 233, p. 403.\n\nA form of ballad resembling English #C-F#, but with some important\ndifferences, is extraordinarily diffused in #Poland#. There is also a\nsingle version of the general type of English #A#, or, better, of the\nfirst class of the German ballads. This version, #A#, Pauli,\nPie\u015b\u0144i ludu Polskiego w Galicyi, p. 90, No 5, and Kolberg,\nPie\u015bni ludu Polskiego, No 5, #bbb#, p. 70, runs thus. There was a man\nwho went about the world wiling away young girls from father and mother.\nHe had already done this with eight; he was now carrying off the ninth.\nHe took her to a frightful wood; then bade her look in the direction of\nher house. She asked, \"What is that white thing that I see on yon fir?\"\n\"There are already eight of them,\" he said, \"and you shall be the ninth;\nnever shall you go back to your father and mother. Take off that gown,\nMaria.\" Maria was looking at his sword. \"Don't touch, Maria, for you\nwill wound your pretty little hands.\" \"Don't mind my hands, John,\" she\nreplied, \"but rather see what a bold heart I have;\" and instantly John's\nhead flew off. Then follows a single stanza, which seems to be addressed\nto John's mother, after the manner of the German #A#, etc.: \"See, dear\nmother! I am thy daughter-in-law, who have just put that traitor out of\nthe world.\" There is a moral for conclusion, which is certainly a later\naddition.\n\nThe other ballads may be arranged as follows, having regard chiefly to\nthe catastrophe. #B#, Kolberg, No 5, #oo#: #C#, #rr#: #D#, #ccc#: #E#,\n#dd#: #F#, #uu#: #G#, #ww#: #H#, #t#: #I#, #u#: #J#, #gg#: #K#, #mm#:\n#L#, Wac\u0142aw z Oleska, p. 483, 2, Kolberg, #p#: #L*#, Koz\u0142owski,\nLud, p. 33, No IV: #M#, Wojcicki, I, 234, Kolberg, #r#: #N#, Wojcicki,\nI, 82, Kolberg, #s#: #O#, Kolberg, #d#: #P#, _ib._ #f#: #Q#, #pp#: #R#,\nWojcicki, I, 78, Kolberg, #e#: #S#, Kolberg, #l#: #T#, _ib._ #n#: #U#,\nPauli, Pje\u015b\u0144i ludu Polskiego w Galicyi, p. 92, No 6, Kolberg, #q#:\n#V#, Kolberg, #y#: #W#, Wojcicki, II, 298, \"J. Lipi\u0144ski, Pie\u015bni\nludu Wielkopolskiego, p. 34,\" Kolberg, #ee#; #X#, Kolberg, #a#: #Y#,\n_ib._ #z#: #Z#, #aa#: #AA#, #qq#: #BB#, #w#; #CC#, #ddd#: #DD#, #m#:\n#EE#, #c#: #FF#, #o#: #GG#, \u0142\u0142: #HH#, #ss#: #II#, #ii#: #JJ#,\n#ff#: #KK#, #tt#: #LL#, #i#: #MM#, #g*#. In #B-K# the woman comes off\nalive from her adventure: in #O-CC#, she loses her life: in #L-N# there\nis a jumble of both conclusions: #DD-MM# are incomplete.[57]\n\nThe story of the larger part of these ballads, conveyed as briefly as\npossible, is this: John, who is watering horses, urges Catherine,[58]\nwho is drawing water, to elope with him. He bids her take silver and\ngold enough, that the horse may have something to carry. Catherine says\nher mother will not allow her to enter the new chamber. Tell her that\nyou have a headache, says John, and she will consent. Catherine feigns a\nheadache, is put into the new chamber, and absconds with John while her\nmother is asleep.[59] At a certain stage, more commonly at successive\nstages,--on the high road, #K#, #P#, #S#, #DD#, #II#, #LL#, in a dark\nwood, #D#, #P#, #T#, #X#, #Z#, #DD#, #EE#, at a spring, #D#, #K#, #S#,\n#T#, #V#, #W#, #X#, #Y#, #Z#, #EE#, #II#, #LL#, etc.,--he bids her take\noff, or himself takes from her, her \"rich attire,\" #D#, #P#, #T#, #V#,\n#W#, #X#, #Y#, #Z#, #DD#, #EE#, her satin gown, #D#, #T#, #X#, #DD#,\n#EE#, her French or Turkish costume, #K#, #P#, #II#, robes of silver,\n#K#, shoes, #Z#, #CC#, #FF#, silk stockings, #T#, corals, #D#, #X#,\n#CC#, #EE#, pearls, #T#, rings, #K#, #O-T#, #X#, #Z#, #CC-FF#, #II#,\n#LL#. In many of the ballads he tells her to go back to her mother,\n#B-G#, #K#, #L*#, #M#, #N#, #Q#, #S#, #U#, #X#, #Y#, #EE#, #HH-LL#,\nsometimes after pillaging her, sometimes without mention of this.\nCatherine generally replies that she did not come away to have to go\nback, #B#, #C#, #D#, #G#, #L*#, #M#, #S#, #U#, #X#, #Y#, #EE#, #HH#,\n#JJ#, #KK#, #LL#. John seizes her by the hands and sides and throws her\ninto a deep river [pool, water, sea]. Her apron [tress, #AA#, #II#, both\napron and tress, #O#, petticoat, #KK#] is caught on a stake or stump of\na tree, #B#, #C#, #G#, #H#, #I#, #O#, #P#, #R#, #T#, #U#, #V#, #W#, #Y#,\n#BB#, #DD#, #EE#, #II#, #JJ#, #KK# [in a bush #D#]. John cuts it away\nwith axe or sword, #G#, #I#, #O#, #R#, #T#, #BB#, #II#, #JJ#. She cries\nto him for help. He replies, \"I did not throw you in to help you\nout,\"[60] #B#, #C#, #F#, #P#, #U#, #V#, #W#, #X#, #Z#, #EE#, #II#.\nCatherine is drawn ashore in a fisherman's net [swims ashore #I#, #J#,\n#GG#].\n\nCatherine comes out from the water alive in #B-N#. The brother who plays\nso important a part in the second class of German ballads, appears also\nin a few of the Polish versions, #B#, #C#, #D#, and #L*#, #O#, #P#, #Q#,\n#X#, but is a mere shadow. In #B# 21, 22, and #C# 16, 17, the brother,\nwho is \"on the mountain,\" and may be supposed to hear the girl's cry,\nslides down a silken cord, which proves too short, and the girl \"adds\nher tress\"! He asks the fishermen to throw their nets for her. She is\nrescued, goes to church, takes an humble place behind the door, and,\nwhen her eyes fall on the young girls, melts into tears. Her apron\ncatches in a bush in #D#: she plucks a leaf, and sends it down the\nstream to her mother's house. The mother says to the father, \"Do you not\nsee how Catherine is perishing?\" The leaf is next sent down stream to\nher sister's house, who says to her brother, \"Do you not see how\nCatherine is perishing?\" He rides up a high mountain, and slides down\nhis silken cord. Though one or two stanzas are lost, or not given, the\ntermination was probably the same as in #B#, #C#. In #L*# 15, #O# 12,\nthe brother, on a high mountain, hears the cry for help, and slides down\nto his sister on a silken cord, but does nothing. #X# does not account\nfor the brother's appearance: he informs the fishermen of what has\nhappened, and they draw Catherine out, evidently dead. The brother hears\nthe cry from the top of a wall in #P# 21, 22; slides down his cord; the\nsister adds her tress; he directs the fishermen to draw her out; she is\ndead. Instead of the brother on the wall, we have a mason in #Q# 27\n[perhaps \"the brother on the wall\" in #P# _is_ a mason]. It is simply\nsaid that \"he added\" a silken cord: the fishermen drew out Catherine\ndead. The conclusion is equally, or more, impotent in all the versions\nin which the girl escapes from drowning. In #G#, #I#, #J#, she seats\nherself on a stone, and apostrophizes her hair, saying [in #G#, #I#],\n\"Dry, my locks, dry, for you have had much pleasure in the river!\" She\ngoes to church, takes an humble place, and weeps, in #E#, #F#, #G#, as\nin #B#, #C#, #D#. John goes scot-free in all these.[61] Not so in the\nmore vigorous ballads of tragic termination. Fierce pursuit is made for\nhim. He is cut to pieces, or torn to pieces, #O#, #P#, #S#, #T#, #Y#;\nbroken on the wheel, #L#, #U#, #V#, #W#; cleft in two, #BB#; broken\nsmall as barley-corns, or quartered, by horses, #L*#, #Z#; committed to\na dungeon, to await, as we may hope, one of these penalties, #Q#, #R#.\nThe bells toll for Catherine [the organs play for her], and she is laid\nin the grave, #O-W#, #Y#, #Z#, #L#, #L*#.\n\nThere are, besides, in various ballads of this second class, special\nresemblances to other European forms. The man (to whom rank of any sort\nis assigned only in #N#[62]) comes from a distant country, or from over\nthe border, in #O#, #Q#, #R#, #T#, #DD#, #GG#, as in English #D#, #E#.\nThe maid is at a window in #M#, #W#, as in German #G#, #J#, #M#, #O#,\n#P#, #Q#, etc. In #Q# 2, John, who has come from over the border,\npersuades the maid to go with him by telling her that in his country\n\"the mountains are golden, the mountains are of gold, the ways of silk,\"\nreminding us of the wonderland in Danish #A#, #E#, etc. After the pair\nhave stolen away, they go one hundred and thirty miles, #O#, #DD#, #FF#;\nthrice nine miles, #Q#; nine and a half miles, #T#; cross one field and\nanother, #M#, #R#; travel all night, #GG#; and neither says a word to\nthe other. We shall find this trait further on in French #B#, #D#,\nItalian #B#, #C#, #D#, #F#, #G#. The choice of deaths which we find in\nGerman #A-F# appears in #J#. Here, after passing through a silent wood,\nthey arrive at the border of the (red) _sea_. She sits down on a stone,\nhe on a rotten tree. He asks, By which death will you die: by my right\nhand, or by drowning in this _river_? They come to a dark wood in #AA#;\nhe seats himself on a beech-trunk, she near a stream. He asks, Will you\nthrow yourself into the river, or go home to your mother? So #H#, and\n#R# nearly.[63] She prefers death to returning. Previous victims are\nmentioned in #T#, #DD#, #HH#. When she calls from the river for help, he\nanswers, #T# 22, You fancy you are the only one there; six have gone\nbefore, and you are the seventh: #HH# 16, Swim the river; go down to the\nbottom; six maids are there already, and you shall be the seventh [four,\nfifth]: #DD# 13, Swim, swim away, to the other side; there you will see\nmy seventh wife.[64]\n\nOther Slavic forms of this ballad resemble more or less the third German\nclass. A #Wendish# version from Upper Lusatia, Haupt and Schmaler, Part\nI, No I, p. 27, makes Hil\u017ei\u010dka (Lizzie) go out before dawn to cut\ngrass. Ho\u0142dra\u0161k suddenly appears, and says she must pay him some\nforfeit for trespassing in his wood. She has nothing but her sickle, her\nsilver finger-ring, and, when these are rejected, her wreath, and that,\nshe says, he shall not have if she dies for it. Ho\u0142dra\u0161k, who\navows that he has had a fancy for her seven years (cf. German #Y#, and\nthe Transylvanian mixed form #B#), gives her her choice, to be cut to\npieces by his sword, or trampled to death by his horse. Which way\npleases him, she says, only she begs for three cries. All three are for\nher brothers. They ride round the wood twice, seeing nobody; the third\ntime Ho\u0142drak comes up to them. Then follows the dialogue about the\nbloody sword and the dove. When asked where he has left\nHi\u0142\u017ei\u010dka, Ho\u0142dra\u0161k is silent. The elder brother seizes\nhim, the younger dispatches him with his sword.\n\nVery similar is a #Bohemian# ballad, translated in Waldau's B\u00f6hmische\nGranaten, II, 25.[65] While Katie is cutting grass, early in the\nmorning, Indriasch presents himself, and demands some for his horse. She\nsays, You must dismount, if your horse is to have grass. \"If I do, I\nwill take away your wreath.\" \"Then God will not grant you his blessing.\"\nHe springs from his horse, and while he gives it grass with one hand\nsnatches at the wreath with the other. \"Will you die, or surrender your\nwreath?\" Take my life, she says, but allow me three cries. Two cries\nreached no human ear, but the third cry her mother heard, and called to\nher sons to saddle, for Katie was calling in the wood, and was in\ntrouble. They rode over stock and stone, and came to a brook where\nIndriasch was washing his hands. The same dialogue ensues as in the\nWendish ballad. The brothers hewed the murderer into fragments.\n\nA #Servian# ballad has fainter but unmistakable traces of the same\ntradition: Vuk, Srpske Narodne Pjesme, I, 282, No 385, ed. 1841;\ntranslated by Goetze, Serbische V. L., p. 99, by Talvj, V. L. der\nSerben, 2d ed., II, 172, by Kapper, Ges\u00e4nge der Serben, II, 318. Mara is\nwarned by her mother not to dance with Thomas. She disobeys. Thomas,\nwhile dancing, gives a sign to his servants to bring horses. The two\nride off, and when they come to the end of a field Thomas says, Seest\nthou yon withered maple? There thou shalt hang, ravens eat out thine\neyes, eagles beat thee with their wings. Mara shrieks, Ah me! so be it\nwith every girl that does not take her mother's advice.[66]\n\n#French.# This ballad is well known in France, and is generally found in\na form resembling the English; that is to say, the scene of the\nattempted murder is the sea or a river (as in no other but the Polish),\nand the lady delivers herself by an artifice. One French version nearly\napproaches Polish #O-CC#.\n\n#A.# 'Renauld et ses quatorze Femmes,' 44 vv, Paymaigre, Chants\npopulaires recueillis dans le pays messin, No 31, I, 140. Renauld\ncarried off the king's daughter. When they were gone half-way, she\ncalled to him that she was dying of hunger (cf. German #A-F#). Eat your\nhand, he answered, for you will never eat bread again. When they had\ncome to the middle of the wood, she called out that she was dying of\nthirst. Drink your blood, he said, for you will never drink wine again.\nWhen they came to the edge of the wood, he said, Do you see that river?\nFourteen dames have been drowned there, and you shall be the fifteenth.\nWhen they came to the river-bank, he bade her put off her cloak, her\nshift. It is not for knights, she said, to see ladies in such plight;\nthey should bandage their eyes with a handkerchief. This Renauld did,\nand the fair one threw him into the river. He laid hold of a branch; she\ncut it off with his sword (cf. the Polish ballad, where the catastrophe,\nand consequently this act, is reversed). \"What will they say if you go\nback without your lover?\" \"I will tell them that I did for you what you\nmeant to do for me.\"[67] \"Reach me your hand; I will marry you Sunday.\"\n\n \"Marry, marry a fish, Renauld,\n The fourteen women down below.\"\n\n#B.# 'De Dion et de la Fille du Roi,' from Auvergne, Amp\u00e8re,\nInstructions, etc., 40 vv, p. 40, stanzas 15-24, the first fourteen\nconstituting another ballad.[68] The pair went five or six leagues\nwithout exchanging a word; only the fair one said, I am so hungry I\ncould eat my fist. Eat it, replied Dion, for you never again will eat\nbread. Then they went five or six leagues in silence, save that she\nsaid, I am so thirsty I could drink my blood. \"Drink it, for you never\nwill drink wine. Over there is a pond in which fifteen ladies have had a\nbath, have drowned themselves, and you will make sixteen.\" Arrived at\nthe pond, he orders her to take off her clothes. She tells him to put\nhis sword under his feet, his cloak before his face, and turn to the\npond; and, when he has done so, pushes him in. Here are my keys! he\ncries. \"I don't want them; I will find locksmiths.\" \"What will your\nfriends say?\" \"I will tell them I did by you as you would have done by\nme.\"\n\n#C.# 'Veux-tu venir, bell' Jeanneton,' 32 vv, from Poitou and Aun\u00eds,\nBujeaud, II, 232. When they reach the water, the fair one asks for a\ndrink. The man says, incoherently enough, Before drinking of this white\nwine I mean to drink your blood. The stanza that should tell how many\nhave been drowned before is lost. Jeanneton, having been ordered to\nstrip, pushes the \"beau galant\" into the sea, while, at her request, he\nis pulling off her stockings. He catches at a branch; she cuts it off,\nand will not hear to his entreaties.\n\n#D.# 'En revenant de la jolie Rochelle,' twelve two-line stanzas,\nGagnon, Chansons populaires du Canada, p. 155. A cavalier meets three\nfair maids, mounts the fairest behind him, and rides a hundred leagues\nwithout speaking to her, at the end of which she asks to drink. He takes\nher to a spring, but when there she does not care to drink. The rest of\nthe ballad is pointless, and shows that the original story has been\ncompletely forgotten.\n\n#E.# 'Belle, allons nous \u00e9promener,' from the Lyonnais, 28 vv,\nChampfleury, Chansons des Provinces, p. 172, is like #C#, but still more\ndefective. The pair go to walk by \"la mer courante.\" There is no order\nfor the lady to strip: on the contrary, she cries, D\u00e9shabillez-moi,\nd\u00e9chaussez-moi! and, while the man is drawing off her shoe, \"la belle\navance un coup de pied, le beau galant tombe dans l'eau.\"\n\n#F.# 'Allons, mie, nous promener,' 32 vv, Po\u00e9sies populaires de la\nFrance, MS., III, fol. 84, No 16, is like #C#. The lady asks the man to\npull off her shoes before he kills her. The man clutches a branch; the\nwoman cuts it away.\n\n#G.# 'Le Tra\u00eetre Noy\u00e9,' Chants pop. du Velay et du Forez, Romania, X,\n199, is like #E#, #F#.\n\n#H.# 'La Fillette et le Chevalier,' Victor Smith, Chants pop. du Velay\net du Forez, Romania, X, 198, resembles the common Polish ballad. Pierre\nrouses his love early in the morning, to take a ride with him. He mounts\nher on his horse, and when they come to a lonesome wood bids her alight,\nfor it is the last of her days. He plunges his sword into her heart, and\nthrows her into a river. Her father and mother come searching for her,\nand are informed of her fate by a shepherdess, who had witnessed the\nmurder. The youngest of her three brothers plunges into the water,\nexclaiming, Who threw you in? An angel descends, and tells him it was\nher lover. A less romantic version, described in a note, treats of a\nvalet who is tired of an amour with a servant-girl. He is judicially\ncondemned to be hanged _or_ burned.\n\n'La Fille de Saint-Martin de l'Ile,' Bujeaud, II, 226, has the\nconclusion of the third class of German ballads. A mother incites her\nson to make away with his wife. He carries her off on his horse to a\nwheat-field [wood], and kills her with sword and dagger. Returning, he\nmeets his wife's brother, who asks why his shoes are covered with blood.\nHe says he has been killing rabbits. The brother replies, I see by your\npaleness that you have been killing my sister. So G\u00e9rard de Nerval, Les\nFilles du Feu, \u0152uvres Com., V, 134, and La Boh\u00e8me galante (1866), p.\n79: 'Rosine,' Chants pop. du Velay, etc., Romania, X, 197.\n\nThe ballad is known over all #North Italy#, and always nearly in one\nshape.\n\n#A.# 'Monchisa,' sixty-four short verses, Bernoni, Canti popolari\nveneziani, Puntata v, No 2. A count's son asks Monchesa, a knight's\ndaughter, in marriage in the evening, espouses her in the morning, and\nimmediately carries her off. When they are \"half-way,\" she heaves a\nsigh, which she says is for father and mother, whom she shall no more\nsee. The count points out his castle; he has taken thirty-six maids\nthere, robbed them of their honor, and cut off their heads. \"So will I\ndo with you when we are there.\" The lady says no word till she is asked\nwhy she is silent; then requests the count to lend her his sword; she\nwishes to cut a branch to shade her horse. The moment she gets the sword\nin her hand, she plunges it into his heart; then throws the body into a\nditch. On her way back, she meets her brother, whom she tells that she\nis looking after the assassins who have killed her husband. He fears it\nwas she; this she denies, but afterwards says she must go to Rome to\nconfess a great sin. There she obtains prompt absolution.\n\n#B.# 'La Figlia del Conte,' Adolf Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, No 73,\n#a#, 34 vv, #b#, 48 vv. Here it is the daughter of a count that marries\nMalpreso, the son of a knight. He takes her to France immediately. She\ngoes sixty miles (#b#) without speaking. She confesses to her brother\nwhat she has done.\n\n#C.# Righi, Canti popolari veronesi, 58 vv, No 94*, p. 30. The count's\nson marries Mampresa, a knight's daughter. For thirty-six miles she does\nnot speak; after five more she sighs. She denies to her brother having\nkilled her husband, but still says she must go to the pope to confess an\nold sin; then owns what she has done.\n\n#D.# 'La Monferrina,' 48 vv, Nigra, Canzoni popolari del Piemonte, in\nRivista Contemporanea, XXIV, 76. The lady is a Monferrina, daughter of a\nknight. After the marriage they travel fifty miles without speaking to\none another. Fifty-two Monferrine have lost their heads; the bridegroom\ndoes not say why. She goes to the Pope to confess.\n\n#E.# 'La Vendicatrice,' an incomplete copy from Alexandria, 18 vv only,\nMarcoaldi, Canti popolari, No 12, p. 166, like #D#, as far as it goes.\nThirty-three have been beheaded before.\n\n#F.# 'La Inglese,' 40 vv, Ferraro, Canti popolari di Ferrara, Cento e\nPontelagoscuro, No 2, p. 14. The count's son marries an English girl,\ndaughter of a knight. She never speaks for more than three hundred\nmiles; after two hundred more she sighs. She denies having killed her\nhusband; has not a heart of that kind.\n\n#G.# 'La Liberatrice,' 24 vv, Ferraro, Canti popolari monferrini, No 3,\np. 4. Gianfleisa is the lady's name. When invited to go off, she says,\nIf you wish me to go, lend me a horse. Not a word is spoken for five\nhundred miles. The man (Gilardu) points out his castle, and says that no\none he has taken there has ever come back. Gianfleisa goes home without\nmeeting anybody.\n\n'Laura,' Ferraro, C. p. di Pontelagoscuro, Rivista di Filologia romanza,\nII, 197, and C. p. di Ferrara, etc., p. 86, is a mixture of this ballad\nwith another. Cf. 'La Maledetta,' Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, No 27, p.\n35.\n\nSeveral other French and Italian ballads have common points with\nRenauld, Monchisa, etc., and for this have sometimes been improperly\ngrouped with them: e.g., 'La Fille des Sables,' Bujeaud, II, 177 ff. A\ngirl sitting by the water-side hears a sailor sing, and asks him to\nteach her the song. He says, Come aboard, and I will. He pushes off, and\nby and by she begins to weep.[69] She says, My father is calling me to\nsupper. \"You will sup with me.\" \"My mother is calling me to bed.\" \"You\nwill sleep with me.\" They go a hundred leagues, and not a word said, and\nat last reach his father's castle. When she is undressing, her lace gets\ninto a knot. He suggests that his sword would cut it. She plunges the\nsword into her heart. So 'Du Beau Marinier,' Beaurepaire, p. 57 f, and\nPo\u00e9sies populaires de la France, MS., III, fol. 59, No 4; 'L'\u00c9p\u00e9e\nLib\u00e9ratrice,' V. Smith, Chansons du Velay, etc., Romania, VII, 69,\nnearly; also 'Il Corsaro,' Nigra, Rivista Coutemporanea, XXIV, p. 86 ff.\nIn 'La Monferrina Incontaminata,' Ferraro, C. p. m., No 2, p. 3, a\nFrench knight invites a girl to go off with him, and mounts her behind\nhim. They ride five hundred miles without speaking, then reach an inn,\nafter which the story is the same. So Bernoni, Puntata IX, No 2. 'La\nFille du Patissier,' Paymaigre, No 30, p. 93, has the same conclusion.\nAll these, except 'La Fille des Sables,' make the girl ask for the sword\nherself, and in all it is herself that she kills.\n\nThe #Spanish# preserves this ballad in a single form, the earliest\nprinted in any language, preceding, by a few years, even the German\nbroadsides #G#, #H#.\n\n'Romance de Rico Franco,' 36 vv, \"Cancionero de Romances, s. a., fol.\n191: Canc. de Rom., ed. de 1550, fol. 202: ed. de 1555, fol. 296;\" Wolf\nand Hofmann, Primavera, No 119, II, 22: Duran, No 296, I, 160: Grimm, p.\n252: Depping and Galiano, 1844, II, 167: Ochoa, p. 7. The king's\nhuntsmen got no game, and lost the falcons. They betook themselves to\nthe castle of Maynes, where was a beautiful damsel, sought by seven\ncounts and three kings. Rico Franco of Aragon carried her off by force.\nNothing is said of a rest in a wood, or elsewhere; but that something\nhas dropped out here is shown by the corresponding Portuguese ballad.\nThe lady wept. Rico Franco comforted her thus: If you are weeping for\nfather and mother, you shall never see them more; and if for your\nbrothers, I have killed them all three. I am not weeping for them, she\nsaid, but because I know not what my fate is to be. Lend me your knife\nto cut the fringes from my mantle, for they are no longer fit to wear.\nThis Rico Franco did, and the damsel thrust the knife into his breast.\nThus she avenged father, mother, and brothers.\n\nA #Portuguese# ballad has recently been obtained from tradition in the\nisland of St. George, Azores, which resembles the Spanish closely, but\nis even curter: #A#, 'Romance de Dom Franco,' 30 vv; #B#, 'Dona Inez,' a\nfragment of 18 vv; Braga, Cantos populares do Archipelago a\u00e7oriano, No\n48, p. 316, No 49, p. 317: Hartung's Romanceiro, II, 61, 63. Dona Inez\nwas so precious in the eyes of her parents that they gave her neither to\nduke nor marquis. A knight who was passing [the Duke of Turkey, #B#]\ntook a fancy to her, and stole her away. When they came to the middle of\nthe mountain ridge on which Dona Inez lived, the knight stopped to rest,\nand she began to weep. From this point Portuguese #A#, and #B# so far as\nit is preserved, agree very nearly with the Spanish.[70]\n\nCertain Breton ballads have points of contact with the Halewyn-Ulinger\nclass, but, like the French and Italian ballads mentioned on the\npreceding page, have more important divergences, and especially the\ncharacteristic distinction that the woman kills herself to preserve her\nhonor. 1. 'Jeanne Le Roux,' Luzel, I, 324 ff, in two versions; Po\u00e9sies\npop. de la France, MS., III, fol. 182. The sieur La Tremblaie attempts\nthe abduction of Jeanne from the church immediately after her marriage\nceremony. As he is about to compel her to get up on the crupper of his\nhorse, she asks for a knife to cut her bridal girdle, which had been\ndrawn too tight. He gives her the choice of three, and she stabs herself\nin the heart. La Tremblaie _remarks_, I have carried off eighteen young\nbrides, and Jeanne is the nineteenth, words evidently taken from the\nmouth of a Halewyn, and not belonging here. 2. Le Marquis de Coatredrez,\nLuzel, I, 336 ff, meets a young girl on the road, going to the pardon of\nGu\u00e9odet, and forces her on to his horse. On the way and at his house she\nvainly implores help. He takes her to the garden to gather flowers. She\nasks for his knife to shorten the stems, and kills herself. Early in the\nmorning the door of the ch\u00e2teau is broken in by Kerninon, foster-brother\nof the victim, who forces Coatredrez to fight, and runs him through. 3.\n'Rozmelchon,' Luzel, I, 308 ff, in three versions, and, 4, 'La Filleule\nde du Guesclin,' Villemarqu\u00e9, Barzaz-Breiz, 6th ed., 212 ff, are very\nlike 2. The wicked Rozmelchon is burned in his ch\u00e2teau in Luzel's first\ncopy; the other two do not bring him to punishment. Villemarqu\u00e9's\nvillain is an Englishman, and has his head cloven by du Guesclin. 5.\n'Marivonnic,' Luzel, I, 350 ff, a pretty young girl, is carried off by\nan English vessel, the captain of which shows himself not a whit behind\nthe feudal seigneurs in ferocity. The young girl throws herself into the\nwater.\n\n#Magyar.# Five versions from recent traditions, all of them interesting,\nare given in Arany and Gyulai's collection of Hungarian popular poetry,\n'Moln\u00e1r Anna,' I, 137 ff, Nos 1-5.[71]--#A#, p. 141, No 3. A man,\nnameless here, but called in the other versions Martin Ajg\u00f3, or Martin\nSajg\u00f3, invites Anna Miller to go off with him. She refuses; she has a\nyoung child and a kind husband. \"Come,\" he says; \"I have six palaces,\nand will put you in the seventh,\" and persists so long that he prevails\nat last. They went a long way, till they came to the middle of a green\nwood. He asked her to sit down in the shade of a branchy tree (so all);\nhe would lie in her lap, and she was to look into his head (a point\nfound in all the copies). But look not up into the tree, he said. He\nwent to sleep (so #B#, #D#); she looked up into the tree, and saw six\nfair maids hanging there (so all but #E#). She thought to herself, He\nwill make me the seventh! (also #B#, #D#). A tear fell on the face of\nthe \"brave sir,\" and waked him. You have looked up into the tree, he\nsaid. \"No, but three orphans passed, and I thought of my child.\" He bade\nher go up into the tree. She was not used to go first, she said. He led\nthe way. She seized the opportunity, tore his sword from its sheath (so\n=C#), and hewed off his head. She then wrapped herself in his cloak,\nsprang upon his horse, and returned home, where (in all the copies, as\nin this) she effected a reconcilement with her husband. #B#, p. 138, No\n2, agrees closely with the foregoing. Martin Ajg\u00f3 calls to Anna Miller\nto come with him a long way into the wilderness (so #D#, #E#). He boasts\nof no palaces in this version. He calls Anna a long time, tempts her a\nlong time, drags her on to his horse, and carries her off. The scene\nunder the tree is repeated. Anna pretends (so #D#, #E#) that the tear\nwhich drops on Martin's face is dew from the tree, and he retorts, How\ncan it be dew from the tree, when the time is high noon? His sword falls\nout of its sheath as he is mounting the tree, and he asks her to hand it\nto him. She throws it up (so #E#), and it cuts his throat in two.\nRightly served, Martin Ajg\u00f3, she says: why did you lure me from home?\n#C#, p. 144, No 4. Martin Sajg\u00f3 tells Anna Miller that he has six stone\ncastles, and is building a seventh. It is not said that he goes to\nsleep. As in #A#, Anna pulls his sword from the scabbard. #D#, p. 146,\nNo 5. Here reappears the very important feature of the wonderland:\n\"Come, let us go, Anna Miller, a long journey into the wilderness, to a\nplace that flows with milk and honey.\" Anna insists, as before, that\nMartin shall go up the tree first. He puts down his sword; she seizes\nit, and strikes off his head with one blow. #E#, p. 137, No 1, is\nsomewhat defective, but agrees essentially with the others. Martin Ajg\u00f3\ncalls Anna; she will not come; he carries her off. He lets his sword\nfall as he is climbing, and asks Anna to hand it up to him. She throws\nit up, as in #B#, and it cuts his back in two.\n\nNeus, in his Ehstnische Volkslieder, maintains the affinity of\n'Kallewisohnes Tod,' No 2, p. 5, with the Ulinger ballads, and even of\nhis Holepi with the Dutch Halewyn. The resemblance is of the most\ndistant, and what there is must be regarded as casual. The same of the\nFinnish 'Kojoins Sohn,' Schr\u00f6ter, Finnische Runen, p. 114, 115; 'Kojosen\nPoika,' L\u00f6nnrot, Kanteletar, p. 279.\n\nIn places where a ballad has once been known, the story will often be\nremembered after the verses have been wholly or partly forgotten, and\nthe ballad will be resolved into a prose tale, retaining, perhaps, some\nscraps of verse, and not infrequently taking up new matter, or blending\nwith other traditions. Naturally enough, a ballad and an equivalent tale\nsometimes exist side by side. It has already been mentioned that\nJamieson, who had not found this ballad in Scotland, had often come upon\nthe story in the form of a tale interspersed with verse. Birlinger at\none time (1860) had not been able to obtain the ballad in the Swabian\nOberland (where it has since been found in several forms), but only a\nstory agreeing essentially with the second class of German ballads.\nAccording to this tradition, a robber, who was at the same time a\nportentous magician, enticed the twelve daughters of a miller, one after\nanother, into a wood, and hanged eleven of them on a tree, but was\narrested by a hunter, the brother of the twelve, before he could\ndispatch the last, and was handed over to justice. The object of the\nmurders was to obtain blood for magical purposes. This story had, so to\nspeak, naturalized itself in the locality, and the place where the\nrobber's house had been and that where the tree had stood were pointed\nout. The hunter-brother was by some conceived of as the Wild Huntsman,\nand came to the rescue through the air with a fearful baying of dogs.\n(Birlinger in Volksth\u00fcmliches aus Schwaben, I, 368, No 592, and\nGermania, 1st Ser., V, 372.)\n\nThe story of the German ballad #P# has attached itself to localities in\nthe neighborhood of Weissenbach, Aargau, and is told with modifications\nthat connect it with the history of the Guggi-, or Schongauer-, bad. A\nrich man by lewd living had become a leper. The devil put it into his\nhead that he could be cured by bathing in the blood of twelve [seven]\npure maidens. He seized eleven at a swoop, while they were on their way\nto church, and hanged them, and the next day enticed away a miller's\ndaughter, who was delivered from death as in the ballad. A medicinal\nspring rose near the fatal tree. (Rochholz, I, 22.) No pure version of\nthis ballad has been obtained in the Harz region, though a mixed form\nhas already been spoken of; but 'Der Reiter in Seiden,' Pr\u00f6hle, M\u00e4rchen\nf\u00fcr die Jugend, No 32, p. 136, which comes from the western Harz, or\nfrom some place further north, on the line between Kyffha\u00fcser and\nHamburg, is, roughly speaking, only 'Gert Olbert' turned into prose,\nwith a verse or two remaining. 'Der betrogene Betr\u00fcger,' from M\u00fchlbach,\nM\u00fcller's Siebenb\u00fcrgische Sagen, No 418, p. 309, has for its hero a\nhandsome young man, addicted to women, who obtains from the devil the\npower of making them follow his piping, on the terms that every twelfth\nsoul is to be the devil's share. He had taken eleven to a wood, and\nhanged them on a tree after he had satisfied his desire. The brother of\na twelfth substituted himself for his sister, dressed in her clothes,\nsnatched the rope from the miscreant, and ran him up on the nearest\nbough; upon which a voice was heard in the wind, that cried The twelfth\nsoul is mine. Grundtvig, in his Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 249,\ngives his recollections of a story that he had heard in his youth which\nhas a catastrophe resembling that of English #C-F#. A charcoal burner\nhad a way of taking up women beside him on his wagon, and driving them\ninto a wood, where he forced them to take off their clothes, then killed\nthem, and sunk them with heavy stones in a deep moss. At last a girl\nwhom he had carried off in this way got the advantage of him by inducing\nhim to turn away while she was undressing, and then pushing him into the\nmoss. Something similar is found in the conclusion of a robber story in\nGrundtvig's Danske Folkeminder, 1861, No 30, p. 108, and in a modern\nDanish ballad cited in Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, IV, 24, note.**\n\nAnother Transylvanian tale, Schuster, p. 433, has a fountain, a thirsty\nbride, and doves (two or three) that sing to her, traits which have\nperhaps been derived from some Ulinger ballad; but the fountain is of an\nentirely different character, and the doves serve a different purpose.\nThe tale is a variety of 'Fitchers Vogel,' Grimms, No 46, and belongs to\nthe class of stories to which 'Bluebeard,' from its extensive\npopularity, has given name. The magician of 'Fitcher's Vogel' and of\n'Bluebeard' becomes, or remains, a preternatural being (a hill-man)\nfurther north, as in Grundtvig's Gamle danske Minder, 1857, No 312, p.\n182. There is a manifest affinity between these three species of tales\nand our ballad (also between the German and Danish tales and the\nScandinavian ballad of 'Rosmer'), but the precise nature of this\naffinity it is impossible to expound. 'Bluebeard,' 'La Barbe Bleue,'\nPerrault, Histoires ou Contes du temps pass\u00e9, 1697, p. 57 (Lef\u00e8vre), has\na special resemblance to the German ballads of the second class in the\nfour calls to sister Anne, which represent the cries to father, mother,\nand brother, and agrees with these ballads as to the means by which the\ndeath of the malefactor is brought about.\n\nLooking back now over the whole field covered by this ballad, we observe\nthat the framework of the story is essentially the same in English,\nDutch, Danish, Swedish, Norwegian; in the first class of the German\nballads; in Polish #A#; in French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, and\nMagyar. The woman delivers herself from death by some artifice,[72] and\nretaliates upon the man the destruction he had intended for her. The\nsecond form of the German ballad attributes the deliverance of the woman\nto her brother, and also the punishment of the murderer. The third form\nof the German ballad makes the woman lose her life, and her murderer,\nfor the most part, to suffer the penalty of the law, though in some\ncases the brother takes immediate vengeance. Polish #B-K# may be ranked\nwith the second German class, and #O-CC# still better with the third;\nbut the brother appears in only a few of these, and, when he appears,\ncounts for nothing. The Wendish and the Bohemian ballad have the\nincident of fraternal vengeance, though otherwise less like the German.\nThe Servian ballad, a slight thing at best, is still less like, but\nranks with the third German class. The oldest Icelandic copy is\naltogether anomalous, and also incomplete, but seems to imply the death\nof the woman: later copies suffer the woman to escape, without vengeance\nupon the murderer.\n\nIt is quite beyond question that the third class of German ballad is a\nderivation from the second.[73] Of the versions #T-Z#, #Z# alone has\npreserved clear traits of the marvellous. A king's daughter is enticed\nfrom home by Ulrich's singing, and is warned of her impending fate by\nthe dove, as in Class II. The other ballads have the usual marks of\ndegeneracy, a dropping or obscuring of marvellous and romantic\nincidents, and a declension in the rank and style of the characters.\n#T#, to be sure, has a hazel, and #Y# a tree-stump and a spring, and in\n#T# Ulrich offers to teach \u00c4nnchen bird-song, but these traits have lost\nall significance. Knight and lady sink to ordinary man and maid; for\nthough in #Y# the woman is called a king's daughter, the opening stanzas\nof #Y# are borrowed from a different ballad. Ulrich retains so much of\nthe knight that he rides to \u00c4nnchen's house, in the first stanza of #T#,\nbut he apparently goes on foot with her to the wood, and this is the\nrule in all the other ballads of this class. As Ulrich has lost his\nhorse, so the brother, in #T#, #U#, #V#, #X#, has lost his sword, or the\nuse of it, and in all these (also, superfluously, in #W#) Ulrich, like a\ncommon felon as he was, is broken on the wheel.\n\nThat the woman should save her life by her own craft and courage is\ncertainly a more primitive conception than that she should depend upon\nher brother, and the priority of this arrangement of the plot is\nsupported, if not independently proved, by the concurrence, as to this\npoint, of so many copies among so many nations, as also by the\naccordance of various popular tales. The second German form must\ntherefore, so far forth, be regarded as a modification of the first.\nAmong the several devices, again, which the woman employs in order to\nget the murderer into her power, the original would seem to be her\ninducing him to lay his head in her lap, which gives her the opportunity\n(by the use of charms or runes, in English #A#, Danish #G#, Norwegian\n#F#, #H#, and one form of #B#) to put him into a deep sleep. The success\nof this trick no doubt implies considerable simplicity on the part of\nthe victim of it; not more, however, than is elsewhere witnessed in\npreternatural beings, whose wits are frequently represented as no match\nfor human shrewdness. Some of the Scandinavian ballads are not liable to\nthe full force of this objection, whatever that may be, for they make\nthe knight express a suspicion of treachery, and the lady solemnly\nasseverate that she will not kill [fool, beguile] him in his sleep. And\nso, when he is fast bound, she cries out, Wake up, for I will not kill\nthee _in thy sleep_! This last circumstance is wanting in hardly any of\nthe Scandinavian ballads, whereas the previous compact is found only in\nDanish #E#, #F#, #G#, #H#, #L#, Swedish #A#, Norwegian #A#, and the\nIcelandic ballad. Not occurring in any of the older Danish copies, it\nmay be that the compact is an after-thought, and was inserted to\nqualify the improbability. But the lady's equivocation is quite of a\npiece with Memering's oath in 'Ravengaard and Memering,' Grundtvig, No\n13, and King Dietrich's in the Dietrichsaga, Unger, c. 222, p. 206.[74]\n\nEnglish #A# and all the Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian ballads employ\nthe stratagem of lulling the man to sleep, but these are not the only\nballads in which the man lays his head in the woman's lap. This trait is\nobserved in nearly all German ballads of the second and third class, in\n_all_ the well-preserved ones, and also in the Magyar ballad. With\nregard to the German ballads, however, it is purposeless (for it does\nnot advance the action of the drama in the least), and must be regarded\nas a relic of an earlier form.[75] English #B-F# and all the French\nballads dispose of the traitor by a watery death. The scene is shifted\nfrom a wood to a sea-coast, pool, or river bank, perhaps to suit the\nlocality to which the ballad had wandered. In English #B#, where,\napparently under the influence of other ballads,[76] the lady is forced\nto wade into water up to her chin, the knight is pushed off his horse\nwhen bending over to give a last kiss for which he had been asked; in\nEnglish #C-F# and French #A#, #B#, the man is induced to turn his face\nto save the woman's modesty; in French #C-E# he is made to pull off her\nstockings or shoes, and then, while off his guard, pitched into a sea or\nriver. This expedient is sufficiently trivial; but still more so, and\ngrazing on the farcical, is that which is made use of in the Dutch\nballad and those of the German first class, the woman's persuading the\nman to take off his fine coat lest it should be spattered with her\nblood, and cutting off his head with his own sword while he is thus\noccupied. The Spanish and Portuguese ballads make the lady borrow the\nknight's knife to remove some of the trimming of her dress, and in the\nItalian she borrows his sword to cut a bough to shade her horse; for in\nItalian the halt in the wood is completely forgotten, and the last half\nof the action takes place on horseback. All these contrivances plainly\nhave less claim to be regarded as primary than that of binding the\nmurderer after he has been put to sleep.\n\nThe knight in English #A# is called an Elf, and as such is furnished\nwith an enchanting horn, which is replaced by a harp of similar\nproperties in #B#, where, however, the male personage has neither name\nnor any kind of designation. The elf-horn of English #A# is again\nrepresented by the seductive song of the Dutch ballad and of German\n#G-R# and #Z#. Though the lady is not lured away in the Scandinavian\nballads by irresistible music,[77] Danish #A#, #E#, Norwegian #A#, #B#,\nand Swedish #D# present to her the prospect of being taken to an\nelf-land, or elysium, and there are traces of this in Danish #G# and #D#\nalso, and in Polish #Q#. The tongue that talks after the head is off, in\nthe Dutch ballad and in German #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, is another mark of an\nunearthly being. Halewyn, Ulver, Gert Olbert, like the English knight,\nare clearly supernatural, though of a nondescript type. The elf in\nEnglish #A# is not to be interpreted too strictly, for the specific elf\nis not of a sanguinary turn, as these so conspicuously are. He is\ncomparatively innocuous, like the hill-man Young Akin, in another\nEnglish ballad, who likewise entices away a woman by magical music, but\nonly to make her his wife. But the elf-knight and the rest seem to\ndelight in bloodshed for its own sake; for, as Grundtvig has pointed\nout, there is no other apparent motive for murder in English #A#, #B#,\nthe Norwegian ballads, Danish #A#, Swedish #A#, #B#, or German\n#A-E#.[78] This is true again, for one reason or another, of others of\nthe German ballads, of the French, of most of the Italian, and of the\nHungarian ballads.\n\nThe nearest approach to the Elf-knight, Halewyn, etc., is perhaps\nQuintalin, in the saga of Samson the Fair. He was son of the miller\nGalin. Nobody knew who his mother was, but many were of the mind that\nGalin might have had him of a \"goddess,\" an elf or troll woman, who\nlived under the mill force. He was a thief, and lay in the woods; was\nversed in many knave's tricks, and had also acquired agreeable arts. He\nwas a great master of the harp, and would decoy women into the woods\nwith his playing, keep them as long as he liked, and send them home\npregnant to their fathers or husbands. A king's daughter, Valentina, is\ndrawn on by his music deep into the woods, but is rescued by a friendly\npower. Some parts of her dress and ornaments, which she had laid off in\nher rapid following up of the harping, are afterwards found, with a\ngreat quantity of precious things, in the subaqueous cave of Quintalin's\nmother, who is a complete counterpart to Grendel's, and was probably\nborrowed from Be\u00f3wulf.[79] This demi-elf Quintalin is a tame personage\nby the side of Grendel or of Halewyn. Halewyn does not devour his\nvictims, like Grendel: Quintalin does not even murder his. He allures\nwomen with his music to make them serve his lust. We may infer that he\nwould plunder them, for he is a notorious thief. Even two of the oldest\nDanish ballads, #B#, #C#, and again Danish #I# and Swedish #C#, make the\ntreacherous knight as lecherous as bloody, and so with German #J#, #K#,\n#L#, #O#, #P#, #Q#, #R#, #S#, and Italian #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#. This\ntrait is wanting in Danish #D#, where, though traces of the originally\ndemonic nature of the knight remain, the muckle gold of the maids\nalready appears as the motive for the murders. In the later Danish\n#E-H#, #K#, #L#, and Swedish #C#, #D#, the original elf or demon has\nsunk to a remorseless robber, generally with brothers, sisters, or\nunderlings for accomplices.[80] This is pre\u00ebminently his character in\nEnglish #C-F#, in nearly all the forty Polish ballads, and in the two\nprincipal ballads of the German second class, #G#, #H#, though English\n#D#, German #H#, and Polish #Q# retain a trace of the supernatural: the\nfirst in the charm by means of which the knight compels the maid to quit\nher parents, the second in the bloody spring, and the last in the golden\nmountains. There is nothing that unequivocally marks the robber in the\nother German ballads of the second class and in those of the third. The\nquestion 'Weinst du um deines Vaters Gut?' in #I-L#, #O-S#, #T-W#, is\nhardly decisive, and only in #W# and #Z# is it expressly said that the\nmaid had taken valuable things with her (as in Swedish #D#, Norwegian\n#A#, #B#, English #D-F#). #J-L#, #O-S#, give us to understand that the\nlady had lost her honor,[81] but in all the rest, except the anomalous\n#Z#, the motive for murder is insufficient.[82]\n\nThe woman in these ballads is for the most part nameless, or bears a\nstock name to which no importance can be attached. Not so with the names\nof the knight. Most of these are peculiar, and the Northern ones,\nthough superficially of some variety, have yet likeness enough to tempt\none to seek for a common original. Grundtvig, with considerable\ndiffidence, suggests Oldemor as a possible ground-form. He conceives\nthat the #R# of some of the Scandinavian names may be a relic of a\nforegoing Herr. The initial #H# would easily come or go. Given such a\nname as Hollemen (Danish #C#), we might expect it to give place to\nHalewyn, which is both a family and a local name in Flanders, if the\nballad should pass into the Low Countries from Denmark, a derivation\nthat Grundtvig is far from asserting. So Ulinger, a local appellation,\nmight be substituted for the Ulver of Danish #A#. Grundtvig, it must be\nborne in mind, declines to be responsible for the historical correctness\nof this genealogy, and would be still less willing to undertake an\nexplanation of the name Oldemor.\n\nIn place of Oldemor, Professor Sophus Bugge, in a recent article, marked\nby his characteristic sharp-sightedness and ingenuity, has proposed\nHollevern, Holevern, or Olevern as the base-form of all the Northern\nnames for the bloody knight, and he finds in this name a main support\nfor the entirely novel and somewhat startling hypothesis that the ballad\nwe are dealing with is a wild shoot from the story of Judith and\nHolofernes.[83] His argument, given as briefly as possible, is as\nfollows.\n\nThat the Bible story was generally known in the Middle Ages no one would\nquestion. It was treated in a literary way by an Anglo-Saxon poet, who\nwas acquainted with the scriptural narrative, and in a popular way by\npoets who had no direct acquaintance with the original.[84] The source\nof the story in the ballad must in any case be a tradition many times\nremoved from the biblical story; that much should be changed, much\ndropped, and much added is only what would be expected.\n\nBeginning the comparison with 'Judith' with this caution, it is first\nsubmitted that Holofernes can be recognized in most of the Scandinavian\nand German names of the knight. The v of the proposed base-form is\npreserved in Ulver, Halewyn, and probably in the English Elf-knight. It\nis easy to explain a v's passing over to g, as in Ulinger, Adelger, and\nespecially under the influence of the very common names in -ger. Again,\nv might easily become b, as in Olbert, or m, as in Hollemen, Olmor; and\nthe initial R of Rulleman, Romor, etc., may have been carried over from\na prefixed Herr.[85]\n\nThe original name of the heroine has been lost, and yet it is to be\nnoticed that Gert Olbert's mother, in German #A#, is called Fru Jutte.\n\nThe heroine in this same ballad is named Helena (Linnich in #F#); in\nothers (German #C#, #D#, #E#), Odilia. These are names of saints, and\nthis circumstance may tend to show that the woman in the ballad was\noriginally conceived of as rather a saint than a secular character,\nthough in the course of time the story has so changed that the devout\nwidow who sought out her country's enemy in his own camp has been\ntransformed into a young maid who is enticed from home by a treacherous\nsuitor.\n\nIt is an original trait in the ballad that the murderer, as is expressly\nsaid in many copies, is from a foreign land. According to an English\nversion (#E#), he comes from the north, as Holofernes does, \"venit Assur\nex montibus ab aquilone\" (Jud. xvi, 5).\n\nThe germ of this outlandish knight's bloodthirstiness is found in the\ntruculent part that Holofernes plays in the Bible, his threats and\ndevastations. That the false suitor appears without companions is in\nkeeping with the ballad style of representation; yet we might find\nsuggestions of the Assyrian's army in the swains, the brothers, the\nstable-boy, whom the maid falls in with on her way home.\n\nThe splendid promises made in many of the ballads might have been\ndeveloped from the passage where Holofernes, whose bed is described as\nwrought with purple, gold, and precious stones, says to Judith, Thou\nshalt be great in the house of Nebuchadnezzar, and thy name shall be\nnamed in all the earth (xi, 21).\n\nIn many forms of the ballad, especially the Dutch and the German, the\nmaid adorns herself splendidly, as Judith does: she even wears some sort\nof crown in Dutch #A# 16, German #D# 8, as Judith does in x, 3, xvi, 10\n(mitram).\n\nIn the English #D#, #E#, #F#, the oldest Danish, #A#, and the Polish\nversions, the maid, like Judith, leaves her home in the night.\n\nThe Piedmontese cast\u00e9, Italian #E# 1 [there is a castle in nearly all\nthe Italian ballads, and also in Dutch #B#], may remind us of\nHolofernes' castra.\n\nThe knight's carrying off the maid, lifting her on to his horse in many\ncopies, may well come from a misunderstanding of elevaverunt in Judith\nx, 20: Et cum in faciem ejus intendisset, adoravit eum, prosternens se\nsuper terram. Et elevaverunt eam servi Holofernis, jubente domino\nsuo.[86]\n\nIn German #A# Gert Olbert and Helena are said to ride three days and\nnights, and in Danish #D# the ride is for three days; and we may\nremember that Judith killed Holofernes the fourth day after her arrival\nin his camp.\n\nThe place in which the pair alight is, according to German #G# 20, a\ndeep dale, and this agrees with the site of Holofernes' camp in the\nvalley of Bethulia. There is a spring or stream in many of the ballads,\nand also a spring in the camp, in which Judith bathes (xii, 7).\n\nMost forms of the ballad make the knight, after the halt, inform the\nmaid that she is to die, as many maids have before her in the same\nplace; e.g., German #G# 7:\n\n 'Der Ulinger hat eylff Jungfrawen gehangen,\n Die zw\u00f6lfft hat er gefangen.'[87]\n\nThis corresponds with the passage in Judith's song (xvi, 6), $Dixit se$\n... infantes meos $dare$ in pr\u00e6dam et $virgenes in captivitatem$: but it\nis reasonable to suppose that the ballad follows some version of the\nBible words that varied much from the original.\n\nThe incident of the maid's lousing and tousing her betrayer's hair,\nwhile he lies with his head in her lap, may have come from Judith\nseizing Holofernes by the hair before she kills him, but the story of\nSamson and Delilah may have had influence here.\n\nAccording to many German versions, the murderer grants the maid three\ncries before she dies. She invokes Jesus, Mary, and her brother. Or she\nutters three sighs, the first to God the Father, the second to Jesus,\nthe third to her brother. These cries or sighs seem to take the place of\nJudith's prayer, Confirma me, Domine Deus Israel (xiii, 7), and it may\nalso be well to remember that Holofernes granted Judith, on her request,\npermission to go out in the night to pray.\n\nThe Dutch, Low-German, Scandinavian, and other versions agree in making\nthe woman kill the knight with his own sword, as in Judith. The Dutch\nand Low-German [also Danish #F#, Swedish #A#] have preserved an original\ntrait in making the maid hew off the murderer's head. English and French\nversions dispose of the knight differently: the maid pushes him into sea\nor river. Perhaps, in some older form of the story, after the head was\ncut off, the _trunk_ was pushed into the water: cf. Judith xiii, 10:\nAbscidit caput ejus et ... evolvit corpus ejus truncum. The words\napprehendit comam capitis ejus (xiii, 9) have their parallel in Dutch\n#A#, 33: \"Zy nam het hoofd al by het haer.\" The Dutch ballad makes the\nmaid carry the head with her.\n\n\"Singing and ringing\" she rode through the wood: Judith sings a song of\npraise to the Lord after her return home.\n\nIn English #C-F#, May Colven comes home before dawn, as Judith does. The\nDutch #A# says, When to her father's gate she came, she blew the horn\nlike a man. Compare Judith xiii, 13: Et dixit Judith a longe custodibus\nmurorum, Aperite portas!\n\nThe Dutch text goes on to say that when the father heard the horn he was\ndelighted at his daughter's return: and Judith v, 14, Et factum est, cum\naudissent viri vocem ejus, vocaverunt presbyteros civitatis.\n\nThe conclusion of Dutch #A# is that there was a banquet held, and the\nhead was set on the table. So Judith causes Holofernes' head to be hung\nup on the city wall, and after the enemy have been driven off, the Jews\nhold a feast.\n\nThe Icelandic version, though elsewhere much mutilated, has a concluding\nstanza which certainly belongs to the ballad:\n\n \u00c1sa went into a holy cell,\n Never did she harm to man.\n\nThis agrees with the view taken of the heroine of the ballad as a saint,\nand with the Bible account that Judith lived a chaste widow after her\nhusband's demise.\n\nDanish #D# is unique in one point. The robber has shown the maid a\nlittle knoll, in which the \"much gold\" of the women he has murdered\nlies. When she has killed him, the maid says, \"_I_ shall have the much\ngold,\" and takes as much as she can carry off. Compare with this\nHolofernes putting Judith into his treasury (xii, 1),[88] her carrying\noff the conop\u0153um (xiii, 10), and her receiving from the people all\nHolofernes' gold, silver, clothes, jewels, and furniture, as her share\nof the plunder of the Assyrian camp (xv, 14). It is, perhaps, a\nperversion of this circumstance that the robber in German #G#, #H#, is\nrefused permission to keep his costly clothes.\n\nEnglish #D# seems also to have preserved a portion of the primitive\nstory, when it makes the maid tell her parents in the morning all that\nhas happened, whereupon they go with her to the sea-shore to find the\nrobber's body. The foundation for this is surely the Bible account that\nJudith makes known her act to the elders of the city, and that the Jews\ngo out in the morning and fall on the enemy's camp, in which Holofernes'\nbody is lying. In Swedish #C# the robber's sisters mourn over his body,\nand in Judith xiv, 18 the Assyrians break out into loud cries when they\nlearn of Holofernes' death.\n\nIn all this it is simply contended that the story of Judith is the\nremote source of the ballad, and it is conceded that many of the\ncorrespondences which have been cited may be accidental. Neither the\nLatin text of Judith nor any other written treatment of the story of\nJudith is supposed to have been known to the author of the ballad. The\nknowledge of its biblical origin being lost, the story would develop\nitself in its own way, according to the fashion of oral tradition. And\nso the pious widow into whose hands God gave over his enemies is\nconverted into a fair maid who is enticed by a false knight into a wood,\nand who kills him in defence of her own life.\n\nA similar transformation can be shown elsewhere in popular poetry. The\nlittle Katie of certain northern ballads (see Grundtvig, No 101) is a\nmaid among other maids who prefers death to dishonor; but was originally\nSaint Catherine, daughter of the king of Egypt, who suffered martyrdom\nfor the faith under the Emperor Maxentius. All the versions of the\nHalewyn ballad which we possess, even the purest, may be far removed\nfrom the primitive, both as to story and as to metrical form. New\nfeatures would be taken up, and old ones would disappear. One copy has\npreserved genuine particulars, which another has lost, but Dutch\ntradition has kept the capital features best of all.[89]\n\nProfessor Bugge's argument has been given with an approach to fulness\nout of a desire to do entire justice to the distinguished author's case,\nthough most of the correspondences adduced by him fail to produce any\neffect upon my mind.\n\nThe case is materially strengthened by the Dutch text #C# ('Roland'),\nwhich was not accessible at the time Bugge's paper was written. The name\nRoland is not so close to Holofern as Halewyn, but is still within the\nrange of conceivable metamorphosis. The points of coincidence between\nDutch #C# and the story of Judith are these: The woman, first making an\nelaborate toilet,[90] goes out to seek the man, who is spoken of as\nsurrounded with soldiers; she is challenged on the way; finds Roland\nlying on his bed, which he proposes she shall share (or lose her\nlife);[91] she cuts off his head, which, after her return home, she\nexposes from her window.[92]\n\nIf this was the original form of the Dutch ballad, and the Dutch ballad\nis the source from which all the other ballads have come, by processes\nof dropping, taking up, and transforming, then we may feel compelled to\nadmit that this ballad might be a wild shoot from the story of Judith.\nAny one who bears in mind the strange changes which stories undergo will\nhesitate to pronounce this impossible. What poor Ophelia says of us\nhuman creatures is even truer of ballads: \"We know what we are, but know\nnot what we may be.\"\n\nBut when we consider how much would have to be dropped, how much to be\ntaken up, and how much to be transformed, before the Hebrew \"gest\" could\nbe converted into the European ballad, we naturally look for a less\ndifficult hypothesis. It is a supposition attended with less difficulty\nthat an independent European tradition existed of a half-human,\nhalf-demonic being, who possessed an irresistible power of decoying away\nyoung maids, and was wont to kill them after he got them into his hands,\nbut who at last found one who was more than his match, and lost his own\nlife through her craft and courage. A modification of this story is\nafforded by the large class of Bluebeard tales. The Quintalin story\nseems to be another variety, with a substitution of lust for\nbloodthirst. The Dutch ballad may have been _affected_ by some lost\nballad of Holofern, and may have taken up some of its features, at least\nthat of carrying home Halewyn's [Roland's] head, which is found in no\nother version.[93]\n\n#A a# is translated by Grundtvig in Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No\n37, p. 230: #B b# in the same, No 36, p. 227: #C a#, #b#, #D a#, #b#,\nblended, No 35, p. 221. #A#, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. L. der\nVorzeit, No 1, p. 1: Gerhard, p. 15. #C b#, by Rosa Warrens, No 34, p.\n148: Wolf, Halle der V\u00f6lker, I, 38, Hausschatz, 225. #C#, #D#, etc., as\nin Allingham, p. 244, by Knortz, Lied. u. Rom. Alt-Englands, No 4, p.\n14.\n\n\nA\n\n #a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 22.\n #b.# Motherwell's MS., p. 563.\n\n 1\n Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing,\n Aye as the gowans grow gay\n There she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn.\n The first morning in May\n\n 2\n 'If I had yon horn that I hear blawing,\n And yon elf-knight to sleep in my bosom.'\n\n 3\n This maiden had scarcely these words spoken,\n Till in at her window the elf-knight has luppen.\n\n 4\n 'It's a very strange matter, fair maiden,' said he,\n 'I canna blaw my horn but ye call on me.\n\n 5\n 'But will ye go to yon greenwood side?\n If ye canna gang, I will cause you to ride.'\n\n 6\n He leapt on a horse, and she on another,\n And they rode on to the greenwood together.\n\n 7\n 'Light down, light down, lady Isabel,' said he,\n 'We are come to the place where ye are to die.'\n\n 8\n 'Hae mercy, hae mercy, kind sir, on me,\n Till ance my dear father and mother I see.'\n\n 9\n 'Seven king's-daughters here hae I slain,\n And ye shall be the eight o them.'\n\n 10\n 'O sit down a while, lay your head on my knee,\n That we may hae some rest before that I die.'\n\n 11\n She stroakd him sae fast, the nearer he did creep,\n Wi a sma charm she lulld him fast asleep.\n\n 12\n Wi his ain sword-belt sae fast as she ban him,\n Wi his ain dag-durk sae sair as she dang him.\n\n 13\n 'If seven king's-daughters here ye hae slain,\n Lye ye here, a husband to them a'.'\n\n\nB\n\n #a.# Buchan's MSS, II, fol. 80. #b.# Buchan's Ballads of\n the North of Scotland, II, 201. c. Motherwell's MS., p.\n 561. #d.# Harris MS., No 19.\n\n 1\n There came a bird out o a bush,\n On water for to dine,\n An sighing sair, says the king's daughter,\n 'O wae 's this heart o mine!'\n\n 2\n He 's taen a harp into his hand,\n He 's harped them all asleep,\n Except it was the king's daughter,\n Who one wink couldna get.\n\n 3\n He 's luppen on his berry-brown steed,\n Taen 'er on behind himsell,\n Then baith rede down to that water\n That they ca Wearie's Well.\n\n 4\n 'Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,\n No harm shall thee befall;\n Oft times I've watered my steed\n Wi the waters o Wearie's Well.'\n\n 5\n The first step that she stepped in,\n She stepped to the knee;\n And sighend says this lady fair,\n 'This water 's nae for me.'\n\n 6\n 'Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,\n No harm shall thee befall;\n Oft times I've watered my steed\n Wi the water o Wearie's Well.'\n\n 7\n The next step that she stepped in,\n She stepped to the middle;\n 'O,' sighend says this lady fair,\n I 've wat my gowden girdle.'\n\n 8\n 'Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,\n No harm shall thee befall;\n Oft times have I watered my steed\n Wi the water o Wearie's Well.'\n\n 9\n The next step that she stepped in,\n She stepped to the chin;\n 'O,' sighend says this lady fair,\n 'They sud gar twa loves twin.'\n\n 10\n 'Seven king's-daughters I 've drownd there,\n In the water o Wearie's Well,\n And I'll make you the eight o them,\n And ring the common bell.'\n\n 11\n 'Since I am standing here,' she says,\n 'This dowie death to die,\n One kiss o your comely mouth\n I'm sure wad comfort me.'\n\n 12\n He louted him oer his saddle bow,\n To kiss her cheek and chin;\n She 's taen him in her arms twa,\n An thrown him headlong in.\n\n 13\n 'Since seven king's daughters ye 've drowned there,\n In the water o Wearie's Well,\n I'll make you bridegroom to them a',\n An ring the bell mysell.'\n\n 14\n And aye she warsled, and aye she swam,\n And she swam to dry lan;\n She thanked God most cheerfully\n The dangers she oercame.\n\n\nC\n\n #a.# Herd's MSS, I, 166. #b.# Herd's Ancient and Modern\n Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 93. #c.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy,\n p. 67, == #b# \"collated with a copy obtained from\n recitation.\"\n\n 1\n False Sir John a wooing came\n To a maid of beauty fair;\n May Colven was this lady's name,\n Her father's only heir.\n\n 2\n He wood her butt, he wood her ben,\n He wood her in the ha,\n Until he got this lady's consent\n To mount and ride awa.\n\n 3\n He went down to her father's bower,\n Where all the steeds did stand,\n And he 's taken one of the best steeds\n That was in her father's land.\n\n 4\n He 's got on and she 's got on,\n And fast as they could flee,\n Until they came to a lonesome part,\n A rock by the side of the sea.\n\n 5\n 'Loup off the steed,' says false Sir John,\n 'Your bridal bed you see;\n For I have drowned seven young ladies,\n The eight one you shall be.\n\n 6\n 'Cast off, cast off, my May Colven,\n All and your silken gown,\n For it 's oer good and oer costly\n To rot in the salt sea foam.\n\n 7\n 'Cast off, cast off, my May Colven,\n All and your embroiderd shoen,\n For they 're oer good and oer costly\n To rot in the salt sea foam.'\n\n 8\n 'O turn you about, O false Sir John,\n And look to the leaf of the tree,\n For it never became a gentleman\n A naked woman to see.'\n\n 9\n He turnd himself straight round about,\n To look to the leaf of the tree;\n So swift as May Colven was\n To throw him in the sea.\n\n 10\n 'O help, O help, my May Colven,\n O help, or else I'll drown;\n I'll take you home to your father's bower,\n And set you down safe and sound.'\n\n 11\n 'No help, no help, O false Sir John,\n No help, nor pity thee;\n Tho seven king's-daughters you have drownd,\n But the eight shall not be me.'\n\n 12\n So she went on her father's steed,\n As swift as she could flee,\n And she came home to her father's bower\n Before it was break of day.\n\n 13\n Up then and spoke the pretty parrot:\n 'May Colven, where have you been?\n What has become of false Sir John,\n That woo'd you so late the streen?\n\n 14\n 'He woo'd you butt, he woo'd you ben,\n He woo'd you in the ha,\n Until he got your own consent\n For to mount and gang awa.'\n\n 15\n 'O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot,\n Lay not the blame upon me;\n Your cup shall be of the flowered gold,\n Your cage of the root of the tree.'\n\n 16\n Up then spake the king himself,\n In the bed-chamber where he lay:\n 'What ails the pretty parrot,\n That prattles so long or day?'\n\n 17\n 'There came a cat to my cage door,\n It almost a worried me,\n And I was calling on May Colven\n To take the cat from me.'\n\n\nD\n\n #a.# Sharpe's Ballad Book (1823), No 17, p. 45. #b.#\n Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 45. #c.#\n Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. 21, No. XXIV, one\n stanza.\n\n 1\n O heard ye of a bloody knight,\n Lived in the south country?\n For he has betrayed eight ladies fair\n And drowned them in the sea.\n\n 2\n Then next he went to May Collin,\n She was her father's heir,\n The greatest beauty in the land,\n I solemnly declare.\n\n 3\n 'I am a knight of wealth and might,\n Of townlands twenty-three;\n And you'll be lady of them all,\n If you will go with me.'\n\n 4\n 'Excuse me, then, Sir John,' she says;\n 'To wed I am too young;\n Without I have my parents' leave,\n With you I darena gang.'\n\n 5\n 'Your parents' leave you soon shall have,\n In that they will agree;\n For I have made a solemn vow\n This night you'll go with me.'\n\n 6\n From below his arm he pulled a charm,\n And stuck it in her sleeve,\n And he has made her go with him,\n Without her parents' leave.\n\n 7\n Of gold and silver she has got\n With her twelve hundred pound,\n And the swiftest steed her father had\n She has taen to ride upon.\n\n 8\n So privily they went along,\n They made no stop or stay,\n Till they came to the fatal place\n That they call Bunion Bay.\n\n 9\n It being in a lonely place,\n And no house there was nigh,\n The fatal rocks were long and steep,\n And none could hear her cry.\n\n 10\n 'Light down,' he said, 'fair May Collin,\n Light down and speak with me,\n For here I've drowned eight ladies fair,\n And the ninth one you shall be.'\n\n 11\n 'Is this your bowers and lofty towers,\n So beautiful and gay?\n Or is it for my gold,' she said,\n 'You take my life away?'\n\n 12\n 'Strip off,' he says, 'thy jewels fine,\n So costly and so brave,\n For they are too costly and too fine\n To throw in the sea wave.'\n\n 13\n 'Take all I have my life to save,\n O good Sir John, I pray;\n Let it neer be said you killed a maid\n Upon her wedding day.'\n\n 14\n 'Strip off,' he says, 'thy Holland smock,\n That's bordered with the lawn,\n For it's too costly and too fine\n To rot in the sea sand.'\n\n 15\n 'O turn about, Sir John,' she said,\n 'Your back about to me,\n For it never was comely for a man\n A naked woman to see.'\n\n 16\n But as he turned him round about,\n She threw him in the sea,\n Saying, 'Lie you there, you false Sir John,\n Where you thought to lay me.\n\n 17\n 'O lie you there, you traitor false,\n Where you thought to lay me,\n For though you stripped me to the skin,\n Your clothes you've got with thee.'\n\n 18\n Her jewels fine she did put on,\n So costly, rich and brave,\n And then with speed she mounts his steed,\n So well she did behave.\n\n 19\n That lady fair being void of fear,\n Her steed being swift and free,\n And she has reached her father's gate\n Before the clock struck three.\n\n 20\n Then first she called the stable groom,\n He was her waiting man;\n Soon as he heard his lady's voice\n He stood with cap in hand.\n\n 21\n 'Where have you been, fair May Collin?\n Who owns this dapple grey?'\n 'It is a found one,' she replied,\n 'That I got on the way.'\n\n 22\n Then out bespoke the wily parrot\n Unto fair May Collin:\n 'What have you done with false Sir John,\n That went with you yestreen?'\n\n 23\n 'O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot,\n And talk no more to me,\n And where you had a meal a day\n O now you shall have three.'\n\n 24\n Then up bespoke her father dear,\n From his chamber where he lay:\n 'What aileth thee, my pretty Poll,\n That you chat so long or day?'\n\n 25\n 'The cat she came to my cage-door,\n The thief I could not see,\n And I called to fair May Collin,\n To take the cat from me.'\n\n 26\n Then first she told her father dear\n The deed that she had done,\n And next she told her mother dear\n Concerning false Sir John.\n\n 27\n 'If this be true, fair May Collin,\n That you have told to me,\n Before I either eat or drink\n This false Sir John I'll see.'\n\n 28\n Away they went with one consent,\n At dawning of the day,\n Until they came to Carline Sands,\n And there his body lay.\n\n 29\n His body tall, by that great fall,\n By the waves tossed to and fro,\n The diamond ring that he had on\n Was broke in pieces two.\n\n 30\n And they have taken up his corpse\n To yonder pleasant green,\n And there they have buried false Sir John,\n For fear he should be seen.\n\n\nE\n\n J. H. Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the\n Peasantry of England, p. 74.\n\n 1\n An outlandish knight came from the north lands,\n And he came a-wooing to me;\n He told me he'd take me unto the north lands,\n And there he would marry me.\n\n 2\n 'Come, fetch me some of your father's gold,\n And some of your mother's fee,\n And two of the best nags out of the stable,\n Where they stand thirty and three.'\n\n 3\n She fetched him some of her father's gold,\n And some of her mother's fee,\n And two of the best nags out of the stable,\n Where they stood thirty and three.\n\n 4\n She mounted her on her milk-white steed,\n He on the dapple grey;\n They rode till they came unto the sea-side,\n Three hours before it was day.\n\n 5\n 'Light off, light off thy milk-white steed,\n And deliver it unto me;\n Six pretty maids have I drowned here,\n And thou the seventh shalt be.\n\n 6\n 'Pull off, pull off thy silken gown,\n And deliver it unto me;\n Methinks it looks too rich and too gay\n To rot in the salt sea.\n\n 7\n 'Pull off, pull off thy silken stays,\n And deliver them unto me;\n Methinks they are too fine and gay\n To rot in the salt sea.\n\n 8\n 'Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock,\n And deliver it unto me;\n Methinks it looks too rich and gay\n To rot in the salt sea.'\n\n 9\n 'If I must pull off my Holland smock,\n Pray turn thy back unto me;\n For it is not fitting that such a ruffian\n A naked woman should see.'\n\n 10\n He turned his back towards her\n And viewed the leaves so green;\n She catched him round the middle so small,\n And tumbled him into the stream.\n\n 11\n He dropped high and he dropped low,\n Until he came to the side;\n 'Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden,\n And I will make you my bride.'\n\n 12\n 'Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man,\n Lie there instead of me;\n Six pretty maids have you drowned here,\n And the seventh has drowned thee.'\n\n 13\n She mounted on her milk-white steed,\n And led the dapple grey;\n She rode till she came to her own father's hall,\n Three hours before it was day.\n\n 14\n The parrot being in the window so high,\n Hearing the lady, did say,\n 'I'm afraid that some ruffian has led you astray,\n That you have tarried so long away.'\n\n 15\n 'Don't prittle nor prattle, my pretty parrot,\n Nor tell no tales of me;\n Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,\n Although it is made of a tree.'\n\n 16\n The king being in the chamber so high,\n And hearing the parrot, did say,\n 'What ails you, what ails you, my pretty parrot,\n That you prattle so long before day?'\n\n 17\n 'It's no laughing matter,' the parrot did say,\n 'That so loudly I call unto thee,\n For the cats have got into the window so high,\n And I'm afraid they will have me.'\n\n 18\n 'Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot,\n Well turned, well turned for me;\n Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,\n And the door of the best ivory.'\n\n\nF\n\n Roxburghe Ballads, III, 449.\n\n 1\n 'Go fetch me some of your father's gold,\n And some of your mother's fee,\n And I'll carry you into the north land,\n And there I'll marry thee.'\n\n 2\n She fetchd him some of her father's gold,\n And some of her mother's fee;\n She carried him into the stable,\n Where horses stood thirty and three.\n\n 3\n She leapd on a milk-white steed,\n And he on a dapple-grey;\n They rode til they came to a fair river's side,\n Three hours before it was day.\n\n 4\n 'O light, O light, you lady gay,\n O light with speed, I say,\n For six knight's daughters have I drowned here,\n And you the seventh must be.'\n\n 5\n 'Go fetch the sickle, to crop the nettle\n That grows so near the brim,\n For fear it should tangle my golden locks,\n Or freckle my milk-white skin.'\n\n 6\n He fetchd the sickle, to crop the nettle\n That grows so near the brim,\n And with all the strength that pretty Polly had\n She pushd the false knight in.\n\n 7\n 'Swim on, swim on, thou false knight,\n And there bewail thy doom,\n For I don't think thy cloathing too good\n To lie in a watry tomb.'\n\n 8\n She leaped on her milk-white steed,\n She led the dapple grey;\n She rid till she came to her father's house,\n Three hours before it was day.\n\n 9\n 'Who knocked so loudly at the ring?'\n The parrot he did say;\n 'O where have you been, my pretty Polly,\n All this long summer's day?'\n\n 10\n 'O hold your tongue, parrot,\n Tell you no tales of me;\n Your cage shall be made of beaten gold,\n Which is now made of a tree.'\n\n 11\n O then bespoke her father dear,\n As he on his bed did lay:\n 'O what is the matter, my parrot,\n That you speak before it is day?'\n\n 12\n 'The cat's at my cage, master,\n And sorely frighted me,\n And I calld down my Polly\n To take the cat away.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _Burden. Song xix of Forbes's 'Cantus,' Aberdeen, 1682, 3d\n ed., has, as pointed out by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. lx,\n nearly the same burden: ~The gowans are gay, The first\n morning of May~. And again, a song in the Tea Table\n Miscellany, as remarked by Buchan, ~There gowans are gay,\n The first morning of May~: p. 404 of the 12th ed., London,\n 1763._\n\n#b.#\n\n _No doubt furnished to Motherwell by Buchan, as a\n considerable number of ballads in this part of his MS.\n seem to have been._\n\n 3^2. Then in.\n\n 8^1. kind sir, said she.\n\n 10^2. That we may some rest before I die.\n\n 11^1. the near.\n\n 13^2. to them ilk ane.\n\n _1 is given by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. lx, but\n apparently to improve metre and secure rhyme, thus_:\n\n Lady Isabel sits in her bouir sewing,\n She heard an elf-knight his horn blowing.\n\n#B b.#\n\n _Buchan's printed copy differs from the manuscript very\n slightly, except in spelling._\n\n 4^3, 6^3. Aft times hae I.\n\n 5^3. And sighing sair says.\n\n 7^3, 9^3. And sighing says.\n\n 14^2. Till she swam.\n\n 14^3. Then thanked.\n\n 14^4. she'd.\n\n#c.#\n\n _Like #A b#, derived by Motherwell from Buchan._\n\n 4^1, 6^1, 8^1. wade in, wade in.\n\n 14^3. And thanked.\n\n _Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads,\n p. 63, printing #B# from the manuscript, makes one or two\n trivial changes._\n\n#d#\n\n _is only this fragment_.\n\n 4^3\n Mony a time I rade wi my brown foal\n The water o Wearie's Wells.\n\n 'Leave aff, leave aff your gey mantle,\n It's a' gowd but the hem;\n Leave aff, leave [aff], it's far owre gude\n To weet i the saut see faem.'\n\n 5\n She wade in, an he rade in,\n Till it took her to the knee;\n Wi sighin said that lady gay\n 'Sic wadin's no for me.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 9\n He rade in, and she wade in,\n Till it took her to the chin;\n Wi sighin said that ladie gay\n 'I'll wade nae farer in.'\n\n 10^3\n 'Sax king's dochters I hae drowned,\n An the seventh you sall be.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 13\n 'Lie you there, you fause young man,\n Where you thought to lay me.'\n\n#C b.#\n\n _The printed copy follows the manuscript with only very\n trifling variations_: Colvin _for_ Colven;\n\n 13^1, up then spak;\n\n 16^4, ere day;\n\n 17^2, almost worried.\n\n#c.#\n\n 2^{1, 2}. he's courted.\n\n 2^3. Till once he got.\n\n _Between 2 and 3 is inserted:_\n\n She's gane to her father's coffers,\n Where all his money lay,\n And she's taken the red, and she's left the white,\n And so lightly as she tripped away.\n\n 3^1 She's gane down to her father's stable,\n\n 3^3 And she's taken the best, and she's left the warst.\n\n 4\n He rode on, and she rode on,\n They rode a long summer's day,\n Until they came to a broad river,\n An arm of a lonesome sea.\n\n 5^{3, 4}\n 'For it's seven king's daughters I have drowned here,\n And the eighth I'll out make with thee.'\n\n 6^{1, 2}\n 'Cast off, cast off your silks so fine,\n And lay them on a stone.'\n\n 7^{1, 2, 3}\n 'Cast off, cast off your holland smock,\n And lay it on this stone,\n For it's too fine.' ...\n\n 9^{3, 4}\n She's twined her arms about his waist,\n And thrown him into\n\n 10^{1, 2}\n 'O hold a grip of me, May Colvin,\n For fear that I should'\n\n ^3 father's gates\n\n ^4 and safely I'll set you down.\n\n 11\n 'O lie you there, thou false Sir John,\n O lie you there,' said she,\n 'For you lie not in a caulder bed\n Than the ane you intended for me.'\n\n 12^3. father's gates.\n\n 12^4. At the breaking of the day.\n\n 13^4. yestreen.\n\n _Between 13 and 14 is inserted:_\n\n Up then spake the pretty parrot,\n In the bonnie cage where it lay:\n 'O what hae ye done with the false Sir John,\n That he behind you does stay?'\n\n 15^{3, 4}\n 'Your cage will be made of the beaten gold,\n And the spakes of ivorie.'\n\n 17^{1, 2}\n 'It was a cat cam ...\n I thought 't would have' ...\n\n#D a.#\n\n 2^1. Colin.\n\n#b#.\n\n _Buchan's copy makes many slight changes which are not\n noticed here._\n\n 1^2. west countrie.\n\n _After 1 is inserted:_\n\n All ladies of a gude account\n As ever yet were known;\n This traitor was a baron knight,\n They calld him fause Sir John.\n\n _After 2:_\n\n 'Thou art the darling of my heart,\n I say, fair May Colvin,\n So far excells thy beauties great\n That ever I hae seen.'\n\n 3^2. Hae towers, towns twenty three.\n\n 7^2. five hunder.\n\n 7^3. The best an steed.\n\n 8^3. fatal end.\n\n 8^4. Binyan's Bay.\n\n 12^2. rich and rare.\n\n 12^4. sea ware.\n\n _After 12:_\n\n Then aff she's taen her jewels fine,\n And thus she made her moan:\n 'Hae mercy on a virgin young,\n I pray you, gude Sir John.'\n\n 'Cast aff, cast aff, fair May Colvin,\n Your gown and petticoat,\n For they're too costly and too fine\n To rot by the sea rock.'\n\n 13^4. Before her.\n\n 14^4. to toss.\n\n 18^3. her steed.\n\n 23^3. What hast thou made o fause.\n\n 28^3. Charlestown sands. _Sharps thinks Carline Sands\n means Carlinseugh Sands on the coast of Forfarshire._\n\n _After 30:_\n\n Ye ladies a', wherever you be,\n That read this mournful song,\n I pray you mind on May Colvin,\n And think on fause Sir John.\n\n Aff they've taen his jewels fine,\n To keep in memory;\n And sae I end my mournful sang\n And fatal tragedy.\n\n#c.#\n\n _Motherwell's one stanza is:_\n\n O heard ye eer o a bloody knight\n That livd in the west countrie?\n For he has stown seven ladies fair,\n And drownd them a' in the sea.\n\n#E.#\n\n 3^2. of the.\n\n 17^2. But so.\n\n\n[24] 'The Elfin Knight' begins very much like #A#, but perhaps has\nborrowed its opening stanzas from this ballad. See page 13.\n\n[25] The second stanza, which describes the harping, occurs again in\n'Glenkindie' (st. 6).\n\n[26] Perhaps the change from wood, #A#, to water, #B-F#, was made under\nthe influence of some Merman ballad, or by admixture with such a ballad;\ne.g., 'N\u00f8kkens Svig,' Grundtvig, No 39. In this (#A#) the nix entices a\nking's daughter away from a dance, sets her on his horse, and rides with\nher over the heath to a wild water, into which she sinks. It is also\nquite among possibilities that there was originally an English nix\nballad, in which the king's daughter saved herself by some artifice,\nnot, of course, such as is employed in #B-F#, but like that in #A#, or\notherwise. Maid Heiemo, in Landstad, No 39, kills a nix with \"one of her\nsmall knives.\" Had she put him to sleep with a charm, and killed him\nwith _his own_ knife, as Lady Isabel does, there would have been nothing\nto shock credibility in the story.\n\nAytoun, Ballads of Scotland, I, 219, 2d ed., hastily pronounces Buchan's\nballad not authentic, \"being made up of stanzas borrowed from versions\nof 'Burd Helen' ['Child Waters'].\" There are, indeed, three successive\nsteps into the water in both ballads, but Aytoun should have bethought\nhimself how natural and how common it is for a passage to slip from one\nballad into another, when the circumstances of the story are the same;\nand in some such cases no one can say where the verses that are common\noriginally belonged. Here, indeed, as Grundtvig remarks, IV, 7, note*,\nit may well be that the verses in question belonged originally to 'Burd\nHelen,' and were adopted (but in the processes of tradition) into 'The\nWater of Wearie's Well;' for it must be admitted that the transaction in\nthe water is not a happy conception in the latter, since it shocks\nprobability that the woman should be able to swim ashore, and the man\nnot.\n\n[27] \"This ballad appears modern, from a great many expressions, but yet\nI am certain that it is old: the present copy came from the housekeeper\nat Methven.\" Note by Sharpe, in Laing's ed. of the Ballad Book, 1880, p.\n130, xvii. Motherwell, in his Minstrelsy, p. lxx, n. 24, says that he\nhad seen a stall ballad as early as 1749, entitled 'The Western\nTragedy,' which perfectly agreed with Sharpe's copy. But in his\nNote-Book, p. 5 (about 1826-7), Motherwell says, \"The best copy of May\nColean with which I have met occurs in a stall copy printed about thirty\nyears ago [should we then read 1799 instead of 1749?], under the title\nof 'The Western Tragedy.' I have subsequently seen a posterior reprint\nof this stall copy under this title, 'The Historical Ballad of May\nCollean.' In Mr. Sharpe's Ballad Book, the same copy, wanting only one\nstanza, is given.\"\n\n[28] According to the variation given by Willems, and adopted by\nHoffmann, Halewijn's _son_ came to meet her, tied her horse to a tree,\nand bade her to sit down by him and loose her hair. For every hair she\nundid she dropped a tear. But it will presently be seen not only that\nthe time has not come for them to sit down, but that Halewijn's bidding\nher undo her hair (to no purpose) is a perversion of her offering to\n\"red\" _his_, to get him into her power, an offer which she makes in the\nGerman and Scandinavian ballads, where also there is good reason for her\ntears, but none as yet here.\n\n[29] J. W. Wolf, Deutsche M\u00e4rchen u. Sagen, No 29, p. 143, gives the\nstory according to #B#, apparently from a ballad like Snellaert's. So\nLuise v. Ploennies, Reiseerinnerungen aus Belgien, p. 38.\n\nHalewyn makes his appearance again in the Flemish ballad, 'Halewyn en\nhet kleyne Kind,' Coussemaker, No 46, p. 149; Po\u00e9sies populaires de la\nFrance, vol. I. A boy of seven years has shot one of Halewyn's rabbits,\nand is for this condemned to be hanged on the highest tree in the park.\nThe father makes great offers for his ransom, but in vain. On the first\nstep of the ladder the child looks back for his mother, on the second\nfor his father, on the third for his brother, on the fourth for his\nsister, each of whom successively arrives and is told that delay would\nhave cost him his life. It will presently be seen that there is a\nresemblance here to German ballads (#G-X#, #Z#).\n\n[30] \"La chanson de Halewyn, telle \u00e0 peu pr\u00e8s que la donnent Willems,\nSnellaert et de Coussemaker, se vend encore sur le march\u00e9 de Bruges.\nQuoiqu'elle porte pour titre _Halewyn_, jamais notre pi\u00e8ce n'a \u00e9t\u00e9\nconnue ici sous ce nom. Le nom de Halewijn, Alewijn ou Alwin ... est\nr\u00e9serv\u00e9 au h\u00e9ros de la pi\u00e8ce suivante\" [Mi Adel en Hir Alewijn]. Lootens\net Feys, p. 66. \"Il est a regretter que Willems et de Coussemaker\nn'aient pas jug\u00e9 \u00e0 propos de donner cette pi\u00e8ce telle que le peuple l'a\nconserv\u00e9e; on serait sans aucun doute en possession de variantes\nremarquables, et les lacunes qui existent dans notre version n'eussent\npas manqu\u00e9 d'\u00eatre com bl\u00e9es. Il est bon d'insister sur la remarque faite\n\u00e0 la suite de la chanson, qu'\u00e0 Bruges et dans beaucoup de localit\u00e9s de\nla Flandre, elle n'est connue que sous le titre de _Roland_. Ajoutons\nque notre texte appartient au dernier si\u00e8cle.\" L. et F., 295.\n\n[31] So in 'Liebe ohne Stand,' one of the mixed forms of the German\nballad, Wunderhorn, Erk I, 41, Crecelius, I, 36,\n\n Und als es nun kam an den dritten Tag,\n Da gingen die Pfeiffen und Trommeln an.\n\n[32] E.g., the wonderland in #A# 2-6, and the strict watch kept over the\nlady in 7-10 are repeated in 'Ribold og Guldborg,' Grundtvig, 82, #B#\n2-7, 8-11, and in 'Den trofaste Jomfru,' ib. 249, #A# 3-6, 7-10. The\nwatching in #A#, #B#, #C# and the proffered gifts of #C#, #D#, #F# are\nfound in 'N\u00f8kkens Svig,' Grundtvig, 39, #A#, #B#, 12-18. The disguise in\n#A# 11-14, the rest in the wood with the knight's head in the lady's\nlap, #A# 16, 27, #B# 11, 21, #D# 14, 24, #E# 11, 21, etc., recur in\nRibold, #B# 12-14, #L# 9, 10, #M# 19, 20, #N# 11, 13, #P# 12, 13. These\nresemblances, naturally, are not limited to the Danish copies.\n\n[33] So the princess in Asbj\u00f6rnsen og Moe, N. Folkeeventyr, p. 153. Cf.\nCampbell's Tales of the West Highlands, III, 209; IV, 282, 283.\n\n[34] The binding and waking, with these words, are found also in a\nmade-up text of 'Fr\u00e6ndeh\u00e6vn,' Grundtvig, No 4, #C# 51-53, but certainly\nborrowed from some copy of 'Kvindemorderen.'\n\n[35] All the German versions appear to have been _originally_ in the\ntwo-line stanza.\n\n[36] The copies with this title in Simrock, No 6, p. 15, and in\nScherer's Jungbrunnen, No 5 A, and his Deutsche V. L., 1851, p. 349, are\ncompounded from various texts.\n\n[37] Both #D# and #E# have attached to them this final stanza:\n\n 'Odilia, why are thy shoes so red?'\n 'It is three doves that I shot dead.'\n\nThis is a well-known commonplace in tragic ballads; and Grundtvig\nsuggests that this stanza was the occasion of the story taking the turn\nwhich we find in ballads of the third class.\n\n[38] One scarcely knows whether this bribe is an imperfect reminiscence\nof splendid promises which the knight makes, e.g., in the Danish\nballads, or a shifting from the maid to the knight of the gold which the\nelsewhere opulent or well-to-do maid gets together while the knight is\npreparing to set forth; or simply one of those extravagances which so\noften make their appearance in later versions of ballads.\n\n[39] The number eleven is remarkably constant in the German ballads,\nbeing found in #G#, #H#, #J-L#, #N-W#; it is also the number in Swedish\n#B#. Eight is the favorite number in the North, and occurs in Danish\n#A-D#, #H-L#, Swedish #A#, #C#, Norwegian #G#, #H#; again in German #I#.\nGerman #M#, #X#, Danish #F#, have ten; German #A#, #B#, Danish #E#,\nNorwegian #I#, have nine; German #C#, #D#, seven; Danish #G# has\nnineteen. French #A#, #B# have fourteen, fifteen, Italian ballads still\nhigher numbers: #A#, #B#, #C#, thirty-six, #D#, fifty-two, #E#,\nthirty-three, #F#, three hundred and three.\n\n[40] This stroke of realism fails only in #M#, #N#, #R#, of this second\nclass.\n\n[41] Apparently to a Ribold ballad, of which no other trace has been\nfound in German. See further on in this volume.\n\n[42]\n\n 13\n 'Ach du sch\u00f6ne junkfraw fein,\n Du pfalzgr\u00e4vin, du kaiserin!\n Der Adelger hat sich vor ailf get\u00f6dt,\n Du wirst die zw\u00f6lft, das sei dir gsait.\n\n 15\n 'So bitt mich nit, du junkfraw fein,\n So bitt mich nit, du herzigs ein!'\n\nThe _liebkosung_ of this murder-reeking Adelger, o'ersized with\ncoagulate gore, is admirably horrible.\n\n[43] Nimmersatt (All-begehrend) as interpreted by Meinert, not Adelger.\n\n[44] Verses which recur, nearly, not only in #Y# 17-19, #W# 27, 28, but\nelsewhere, as in a copy of 'Graf Friedrich,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 41, No\n15, st. 19.\n\n[45] There is no sense in _two_ doves. The single dove one may suppose\nto be the spirit of the last victim. We shall find the _eleven_\nappearing as doves in #Q#. There is no occasion to regard the dove here\nas a Waldminne (Vilmar, Handb\u00fcchlein f\u00fcr Freunde des deutschen\nVolkslieds, p. 57). Cf. the nightingale (and two nightingales) in the\nDanish 'Redselille og Medelvold:' see 'Leesome Brand,' further on in\nthis volume.\n\n[46] This ballad has become, in T\u00fcbingen, a children's game, called\n'Bertha im Wald.' The three cries are preserved in verse, and very\nnearly as in #J#, #M#. The game concludes by the robber smothering\nBertha. Meier, Deutsche Kinder-Reime, No 439.\n\n[47] #K#, or the editor, seeks to avoid the difficulty by taking the\nlast line from the knight, and reading, \"Mit Blut war er umronnen,\" an\nemendation not according with the simplicity of ballads. Another Swabian\ncopy, Meier, p. 301, note, strophe 6, has:\n\n 'Wir m\u00fcssen zu selbigem Bronnen\n Wo Wasser und Blut heraus ronnen.'\n\n[48] The last verses are these, and not very much worse than the rest:\n\n Mein Bruder ist ein J\u00e4gersmann,\n Der alle Thierlein schiessen kann;\n Er hatt' ein zweischneidiges Schwerte,\n Und stach es dem Falschen ins Herze.\n\n Ihr M\u00e4dchen alle insgemein,\n Lasst euch doch diess zur Warnung sein,\n Und geht doch mit keinem so falschen\n In einen so finsteren Walde.\n\n My brother is a hunting man,\n And all the small game shoot he can;\n He had a sword with edges two,\n And ran the heart of the false man through\n\n Ye maidens now in general,\n Let this be warning to you all;\n With man so false you never should\n Go to _so very_ dark a wood.\n\n[49] So in Rochholz, Schweizer Sagen, No 14, I, 23, a man who had killed\neleven maids would, if he could have made up the number twelve, have\nbeen able to pass through walls and mouseholes. Again, a certain robber\nin Jutland, who had devoured eight children's hearts, would have\nacquired the power of flying could he but have secured one more.\nGrundtvig, D. g. F. IV, 16, note.\n\n[50] What will those who are so troubled about cork-heeled shoon in 'Sir\nPatrick Spens' say to the fire-arms in #L#, #N#, #S#?\n\n[51] A variety of #W#, cited in Schlesische Volkslieder, p. 26, has,\n\n 'Ach Ulbrich, Ulbrich, Halsemann, Halsemann,\n Lass du mich nur drei Gale schrei'n!'\n\nGrundtvig, assuming that the name is Ulbrich Halsemann, would account\nfor the second and superfluous character here [found also in #W#] by a\ndivarication of Ulrich Halsemann into Ulrich _and_ Halsemann (Hanslein).\nAnsar, \"bisher unverst\u00e4ndlicher Vorname des Ritters Uleraich\" in #Y#\n(Meinert), would equally well yield Hanslein. Might not Halsemann\npossibly be an equivalent of Halsherr?\n\n[52] And in 'Der Mutter Fluch,' Meinert, p. 246, a ballad with which #Y#\nagrees in the first two and last four stanzas.\n\n[53] There is a dove in #Z#, but #Z#, as has been said, presents traits\nof all three classes.\n\n[54]\n\n 'Da lyge, feyns Lybchen, unndt fawle,\n Meyn jungk Herze muss trawren.'\n\n Nicolai, vv 35, 36,\n\n 'Da liege, du H\u00e4uptchen, und faule,\n Kein Reuter wird dir nachtrauern.'\n\n Simrock, vv 35, 36,\n\nare evidently derived from the apostrophe to the murderer's head in #I#,\n#W#, #Y#.\n\nStolz Syburg is the hero of a very different ballad, from the M\u00fcnster\nregion, Reifferscheid, No 16, p. 32 (also No 17, and Simrock, No 9, p.\n23, 'Stolz Heinrich'). And from this the name, in consequence of a\nremote resemblance in the story, may have been taken up by the Rhine\nballad, though it has contributed nothing more. Margaret, a king's\ndaughter, is wiled away by a splendid description of Stolz Syburg's\nopulence. When they have gone a long way, he tells her that he has\nnothing but a barren heath. She stabs herself at his feet.\n\n[55] 'Wassermans Braut,' Meinert, p. 77; 'Die ungl\u00fcckliche Braut,'\nHoffmann u. Richter, Schlesische V. L., p. 6, No. 2; 'K\u00f6nigs\nT\u00f6chterlein,' Erk u. Irmer, vi, 6, No 4; 'Der Wassermann,' Erk's\nLiederhort, p. 50, No 17. ('Die Nixenbraut,' \"Norddeutschland,\"\nZuccalmaglio, p. 192, No 92, seems to be Meinert's copy written over.)\n\n[56] The remarkable Norwegian ballad of the 'Wassermanns Brant' group,\nThe Nix and Heiemo, Landstad, No 39, p. 350, has not been unaffected by\nthe one we are now occupied with. There is even a verbal contact between\nstanza 19,\n\n 'Heiemo tenkte me\u00f0 sjave seg:\n Tru mine sm\u00e1 _knivar_ 'ki hjelper meg?'\n\nand Norwegian #F#, stanza 9, cited by Grundtvig, IV, 4,\n\n Lengji st\u00f3 Gullbj\u00f6r, h\u00f3 tenkte m\u00e6 seg:\n 'Kann inkje m\u00ed' _r\u00faninne_ hjelpe meg?'\n\n[57] Kolberg's #b#, #h#, #k#, #v#, #x#, #bb#, #cc#, #hh#, #kk#, #ll#,\n#nn#, #xx#, #yy#, #zz#, consist of only one or two initial stanzas,\ncontaining no important variation. His #aaa#, a fragment of six stanzas,\nPauli, p. 147, No 6, Wojcicki, II, 169, though it begins like the rest,\nsounds like a different ballad.\n\nThe ballad in Wojcicki, I, 38, is allied with the one we are engaged\nwith, and the two fragments on p. 36, p. 37 with both this and that.\n\n[58] Anne in #R#, #LL#, and Kolberg's #h#: Mary in #I#, #U#, #II#:\nUrsula, #N#: both Catherine and Alice, #AA#. John is found in all but\n#N#, where there is a nameless seigneur.\n\n[59] They are expressly said to go off in a carriage in #I#, #O#, #Q#,\n#T#, #BB#, #DD#, #FF#. Still, in #I#, John says, \"Let the black horse\nhave something to carry under us.\" In #O#, #T#, #FF#, the horses have a\npresentiment of evil to their mistress, and refuse to stir.\n\n[60] One version of 'The Two Sisters,' #Q#, has the same answer:\n\n 'I did not put you in with the design\n Just for to pull you out again.'\n\n st. 9.\n\nThis might be called a formula in Polish ballads: something of the kind\noccurs three times in #X#, four times in #B#, five times in #P#; in\nother ballads also. In #Q# 25, Catherine clutches the river bank, and\nJohn pushes away her hands. Compare 'The Two Sisters,' #F# 9, further on\nin this volume.\n\n[61] #L#, #L*#, #M#, #N#, as already said, confuse the two catastrophes.\nJohn says, in #N#, \"Do you see that broad river? I will measure its\ndepth by throwing you in.\" We may assume that he was as good as his\nword. But Ursula made her way home through woods and forests, weeping\nher eyes out on the way. Kind souls dug a grave for her. The conclusion\nof #M# is absurd, but need not be particularized. #G# has a passage of\nthe sternest theology. While Catherine is struggling in the water, her\nfather comes by. She cries to him to save her. He says, \"My dear\nCatherine, you have loved pleasure too much. Lord Jesus grant you\ndrown!\" Her mother appears, and makes the same reply to her daughter's\nappeal. There are stall-copy terminal morals to many of the ballads.\n\n[62] #N# 1, \"A lord came riding from his estate to a neighbor.\"\n\n[63] The place is high above the water in #R# 10, 11, as in English #D#\n9, 29, #C# 4.\n\n[64] #BB# 6, \"My mother said that I had seen you; she will _watch me\nclosely_,\" may be an accidental coincidence with Danish #A# 7-9, #B#\n6-8, etc.\n\n[65] The second, and more valuable, volume of Waldau's B. G. I have\nfound it impossible to obtain. Reifferscheid cites the ballad at p. 166.\n\n[66] A few silly verses follow in the original, in which Thomas treats\nwhat he had said as a jest. These are properly rejected by Talvj as a\nspurious appendage.\n\n[67]\n\n 'De achte de soll Helena sin,\n De achte de most he s\u00f6lwer sin.'\n\n German #A b# 13.\n\n[68] Another version of this double ballad, but much corrupted in the\nsecond part, was known to G\u00e9rard de Nerval. See Les Filles du Feu,\n\u0152uvres compl\u00e8tes, V, 132.\n\n[69] So far there is agreement in 'La Fille du Prince,' Paymaigre, No\n32, p. 106; Po\u00e9sies pop. de la France, MS., III, fol. 133.\n\n[70] The Asturian romance communicated in two copies by Amador de los\nRios to Jahrbuch f\u00fcr rom. u. eng. Literatur, III, 285, No 2, and the\nPortuguese 'Romance de Romeirinha,' Braga, Romanceiro, No 9, p. 24, 'A\nRomeira,' Almeida-Garrett, III, 11, are not parallels, though they have\nbeen cited as such.\n\n[71] Magyar N\u00e9pk\u00f6lt\u00e9si Gy\u00fcjtem\u00e9ny. Uj Folyam, szerkesztik \u00e9s kiadj\u00e1k\nArany L\u00e1szl\u00f3 \u00e9s Gyulai P\u00e1l. Collection of Magyar Popular Poetry, New\nSeries, Pest, 1872, 2 vols. Aigner, has blended Nos 4 and 3 (#C#, #A#)\nin 'Martin und Aennchen,' Ungarische Volksdichtungen, p. 170, and has\ntranslated No 1 (#E#), at p. 120, 'Moln\u00e1r Anna,' in each case obscuring\nor omitting one or two traits which are important for a comparative\nview.\n\n[72] Very little remains of the artifice in Polish #A#. The idea seems\nto be that the girl pretends to be curious about the sword in order to\nget it into her hands. But the whole story is told in ten stanzas.\n\n[73] I accept and repeat Grundtvig's views as to the relation of the\nthree forms of the story. And with regard to the history of the ballad\ngenerally, this is but one of many cases in which much or most of the\nwork had been done to my hand in Danmarks gamle Folkeviser.\n\n[74] Memering was required by his adversary to swear that he knew not of\nthe sword Adelring, and took his oath that he knew of nothing but the\nhilt being above ground, which was accepted as satisfactory. Presently\nhe pulls Adelring out of the ground, into which he had thrust the blade,\nand, being accused of perjury, triumphantly rejoins that he had sworn\nthat he knew of nothing but the hilt _being above ground_. Dietrich does\nthe same in his duel with Sigurd Swain.\n\n[75] Magyar #A# is entirely peculiar. Apparently the man lays his head\nin the woman's lap that he may know, by the falling of her tears, when\nshe has disobeyed his command not to look into the tree. This is like\n'Bluebeard,' and rather subtle for a ballad.\n\n[76] 'Child Waters,' 'The Fair Flower of Northumberland.'\n\n[77] The murderer has a horn in Swedish #C#, #D#, as also in the Dutch\nHalewyn and the German #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, and the horn may be of\nmagical power, but it is not distinctly described as such.\n\n[78] The scenery of the halting-place in the wood--the bloody streams in\nDanish #A#, #B#, #D#, #H#, #L#, #K#, the blood-girt spring in German\n#H#, #J#, #K#, #L#, #O#, #P#, #Q#--is also, to say the least, suggestive\nof something horribly uncanny. These are undoubtedly ancient features,\nthough the spring, as the Danish editor observes, has no longer any\nsignificancy in the German ballads, because in all of them the previous\nvictims are said to have been _hanged_.\n\n[79] The saga in Bj\u00f6rner's Nordiska K\u00e4mpadater, c. 5-7.\n\n[80] Danish #E#, #I#, #L#, and even #A#, make the knight suggest to the\nlady that she should get her gold together while he is saddling his\nhorse; but this is a commonplace found in other cases of elopement, and\n_by itself_ warrants no conclusion as to the knight's rapacity. See\n'Samson,' Grundtvig, No 6, #C# 5; 'Ribold og Guldborg,' No 82, #C# 13,\n#E# 14, etc.; 'Redselille og Medelvold,' No 271, #A# 21, #B# 20; 272,\nBilag 3, st. 8; 270, 18, etc.\n\n[81] So perhaps a Polish ballad in Wojcicki, I, 38, akin to the other\nJohn and Katie ballads.\n\n[82] It is well known that in the Middle Ages the blood of children or\nof virgins was reputed a specific for leprosy (see, e.g., Cassel in the\nWeimar Jahrb\u00fccher, I, 408.) Some have thought to find in this fact an\nexplanation of the murders in these ballads and in the Bluebeard\nstories, and, according to Rochholz, this theory has been adopted into\npopular tradition in the Aargau. So far as this cycle of ballads is\nconcerned, there is as much ground for holding that the blood was wanted\nto cure leprosy as for believing that the gold was wanted for _aurum\npotabile_.\n\n[83] Det philologisk-historiske Samfunds Mindeskrift i Anledning af dets\nfemogtyveaarige Virksomhed, 1854-79, Bidrag til den nordiske\nBalladedigtnings Historie, p. 75 ff.\n\n[84] Bugge cites the Old German Judith, M\u00fcllenhoff u. Scherer,\nDenkm\u00e4ler, 2d ed., No 37, p. 105, to show how the Bible story became\nmodified under a popular treatment.\n\n[85] Holefern might doubtless pass into Halewyn, but there is not the\nslightest need of Holefern to _account_ for Halewyn. Halewyn, besides\nbeing a well-known local and family appellation, is found in two other\nDutch ballads, one of which (Lootens and Feys, p. 66, No 38; Hoffmann,\np. 46, No 11) has no kind of connection with the present, and is no more\nlikely to have derived the name from this than this from that. It shall\nnot be denied that Adelger, Hilsinger, Rullemann, Reimvord might have\nsprung from or have been suggested by Holofern, under the influence of\nfamiliar terminations, but it may be remarked that Hildebrand,\nRavengaard, Valdemar, Rosmer, if they had occurred in any version, would\nhave occasioned no greater difficulty.\n\n[86] The Old German poem makes Holofernes kindle with desire for Judith\nthe moment he sees her, and he bids his men bring her to his tent. They\nlift her up and bring her in.\n\n[87] It should be observed that these words are from the dove's warning.\n\n[88] Simply because he had no other apartment at his disposition. Shall\nwe add, the Polish mother putting her daughter into the \"new room,\" in\nwhich she kept her valuables?\n\n[89] Bugge holds that the ballad was derived by the Scandinavians from\nthe Germans, more precisely by the Danes from a Low German form. This,\nhe says, would follow from what he has maintained above, and he finds\nsupport for his view in many particular traits of Norse copies. Thus,\none of the Norwegian names for the murderer is Alemarken. The first\nthree syllables are very near to the Danish Oldemor; but -ken seems to\nbe the German diminutive suffix, and can only be explained by the ballad\nhaving come from Germany.\n\n[90] This toilet derives importance solely from the agreement with\nJudith x, 3: for the rest it is entirely in the ballad style. Compare\nthe toilets in 'Hafsfrun,' Afzelius, No 92, III, 148, Arwidsson, No 150,\nII, 320, Wigstr\u00f6m, Folkdiktning, No 2, p. 11, Landstad, No 55, p. 494:\n'Guldsmedens Datter,' Grundtvig, No. 245, IV, 481 ff, Wigstr\u00f6m, ib., No\n18, p. 37, Landstad, No 43, p. 437: Torkilds Riim, Lyngbye, F\u00e6r\u00f8iske\nQv\u00e6der, 534, 535, Afzelius, III, 202: 'Stolts Karin,' Arwidsson, No 63,\nI, 388: 'Liti Kerstis hevn,' Landstad, No 67, p. 559 == 'Lord Thomas and\nFair Annet': in many of which there is a gold crown. There is a man's\ntoilet in Grundtvig, No 207, IV, 201.\n\n[91] Bugge would naturally have seen the Assyrian scouts that Judith\nfalls in with (x, 11) in Roland's father, mother, and brother, all of\nwhom hail the maid as she is making for Roland's quarters (#C# 30-38);\nstill more \"Holofernes jacebat in lecto\" (xiii, 4), in \"Roland die op\nzijn bedde lag,\" #C# 39.\n\n[92] Judith xiv, 1: \"Suspendite caput hoc super muros nostros.\" The\ncutting off and bringing home of the head, as need hardly be said, is\nnot of itself remarkable, being found everywhere from David to Be\u00f3wulf,\nand from Be\u00f3wulf to 'Sir Andrew Barton.'\n\n[93] Dutch #B#, which, as before said, has been completely rewritten,\nmakes the comparison with Holofernes:\n\n 34\n 'Ik heb van't leven hem beroofd,\n in mynen schoot heb ik zyn hoofd,\n hy is als Holofernes gelooft.'\n\n 37\n Zy reed dan voort als Judith wys,\n zoo regt nae haer vaders paleis,\n daer zy wierd ingehaeld met eer en prys.\n\n\n\n\n5\n\nGIL BRENTON\n\n #A. a.# 'Gil Brenton,' Jamieson Brown MS., fol. 34. #b.#\n 'Chil Brenton,' William Tytler Brown MS., No 3.\n\n #B.# 'Cospatrick,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 117 (1802).\n\n #C.# 'We were sisters, we were seven,' Cromek's Remains of\n Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 207.\n\n #D.# 'Lord Dingwall,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, I, 204.\n\n #E.# Elizabeth Cochrane's song-book, No 112.\n\n #F. a.# 'Lord Brangwill,' Motherwell's MSS, p. 219. #b.#\n 'Lord Bengwill,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p.\n xvi.\n\n #G.# 'Bothwell,' Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, p.\n 244.\n\n #H.# Kinloch MSS, V, 335.\n\n\nEight copies of this ballad are extant, four of them hitherto\nunpublished. #A a#, No 16 in the Jamieson-Brown MS., is one of twenty\nballads written down from the recitation of Mrs. Brown of Falkland, by\nher nephew, Robert Scott, in 1783, or shortly before. From these twenty\nthirteen were selected, and, having first been revised by Mrs. Brown,\nwere sent, with two others, to William Tytler in the year just\nmentioned. William Tytler's MS. has disappeared, but a list of the\nballads which it contained, with the first stanza of each, is given by\nDr Anderson, in Nichols's Illustrations of the Literary History of the\nEighteenth Century, VII, 176. #B# is the 'Cospatrick' of the Border\nMinstrelsy, described by Scott as taken down from the recitation of a\nlady (known to be Miss Christian Rutherford, his mother's sister) \"with\nsome stanzas transferred from Herd's copy, and some readings adopted\nfrom a copy in Mrs Brown's manuscript under the title of Child Brenton,\"\nthat is, from #A b#. #C# purports to be one of a considerable number of\npieces, \"copied from the recital of a peasant-woman of Galloway, upwards\nof ninety years of age.\" Though overlaid with verses of Cunningham's\nmaking (of which forty or fifty may be excided in one mass) and though\nretouched almost everywhere, both the groundwork of the story and some\ngenuine lines remain unimpaired. The omission of most of the passage\nreferred to, and the restoration of the stanza form, will give us,\nperhaps, a thing of shreds and patches, but still a ballad as near to\ngenuine as some in Percy's Reliques or even Scott's Minstrelsy. #D# and\n#F# are (the former presumably, the second certainly) from recitation of\nthe first quarter of this century. #E# is one of the few ballads in\nElizabeth Cochrane's song-book, and probably of the first half of the\nlast century. #G#, the earliest printed form of the ballad, appeared in\nHerd's first collection, in the year 1769. #H# was taken down from\nrecitation by the late Dr Hill Burton in his youth.\n\n#A#, #B#, and #C# agree in these points: A bride, not being a maid,\nlooks forward with alarm to her wedding night, and induces her\nbower-woman to take her place for the nonce. The imposture is detected\nby the bridegroom, through the agency of magical blankets, sheets, and\npillows, #A#; or of blankets, bed, sheet, and sword, #B#; or simply of\nthe Billie Blin, #C#. (The sword is probably an editorial insertion; and\nJamieson, Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 343, doubts, but\nwithout sufficient reason, the Billie Blin.) The bridegroom has recourse\nto his mother, who demands an explanation of the bride, and elicits a\nconfession that she had once upon a time encountered a young man in a\nwood, who subjected her to violence. Before they parted, he gave her\ncertain tokens, which he enjoined her to be very careful of, a lock of\nhis hair, a string of beads, a gold ring, and a knife. #B# omits the\nknife, and #C# the beads. The mother goes back to her son, and asks what\nhe had done with the tokens she had charged him never to part with. He\nowns that he had presented them to a lady, one whom he would now give\nall his possessions to have for his wife. The lady of the greenwood is\nidentified by the tokens.\n\n#A#, #C#, and #D# make the mother set a golden chair for the bride, in\nwhich none but a maid can sit, #D# [no leal maid will sit till bidden,\n#C#]. In #D# the chair is declined; in #C#, taken without bidding; in\n#A# the significance of the chair has been lost. #E#, #F#, #G# employ no\nkind of test of maidenhood,--the bride frankly avows that she is with\nchild to another man; and #D#, as well as #E#, #F#, #G#, omits the\nsubstitution of the chambermaid. The tokens in #D# are a chain, a ring,\nand three locks of hair; in #E#, gloves and a ring; in #F#, #G#, green\ngloves, a ring, and three locks [plaits] of hair. Only the ring remains\nin #H#.\n\n\"This ballad,\" says Motherwell (1827), \"is very popular, and is known to\nreciters under a variety of names. I have heard it called Lord Bangwell,\nBengwill, Dingwall, Brengwill, etc., and The Seven Sisters, or the\nLeaves of Lind.\" He adds: \"There is an unedited ballad in Scotland,\nwhich is a nearer approximation to the Danish song, inasmuch as the\nsubstitution of the maiden sister for the real bride constitutes a\nprominent feature of the tale.\"[94] (Minstrelsy, Introduction, lxix^21\nand xc.)\n\nScott remarks that Cospatrick[95] \"was the designation of the Earl of\nDunbar, in the days of Wallace and Bruce.\" Mr Macmath informs me that it\nis in use at the present day in the families of the Earl of Home and of\nDunbar of Mochrum, Bart, who, among others, claim descent from the\nancient earls of Dunbar and March. The story of the ballad might, of\ncourse, attach itself to any person prominent in the region where the\nballad was known.\n\n#Swedish.# Three Swedish versions of this ballad were given by Afzelius:\n#A#, 'Riddar Olle' in 50 two-line stanzas, II, 217; #B#, 19 two-line\nstanzas, II, 59; #C#, 19 two-line stanzas, II, 56: No 33, I, 175-182 of\nBergstr\u00f6m's edition. Besides these, there are two fragments in Cavallius\nand Stephens's unprinted collection: #D#, 6 stanzas; #E#, 7 stanzas, the\nlatter printed in Grundtvig, V, 307.[96] All these were obtained from\nrecitation in the present century. #A# comes nearest to our #A#, #B#.\nLike Scottish #B#, it seems to have been compounded from several copies.\nSir Olof betrothed Ingalilla, and carried her home for the spousal,\nwearing a red gold crown and a wan cheek. Ingalilla gave birth to\ntwin-boys. Olof had a maid who resembled Ingalilla completely, and who,\nupon Ingalilla's entreaty, consented to play the part of bride on the\nmorrow. Dressed in Ingalilla's clothes, blue kirtle, green jacket, etc.,\nand wearing five gold rings and a gold crown, the maid rode to church,\nwith Ingalilla at her back, and her beauty was admired by all as she\ncame and went. But outside of the church were a good many musicians; and\none of these piped out, \"God-a-mercy, Ingalilla, no maid art thou!\"\nIngalilla threw into the piper's hand something which made him change\nhis tune. He was an old drunken fellow, and no one need mind what he\nsang. After five days of drinking, they took the bride to her chamber,\nnot without force. Ingalilla bore the light before her, and helped put\nher to bed; then lay down herself. Olof had over him a fur rug, which\ncould talk as well as he, and it called out,\n\n 'Hear me, Sir Olof, hear what I say;\n Thou hast taken a strumpet, and missed a may.'\n\nAnd Olof,\n\n 'Hear, little Inga, sweetheart,' he said;\n 'What didst thou get for thy maidenhead?'[97]\n\nInga explained. Her father was a strange sort of man, and built her\nbower by the sea-strand, where all the king's courtiers took ship. Nine\nhad broken in, and one had robbed her of her honor. He had given her an\nembroidered sark, a blue kirtle, green jacket, black mantle, gloves,\nfive gold rings, a red gold crown, a golden harp, and a silver-mounted\nknife, which she now wishes in the youngster's body. The conclusion is\nabruptly told in two stanzas. Olof bids Inga not to talk so, for he is\nfather of her children. He embraces her and gives her a queen's crown\nand name. #B# has the same story, omitting the incident of the musician.\n#C# has preserved this circumstance, but has lost both the substitution\nof the waiting-woman for the bride and the magical coverlet. #D# has\nalso lost these important features of the original story; #E# has\nretained them.\n\n#Danish.# 'Brud ikke M\u00f8,' Grundtvig, No 274, V, 304. There are two old\nversions (more properly only one, so close is the agreement), and a\nthird from recent tradition. This last, Grundtvig's #C#, from Jutland,\n1856, seems to be of Swedish origin, and, like Swedish #C#, #D#, wants\nthe talking coverlet, though it has kept the other material feature,\nthat of the substitution. #A# is found in two manuscripts, one of the\nsixteenth and the other of the seventeenth century. #B# is the\nwell-known 'Ingefred og Gudrune,' or 'Herr Samsings Nattergale,' Syv,\nIV, No 62, Danske Viser, No 194, translated in Jamieson's Illustrations,\np. 340, and by Prior, III, 347. A later form of #B#, from recent\nrecitation, 1868, is given in Kristensen's Jydske Folkeviser, I, No 53.\n\nThe story in #A# runs thus: S\u00f8lverlad and Vendelrod [Ingefred and\nGudrune] were sitting together, and Vendelrod wept sorely. S\u00f8lverlad\nasked her sister the reason, and was told there was cause. Would she be\nbride one night? Vendelrod would give her wedding clothes and all her\noutfit. But S\u00f8lverlad asked for bridegroom too, and Vendelrod would not\ngive up her bridegroom, happen what might. She went to church and was\nmarried to Samsing. On the way from church they met a spaeman [#B#,\nshepherd], who warned Vendelrod that Samsing had some nightingales that\ncould tell him whether he had married a maid or no. The sisters turned\naside and changed clothes, but could not change cheeks! S\u00f8lverlad was\nconducted to Samsing's house and placed on the bride bench. An unlucky\njester called out, \"Methinks this is not Vendelrod!\" but a gold ring\nadroitly thrown into his bosom opened his eyes still wider, and made him\npretend he had meant nothing. The supposed bride is put to bed. Samsing\ninvokes his nightingales: \"Have I a maid or no?\" They reply, it is a\nmaid that lies in the bed, but Vendelrod stands on the floor. Samsing\nasks Vendelrod why she avoided her bed, and she answers: her father\nlived on the strand; her bower was broken into by a large company of\nmen, and one of them robbed her of her honor. In this case there are no\ntokens for evidence. Samsing owns immediately that he and his men had\nbroken into the bower, and Vendelrod's agony is over.\n\nSome of the usual tokens, gold harp, sark, shoes, and silver-mounted\nknife, are found in the later #C#. Danish #D# is but a single initial\nstanza.\n\nBesides S\u00f8lverlad and Vendelrod, there is a considerable number of\nDanish ballads characterized by the feature that a bride is not a maid,\nand most or all of these have similarities to 'Gil Brenton.' 'Hr. Find\nog Vendelrod,' Grundtvig, No 275, has even the talking blanket\n(sometimes misunderstood to be a bed-_board_). In this piece there is no\nsubstitution. Vendelrod gives birth to children, and the news makes Find\njump over the table. Still he puts the question mildly, who is the\nfather, and recognizes that he is the man, upon hearing the story of the\nbower on the strand, and seeing half a gold ring which Vendelrod had\nreceived \"for her honor.\"\n\nIn 'Ingelilles Bryllup,' Grundtvig, No 276, Blidelild is induced to take\nIngelild's place by the promise that she shall marry Ingelild's brother.\nHr. Magnus asks her why she is so sad, and says he knows she is not a\nmaid. Blidelild says, \"Since you know so much, I will tell you more,\"\nand relates Ingelild's adventure,--how she had gone out to the river,\nand nine knights came riding by, etc. [so #A#; in #B# and #C# we have\nthe bower on the strand, as before]. Hr. Magnus avows that he was the\nninth, who stayed when eight rode away. Blidelild begs that he will\nallow her to go and look for some lost rings, and uses the opportunity\nto send back Ingelild in her stead.\n\nVarious other Scandinavian ballads have more or less of the story of\nthose which have been mentioned. In the Danish 'Brud i Vaande,'\nGrundtvig, No 277, a bride is taken with untimely pains while being\n\"brought home.\" The question asked in several of the Scottish ballads,\nwhether the saddle is uncomfortable, occurs in #A#, #B#; the bower that\nwas forced by eight swains and a knight in #A#, #C#, #D#, #F#; the gifts\nin #A#, #B#, #F#; and an express acknowledgment of the act of violence\nby the bridegroom in #A#, #B#, #D#. We find all of these traits except\nthe first in the corresponding Swedish ballad 'Herr \u00c4ster och Fr\u00f6ken\nSissa,' Afzelius, No 38, new ed., No 32,^1; the saddle and broken\nbower in Swedish #D#, Grundtvig, No 277, Bilag 1; only the saddle in\nSwedish #F#, Grundtvig, No. 277, Bilag 3, and #C#, Arwidsson, No 132;\nthe saddle and gifts in Icelandic #A#, #B#, #C#, #D#, #E#, Grundtvig, No\n277, Bilag 5, 6, 7, 8.\n\n'Peder og Malfred,' Grundtvig, No 278, in four versions, the oldest from\na manuscript of 1630, represents Sir Peter as riding away from home\nabout a month after his marriage, and meeting a woman who informs him\nthat there is a birth in his house. He returns, and asks who is the\nfather. Sir Peter satisfies himself that he is the man by identifying\nthe gifts, in #A#, #B#, #C#, #D#; and in #A#, #B# we have also the bower\nby the strand.\n\nIn 'Oluf og Ellinsborg,' Grundtvig, No 279, #A#, #B#, #C#, one of the\nqueen's ladies is habitually sad, and is pressed by her lover to account\nfor this. She endeavors to put him off with fictitious reasons, but\nfinally nerves herself to tell the truth: she was walking by herself in\nher orchard, when five knights came riding by, and one was the cause of\nher grief. Oluf owns it was all his doing. A Swedish ballad, remarkably\nclose to the Danish, from a manuscript of the date 1572 (the oldest\nDanish version is also from a manuscript of the 16th century), is\n'Riddar Lage och Stolts Elensborg,' Arwidsson, No 56.\n\n'Iver Hr. Jons\u00f8n,' Grundtvig, No 280, in five versions, the oldest of\nthe 16th century, exhibits a lady as fearing the arrival of her lover's\nship, and sending her mother to meet him, while she takes to her bed.\nImmediately upon her betrothed's entering her chamber, she abruptly\ndiscloses the cause of her trouble. Eight men had broken into her bower\non the strand, and the ninth deprived her of her honor. Iver Hr. Jons\u00f8n,\nwith as little delay, confesses that he was the culprit, and makes\nprompt arrangements for the wedding.\n\nThere is another series of ballads, represented by 'Leesome Brand' in\nEnglish, and by 'Redselille og Medelvold' in Danish, which describe a\nyoung woman, who is on the point of becoming a mother, as compelled to\ngo off on horseback with her lover, and suffering from the ride. We find\nthe question, whether the saddle is too narrow or the way too long, in\nthe Danish 'Bolde Hr. Nilaus' L\u00f8n,' Grundtvig, 270, 'Redselille og\nMedelvold,' Grundtvig, 271 #C#, #D#, #E#, #I#, #K#, #L#, #M#, #P#, #Q#,\n#V#, #Y#, and the Norwegian versions, #A#, #D#, #E#, #F#, of 'S\u00f8nnens\nSorg,' Grundtvig, 272, Bilag 1, 4, 5, 6.[98] The gifts also occur in\nGrundtvig's 271 #A#, #Z#, and Norwegian #D#, Bilag 9.\n\nPerhaps no set of incidents is repeated so often in northern ballads as\nthe forcing of the bower on the strand, the giving of keepsakes, the\nself-identification of the ravisher through these, and his full and\nhearty reparation. All or some of these traits are found in many ballads\nbesides those belonging to the groups here spoken of: as 'Hildebrand og\nHilde,' #E#, #I#, Grundtvig, No 83, and Norwegian #A#, III, 857;\n'Guldsmedens Datter,' Grundtvig, 245, and its Swedish counterpart at p.\n481 of the preface to the same, and in Eva Wigstr\u00f6m's Folkdiktning, p.\n37, No 18; 'Liden Kirstins Dans,' Grundtvig, 263 (translated by Prior,\n112), and Norwegian #B#, #C#, Bilag 2, 3; 'Jomfruens Harpesl\u00e6t,'\nGrundtvig, 265 (translated by Jamieson, 'Illustrations,' p. 382, Prior,\n123, Buchanan, p. 6), and Swedish #D#, Bilag 2, Swedish #A#, Afzelius,\n81. So Landstad, 42, 45; Arwidsson, 141; Grundtvig, 37 #G#; 38 #A#, #D#;\nKristensen, I, No 95, II, No 28 #A#, #C#.\n\nA very pretty Norwegian tale has for the talisman a stepping-stone at\nthe side of the bed: Asbj\u00f8rnsen og Moe, No 29, 'Vesle Aase Gaasepige,'\nDasent, 2d ed., p. 478. An English prince had pictures taken of all the\nhandsomest princesses, to pick his bride by. When the chosen one\narrived, Aase the goose-girl informed her that the stone at the bedside\nknew everything and told the prince; so if she felt uneasy on any\naccount, she must not step on it. The princess begged Aase to take her\nplace till the prince was fast asleep, and then they would change. When\nAase came and put her foot on the stone, the prince asked, \"Who is it\nthat is stepping into my bed?\" \"A maid clean and pure,\" answered the\nstone. By and by the princess came and took Aase's place. When they were\ngetting up in the morning, the prince asked again, \"Who is it stepping\nout of my bed?\" \"One that has had three children,\" said the stone. The\nprince sent his first choice away, and tried a second. Aase faithfully\nwarned her, and she had cause for heeding the advice. When Aase stepped\nin, the stone said it was a maid clean and pure; when the princess\nstepped out, the stone said it was one that had had six children. The\nprince was longer in hitting on a third choice. Aase took the bride's\nplace once more, but this time the prince put a ring on her finger,\nwhich was so tight that she could not get it off, for he saw that all\nwas not right. In the morning, when he asked, \"Who is stepping out of my\nbed?\" the stone answered, \"One that has had nine children.\" Then the\nprince asked the stone to clear up the mystery, and it revealed how the\nprincesses had put little Aase in their place. The prince went straight\nto Aase to see if she had the ring. She had tied a rag over her finger,\npretending she had cut it; but the prince soon had the rag off,\nrecognized his ring, and Aase got the prince, for the good reason that\nso it was to be.\n\nThe artifice of substituting waiting-woman for bride has been thought\nto be derived from the romance of Tristan, in which Brangwain [Brengain,\nBrangaene] sacrifices herself for Isold: Scott's 'Sir Tristrem,' ii, 54;\nGottfried V. Strassburg, xviii, ed. Bechstein. Grundtvig truly remarks\nthat a borrowing by the romance from the popular ballad is as probable a\nsupposition as the converse; and that, even should we grant the name of\nthe hero of the ballad to be a reminiscence of that of Isold's attendant\n(e. g. Brangwill of Brangwain), nothing follows as to the priority of\nthe romance in respect to this passage. A similar artifice is employed\nin the ballad of 'Torkild Trundeson,' Danske Viser, 200 (translated by\nPrior, 100); Afzelius, II, 86, from the Danish; Arwidsson, 36. The\nresemblance is close to 'Ingelilles Bryllup,' #C#, Grundtvig, 276. See\nalso, further on, 'The Twa Knights.'\n\nThe Billie Blin presents himself in at least four Scottish ballads: 'Gil\nBrenton,' #C#; 'Willie's Lady;' one version of 'Young Beichan;' two of\n'The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter;' and also in the English ballad of\n'King Arthur and the King of Cornwall,' here under the slightly\ndisfigured name of Burlow Beanie.[99] In all he is a serviceable\nhousehold demon; of a decidedly benignant disposition in the first four,\nand, though a loathly fiend with seven heads in the last, very obedient\nand useful when once thoroughly subdued. He is clearly of the same\nnature as the Dutch _belewitte_ and German _bilwiz_, characterized by\nGrimm as a friendly domestic genius, _penas_, _guote holde_; and the\nnames are actually associated in a passage cited by Grimm from Voet: \"De\nillis quos nostrates appellant _beeldwit et blinde belien_, a quibus\nnocturna visa videri atque ex iis arcana revelari putant.\"[100] Though\nthe etymology of these words is not unencumbered with difficulty, _bil_\nseems to point to a just and kindly-tempered being. Bilv\u00eds, in the\nseventh book of Saxo Grammaticus, is an aged counsellor whose bent is to\nmake peace, while his brother B\u00f6lv\u00eds, a blind man, is a strife-breeder\nand mischief-maker.[101] The same opposition of Bil and B\u00f6l apparently\noccurs in the Edda, Gr\u00edmnism\u00e1l, 47^4, where Bil-eygr and B\u00f6l-eygr\n(Bal-eygr) are appellatives of Odin, which may signify mild-eyed and\nevil-eyed. B\u00f6lv\u00eds is found again in the Hr\u00f4mund's saga, under the\ndescription of 'Blind the Bad,' and 'the Carl Blind whose name was\nBav\u00eds.' But much of this saga is taken from the story of Helgi\nHundingslayer; and Blind the Bad in the saga is only S\u00e6mund's Blindr inn\nb\u00f6lv\u00edsi,--the blind man whose baleful wit sees through the disguise of\nHelgi, and all but betrays the rash hero to his enemies; that is, Odin\nin his malicious mood (B\u00f6lverkr), who will presently be seen in the\nballad of 'Earl Brand' masking as Old Carl Hood, \"aye for ill and never\nfor good.\" Originally and properly, perhaps, only the bad member of this\nmythical pair is blind; but it would not be at all strange that later\ntradition, which confuses and degrades so much in the old mythology,\nshould transfer blindness to the good-natured one, and give rise to the\nanomalous Billie Blind. See Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 1879, I, 391 ff;\nUhland, Zur Geschichte der Dichtung u. Sage, III, 132 ff, VII, 229;\nSchmeller, Bayerisches W\u00f6rterbuch, II, 1037 ff, ed. 1877; Van den Bergh,\nWoordenboek der nederlandsche Mythologie, 12.\n\nIt has been suggested to me that \"the Haleigh throw\" in #E# 6 is a\ncorruption of the High Leith Row, a street in Edinburgh. I have not as\nyet been able to obtain information of such a street.\n\n#D# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 40,\np. 262.\n\n\nA\n\n #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., No 16, fol. 34. #b.# William\n Tytler's Brown MS., No 3. From the recitation of Mrs Brown\n of Falkland, 1783, Aberdeenshire.\n\n 1\n Gil Brenton has sent oer the fame,\n He's woo'd a wife an brought her hame.\n\n 2\n Full sevenscore o ships came her wi,\n The lady by the greenwood tree.\n\n 3\n There was twal an twal wi beer an wine,\n An twal an twal wi muskadine:\n\n 4\n An twall an twall wi bouted flowr,\n An twall an twall wi paramour:\n\n 5\n An twall an twall wi baken bread,\n An twall an twall wi the goud sae red.\n\n 6\n Sweet Willy was a widow's son,\n An at her stirrup-foot he did run.\n\n 7\n An she was dressd i the finest pa,\n But ay she loot the tears down fa.\n\n 8\n An she was deckd wi the fairest flowrs,\n But ay she loot the tears down pour.\n\n 9\n 'O is there water i your shee?\n Or does the win blaw i your glee?\n\n 10\n 'Or are you mourning i your meed\n That eer you left your mither gueede?\n\n 11\n 'Or are ye mourning i your tide\n That ever ye was Gil Brenton's bride?'\n\n 12\n 'The[re] is nae water i my shee,\n Nor does the win blaw i my glee:\n\n 13\n 'Nor am I mourning i my tide\n That eer I was Gil Brenton's bride:\n\n 14\n 'But I am mourning i my meed\n That ever I left my mither gueede.\n\n 15\n 'But, bonny boy, tell to me\n What is the customs o your country.'\n\n 16\n 'The customs o't, my dame,' he says,\n 'Will ill a gentle lady please.\n\n 17\n 'Seven king's daughters has our king wedded,\n An seven king's daughters has our king bedded.\n\n 18\n 'But he's cutted the paps frae their breast-bane,\n An sent them mourning hame again.\n\n 19\n 'But whan you come to the palace yate,\n His mither a golden chair will set.\n\n 20\n 'An be you maid or be you nane,\n O sit you there till the day be dane.\n\n 21\n 'An gin you're sure that you are a maid,\n Ye may gang safely to his bed.\n\n 22\n 'But gin o that you be na sure,\n Then hire some woman o youre bowr.'\n\n 23\n O whan she came to the palace yate,\n His mither a golden chair did set.\n\n 24\n An was she maid or was she nane,\n She sat in it till the day was dane.\n\n 25\n An she's calld on her bowr woman,\n That waiting was her bowr within.\n\n 26\n 'Five hundred pound, maid, I'll gi to the,\n An sleep this night wi the king for me.'\n\n 27\n Whan bells was rung, an mass was sung,\n An a' man unto bed was gone,\n\n 28\n Gil Brenton an the bonny maid\n Intill ae chamber they were laid.\n\n 29\n 'O speak to me, blankets, an speak to me, sheets,\n An speak to me, cods, that under me sleeps;\n\n 30\n 'Is this a maid that I ha wedded?\n Is this a maid that I ha bedded?'\n\n 31\n 'It's nae a maid that you ha wedded,\n But it's a maid that you ha bedded.\n\n 32\n 'Your lady's in her bigly bowr,\n An for you she drees mony sharp showr.'\n\n 33\n O he has taen him thro the ha,\n And on his mither he did ca.\n\n 34\n 'I am the most unhappy man\n That ever was in christend lan.\n\n 35\n 'I woo'd a maiden meek an mild,\n An I've marryed a woman great wi child.'\n\n 36\n 'O stay, my son, intill this ha,\n An sport you wi your merry men a'.\n\n 37\n 'An I'll gang to yon painted bowr,\n An see how't fares wi yon base whore.'\n\n 38\n The auld queen she was stark an strang;\n She gard the door flee aff the ban.\n\n 39\n The auld queen she was stark an steer;\n She gard the door lye i the fleer.\n\n 40\n 'O is your bairn to laird or loon?\n Or is it to your father's groom?'\n\n 41\n 'My bairn's na to laird or loon,\n Nor is it to my father's groom.\n\n 42\n 'But hear me, mither, on my knee,\n An my hard wierd I'll tell to thee.\n\n 43\n 'O we were sisters, sisters seven,\n We was the fairest under heaven.\n\n 44\n 'We had nae mair for our seven years wark\n But to shape an suc the king's son a sark.\n\n 45\n 'O it fell on a Saturday's afternoon,\n Whan a' our langsome wark was dane,\n\n 46\n 'We keist the cavils us amang,\n To see which shoud to the greenwood gang.\n\n 47\n 'Ohone, alas! for I was youngest,\n An ay my wierd it was the hardest.\n\n 48\n 'The cavil it did on me fa,\n Which was the cause of a' my wae.\n\n 49\n 'For to the greenwood I must gae,\n To pu the nut but an the slae;\n\n 50\n 'To pu the red rose an the thyme,\n To strew my mother's bowr and mine.\n\n 51\n 'I had na pu'd a flowr but ane,\n Till by there came a jelly hind greeme,\n\n 52\n 'Wi high-colld hose an laigh-colld shoone,\n An he 'peard to be some kingis son.\n\n 53\n 'An be I maid or be I nane,\n He kept me there till the day was dane.\n\n 54\n 'An be I maid or be I nae,\n He kept me there till the close of day.\n\n 55\n 'He gae me a lock of yallow hair,\n An bade me keep it for ever mair.\n\n 56\n 'He gae me a carket o gude black beads,\n An bade me keep them against my needs.\n\n 57\n 'He gae to me a gay gold ring,\n An bade me ke[e]p it aboon a' thing.\n\n 58\n 'He gae to me a little pen-kniffe,\n An bade me keep it as my life.'\n\n 59\n 'What did you wi these tokens rare\n That ye got frae that young man there?'\n\n 60\n 'O bring that coffer hear to me,\n And a' the tokens ye sal see.'\n\n 61\n An ay she ranked, an ay she flang,\n Till a' the tokens came till her han.\n\n 62\n 'O stay here, daughter, your bowr within,\n Till I gae parley wi my son.'\n\n 63\n O she has taen her thro the ha,\n An on her son began to ca.\n\n 64\n 'What did you wi that gay gold ring\n I bade you keep aboon a' thing?\n\n 65\n 'What did you wi that little pen-kniffe\n I bade you keep while you had life?\n\n 66\n 'What did you wi that yallow hair\n I bade you keep for ever mair?\n\n 67\n 'What did you wi that good black beeds\n I bade you keep against your needs?'\n\n 68\n 'I gae them to a lady gay\n I met i the greenwood on a day.\n\n 69\n 'An I would gi a' my father's lan,\n I had that lady my yates within.\n\n 70\n 'I would gi a' my ha's an towrs,\n I had that bright burd i my bowrs.'\n\n 71\n 'O son, keep still your father's lan;\n You hae that lady your yates within.\n\n 72\n 'An keep you still your ha's an towrs;\n You hae that bright burd i your bowrs.'\n\n 73\n Now or a month was come an gone,\n This lady bare a bonny young son.\n\n 74\n An it was well written on his breast-bane\n 'Gil Brenton is my father's name.'\n\n\nB\n\n Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 117, ed. 1802. Ed. 1830, III, 263.\n Partly from the recitation of Miss Christian Rutherford.\n\n 1\n Cospatrick has sent oer the faem,\n Cospatrick brought his ladye hame.\n\n 2\n And fourscore ships have come her wi,\n The ladye by the grenewood tree.\n\n 3\n There were twal and twal wi baken bread,\n And twal and twal wi gowd sae reid:\n\n 4\n And twal and twal wi bouted flour,\n And twal and twal wi the paramour.\n\n 5\n Sweet Willy was a widow's son,\n And at her stirrup he did run.\n\n 6\n And she was clad in the finest pall,\n But aye she let the tears down fall.\n\n 7\n 'O is your saddle set awrye?\n Or rides your steed for you owre high?\n\n 8\n 'Or are you mourning in your tide\n That you suld be Cospatrick's bride?'\n\n 9\n 'I am not mourning at this tide\n That I suld be Cospatrick's bride;\n\n 10\n 'But I am sorrowing in my mood\n That I suld leave my mother good.\n\n 11\n 'But, gentle boy, come tell to me,\n What is the custom of thy countrye?'\n\n 12\n 'The custom thereof, my dame,' he says,\n 'Will ill a gentle laydye please.\n\n 13\n 'Seven king's daughters has our lord wedded,\n And seven king's daughters has our lord bedded;\n\n 14\n 'But he's cutted their breasts frae their breast bane,\n And sent them mourning hame again.\n\n 15\n 'Yet, gin you're sure that you're a maid,\n Ye may gae safely to his bed;\n\n 16\n 'But gif o that ye be na sure,\n Then hire some damsell o your bour.'\n\n 17\n The ladye's calld her bour-maiden,\n That waiting was into her train;\n\n 18\n 'Five thousand merks I will gie thee,\n To sleep this night with my lord for me.'\n\n 19\n When bells were rung, and mass was sayne,\n And a' men unto bed were gane,\n\n 20\n Cospatrick and the bonny maid,\n Into ae chamber they were laid.\n\n 21\n 'Now, speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed,\n And speak, thou sheet, inchanted web;\n\n 22\n 'And speak up, my bonny brown sword, that winna lie,\n Is this a true maiden that lies by me?'\n\n 23\n 'It is not a maid that you hae wedded,\n But it is a maid that you hae bedded.\n\n 24\n 'It is a liel maiden that lies by thee,\n But not the maiden that it should be.'\n\n 25\n O wrathfully he left the bed,\n And wrathfully his claiths on did.\n\n 26\n And he has taen him thro the ha,\n And on his mother he did ca.\n\n 27\n 'I am the most unhappy man\n That ever was in christen land!\n\n 28\n 'I courted a maiden meik and mild,\n And I hae gotten naething but a woman wi child.'\n\n 29\n 'O stay, my son, into this ha,\n And sport ye wi your merrymen a';\n\n 30\n 'And I will to the secret bour,\n To see how it fares wi your paramour.'\n\n 31\n The carline she was stark and sture;\n She aff the hinges dang the dure.\n\n 32\n 'O is your bairn to laird or loun?\n Or is it to your father's groom?'\n\n 33\n 'O hear me, mother, on my knee,\n Till my sad story I tell to thee.\n\n 34\n 'O we were sisters, sisters seven,\n We were the fairest under heaven.\n\n 35\n 'It fell on a summer's afternoon,\n When a' our toilsome task was done,\n\n 36\n 'We cast the kavils us amang,\n To see which suld to the grene-wood gang.\n\n 37\n 'O hon, alas! for I was youngest,\n And aye my wierd it was the hardest.\n\n 38\n 'The kavil it on me did fa,\n Whilk was the cause of a' my woe.\n\n 39\n 'For to the grene-wood I maun gae,\n To pu the red rose and the slae;\n\n 40\n 'To pu the red rose and the thyme,\n To deck my mother's bour and mine.\n\n 41\n 'I hadna pu'd a flower but ane,\n When by there came a gallant hende,\n\n 42\n 'Wi high-colld hose and laigh-colld shoon,\n And he seemd to be sum king's son.\n\n 43\n 'And be I maid or be I nae,\n He kept me there till the close o day.\n\n 44\n 'And be I maid or be I nane,\n He kept me there till the day was done.\n\n 45\n 'He gae me a lock o his yellow hair,\n And bade me keep it ever mair.\n\n 46\n 'He gae me a carknet o bonny beads,\n And bade me keep it against my needs.\n\n 47\n 'He gae to me a gay gold ring,\n And bade me keep it abune a' thing.'\n\n 48\n 'What did ye wi the tokens rare\n That ye gat frae that gallant there?'\n\n 49\n 'O bring that coffer unto me,\n And a' the tokens ye sall see.'\n\n 50\n 'Now stay, daughter, your bour within,\n While I gae parley wi my son.'\n\n 51\n O she has taen her thro the ha,\n And on her son began to ca.\n\n 52\n 'What did you wi the bonny beads\n I bade ye keep against your needs?\n\n 53\n 'What did you wi the gay gowd ring\n I bade ye keep abune a' thing?'\n\n 54\n 'I gae them a' to a ladye gay\n I met in grene-wood on a day.\n\n 55\n 'But I wad gie a' my halls and tours,\n I had that ladye within my bours.\n\n 56\n 'But I wad gie my very life,\n I had that ladye to my wife.'\n\n 57\n 'Now keep, my son, your ha's and tours;\n Ye have that bright burd in your bours.\n\n 58\n 'And keep, my son, your very life;\n Ye have that ladye to your wife.'\n\n 59\n Now or a month was cum and gane,\n The ladye bore a bonny son.\n\n 60\n And 't was weel written on his breast-bane,\n 'Cospatrick is my father's name.'\n\n 61\n 'O rowe my ladye in satin and silk,\n And wash my son in the morning milk.'\n\n\nC\n\n Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 207.\n \"From the recital of a peasant-woman of Galloway, upwards\n of ninety years of age.\"\n\n 1\n We were sisters, we were seven,\n We were the fairest under heaven.\n\n 2\n And it was a' our seven years wark\n To sew our father's seven sarks.\n\n 3\n And whan our seven years wark was done,\n We laid it out upo the green.\n\n 4\n We coost the lotties us amang,\n Wha wad to the greenwood gang,\n\n 5\n To pu the lily but and the rose,\n To strew witha' our sisters' bowers.\n\n 6\n ... I was youngest,\n ... my weer was hardest.\n\n 7\n And to the greenwood I bud gae,\n . . . . . . .\n\n 8\n There I met a handsome childe,\n . . . . . . .\n\n 9\n High-coled stockings and laigh-coled shoon,\n He bore him like a king's son.\n\n 10\n An was I weel, or was I wae,\n He keepit me a' the simmer day.\n\n 11\n An though I for my hame-gaun sich[t],\n He keepit me a' the simmer night.\n\n 12\n He gae to me a gay gold ring,\n And bade me keep it aboon a' thing.\n\n 13\n He gae to me a cuttie knife,\n And bade me keep it as my life:\n\n 14\n Three lauchters o his yellow hair,\n For fear we wad neer meet mair.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 15\n Next there came shippes three,\n To carry a' my bridal fee.\n\n 16\n Gowd were the beaks, the sails were silk,\n Wrought wi maids' hands like milk.\n\n 17\n They came toom and light to me,\n But heavie went they waie frae me.\n\n 18\n They were fu o baken bread,\n They were fu of wine sae red.\n\n 19\n My dowry went a' by the sea,\n But I gaed by the grenewode tree.\n\n 20\n An I sighed and made great mane,\n As thro the grenewode we rade our lane.\n\n 21\n An I ay siched an wiped my ee,\n That eer the grenewode I did see.\n\n 22\n 'Is there water in your glove,\n Or win into your shoe?\n O[r] am I oer low a foot-page\n To rin by you, ladie?'\n\n 23\n 'O there's nae water in my glove,\n Nor win into my shoe;\n But I am maning for my mither\n Wha's far awa frae me.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 24\n 'Gin ye be a maiden fair,\n Meikle gude ye will get there.\n\n 25\n 'If ye be a maiden but,\n Meikle sorrow will ye get.\n\n 26\n 'For seven king's daughters he hath wedded,\n But never wi ane o them has bedded.\n\n 27\n 'He cuts the breasts frae their breast-bane,\n An sends them back unto their dame.\n\n 28\n 'He sets their backs unto the saddle,\n An sends them back unto their father.\n\n 29\n 'But be ye maiden or be ye nane,\n To the gowden chair ye draw right soon.\n\n 30\n 'But be ye leman or be ye maiden,\n Sit nae down till ye be bidden.'\n\n 31\n Was she maiden or was she nane,\n To the gowden chair she drew right soon.\n\n 32\n Was she leman or was she maiden,\n She sat down ere she was bidden.\n\n 33\n Out then spake the lord's mother;\n Says, 'This is not a maiden fair.\n\n 34\n 'In that chair nae leal maiden\n Eer sits down till they be bidden.'\n\n 35\n The Billie Blin then outspake he,\n As he stood by the fair ladie.\n\n 36\n 'The bonnie may is tired wi riding,\n Gaurd her sit down ere she was bidden.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 37\n But on her waiting-maid she ca'd:\n 'Fair ladie, what 's your will wi me?'\n 'O ye maun gie yere maidenheid\n This night to an unco lord for me.'\n\n 38\n 'I hae been east, I hae been west,\n I hae been far beyond the sea,\n But ay, by grenewode or by bower,\n I hae keepit my virginitie.\n\n 39\n 'But will it for my ladie plead,\n I'll gie 't this night to an unco lord.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 40\n When bells were rung an vespers sung,\n An men in sleep were locked soun,\n\n 41\n Childe Branton and the waiting-maid\n Into the bridal bed were laid.\n\n 42\n 'O lie thee down, my fair ladie,\n Here are a' things meet for thee;\n\n 43\n 'Here's a bolster for yere head,\n Here is sheets an comelie weids.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 44\n 'Now tell to me, ye Billie Blin,\n If this fair dame be a leal maiden.'\n\n 45\n 'I wat she is as leal a wight\n As the moon shines on in a simmer night.\n\n 46\n 'I wat she is as leal a may\n As the sun shines on in a simmer day.\n\n 47\n 'But your bonnie bride's in her bower,\n Dreeing the mither's trying hour.'\n\n 48\n Then out o his bridal bed he sprang,\n An into his mither's bower he ran.\n\n 49\n 'O mither kind, O mither dear,\n This is nae a maiden fair.\n\n 50\n 'The maiden I took to my bride\n Has a bairn atween her sides.\n\n 51\n 'The maiden I took to my bower\n Is dreeing the mither's trying hour.'\n\n 52\n Then to the chamber his mother flew,\n And to the wa the door she threw.\n\n 53\n She stapt at neither bolt nor ban,\n Till to that ladie's bed she wan.\n\n 54\n Says, 'Ladie fair, sae meek an mild,\n Wha is the father o yere child?'\n\n 55\n 'O mither dear,' said that ladie,\n 'I canna tell gif I sud die.\n\n 56\n 'We were sisters, we were seven,\n We were the fairest under heaven.\n\n 57\n 'And it was a' our seven years wark\n To sew our father's seven sarks.\n\n 58\n 'And whan our seven years wark was done,\n We laid it out upon the green.\n\n 59\n 'We coost the lotties us amang,\n Wha wad to the greenwode gang;\n\n 60\n 'To pu the lily but an the rose,\n To strew witha' our sisters' bowers.\n\n 61\n ..... 'I was youngest,\n ..... my weer was hardest.\n\n 62\n 'And to the greenwode I bu[d] gae.\n . . . . . . .\n\n 63\n 'There I met a handsome childe,\n . . . . . . .\n\n 64\n 'Wi laigh-coled stockings and high-coled shoon,\n He seemed to be some king's son.\n\n 65\n 'And was I weel or was I wae,\n He keepit me a' the simmer day.\n\n 66\n 'Though for my hame-gaun I oft sicht,\n He keepit me a' the simmer night.\n\n 67\n 'He gae to me a gay gold ring,\n An bade me keep it aboon a' thing;\n\n 68\n 'Three lauchters o his yellow hair,\n For fear that we suld neer meet mair.\n\n 69\n 'O mither, if ye'll believe nae me,\n Break up the coffer, an there ye'll see.'\n\n 70\n An ay she coost, an ay she flang,\n Till her ain gowd ring came in her hand.\n\n 71\n And scarce aught i the coffer she left,\n Till she gat the knife wi the siller heft,\n\n 72\n Three lauchters o his yellow hair,\n Knotted wi ribbons dink and rare.\n\n 73\n She cried to her son, 'Where is the ring\n Your father gave me at our wooing,\n An I gae you at your hunting?\n\n 74\n 'What did ye wi the cuttie knife,\n I bade ye keep it as yere life?'\n\n 75\n 'O haud yere tongue, my mither dear;\n I gae them to a lady fair.\n\n 76\n 'I wad gie a' my lands and rents,\n I had that ladie within my brents.\n\n 77\n 'I wad gie a' my lands an towers,\n I had that ladie within my bowers.'\n\n 78\n 'Keep still yere lands, keep still yere rents;\n Ye hae that ladie within yere brents.\n\n 79\n 'Keep still yere lands, keep still yere towers;\n Ye hae that lady within your bowers.'\n\n 80\n Then to his ladie fast ran he,\n An low he kneeled on his knee.\n\n 81\n 'O tauk ye up my son,' said he,\n 'An, mither, tent my fair ladie.\n\n 82\n 'O wash him purely i the milk,\n And lay him saftly in the silk.\n\n 83\n 'An ye maun bed her very soft,\n For I maun kiss her wondrous oft.'\n\n 84\n It was weel written on his breast-bane\n Childe Branton was the father's name.\n\n 85\n It was weel written on his right hand\n He was the heir o his daddie's land.\n\n\nD\n\n Buchan's Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of\n Scotland, I, 204.\n\n 1\n We were sisters, sisters seven,\n Bowing down, bowing down\n The fairest women under heaven.\n And aye the birks a-bowing\n\n 2\n They kiest kevels them amang,\n Wha woud to the grenewood gang.\n\n 3\n The kevels they gied thro the ha,\n And on the youngest it did fa.\n\n 4\n Now she must to the grenewood gang,\n To pu the nuts in grenewood hang.\n\n 5\n She hadna tarried an hour but ane\n Till she met wi a highlan groom.\n\n 6\n He keeped her sae late and lang\n Till the evening set and birds they sang.\n\n 7\n He gae to her at their parting\n A chain o gold and gay gold ring;\n\n 8\n And three locks o his yellow hair;\n Bade her keep them for evermair.\n\n 9\n When six lang months were come and gane,\n A courtier to this lady came.\n\n 10\n Lord Dingwall courted this lady gay,\n And so he set their wedding-day.\n\n 11\n A little boy to the ha was sent,\n To bring her horse was his intent.\n\n 12\n As she was riding the way along,\n She began to make a heavy moan.\n\n 13\n 'What ails you, lady,' the boy said,\n 'That ye seem sae dissatisfied?\n\n 14\n 'Are the bridle reins for you too strong?\n Or the stirrups for you too long?'\n\n 15\n 'But, little boy, will ye tell me\n The fashions that are in your countrie?'\n\n 16\n 'The fashions in our ha I'll tell,\n And o them a' I'll warn you well.\n\n 17\n 'When ye come in upon the floor,\n His mither will meet you wi a golden chair.\n\n 18\n 'But be ye maid or be ye nane,\n Unto the high seat make ye boun.\n\n 19\n 'Lord Dingwall aft has been beguild\n By girls whom young men hae defiled.\n\n 20\n 'He's cutted the paps frae their breast-bane,\n And sent them back to their ain hame.'\n\n 21\n When she came in upon the floor,\n His mother met her wi a golden chair.\n\n 22\n But to the high seat she made her boun:\n She knew that maiden she was nane.\n\n 23\n When night was come, they went to bed,\n And ower her breast his arm he laid.\n\n 24\n He quickly jumped upon the floor,\n And said, 'I've got a vile rank whore.'\n\n 25\n Unto his mother he made his moan,\n Says, 'Mother dear, I am undone.\n\n 26\n 'Ye've aft tald, when I brought them hame,\n Whether they were maid or nane.\n\n 27\n 'I thought I'd gotten a maiden bright;\n I've gotten but a waefu wight.\n\n 28\n 'I thought I'd gotten a maiden clear,\n But gotten but a vile rank whore.'\n\n 29\n 'When she came in upon the floor,\n I met her wi a golden chair.\n\n 30\n 'But to the high seat she made her boun,\n Because a maiden she was nane.'\n\n 31\n 'I wonder wha 's tauld that gay ladie\n The fashion into our countrie.'\n\n 32\n 'It is your little boy I blame,\n Whom ye did send to bring her hame.'\n\n 33\n Then to the lady she did go,\n And said, 'O Lady, let me know\n\n 34\n 'Who has defiled your fair bodie:\n Ye're the first that has beguiled me.'\n\n 35\n 'O we were sisters, sisters seven,\n The fairest women under heaven.\n\n 36\n 'And we kiest kevels us amang,\n Wha woud to the grenewood gang;\n\n 37\n 'For to pu the finest flowers,\n To put around our summer bowers.\n\n 38\n 'I was the youngest o them a';\n The hardest fortune did me befa.\n\n 39\n 'Unto the grenewood I did gang,\n And pu'd the nuts as they down hang.\n\n 40\n 'I hadna stayd an hour but ane\n Till I met wi a highlan groom.\n\n 41\n 'He keeped me sae late and lang\n Till the evening set and birds they sang.\n\n 42\n 'He gae to me at our parting\n A chain of gold and gay gold ring;\n\n 43\n 'And three locks o his yellow hair;\n Bade me keep them for evermair.\n\n 44\n 'Then for to show I make nae lie,\n Look ye my trunk, and ye will see.'\n\n 45\n Unto the trunk then she did go,\n To see if that were true or no.\n\n 46\n And aye she sought, and aye she flang,\n Till these four things came to her hand.\n\n 47\n Then she did to her ain son go,\n And said, 'My son, ye'll let me know,\n\n 48\n 'Ye will tell to me this thing:\n What did you wi my wedding-ring?'\n\n 49\n 'Mother dear, I'll tell nae lie:\n I gave it to a gay ladie.\n\n 50\n 'I would gie a' my ha's and towers,\n I had this bird within my bowers.'\n\n 51\n 'Keep well, keep well your lands and strands;\n Ye hae that bird within your hands.\n\n 52\n 'Now, my son, to your bower ye'll go:\n Comfort your ladie, she's full o woe.'\n\n 53\n Now when nine months were come and gane,\n The lady she brought hame a son.\n\n 54\n It was written on his breast-bane\n Lord Dingwall was his father's name.\n\n 55\n He's taen his young son in his arms,\n And aye he praisd his lovely charms.\n\n 56\n And he has gien him kisses three,\n And doubled them ower to his ladie.\n\n\nE\n\n Elizabeth Cochrane's Song-Book, p. 146, No 112.\n\n 1\n Lord Benwall he's a hunting gone;\n Hey down, etc.\n He's taken with him all his merry men.\n Hey, etc.\n\n 2\n As he was walking late alone,\n He spyed a lady both brisk and young.\n\n 3\n He keeped her so long and long,\n From the evening late till the morning came.\n\n 4\n All that he gave her at their parting\n Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring.\n\n 5\n Lord Benwall he's a wooing gone,\n And he's taken with him all his merry men.\n\n 6\n As he was walking the Haleigh throw,\n He spy'd seven ladyes all in a row.\n\n 7\n He cast a lot among them all;\n Upon the youngest the lot did fall.\n\n 8\n He wedded her and brought her home,\n And by the way she made great moan.\n\n 9\n 'What aileth my dearest and dayly flower?\n What ails my dear, to make such moan?\n\n 10\n 'Does the steed carry you too high?\n Or does thy pillow sit awry?\n\n 11\n 'Or does the wind blow in thy glove?\n Or is thy heart after another love?'\n\n 12\n 'The steed does not carry me too high,\n Nor does my pillow sit awry.\n\n 13\n 'Nor does the wind blow in my glove,\n Nor is my heart after another love.'\n\n 14\n When they were doun to supper set,\n The weary pain took her by the back.\n\n 15\n 'What ails my dearest and dayly flower?\n What ails my dearest, to make such moan?'\n\n 16\n 'I am with child, and it's not to thee,\n And oh and alas, what shall I doe!'\n\n 17\n 'I thought I had got a maid so mild;\n But I have got a woman big with child.\n\n 18\n 'I thought I had got a dayly flower;\n I have gotten but a common whore.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 19\n 'Rise up, Lord Benwall, go to your hall,\n And cherrish up your merry men all.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 20\n 'As I was walking once late alone,\n I spy'd a lord, both brisk and young.\n\n 21\n 'He keeped me so long and long,\n From the evening late till the morning came.\n\n 22\n 'All that he gave me at our parting\n Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring.\n\n 23\n 'If you will not believe what I tell to thee,\n There's the key of my coffer, you may go and see.'\n\n 24\n His mother went, and threw and flang,\n Till to her hand the ring it came.\n\n 25\n 'Lord Benwall, wilt thou tell to me\n Where is the ring I gave to thee?'\n\n 26\n 'Now I would give all my lands and tower,\n To have that lady in my bower.\n\n 27\n 'I would give all my lands and rents,\n To have that lady in my tents.'\n\n 28\n 'You need not give all your lands and tower,\n For you have that lady in your power.\n\n 29\n 'You need not give all your lands and rents,\n For you have that lady in your tents.'\n\n 30\n Now it was written on the child's breast-bone\n Lord Benwall's sirname and his name.\n\n 31\n It was written on the child's right hand\n That he should be heir of Lord Benwall's land.\n\n 32\n 'Canst cloath my lady in the silk,\n And feed my young son with the milk.'\n\n\nF\n\n #a.# Motherwell's MS., p 219. From the recitation of Mrs\n Thomson, February, 1825. #b.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy,\n Appendix, p. xvi, the first stanza only.\n\n 1\n There were three sisters in a bouir,\n Eh down and Oh down\n And the youngest o them was the fairest flour.\n Eh down and O down\n\n 2\n And we began our seven years wark,\n To sew our brither John a sark.\n\n 3\n When seven years was come and gane,\n There was nae a sleeve in it but ane.\n\n 4\n But we coost kevils us amang\n Wha wud to the green-wood gang.\n\n 5\n But tho we had coosten neer sae lang,\n The lot it fell on me aye to gang.\n\n 6\n I was the youngest, and I was the fairest,\n And alace! my wierd it was aye the sairest.\n\n 7\n . . . . . . .\n Till I had to the woods to gae.\n\n 8\n To pull the cherrie and the slae,\n And to seek our ae brither, we had nae mae.\n\n 9\n But as I was walking the leas o Lyne,\n I met a youth gallant and fine;\n\n 10\n Wi milk white stockings and coal black shoon;\n He seemed to be some gay lord's son.\n\n 11\n But he keepit me there sae lang, sae lang,\n Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang.\n\n 12\n Would I wee or would I way,\n He keepit me the lang simmer day.\n\n 13\n Would I way or would I wight,\n He keepit me the simmer night.\n\n 14\n But guess what was at our parting?\n A pair o grass green gloves and a gay gold ring.\n\n 15\n He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair,\n In token that we might meet mair.\n\n 16\n But when nine months were come and gane,\n This gallant lord cam back again.\n\n 17\n He's wed this lady, and taen her wi him;\n But as they were riding the leas o Lyne,\n\n 18\n This lady was not able to ride,\n . . . . . . .\n\n 19\n 'O does thy saddle set thee aside?\n Or does thy steed ony wrang way ride?\n\n 20\n 'Or thinkst thou me too low a groom?\n . . . . . . .\n\n 21\n 'Or hast thou musing in thy mind\n For the leaving of thy mother kind?'\n\n 22\n 'My saddle it sets not me aside,\n Nor does my steed ony wrang way ride.\n\n 23\n 'Nor think I thee too low a groom\n . . . . . . .\n\n 24\n 'But I hae musing in my mind\n For the leaving of my mother kind.'\n\n 25\n 'I'll bring thee to a mother of mine,\n As good a mother as eer was thine.'\n\n 26\n 'A better mother she may be,\n But an unco woman she'll prove to me.'\n\n 27\n But when lords and ladies at supper sat,\n Her pains they struck her in the back.\n\n 28\n When lords and ladies were laid in bed,\n Her pains they struck her in the side.\n\n 29\n 'Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Brangwill,\n For I'm wi child and you do not know't.'\n\n 30\n He took up his foot and gave her sic a bang\n Till owre the bed the red blood sprang.\n\n 31\n He is up to his mother's ha,\n Calling her as hard as he could ca.\n\n 32\n 'I went through moss and I went through mure,\n Thinking to get some lily flouir.\n\n 33\n . . . . . . .\n 'But to my house I have brocht a hure.\n\n 34\n 'I thocht to have got a lady baith meek and mild,\n But I've got a woman that's big wi child.'\n\n 35\n 'O rest you here, Lord Brangwill,' she said,\n 'Till I relieve your lady that lyes so low.'\n\n 36\n 'O daughter dear, will you tell to me\n Who is the father of your babie?'\n\n 37\n 'Yes, mother dear, I will tell thee\n Who is the father of my babie.\n\n 38\n 'As I was walking the leas o Lyne,\n I met a youth gallant and fine;\n\n 39\n 'With milk-white stockings and coal-black shoon;\n He seemd to be sum gay lord's son.\n\n 40\n 'He keepit me sae lang, sae lang,\n Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang.\n\n 41\n 'Would I wee or would I way,\n He keepit me the lang simmer day.\n\n 42\n 'Would I way or would I wight,\n He keepit me the simmer night.\n\n 43\n 'But guess ye what was at our parting?\n A pair of grass green gloves and a gay gold ring.\n\n 44\n 'He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair,\n In token that we might meet mair.'\n\n 45\n 'O dochter dear, will ye show me\n These tokens that he gave to thee?'\n\n 46\n 'Altho my back should break in three,\n Unto my coffer I must be.'\n\n 47\n 'Thy back it shall not break in three,\n For I'll bring thy coffer to thy knee.'\n\n 48\n Aye she coost, and aye she flang,\n Till these three tokens came to her hand.\n\n 49\n Then she is up to her son's ha,\n Calling him hard as she could ca.\n\n 50\n 'O son, O son, will you tell me\n . . . . . . .\n\n 51\n 'What ye did wi the grass green gloves and gay gold ring\n That ye gat at your own birth-een?'\n\n 52\n 'I gave them to as pretty a may\n As ever I saw in a simmer day.\n\n 53\n 'I wud rather than a' my lands sae broad\n That I had her as sure as eer I had.\n\n 54\n 'I would rather than a' my lands sae free\n I had her here this night wi me.'\n\n 55\n 'I wish you good o your lands sae broad,\n For ye have her as sure as eer ye had.\n\n 56\n 'I wish ye good o your lands sae free,\n For ye have her here this night wi thee.'\n\n 57\n 'Gar wash my auld son in the milk,\n Gar deck my lady's bed wi silk.'\n\n 58\n He gave his auld son kisses three,\n But he doubled them a' to his gay ladye.\n\n\nG\n\n Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 244; ed.\n 1776, I, 83.\n\n 1\n As Bothwell was walking in the lowlands alane,\n Hey down and a down\n He met six ladies sae gallant and fine.\n Hey down and a down\n\n 2\n He cast his lot amang them a',\n And on the youngest his lot did fa.\n\n 3\n He's brought her frae her mother's bower,\n Unto his strongest castle and tower.\n\n 4\n But ay she cried and made great moan,\n And ay the tear came trickling down.\n\n 5\n 'Come up, come up,' said the foremost man,\n 'I think our bride comes slowly on.'\n\n 6\n 'O lady, sits your saddle awry,\n Or is your steed for you owre high?'\n\n 7\n 'My saddle is not set awry,\n Nor carries me my steed owre high;\n\n 8\n 'But I am weary of my life,\n Since I maun be Lord Bothwell's wife.'\n\n 9\n He's blawn his horn sae sharp and shrill,\n Up start the deer on evry hill.\n\n 10\n He's blawn his horn sae lang and loud,\n Up start the deer in gude green-wood.\n\n 11\n His lady mother lookit owre the castle wa,\n And she saw them riding ane and a'.\n\n 12\n She's calld upon her maids by seven,\n To mak his bed baith saft and even.\n\n 13\n She's calld upon her cooks by nine,\n To make their dinner fair and fine.\n\n 14\n When day was gane, and night was come,\n 'What ails my love on me to frown?\n\n 15\n 'Or does the wind blow in your glove?\n Or runs your mind on another love?'\n\n 16\n 'Nor blows the wind within my glove,\n Nor runs my mind on another love;\n\n 17\n 'But I nor maid nor maiden am,\n For I'm wi bairn to another man.'\n\n 18\n 'I thought I'd a maiden sae meek and sae mild,\n But I've nought but a woman wi child.'\n\n 19\n His mother's taen her up to a tower,\n And lockit her in her secret bower.\n\n 20\n 'Now, doughter mine, come tell to me,\n Wha's bairn this is that you are wi.'\n\n 21\n 'O mother dear, I canna learn\n Wha is the faither of my bairn.\n\n 22\n 'But as I walkd in the lowlands my lane,\n I met a gentleman gallant and fine.\n\n 23\n 'He keepit me there sae late and sae lang,\n Frae the evning late till the morning dawn.\n\n 24\n 'And a' that he gied me to my propine\n Was a pair of green gloves and a gay gold ring;\n\n 25\n 'Three lauchters of his yellow hair,\n In case that we shoud meet nae mair.'\n\n 26\n His lady mother went down the stair:\n . . . . . . .\n\n 27\n 'Now son, now son, come tell to me,\n Where's the green gloves I gave to thee?'\n\n 28\n 'I gied to a lady sae fair and so fine\n The green gloves and a gay gold ring.\n\n 29\n 'But I wad gie my castles and towers,\n I had that lady within my bowers.\n\n 30\n 'But I wad gie my very life,\n I had that lady to be my wife.'\n\n 31\n 'Now keep, now keep your castles and towers,\n You have that lady within your bowers.\n\n 32\n 'Now keep, now keep your very life,\n You have that lady to be your wife.'\n\n 33\n 'O row my lady in sattin and silk,\n And wash my son in the morning milk.'\n\n\nH\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 335, in the handwriting of Dr John Hill\n Burton.\n\n 1\n We were seven sisters in a bower,\n Adown adown, and adown and adown\n The flower of a' fair Scotland ower.\n Adown adown, and adown and adown\n\n 2\n We were sisters, sisters seven,\n The fairest women under heaven.\n\n 3\n There fell a dispute us amang,\n Wha would to the greenwood gang.\n\n 4\n They kiest the kevels them amang,\n O wha would to the greenwood gang.\n\n 5\n The kevels they gied thro the ha,\n And on the youngest it did fa.\n\n 6\n The kevel fell into her hand,\n To greenwood she was forced to gang.\n\n 7\n She hedna pued a flower but ane,\n When by there came an earl's son.\n\n 8\n 'And was he well or was he wae,\n He keepet me that summer's day.'\n\n 9\n And was he weel or was he weight,\n He keepet her that summer's night.\n\n 10\n And he gave her a gay goud ring\n His mother got at her wedding.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 11\n 'Oh is yer stirrup set too high?\n Or is your saddle set awry?\n\n 12\n 'Oh is yer stirrup set too side?\n Or what's the reason ye canna ride?'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 13\n When all were at the table set,\n Then not a bit could this lady eat.\n\n 14\n When all made merry at the feast,\n This lady wished she were at her rest.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n _In the MS. two lines are written continuously, and two of\n these double lines numbered as one stanza._\n\n 19^1, 23^1, 69^2, 71^2, _perhaps ~gate~, ~gates~ in MS._\n\n 54^1, _MS._ be a nae.\n\n 56.^1 _~casket~ in MS.?_\n\n#b. 1.#\n\n Chil Brenton has sent oer the faem,\n Chil Brenton's brought his lady hame.\n\n#B.#\n\n _Printed by Scott in four-line stanzas. 7, 55, 56, 58, 61,\n seem to be the stanzas transferred from Herd, but only the\n last without change._\n\n#C.#\n\n _The stanzas are not divided in Cromek. Between 14 and 15\n the following nineteen couplets have been omitted._\n\n First blew the sweet, the simmer wind,\n Then autumn wi her breath sae kind,\n Before that eer the guid knight came\n The tokens of his luve to claim.\n Then fell the brown an yellow leaf\n Afore the knight o luve shawed prief;\n Three morns the winter's rime did fa,\n When loud at our yett my luve did ca.\n 'Ye hae daughters, ye hae seven,\n Ye hae the fairest under heaven.\n I am the lord o lands wide,\n Ane o them maun be my bride.\n I am lord of a baronie,\n Ane o them maun lie wi me.\n O cherry lips are sweet to pree,\n A rosie cheek's meet for the ee;\n Lang brown locks a heart can bind,\n Bonny black een in luve are kind;\n Sma white arms for clasping's meet,\n Whan laid atween the bridal-sheets;\n A kindlie heart is best of a',\n An debonnairest in the ha.\n Ane by ane thae things are sweet,\n Ane by ane in luve they're meet;\n But when they a' in ae maid bide,\n She is fittest for a bride.\n Sae be it weel or be it wae,\n The youngest maun be my ladie;\n Sae be it gude, sae be it meet,\n She maun warm my bridal-sheet.\n\n Little kend he, whan aff he rode,\n I was his tokend luve in the wood;\n Or when he gied me the wedding-token,\n He was sealing the vows he thought were broken.\n First came a page on a milk-white steed,\n Wi golden trappings on his head:\n A' gowden was the saddle lap,\n And gowden was the page's cap.\n\n _15-21 have been allowed to stand principally on account\n of 18._\n\n _There is small risk in pronouncing 24, 25, 42, 43, 80, 81\n spurious, and Cunningham surpasses his usual mawkishness\n in 83._\n\n#E#\n\n _is written in four-line stanzas_.\n\n 19. mother, _in the margin_.\n\n 20. lady, _in the margin_.\n\n#F. a.#\n\n 7^2. _MS_. Till [Still?].\n\n _7^2 and 8, 17 and 18^1, 20^1 and 21, 23^1 and 24, 32 and\n 33^2, 50^1 and 51, are respectively written as a stanza in\n the MS._\n\n 12^1, 41^1. _Motherwell conjectures_\n\n Would I wait, or would I away.\n\n 13^1, 42^1. _Motherwell conjectures_\n\n Would I away, or would I wait.\n\n 14^2, 43^2. _MS. ~green sleeves~: but see 51^1, and also\n #E# 22^1, #G# 24^2, 28^2._\n\n 29^2, _above you do not know't is written know ~not who\n till~, apparently a conjecture of Motherwell's._\n\n 30^2, _sometimes recited_\n\n Till owre the bed this lady he flang.\n\n 53^1. _MS._ abroad.\n\n#b.1.#\n\n Seven ladies livd in a bower,\n Hey down and ho down\n And aye the youngest was the flower.\n Hey down and ho down\n\n#G.#\n\n _The stanzas are not divided in Herd._\n\n#H.#\n\n _4 is crossed through in the MS., but no reason given._\n\n\n[94] In his note-book, p. 117, Motherwell writes, with less than his\nusual discretion: \"The ballad of Bothwell, Cospatric, or Gil Brenton,\nappears to be copied from an account of the birth of Makbeth given by\nWintown.\" The substance of this account is, that Macbeth's mother had a\nhabit of repairing to the woods for wholesome air, and that, during one\nof her rambles, she fell in with a fair man, really the Devil, who\npassed the day with her, and got on her a son.\n\n \"And of that dede in taknyng\n He gave his lemman thare a ryng,\n And bad hyr that scho suld kepe that wele,\n And hald for hys luve that jwele.\"\n\n _Cronykil_, Book VI, ch. xviii, 57-90.\n\n[95] Scott says: \"Cospatrick, Comes Patricius;\" but Cos- (Gos-)patrick\nis apparently Servant of Patrick, like Gil-patrick (Kil-patrick). Mr\nMacmath suggests to me that Gil Brenton may have originally been\nGil-brandon, which seems very likely. See Notes and Queries, 5th S., x,\n443.\n\n[96] A fragment in Rancken's 'N\u00e5gra Prof af Folks\u00e5ng,' p. 14 f, belongs\nnot to 'Riddar Olle,' as there said, but to 'Herr \u00c4ster och Fr\u00f6ken\nSissa,' though the burden is 'Riddar Olof.' Other verses, at p. 16,\nmight belong to either. 'Riddar Ola,' E. Wigstr\u00f6m's Folkdiktning, p. 37,\nNo 18, belongs with the Danish 'Guldsmedens Datter,' Grundtvig No 245.\n\n[97] The inquiry seems to refer to the morning gift. \"Die Morgengabe ist\nein Geschenk des Mannes als Zeichen der Liebe (in signum amoris), f\u00fcr\ndie Uebergabe der vollen Sch\u00f6nheit (in honore pulchritudinis) und der\nJungfr\u00e4ulichkeit (pretium virginitatis).\" Weinhold, Die deutschen Frauen\nin dem Mittelalter, S. 270.\n\n[98] And again, \"Is it the saddle, your horse, or your true-love?\"\nalmost exactly as in our #B#, #E#, #F#, Grundtvig, 40 #C#, #E#, #F#,\nAfzelius, 91, Landstad, 45, 52. So the Scottish ballad, 'The Cruel\nBrother,' #B# 15 f.\n\n[99] The auld belly-blind man in 'Earl Richard,' 44^3, 45^1, Kinloch's\nA. S. Ballads, p. 15, retains the bare name; and Belly Blind, or Billie\nBlin, is the Scotch name for the game of Blindman's-buff.\n\n[100] Gisbertus Voetius, De Miraculis, Disput., II, 1018. Cited also by\nSchmeller, Bayerisches W\u00f6rterbuch, from J. Pr\u00e6torius's Alectryomantia,\np. 3.\n\n[101] Merlin, in Layamon, V. 17130 ff (as pointed out by Grundtvig, I,\n274), says that his mind is balewise, \"mi g\u00e6st is b\u00e6liwis,\" and that he\nis not disposed to gladness, mirth, or good words.\n\n\n\n\n6\n\nWILLIE'S LADY\n\n #a.# 'Willie's Lady,' Fraser-Tytler MS.\n\n #b.# 'Sweet Willy,' Jamieson-Brown MS., No 15, fol. 33.\n\n\n#a#, 'Willie's Lady,' was No 1 in the manuscript of fifteen ballads\nfurnished William Tytler by Mrs Brown in 1783, and having been written\ndown a little later than #b# may be regarded as a revised copy. This\nmanuscript, as remarked under No 5, is not now in the possession of the\nFraser-Tytler family, having often been most liberally lent, and,\nprobably, at last not returned. But a transcript had been made by the\ngrandfather of the present family of two of the pieces contained in it,\nand 'Willie's Lady' is one of these two.\n\nLewis had access to William Tytler's copy, and, having regulated the\nrhymes, filled out a gap, dropped the passage about the girdle, and made\nother changes to his taste, printed the ballad in 1801 as No 56 of his\nTales of Wonder. The next year Scott gave the \"ancient copy, never\nbefore published,\" \"in its native simplicity, as taken from Mrs Brown of\nFalkland's MS.,\"--William Tytler's,--in Minstrelsy of the Scottish\nBorder, II, 27, but not with literal accuracy. Jamieson, in 1806, gave\n'Sweet Willy,' almost exactly according to the text of his Brown\nmanuscript, in an appendix to the second volume of his collection, p.\n367, and at p. 175 of the same volume, a reconstruction of the ballad\nwhich might have been spared.\n\n#b# lacks altogether the passage which makes proffer of the cup, #a#,\nstanzas 5-11, and substitutes at that place the girdle of #a# 21-28. The\nwoodbine in #a# 36, 41, is also wanting, and the concluding stanza. A\ndeficiency both in matter and rhyme at #a# 32, is supplied by #b# 25,\n26, but not happily:\n\n 'An do you to your mither then,\n An bid her come to your boy's christnen;\n\n 'For dear's the boy he's been to you:\n Then notice well what she shall do.'\n\nAgain, the transition in #a#, from st. 33 to st. 34, is abrupt even for\na ballad, and #b# introduces here four stanzas narrating the execution\nof the Billy Blind's injunctions, and ending,\n\n And notic'd well what she did say,\n\nwhereby we are prepared for the witch's exclamations.[102]\n\nDanish versions of this ballad are numerous: #A-I#, 'Hustru og Mands\nModer' ['Fostermoder,' 'Stifmoder'], Grundtvig, No 84, II, 404 ff;\n#J-T#, 'Hustru og Mands Moder,' Kristensen, II, 111 ff, No 35:\n#U-X#,'Barselkvinden,' Kristensen, I, 201 ff, No 74; #Y#, 'Hustru og\nSlegfred,' Grundtvig, No 85, II, 448 ff: in all twenty-five, but many of\nKristensen's copies are fragments. Grundtvig's 84 #A#, #B#, and 85 #a#\nare from manuscripts of the sixteenth century. 84 #F-I# and several\nrepetitions of 85 are of the seventeenth. Grundtvig's 84 #C#, #D#, #E#,\nand all Kristensen's versions, are from recent oral tradition. Some of\nthese, though taken down since 1870, are wonderfully well preserved.\n\nThe Danish ballads divide into two classes, principally distinguished by\ntheir employing or not employing of the artifice of wax children. (There\nis but one of these in #N#, #R#, Kristensen's #E#, #I#, II, 116, 122,\nand in the oldest Swedish ballad, as in the Scottish: but children in\nScandinavian ballads are mostly born in pairs.) Of the former class, to\nwhich our only known copy belongs, are #F-I#, #N-T#, #X# (Grundtvig, 84\n#F-I#, Kristensen, II, No 35, #E-L#, I, No 74 #D#). #N# and #I# furnish,\nperhaps, the most consistent story, which, in the former, runs thus: Sir\nPeter married Ellen (elsewhere Mettelille, Kirstin, Tidelil, Ingerlil),\nand gave her in charge to his mother, a formidable witch, and, as\nappears from #F#, violently opposed to the match. The first night of her\nmarriage Ellen conceived twins. She wrapped up her head in her cloak and\npaid a visit to her mother-in-law, to ask how long women go with child.\nThe answer was,\n\n 'Forty weeks went Mary with Christ,\n And so each Danish woman must.\n\n 'Forty weeks I went with mine,\n But eight years shalt thou go with thine.'\n\nThe forty weeks had passed, and Ellen began to long for relief. Sir\nPeter besought aid of his sister Ingerlin. If I help your young bride,\nshe said, I must be traitor to my mother. Sir Peter insisted, and\nIngerlin moulded a fine child of wax,[103] wrapped it in linen, and\nexhibited it to her mother, who, supposing that her arts had been\nbaffled, burst out into exclamations of astonishment. She had thought\nshe could twist a rope out of flying sand, lay sun and moon flat on the\nearth with a single word, turn the whole world round about! She had\nthought all the house was spell-bound, except the spot where the young\nwife's chest stood, the chest of red rowan, which nothing can bewitch!\nThe chest was instantly taken away, and Ellen's bed moved to the place\nit had occupied; and no sooner was this done than Ellen gave birth to\ntwo children.\n\nIn the ballads of the other class, the young wife, grown desperate after\neight years of suffering, asks to be taken back to her maiden home. Her\nhusband's mother raises objections: the horses are in the meadow, the\ncoachman is in bed. Then, she says, I will go on my bare feet. The\nmoment her husband learns her wish, the carriage is at the door, but by\nthe arts of the mother it goes to pieces on the way, and the journey has\nto be finished on horseback. The joy of her parents at seeing their\ndaughter approaching was quenched on a nearer view: she looked more dead\nthan quick. She called her family about her and distributed her effects.\nA great wail went up in the house when two sons were cut from the\nmother's side. (#C#, #J#, #K#, #L#, #W#: Grundtvig, 84 #C#; Kristensen,\nII, No 35 #A#, #B#, #C#; I, No 74 #C#.)\n\n The first son stood up and brushed his hair:\n 'Most surely am I in my ninth year.'\n\n The second stood up both fair and red:\n 'Most sure we'll avenge our dear mother dead.'[104]\n\nSeveral of the most important ballads of the first class have taken up a\npart of the story of those of the second class, to the detriment of\nconsistency. #F#, #G#, #H#, #O#, #P# (Grundtvig, 84 #F#, #G#, #H#,\nKristensen, II, No 35 #F#, #G#), make the wife quit her husband's house\nfor her father's, not only without reason, but against reason. If the\nwoman is to die, it is natural enough that she should wish to die with\nthe friends of her early days, and away from her uncongenial\nmother-in-law; but there is no kind of occasion for transferring the\nscene of the trick with the wax children to her father's house; and, on\nthe other hand, it is altogether strange that her husband's mother and\nthe rowan-tree chest (which sometimes appears to be the property of the\nmother, sometimes that of the wife) should go with her.\n\n#Y#, 'Hustru og Slegfred,' Grundtvig, 85, agrees with the second class\nup to the point when the wife is put to bed at her mother's house, but\nwith the important variation that the spell is the work of a former\nmistress of the husband; instead of his mother, as in most of the\nballads, or of the wife's foster-mother, as in #C#, #D#, #J#, #K#, #M#\n(Grundtvig, 84 #C#, #D#, Kristensen, II, No 35 #A#, #B#, #D#), or of the\nwife's step-mother as in #A# only. The conclusion of 'Hustru og\nSlegfred' is rather flat. The wife, as she lies in bed, bids all her\nhousehold hold up their hands and pray for her relief, which occurs on\nthe same day. The news is sent to her husband, who rejoins his wife, is\nshown his children, praises God, and burns his mistress. Burning is also\nthe fate of the mother-in-law in #B#, #I#, #O#, #P#, whereas in #F# she\ndies of chagrin, and in #G# bursts into a hundred flinders\n(flentsteene).\n\nThis ballad, in the mixed form of #O#, #P# (Kristensen, II, 35 #F#,\n#G#), has been resolved into a tale in Denmark, a few lines of verse\nbeing retained. Recourse is had by the spell-bound wife to a cunning\nwoman in the village, who informs her that in her house there is a place\nin which a rowan-tree chest has stood, and that she can get relief\nthere. The cunning woman subsequently pointing out the exact spot, two\nboys are born, who are seven years old, and can both walk and talk. Word\nis sent the witch that her son's wife has been delivered of two sons,\nand that she herself shall be burned the day following. The witch says,\n\"I have been able to twine a string out of running water. If I have not\nsucceeded in bewitching the woman, she must have found the place where\nthe damned rowan chest stood.\" (Grundtvig, III, 858, No 84 #b#.)\n\nThree Swedish versions of the ballad have been printed. #A#, #B#, from\ntradition of this century, are given by Arwidsson, II, 252 ff, 'Liten\nKerstins F\u00f6rtrollning,' No 134. These resemble the Danish ballads of the\nsecond class closely. Liten Kerstin goes to her mother's house, gives\nbirth to two children, and dies. In #A# the children are a son and\ndaughter. The son stands up, combs his hair, and says, \"I am forty weeks\non in my ninth year.\" He can run errands in the village, and the\ndaughter sew red silk. In #B# both children are boys. One combs his\nhair, and says, \"Our grandmother shall be put on two wheels.\" The other\ndraws his sword, and says, \"Our mother is dead, our grandmother to\nblame. I hope our mother is with God. Our grandmother shall be laid on\nseven wheels.\" The other copy, #C#, mentioned by Grundtvig as being in\nCavallius and Stephens' manuscript collection, has been printed in the\nSvenska Fornminnesf\u00f6reningens Tidskrift, vol. ii, p. 72 ff, 1873-74. It\ndates from the close of the sixteenth century, and resembles the mixed\nballads of the Danish first class, combining the flitting to the\nfather's house with the artifice of the wax children. The conclusion of\nthis ballad has suffered greatly. After the two sons are born, we are\ntold that Kirstin, before unmentioned, goes to the chest and makes a wax\nchild. If the chest were moved, Elin would be free of her child. And\nthen the boy stands up and brushes his hair, and says he has come to his\neighth year.\n\nThree stanzas and some of the incidents of a #Norwegian# version of this\nballad have been communicated to Grundtvig, III, 858 f, No 84 c, by\nProfessor Sophus Bugge. The only place which was unaffected by a spell\nwas where Signel\u00edti's bride-chest stood, and the chest being removed,\nthe birth took place. The witch was a step-mother, as in Danish #A#.\n\nThere are two familiar cases of malicious arrest of childbirth in\nclassic mythology,--those of Latona and Alcmene. The wrath of Juno was\nthe cause in both, and perhaps the myth of Alcmene is only a repetition\nof an older story, with change of name. The pangs of Latona were\nprolonged through nine days and nights, at the end of which time\nIlithyia came to her relief, induced by a bribe. (Hymn to the Delian\nApollo, 91 ff.) Homer, Il. xix, 119, says only that Hera stopped the\ndelivery of Alcmene and kept back Ilithyia. Antoninus Liberalis, in the\nsecond century of our era, in one of his abstracts from the\nMetamorphoses of Nicander, a poem of the second century B. C., or\nearlier, has this account: that when Alcmene was going with Hercules,\nthe Fates and Ilithyia, to please Juno, kept her in her pains by sitting\ndown and folding their hands; and that Galinthias, a playmate and\ncompanion of Alcmene, fearing that the suffering would drive her mad,\nran out and announced the birth of a boy, upon which the Fates were\nseized with such consternation that they let go their hands, and\nHercules immediately came into the world. (Antoninus Lib., Metam. c.\nxxix.) Ovid, Metamorphoses, ix, 281-315, is more circumstantial. After\nseven days and nights of torture, Lucina came, but, being bribed by\nJuno, instead of giving the aid for which she was invoked, sat down on\nthe altar before Alcmene's door, with the right knee crossed over the\nleft, and fingers interlocked, mumbling charms which checked the\nprocesses of birth. Galanthis, a servant girl _media de plebe_, was\nshrewd enough to suspect that Juno had some part in this mischief; and\nbesides, as she went in and out of the house, she always saw Lucina\nsitting on the altar, with her hands clasped over her knees. At last, by\na happy thought, she called out, \"Whoever you are, wish my mistress joy;\nshe is lighter, and has her wish.\" Lucina jumped up and unclasped her\nhands, and the birth followed instantly. Pausanias, ix, 11, tells a\nsimilar but briefer story, in which Historis, daughter of Tiresias,\ntakes the place of Galanthis. See, for the whole matter, 'Ilithyia oder\ndie Hexe,' in C. A. B\u00f6ttiger's Kleine Schriften, I, 76 ff.\n\nApuleius, in his Metamorphoses, mentions a case of suspended childbirth,\nwhich, curiously enough, had lasted eight years,[105] as in the Danish\nand Swedish ballads. The witch is a mistress of her victim's husband, as\nin Grundtvig, 85, and as in a story cited by Scott from Heywood's\n'Hierarchy of the Blessed Angels,' p. 474. \"There is a curious tale\nabout a Count of Westeravia [Vestravia, in diocesi Argentoratensi], whom\na deserted concubine bewitched upon his marriage, so as to preclude all\nhopes of his becoming a father. The spell continued to operate for three\nyears, till one day, the count happening to meet with his former\nmistress, she maliciously asked him about the increase of his family.\nThe count, conceiving some suspicion from her manner, craftily answered\nthat God had blessed him with three fine children; on which she\nexclaimed, like Willie's mother in the ballad, 'May Heaven confound the\nold hag by whose counsel I threw an enchanted pitcher into the draw-well\nof your palace!' The spell being found and destroyed, the count became\nthe father of a numerous family.\"\n\nA story like that of the ballad is told as a fact that took place in\nArran within this century. A young man forsook his sweetheart and\nmarried another girl. When the wife's time came, she suffered\nexcessively. A pack-man who was passing suspected the cause, went\nstraight to the old love, and told her that a fine child was born; when\nup she sprang, and pulled out a large nail from the beam of the roof,\ncalling out to her mother, \"Muckle good your craft has done!\" The wife\nwas forthwith delivered. (Napier, in The Folklore Record, II, 117.)\n\nIn the #Sicilian# tales, collected by Laura Gonzenbach, Nos 12 and 15,\nwe have the spell of folded hands placed between the knees to prevent\nbirth, and in No 54 hands raised to the head.[106] In all these examples\nthe spell is finally broken by telling the witch a piece of false news,\nwhich causes her to forget herself and take away her hands.\n(Sicilianische M\u00e4rchen aus dem Volksmund gesammelt, Leipzig, 1870.)\n\nWe find in a #Roumanian# tale, contributed to Das Ausland for 1857, p.\n1029, by F. Obert, and epitomized by Grundtvig, III, 859, No 84 d, a\nwife condemned by her offended husband to go with child till he lays his\nhand upon her. It is twenty years before she obtains grace, and the son\nwhom she then bears immediately slays his father. A #Wallachian# form of\nthis story (Walachische M\u00e4rchen von Arthur u. Albert Schott, No 23)\nomits the revenge by the new-born child, and ends happily.\n\nWith respect to the knots in st. 34, it is to be observed that the tying\nof knots (as also the fastening of locks), either during the marriage\nceremony or at the approach of parturition was, and is still, believed\nto be effectual for preventing conception or childbirth. The minister of\nLogierait, Perthshire, testifies, about the year 1793, that immediately\nbefore the celebration of a marriage it is the custom to loosen\ncarefully every knot about bride and bridegroom,--garters, shoe-strings,\netc. The knots are tied again before they leave the church. (Statistical\nAccount of Scotland, V, 83.) So among the Laps and Norwegians, when a\nchild is to be born, all the knots in the woman's clothes, or even all\nthe knots in the house, must be untied, because of their impeding\ndelivery. (Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, p. 322, who also cites the\nStatistical Account of Scotland.)\n\n * * * * *\n\nWillie's Lady is translated by Schubart, p. 74, Talvj, p. 555, and by\nGerhard, p. 139. Grundtvig, 84 H (== Syv, 90, Danske Viser, 43), is\ntranslated by Jamieson, Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 344,\nand by Prior, No 89.\n\n\nA\n\n #a.# A copy, by Miss Mary Fraser Tytler, of a transcript\n made by her grandfather from William Tytler's manuscript.\n #b.# Jamieson-Brown MS., No 15, fol. 33.\n\n 1\n Willie has taen him oer the fame,\n He's woo'd a wife and brought her hame.\n\n 2\n He's woo'd her for her yellow hair,\n But his mother wrought her mickle care.\n\n 3\n And mickle dolour gard her dree,\n For lighter she can never be.\n\n 4\n But in her bower she sits wi pain,\n And Willie mourns oer her in vain.\n\n 5\n And to his mother he has gone,\n That vile rank witch of vilest kind.\n\n 6\n He says: 'My ladie has a cup,\n Wi gowd and silver set about.\n\n 7\n 'This goodlie gift shall be your ain,\n And let her be lighter o her young bairn.'\n\n 8\n 'Of her young bairn she'll neer be lighter,\n Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.\n\n 9\n 'But she shall die and turn to clay,\n And you shall wed another may.'\n\n 10\n 'Another may I'll never wed,\n Another may I'll neer bring home.'\n\n 11\n But sighing says that weary wight,\n 'I wish my life were at an end.'\n\n 12\n 'Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again,\n That vile rank witch of vilest kind.\n\n 13\n 'And say your ladie has a steed,\n The like o'm's no in the lands of Leed.\n\n 14\n 'For he [i]s golden shod before,\n And he [i]s golden shod behind.\n\n 15\n 'And at ilka tet of that horse's main,\n There's a golden chess and a bell ringing.\n\n 16\n 'This goodlie gift shall be your ain,\n And let me be lighter of my young bairn.'\n\n 17\n 'O her young bairn she'll neer be lighter,\n Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.\n\n 18\n 'But she shall die and turn to clay,\n And ye shall wed another may.'\n\n 19\n 'Another may I['ll] never wed,\n Another may I['ll] neer bring hame.'\n\n 20\n But sighing said that weary wight,\n 'I wish my life were at an end.'\n\n 21\n 'Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again,\n That vile rank witch of vilest kind.\n\n 22\n 'And say your ladie has a girdle,\n It's red gowd unto the middle.\n\n 23\n 'And ay at every silver hem,\n Hangs fifty silver bells and ten.\n\n 24\n 'That goodlie gift has be her ain,\n And let me be lighter of my young bairn.'\n\n 25\n 'O her young bairn she's neer be lighter,\n Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.\n\n 26\n 'But she shall die and turn to clay,\n And you shall wed another may.'\n\n 27\n 'Another may I'll never wed,\n Another may I'll neer bring hame.'\n\n 28\n But sighing says that weary wight,\n 'I wish my life were at an end.'\n\n 29\n Then out and spake the Belly Blind;\n He spake aye in good time.\n\n 30\n 'Ye doe ye to the market place,\n And there ye buy a loaf o wax.\n\n 31\n 'Ye shape it bairn and bairnly like,\n And in twa glassen een ye pit;\n\n 32\n 'And bid her come to your boy's christening;\n Then notice weel what she shall do.\n\n 33\n 'And do you stand a little fore bye,\n And listen weel what she shall say.'\n\n 34\n 'Oh wha has loosed the nine witch knots\n That was amo that ladie's locks?\n\n 35\n 'And wha has taen out the kaims of care\n That hangs amo that ladie's hair?\n\n 36\n 'And wha's taen down the bush o woodbine\n That hang atween her bower and mine?\n\n 37\n 'And wha has killd the master kid\n That ran beneath that ladie's bed?\n\n 38\n 'And wha has loosed her left-foot shee,\n And lotten that ladie lighter be?'\n\n 39\n O Willie has loosed the nine witch knots\n That was amo that ladie's locks.\n\n 40\n And Willie's taen out the kaims o care\n That hang amo that ladie's hair.\n\n 41\n And Willie's taen down the bush o woodbine\n That hang atween her bower and thine.\n\n 42\n And Willie has killed the master kid\n That ran beneath that ladie's bed.\n\n 43\n And Willie has loosed her left-foot shee,\n And letten his ladie lighter be.\n\n 44\n And now he's gotten a bonny young son,\n And mickle grace be him upon.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n _The stanzas are not regularly divided in the MS., nor\n were they so divided by Scott._\n\n 41^2. hung (?) beneath: _but see 36^2._\n\n _Scott's principal variations are_:\n\n 12^1. Yet gae ye.\n\n 14^1. For he is silver shod.\n\n 15.\n At every tuft of that horse main\n There's a golden chess and a bell to ring.\n\n 21^1. Yet gae ye.\n\n 21^2. o rankest kind.\n\n 22^2. It's a' red gowd to.\n\n 24^1. This gudely gift sall be.\n\n 26^1. For she.\n\n 28^2. my days.\n\n 30^1. Yet gae ye.\n\n 30^2. there do buy.\n\n 31^1. Do shape.\n\n 31^2. you'll put.\n\n 32^1. And bid her your boy's christening to.\n\n 33^1. a little away.\n\n 33^2. To notice weel what she may saye.\n\n 35^2. That were amang.\n\n 38^2. And let.\n\n 39^1. Syne Willie.\n\n 40^2. That were into.\n\n 41^1, 42^1, 43^1. And he.\n\n 41^2. Hung atween her bour and the witch carline.\n\n 44^2. a bonny son.\n\n#b.#\n\n _Divided in Jamieson's MS. into stanzas of four verses,\n two verses being written in one line: but Jamieson's_\n 8==#a# 14-16.\n\n 1^1. Sweet Willy's taen.\n\n 5-11, _wanting. Instead of the cup, the girdle occurs\n here_:==#a# 21-28.\n\n 12^1. He did him till.\n\n 12^2. wilest kin.\n\n 13^1. An said, My lady.\n\n 14^{1, 2}. he is.\n\n 16^2. An lat her be lighter o her young bairn.\n\n 18^1. go to clay.\n\n #a# 21^1==b 5^1. Now to his mither he has gane.\n\n 18^2. kin.\n\n #a# 22^1==b 6^1. He say[s] my lady.\n\n 22^2. It's a' red.\n\n #a# 23^1==b 7^1. at ilka.\n\n 23^2. Hings.\n\n #a# 24^1==b 8^1. gift sall be your ain.\n\n 24^2. lat her ... o her.\n\n #a# 29==b 22. Then out it spake the belly blin; She spake\n ay in a good time.\n\n #a# 32==b 25, 26.\n\n An do you to your mither then, An bid her come to your boy's\n christnen;\n For dear's the boy he's been to you: Then notice well what\n she shall do.\n\n _Between #a# 33 and #a# 34 occurs in #b# (28-31)_:\n\n He did him to the market place, An there he bought a loaf o wax.\n He shap'd it bairn and bairnly like, An in't twa glazen een he pat.\n He did him till his mither then, An bade him (_sic_) to his boy's\n christnen.\n An he did stan a little forebye, An notic'd well what she did say.\n\n #a# 35^2==#b# 33^2. hang amo.\n\n 36. _wanting in #b#._\n\n 37^2. aneath.\n\n 39^2==#b# 36^2. hang amo his.\n\n 40^1. kemb o care.\n\n 40^2. his lady's.\n\n 41. _wanting in #b#._\n\n 42^2==#b# 38^2. ran aneath his.\n\n 44. _wanting in #b#._\n\n #b# _22^2 makes the Billy Blind feminine. This is not so\n in #a#, or in any other ballad, and may be only an error\n of the transcriber, who has not always written carefully._\n\n\n[102] The Jamieson-Brown copy contains seventy-eight verses; Scott's\nand the Tytler copy, eighty-eight. Dr Anderson's, Nichols's\nIllustrations, VII, 176, counts seventy-six instead of eighty-eight;\nbut, judging by the description which Anderson has given of the\nAlexander-Fraser-Tytler-Brown MS., at p. 179, he is not exact.\nStill, so large a discrepancy is hard to explain.\n\n[103] The sister does this in #F-I# and #S#: in #O#, #P#, the husband\n\"has\" it done.\n\n[104] Grundtvig, 84 #D#, #E#; Kristensen, I, No 74 #A#, #B#, #C#; II, No\n35 #A#, #B#, #C#.\n\n[105] Eadem amatoris sui uxorem, quod in eam dicacule probrum dixerat,\njam in sarcina pr\u00e6gnationis, obs\u00e6pto utero et repigrato fetu, perpetua\npr\u00e6gnatione damuavit, et, ut cuncti numerant, jam octo annorum onere\nmisella illa velut elephantum paritura distenditur. I, 9.\n\n[106] We may suppose with closed fingers, or clasping the head, though\nthis is not said. Antique vases depict one or two Ilithyias as standing\nby with hands elevated and _open_, during the birth of Athene from the\nhead of Zeus. Welcker, Kleine Schriften, III, 191, note 12.\n\n\n\n\n7\n\nEARL BRAND\n\n #A. a. b.# 'Earl Bran,' Mr Robert White's papers. #c.#\n 'The Brave Earl Brand and the King of England's Daughter,'\n Bell, Ancient Poems, etc., p. 122. #d.# Fragmentary verses\n remembered by Mr R. White's sister.\n\n #B.# 'The Douglas Tragedy,' Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 246,\n ed. 1803.\n\n #C.# 'Lord Douglas,' Motherwell's MS., p. 502.\n\n #D.# 'Lady Margaret,' Kinloch MSS, I, 327.\n\n #E.# 'The Douglas Tragedy,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p.\n 180.\n\n #F.# 'The Child of Ell,' Percy MS., p. 57; Hales and\n Furnivall, I, 133.\n\n\n'Earl Brand,' first given to the world by Mr Robert Bell in 1857, has\npreserved most of the incidents of a very ancient story with a\nfaithfulness unequalled by any ballad that has been recovered from\nEnglish oral tradition. Before the publication of 'Earl Brand,' #A c#,\nour known inheritance in this particular was limited to the beautiful\nbut very imperfect fragment called by Scott 'The Douglas Tragedy,' #B#;\nhalf a dozen stanzas of another version of the same in Motherwell's\nMinstrelsy, #E#; so much of Percy's 'Child of Elle' as was genuine,\nwhich, upon the printing of his manuscript, turned out to be one fifth,\n#F#; and two versions of Erlinton, #A#, #C#.[107] What now can be added\nis but little: two transcripts of 'Earl Brand,' one of which, #A a#, has\nsuffered less from literary revision than the only copy hitherto\nprinted, #A c#; a third version of 'The Douglas Tragedy,' from\nMotherwell's manuscript, #C#; a fourth from Kinloch's manuscripts, #D#;\nand another of 'Erlinton,' #B#. Even 'Earl Brand' has lost a\ncircumstance that forms the turning-point in Scandinavian ballads, and\nthis capital defect attends all our other versions, though traces which\nremain in 'Erlinton' make it nearly certain that our ballads originally\nagreed in all important particulars with those which are to this day\nrecited in the north of Europe.\n\nThe corresponding #Scandinavian# ballad is 'Ribold and Guldborg,' and it\nis a jewel that any clime might envy. Up to the time of Grundtvig's\nedition, in Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, No 82, though four versions had\nbeen printed, the only current copy for a hundred and fifty years had\nbeen Syv's No 88, based on a broadside of the date 1648, but compounded\nfrom several sources; and it was in this form that the ballad became\nknown to the English through Jamieson's translation. Grundtvig has now\npublished twenty-seven versions of 'Ribold og Guldborg' (II, 347 ff,\nnineteen; 675 ff, four; III, 849 ff, four:[108] of all which only two\nare fragments), and nine of 'Hildebrand og Hilde,' No 83, which, is the\nsame story set in a dramatic frame-work (II, 393 ff, seven; 680 f, one;\nIII, 857, one, a fragment). Three more Danish versions of 'Ribold og\nGuldborg' are furnished by Kristensen, Gamle jydske Folkeviser, I, No\n37, II, No 84 #A#, #B# (#C*#, #D*#, #E*#). To these we may add the last\nhalf, sts 15-30, of 'Den farlige Jomfru,' Grundtvig, 184 #G#. Of\nGrundtvig's texts, 82 #A# is of the sixteenth century; #B-H# are of the\nseventeenth; the remainder and Kristensen's three from recent tradition.\nSix versions of 'Hildebrand og Hilde,' #A-F#, are of the seventeenth\ncentury; one is of the eighteenth, #G#; and the remaining two are from\noral tradition of our day.\n\nThe first six of Grundtvig's versions of 'Ribold and Guldborg,' #A-F#,\nare all from manuscripts, and all of a pure traditional character,\nuntampered with by \"collators.\" #G# and #H# are mixed texts: they have\n#F# for their basis, but have admitted stanzas from other sources. Most\nof the versions from recitation are wonderful examples and proofs of the\nfidelity with which simple people \"report and hold\" old tales: for, as\nthe editor has shown, verses which never had been printed, but which are\nfound in old manuscripts, are now met with in recited copies; and these\nrecited copies, again, have verses that occur in no Danish print or\nmanuscript, but which nevertheless are found in Norwegian and Swedish\nrecitations, and, what is more striking, in Icelandic tradition of two\nhundred years' standing.\n\nThe story in the older Danish ballads runs thus. Ribold, a king's son,\nsought Guldborg's love in secret. He said he would carry her to a land\nwhere death and sorrow came not; where all the birds were cuckoos, and\nall the grass was leeks, and all the streams ran wine. Guldborg, not\nindisposed, asked how she should evade the watch kept over her by all\nher family and by her betrothed. Ribold disguised her in his cloak and\narmor, #B#, #E#, #F#, and rode off, with Guldborg behind him. On the\nheath they meet a rich earl [a crafty man, #C#; her betrothed, #D#], who\nasks, Whither away, with your stolen maid? [little page, #B#, #F#.]\nRibold replies that it is his youngest sister, whom he has taken from a\ncloister, #A#, #E# [sick sister, #C#; brother, #B#, #F#; page, #D#].\nThis shift avails nothing; no more does a bribe which he offers for\nkeeping his secret. Report is at once made to her father that Guldborg\nhas eloped with Ribold. Guldborg perceives that they are pursued, and is\nalarmed. Ribold reassures her, and prepares to meet his foes. He bids\nGuldborg hold his horse, #B#, #C#, #E#, and, whatever may happen, not to\ncall him by name: \"Though thou see me bleed, name me not to death;\nthough thou see me fall, name me not at all!\" Ribold cuts down six or\nseven of her brothers and her father, besides others of her kin; the\nyoungest brother only is left, and Guldborg in an agony calls upon\nRibold to spare him, to carry tidings to her mother. No sooner was his\nname pronounced than Ribold received a mortal wound. He sheathed his\nsword, and said, Come, wilt thou ride with me? Wilt thou go home to thy\nmother again, or wilt thou follow so sad a swain? And she answered, I\nwill not go home to my mother again; I will follow thee, my heart's\ndearest man. They rode through the wood, and not a word came from the\nmouth of either. Guldborg asked, Why art thou not as glad as before? And\nRibold answered, Thy brother's sword has been in my heart. They reached\nhis house. He called to one to take his horse, to another to bring a\npriest, and said his brother should have Guldborg. But she would not\ngive her faith to two brothers. Ribold died that night, #C#. Three dead\ncame from Ribold's bower: Ribold and his lief, and his mother, who died\nof grief! In #A# Guldborg slays herself, and dies in her lover's arms.\n\n'Hildebrand and Hilde,' #A#, #B#, #C#, #D#, opens with the heroine in a\nqueen's service, sewing her seam wildly, putting silk for gold and gold\nfor silk. The queen calls her to account. Hilde begs her mistress to\nlisten to her tale of sorrow. She was a king's daughter. Twelve knights\nhad been appointed to be her guard, and one had beguiled her,\nHildebrand, son of the king of England. They went off together, and\nwere surprised by her brothers [father, #B#, #C#, #D#]. Hildebrand bade\nher be of good cheer; but she must not call him by name if she saw him\nbleed or fall, #A#, #B#, #D#. A heap of knights soon lay at his feet.\nHilde forgot herself, and called out, Hildebrand, spare my youngest\nbrother! Hildebrand that instant received a mortal wound, and fell. The\nyounger brother tied her to his horse, and dragged her home. They shut\nher up at first in a strong tower, built for the purpose, #A#,# B#\n[Swedish #A#, a dark house], and afterwards sold her into servitude for\na church bell. Her mother's heart broke at the bell's first stroke, and\nHilde, with the last word of her tale, fell dead in the queen's arms.\n\nThe most important deviation of the later versions from the old is\nexhibited by #S# and #T#, and would probably be observed in #Q#, #R#, as\nwell, were these complete. #S#, #T# are either a mixture of 'Ribold and\nGuldborg' with 'Hildebrand and Hilde,' or forms transitional between the\ntwo. In these Ribold does not live to reach his home, and Guldborg,\nunable to return to hers, offers herself to a queen, to spin silk and\nweave gold [braid hair and work gold]. But she cannot sew for grief. The\nqueen smacks her on the cheek for neglecting her needle. Poor Guldborg\nutters a protest, but gives no explanation, and the next morning is\nfound dead. Singularly enough, the name of the hero in #Q#, #R#, #S#,\n#T#, is also an intermediate form. Ribold is the name in all the old\nDanish copies except #C#, and that has Ride-bolt. Danish #I#, #K#, #X#,\n#Z#, all the Icelandic copies, and Swedish #D#, have either Ribold or\nsome unimportant variation. #Q#, #R#, #S#, have Ride-brand [#T#,\nRederbrand]. All copies of Grundtvig 83, except Danish #G#, Swedish #C#,\nwhich do not give the hero's name, have Hilde-brand; so also 82 #N#,\n#O#, #P#, #V#, and Kristensen, I, No 37. The name of the woman is nearly\nconstant both in 82 and 83.\n\nThe paradise promised Guldborg in all the old versions of 82[109]\ndisappears from the recited copies, except #K#, #M#. It certainly did\nnot originally belong to 'Ribold and Guldborg,' or to another Danish\nballad in which it occurs ('Den trofaste Jomfru,' Grundtvig, 249 #A#),\nbut rather to ballads like 'Kvindemorderen,' Grundtvig, 183 #A#, or\n'L\u00edti Kersti,' Landstad, 44, where a supernatural being, a demon or a\nhillman, seeks to entice away a mortal maid. See No 4, p. 27. In 82 #L#,\n#N#, #U#, #V#, #Y#, #\u00c6#, #\u00d8#, and Kristensen's copies, the lovers are\nnot encountered by anybody who reports their flight. Most of the later\nversions, #K#, #L#, #M#, #N#, #P#, #U#, #V#, #Y#, #\u00c6#, #\u00d8#, and\nKristensen's three, make them halt in a wood, where Ribold goes to sleep\nin Guldborg's lap, and is roused by her when she perceives that they are\npursued. So Norwegian #B#, Swedish #A#, #B#, #C#, and 'Hildebrand and\nHilde' #B#. #M#, #Q#, #R#, #S#, #T#, #Z#, have not a specific\nprohibition of _dead-naming_, but even these enjoin silence. 83 #C# is\nthe only ballad in which there is a fight and no prohibition of either\nkind, but it is clear from the course of the story that the stanza\ncontaining the usual injunction has simply dropped out. #P# is\ndistinguished from all other forms of the story by the heroine's killing\nherself before her dying lover reaches his house.\n\nThe four first copies of 'Hildebrand and Hilde,' as has been seen, have\nthe story of Ribold and Guldborg with some slight differences and some\nabridgment. There is no elopement in #B#: the lovers are surprised in\nthe princess' bower. When Hilde has finished her tale, in #A#, the queen\ndeclares that Hildebrand was her son. In #B# she interrupts the\nnarrative by announcing her discovery that Hildebrand was her brother.\n#C# and #D# have nothing of the sort. There is no fight in #E-H#. #E#\nhas taken up the commonplace of the bower on the strand which was forced\nby nine men.[110] Hildebrand is again the son of the queen, and, coming\nin just as Hilde has expired, exclaims that he will have no other love,\nsets his sword against a stone, and runs upon it. #H# has the same\ncatastrophe. #F# represents the father as simply showing great\nindignation and cruelty on finding out that one of the guardian knights\nhad beguiled his daughter, and presently selling her for a new church\nbell. The knight turns out here again to be the queen's son; the queen\nsays he shall betroth Hille, and Hille faints for joy. #G# agrees with\n#B# as to the surprise in the bower. The knight's head is hewn off on\nthe spot. The queen gives Hilde her youngest son for a husband, and\nHilde avows that she is consoled. #I# agrees with #E# so far as it goes,\nbut is a short fragment.\n\nThere are three #Icelandic# versions of this ballad, 'Ribbalds kv\u00e6\u00f0i,'\n\u00cdslenzk Fornkv\u00e6\u00f0i, No 16, all of the seventeenth century. They all come\nreasonably close to the Danish as to the story, and particularly #A#.\nRibbald, with no prologue, invites Gullbr\u00fan \"to ride.\" He sets her on a\nwhite horse; of all women she rode best. They have gone but a little\nway, when they see a pilgrim riding towards them, who hails Ribbald\nwith, Welcome, with thy stolen maid! Ribbald pretends that the maid is\nhis sister, but the pilgrim knows very well it is Gullbr\u00fan. She offers\nher cloak to him not to tell her father, but the pilgrim goes straight\nto the king, and says, Thy daughter is off! The king orders his harp to\nbe brought, for no purpose but to dash it on the floor once and twice,\nand break out the strings. He then orders his horse. Gullbr\u00fan sees her\nfather come riding under a hill-side, then her eleven brothers, then\nseven brothers-in-law. She begs Ribbald to spare her youngest brother's\nlife, that he may carry the news to her mother. He replies, I will tie\nmy horse by the reins; you take up your sewing! then three times forbids\nher to name him during the fight. He slew her father first, next the\neleven brothers, then the other seven, all which filled her with\ncompunction, and she cried out, Ribbald, still thy brand! On the instant\nRibbald received many wounds. He wiped his bloody sword, saying, This is\nwhat you deserve, Gullbr\u00fan, but love is your shield; then set her on her\nhorse, and rode to his brother's door. He called out, Here is a wife for\nyou! But Gullbr\u00fan said, Never will I be given to two brothers. Soon\nafter Ribbald gave up the ghost. There was more mourning than mirth;\nthree bodies went to the grave in one coffin, Ribbald, his lady, and his\nmother, who died of grief.\n\n#B# and #C# have lost something at the beginning, #C# starting at the\nsame point as our 'Douglas Tragedy.' The king pursues Ribbald by water.\nGullbr\u00fan (#B#) stands in a tower and sees him land. Ribbald gives\nGullbr\u00fan to his brother, as in #A#: she lives in sorrow, and dies a\nmaid.\n\n#Norwegian.# ('Ribold and Guldborg.') #A#, 'Rikeball og stolt Gu\u00f0bj\u00f6rg,'\nLandstad, 33; #B#, 'Veneros og stolt \u00d6lleber,' Landstad, 34; #C#, #D#,\n#E#, #F#, in part described and cited, with six other copies, Grundtvig,\nIII, p. 853 f. The last half of Landstad No 23, stanzas 17-34, and\nstanzas 18-25 of Landstad 28 #B#, also belong here. #A# agrees with the\nolder Danish versions, even to the extent of the paradise. #B# has been\ngreatly injured. Upon the lady's warning Veneros of the approach of her\nfather, he puts her up in an oak-tree for safety. He warns her not to\ncall him by name, and she says she will rather die first; but her\nfirmness is not put to the test in this ballad, some verses having\ndropped out just at this point. Veneros is advised to surrender, but\ndispatches his assailants by eighteen thousands (like Lille br\u00f3r, in\nLandstad, 23), and by way of conclusion hews the false P\u00e1l greive, who\nhad reported his elopement to \u00d6lleber's father, into as many pieces. He\nthen takes \u00d6lleber on his horse, they ride away and are married. Such\npeculiarities in the other copies as are important to us will be noticed\nfurther on.\n\n('Hildebrand and Hilde.') #A#, one of two Norwegian copies communicated\nby Professor Bugge to Grundtvig, III, 857 f, agrees well with Danish\n#E#, but has the happy conclusion of Danish #F#, #G#, #I#. The heroine\nis sold for _nine_ bells. #B#, the other, omits the bower-breaking of\n#A# and Danish #E#, and ends with marriage.\n\nThe #Swedish# forms of 'Ribold and Guldborg' are: #A#, 'Hillebrand,'\nAfzelius, No 2; #B#, 'Herr Redebold,' and #C#, 'Kung Vallemo,'\nAfzelius, No 80; new ed., No 2, 1, 2, 3; #D#, 'Ribbolt,' Arwidsson, No\n78; #E#, 'Herr Redebold' #F#, 'Herting Liljebrand,' and #G#, 'Herr\nBalder,' in Cavallius and Stephens' manuscript collection; #H#, 'Kung\nWalmon,' E. Wigstr\u00f6m's Folkdiktning, No 15, p. 33. #A#, #B#, #C#, #H#,\nare not markedly different from the ordinary Danish ballad, and this is\ntrue also, says Grundtvig, of the unprinted versions, #E#, #F#, #G#. #D#\nand #G# are of the seventeenth century, the others from recent\ntradition. Ribold is pictured in #D# as a bold prince, equally versed in\nrunes and arts as in manly exercises. He visits Gi\u00f6tha by night: they\nslumber sweet, but wake in blood. She binds up his wounds with rich\nkerchiefs. He rides home to his father's, and sits down on a bench. The\nking bids his servants see what is the matter, and adds, Be he sick or\nbe he hurt, he got it at Gi\u00f6tha-Lilla's. They report the prince stabbed\nwith sharp pikes within, and bound with silk kerchiefs without. Ribold\nbids them bury him in the mould, and not blame Gi\u00f6tha-Lilla; \"for my\nhorse was fleet, and I was late, and he hurtled me 'gainst an\napple-tree\" (so Hillebrand in #A#). #E# represents the heroine as\nsurviving her lover, and united to a young king, but always grieving for\nRedebold.\n\n'Hildebrand and Hilde' exists in Swedish in three versions: #A#, a\nbroadside of the last part of the seventeenth century, now printed in\nthe new edition of Afzelius, p. 142 ff of the notes (the last nine\nstanzas before, in Danske Viser, III, 438 f); #B#, Afzelius, No 32, new\ned. No 26, #C#, Arwidsson, No 107, both taken down in this century. In\n#A# and #B# Hillebrand, son of the king of England, carries off Hilla;\nthey halt in a grove; she wakes him from his sleep when she hears her\nfather and seven brothers coming; he enjoins her not to call him by\nname, which still she does upon her father's being slain [or when only\nher youngest brother is left], and Hillebrand thereupon receives mortal\nwounds. He wipes his sword, saying, This is what you would deserve, were\nyou not Hilla. The youngest brother ties Hilla to his horse, drags her\nhome, and confines her in a dark house, which swarms with snakes and\ndragons (#A# only). They sell her for a new church bell, and her\nmother's heart breaks at the first sound. Hilla falls dead at the\nqueen's knee. #C# has lost the dead-naming, and ends with the queen's\npromising to be Hilla's best friend.\n\nA detailed comparison of the English ballads, and especially of 'Earl\nBrand,' with the Scandinavian (such as Grundtvig has made, III, 855 f)\nshows an unusual and very interesting agreement. The name Earl Brand, to\nbegin with, is in all probability a modification of the Hildebrand found\nin Danish 82 #N#, #O#, #P#, #V#, #C*#, in all versions of Danish 83, and\nin the corresponding Swedish #A#. Ell, too, in Percy's fragment, which\nmay have been Ell\u00eb earlier, points to Hilde, or something like it, and\nErl-inton might easily be corrupted from such a form as the Alibrand of\nNorwegian #B# (Grundtvig, III, 858). Hildebrand is the son of the king\nof England in Danish 83 #A-E#, and the lady in 'Earl Brand' is the same\nking's daughter, an interchange such as is constantly occurring in\ntradition. Stanza 2 can hardly be the rightful property of 'Earl Brand.'\nSomething very similar is met with in 'Leesome Brand,' and is not much\nin place there. For 'old Carl Hood,' of whom more presently, Danish 82\n#X# and Norwegian #A#, #C# have an old man, Danish #C# a crafty man, #T#\na false younker, and Norwegian #B# and three others \"false P\u00e1l greive.\"\nThe lady's urging Earl Brand to slay the old carl, and the answer, that\nit would be sair to kill a gray-haired man, sts 8, 9, are almost\nliterally repeated in Norwegian #A#, Landstad, No 33. The knight does\nslay the old man in Danish #X# and Norwegian #C#, and slays the court\npage in Danish #Z#, and false P\u00e1l greive in Norwegian #B#,--in this last\n_after_ the battle. The question, \"Where have ye stolen this lady away?\"\nin st. 11, occurs in Danish 82 #A#, #D#, #E#, #K#, #P#, #R#, #S#, #T#,\n#Z#, in Norwegian #B# and Icelandic #B#, and something very similar in\nmany other copies. The reply, \"She is my sick sister, whom I have\nbrought from Winchester\" [nunnery], is found almost literally in Danish\n#C#, #X#, #Z#: \"It is my sick sister; I took her yesterday from the\ncloister.\" [Danish #E#, it is my youngest sister from the cloister; she\nis sick: Danish #A#, youngest sister from cloister: Danish #R# and\nNorwegian #B#, sister from cloister: Danish #S#, #T#, sister's daughter\nfrom cloister: Norwegian #F#, sister from Holstein: Danish #P#,\nIcelandic #A#, Norwegian #A#, sister.] The old man, crafty man, rich\nearl, in the Scandinavian ballads, commonly answers that he knows\nGuldborg very well; but in Danish #D#, where Ribold says it is a court\npage he has hired, we have something like sts 14, 15: \"Why has he such\nsilk-braided hair?\" On finding themselves discovered, the lovers, in the\nScandinavian ballad, attempt to purchase silence with a bribe: Danish\n#A-I#, #M#, Icelandic and Norwegian #A#, #B#. This is not expressly done\nin 'Earl Brand,' but the same seems to be meant in st. 10 by \"I'll gie\nhim a pound.\" St. 17 is fairly paralleled by Danish #S#, 18, 19: \"Where\nis Guldborg, thy daughter? Walking in the garden, gathering roses;\" and\nst. 18, by Norwegian #B#, 15: \"You may search without and search within,\nand see whether \u00d6lleber you can find.\" The announcement in st. 19 is\nmade in almost all the Scandinavian ballads, in words equivalent to\n\"Ribold is off with thy daughter,\" and then follows the arming for the\npursuit. The lady looks over her shoulder and sees her father coming, as\nin st. 21, in Danish 82 #A#, #F#, #H#, #I#, #Q#, #R#, #T#, #X#, #Z#, and\nNorwegian #A#.\n\nThe scene of the fight is better preserved in the Scottish ballads than\nin 'Earl Brand,' though none of these have the cardinal incident of the\ndeath-naming. All the Scottish versions, #B-F#, and also 'Erlinton,'\n#A#, #B#, make the lady hold the knight's horse: so Danish 82 #B#, #C#,\n#E#, #I#, #\u00c6#, #D*#, Icelandic #C#, Norwegian and Swedish #A#, and\nDanish 83 #D#. Of the knight's injunction, \"Name me not to death, though\nthou see me bleed,\" which, as has been noted, is kept by nearly every\nDanish ballad (and by the Icelandic, the Norwegian, and by Swedish\n'Ribold and Guldborg,' #A#, #B#, #C#, #H#, Swedish 'Hildebrand and\nHilde,' #A#, #B#), there is left in English only this faint trace, in\n'Erlinton,' #A#, #B#: \"See ye dinna change your cheer until ye see my\nbody bleed.\" It is the wish to save the life of her youngest brother\nthat causes the lady to call her lover by name in the larger number of\nScandinavian ballads, and she adds, \"that he may carry the tidings to my\nmother,\" in Danish 82 #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#, #G#, #H#, #M#, #X#, 83\n#B#, #C#, #D#. Grief for her father's death is the impulse in Danish 82\n#I#, #N#, #O#, #Q#, #R#, #S#, #Y#, #Z#, #\u00c6#, #\u00d8#, #A*#, #C*#, #D*#,\n#E*#, Swedish #A#, #B#, #C#, #H#. English #A# says nothing of father or\nbrother; but in #B#, #C#, #D#, #E#, it is the father's death that causes\nthe exclamation. All the assailants are slain in 'Erlinton' #A#, #B#,\nexcept an aged knight [the auldest man], and he is spared to carry the\ntidings home. 'Erlinton' #C#, however, agrees with the oldest Danish\ncopies in making the youngest brother the motive of the lady's\nintervention. It is the fifteenth, and last, of the assailants that\ngives Earl Brand his death-wound; in Danish #H#, the youngest brother,\nwhom he has been entreated to spare; and so, apparently, in Danish #C#\nand Norwegian #A#.\n\nThe question, \"Will you go with me or return to your mother?\" which we\nfind in English #B#, #C#, #D#, is met with also in many Danish versions,\n82 #B#, #H#, #K#, #L#, #M#, #N#, #P#, #U#, #Z#, #\u00c6#, #\u00d8#, #C*#, and\nSwedish #A#, #B#, #C#. The dying man asks to have his bed made in\nEnglish #B#, #C#, as in Danish 82 #B#, #C#, #K#, #L#, #N#, #U#, #N#,\n#\u00c6#, #\u00d8#, #C*#, #D*#, Norwegian #A#, Swedish #A#, #B#, #C#, #H#, and\ndesires that the lady may marry his brother in English #A#, as in nearly\nall the Danish versions, Icelandic #A#, #B#, #C#, Norwegian #C#, #D#,\n#E#, Swedish #C#. He declares her a maiden true in 'Earl Brand,' #A c#\n33, and affirms the same with more particularity in Danish 82 #B#, #C#,\n#E#, #F#, #G#, #M#, #\u00d8#, Icelandic #B#, #C#, Norwegian #A#, #C#, #E#,\nSwedish #C#. The growth of the rose and brier [bush and brier] from the\nlovers' grave in English #B#, #C#, is not met with in any version of\n'Ribold and Guldborg' proper, but 'Den farlige Jomfru' #G#, Grundtvig,\n184, the last half of which, as already remarked, is a fragment of a\nRibold ballad, has a linden in place of the rose and brier.\n\nNo complete ballad of the Ribold class is known to have survived in\n#German#, but a few verses have been interpolated by tradition in the\nearliest copy of the Ulinger ballad (vv. 47-56), which may almost with\ncertainty be assigned to one of the other description. They disturb the\nnarrative where they are, and a ready occasion for their slipping in was\nafforded by the scene being exactly the same in both ballads: a knight\nand a lady, with whom he had eloped, resting in a wood.[111] See No 4,\np. 32 of this volume.\n\nWe find in a pretty #Neapolitan-Albanian# ballad, which, with others, is\nregarded by the editors as a fragment of a connected poem, several of\nthe features of these northern ones. A youth asks a damsel in marriage,\nbut is not favored by her mother, father, or brother. He wins over first\nthe mother and then the father by handsome presents, but his gifts,\nthough accepted, do not conciliate the brother. He carries off the lady\non horseback, and is attacked by the brother, four uncles, and seven\ncousins. He is killed and falls from his horse; with him the lady falls\ndead also, and both are covered up with stones. In the spring the youth\ncomes up a cypress, the damsel comes up a vine, and encloses the cypress\nin her arms. (Rapsodie d'un poema albanese raccolte nelle colonie del\nNapoletano, de Rada and de' Coronei, Florence, 1866, lib. ii., canto\nviii.)\n\nThese ballads would seem to belong among the numerous ramifications of\nthe Hilde saga. Of these, the second lay of Helgi Hundingslayer, in\nS\u00e6mund's Edda, and 'Waltharius,' the beautiful poem of Ekkehard, are\nmost like the ballads.[112] Leaving 'Waltharius' till we come to\n'Erlinton,' we may notice that Sigr\u00fan, in the Helgi lay, though promised\nby her father to another man, H\u00f6dbrodd, son of Granmar, preferred Helgi.\nShe sought him out, and told him frankly her predicament: she feared,\nshe said, the wrath of her friends, for breaking her father's promise.\nHelgi accepted her affection, and bade her not care for the displeasure\nof her relatives. A great battle ensued between Helgi and the sons of\nGranmar, who were aided by Sigr\u00fan's father and brothers. All her kinsmen\nwere slain except one brother, Dag. He bound himself to peace with\nHelgi, but, notwithstanding, made sacrifices to Odin to obtain the loan\nof his spear, and with it slew Helgi. We have, therefore, in so much of\nthe lay of Helgi Hundingslayer, the groundwork of the story of the\nballads: a woman, who, as in many of the Ribold ballads, has been\nbetrothed to a man she does not care for, gives herself to another;\nthere is a fight, in which a great number of her kinsmen fall; one\nbrother survives, who is the death of the man she loves. The lay of\nHelgi Hi\u00f6rvard's son, whose story has much in common with that of his\nnamesake, affords two resemblances of detail not found in the lay of the\nHundingslayer. Helgi Hi\u00f6rvard's son, while his life-blood is ebbing,\nexpresses himself in almost the words of the dying Ribold: \"The sword\nhas come very near my heart.\" He then, like Ribold and Earl Brand,\ndeclares his wish that his wife should marry his brother, and she, like\nGuldborg, declines a second union.[113]\n\nThere is also a passage in the earlier history of Helgi Hundingslayer\nof which traces appear to be preserved in ballads, and before all in the\nEnglish ballad 'Earl Brand,' #A#. Hunding and Helgi's family were at\nfeud. Helgi introduced himself into Hunding's court as a spy, and when\nhe was retiring sent word to Hunding's son that he had been there\ndisguised as a son of Hagal, Helgi's foster-father. Hunding sent men to\ntake him, and Helgi, to escape them, was forced to assume woman's\nclothes and grind at the mill. While Hunding's men are making search, a\nmysterious blind man, surnamed the bale-wise, or evil-witted (Blindr inn\nb\u00f6lv\u00edsi), calls out, Sharp are the eyes of Hagal's maid; it is no\nchurl's blood that stands at the mill; the stones are riving, the\nmeal-trough is springing; a hard lot has befallen a war-king when a\nchieftain must grind strange barley; fitter for that hand is the\nsword-hilt than the mill-handle. Hagal pretends that the fierce-eyed\nmaid is a virago whom Helgi had taken captive, and in the end Helgi\nescapes. This malicious personage reappears in the Hr\u00f4mund saga as\n\"Blind the Bad\" and \"the Carl Blind, surnamed Bav\u00eds,\" and is found\nelsewhere. His likeness to \"old Carl Hood,\" who \"comes for ill, but\nnever for good,\" and who gives information of Earl Brand's flight with\nthe king's daughter, does not require to be insisted on. Both are\nidentical, we can scarcely doubt, with the blind [one-eyed] old man of\nmany tales, who goes about in various disguises, sometimes as beggar,\nwith his hood or hat slouched over his face,--that is Odin, the S\u00ed\u00f0h\u00f6ttr\nor Deep-hood of S\u00e6mund, who in the saga of H\u00e1lf and his champions is\ncalled simple Hood, as here, and expressly said to be Odin.[114] Odin,\nthough not a thoroughly malignant divinity, had his dark side, and one\nof his titles in S\u00e6mund's Edda is B\u00f6lverkr, _maleficus_. He first caused\nwar by casting his spear among men, and Dag, after he has killed Helgi,\nsays Odin was the author of all the mischief, for he brought strife\namong kinsmen.[115]\n\nThe disastrous effects of \"naming\" in a great emergency appear in other\nnorthern traditions, though not so frequently as one would expect. A\ndiverting Swedish saga, which has been much quoted, relates how St. Olof\nbargained with a troll for the building of a huge church, the pay to be\nthe sun and moon, or St. Olof himself. The holy man was equally amazed\nand embarrassed at seeing the building run up by the troll with great\nrapidity, but during a ramble among the hills had the good luck to\ndiscover that the troll's name was Wind and Weather, after which all was\neasy. For while the troll was on the roof of the church, Olof called out\nto him,\n\n 'Wind and Weather, hi!\n You've set the spire awry;'\n\nand the troll, thus called by his name, lost his strength, fell off, and\nwas dashed into a hundred pieces, all flint stones. (Iduna, Part 3, p.\n60 f, note. Other forms of the same story in Afzelius, Sago-H\u00e4fder, III,\n100 f; Faye, Norske Folke-Sagn, p. 14, 2d ed.; Hofberg, Nerikes Gamla\nMinnen, p. 234.)\n\nIt is a Norwegian belief that when a nix assumes the human shape in\norder to carry some one off, it will be his death if the selected victim\nrecognizes him and names him, and in this way a woman escaped in a\nballad. She called out, So you are the Nix, that pestilent beast, and\nthe nix \"disappeared in red blood.\" (Faye, as above, p. 49, note.) A\nnix is baffled in the same way in a F\u00e6roe and an Icelandic ballad cited\nby Grundtvig, II, 57.\n\nThe marvellous horse Blak agrees to carry Waldemar [Hildebrand] over a\ngreat piece of water for the rescue of his daughter [sister],\nstipulating, however, that his name shall not be uttered. The rider\nforgets himself in a panic, calls to the horse by his name, and is\nthrown off into the water. The horse, whose powers had been\nsupernatural, and who had been _running_ over the water as if it were\nland, has now only ordinary strength, and is forced to swim. He brings\nthe lady back on the same terms, which she keeps, but when he reaches\nthe land he is bleeding at every hair, and falls dead. (Landstad, 58;\nGrundtvig, 62; Afzelius, 59, preface; Kristensen, I, No 66.)\n\nKlaufi, a berserker, while under the operation of his peculiar fury,\nloses his strength, and can no longer wield the weapon he was fighting\nwith, upon Gr\u00edss's crying out, \"Klaufi, Klaufi, be not so mad!\"\n(Svarfd\u00e6la Saga, p. 147, and again p. 156 f.) So the blood-thirst of the\navenger's sword in the magnificent Danish ballad 'H\u00e6vnersv\u00e6rdet' is\nrestrained by naming. (Grundtvig, No 25, st. 35.) Again, men engaged in\n_hamfarir_, that is in roving about in the shape of beasts, their proper\nbodies remaining lifeless the while, must not be called by name, for\nthis might compel them to return at once to their own shape, or possibly\nprevent their ever doing so. (Kristni Saga, ed. 1773, p. 149. R.T. King,\nin Notes and Queries, 2d Ser., II, 506.) Grundtvig remarks that this\nbelief is akin to what is related in F\u00e1fnism\u00e1l (prose interpolation\nafter st. 1), that Sigurd concealed his name by reason of a belief in\nold times that a dying man's word had great power, if he cursed his foe\nby name. (D.g.F., II, 340.)\n\nThe beautiful fancy of plants springing from the graves of star-crossed\nlovers, and signifying by the intertwining of stems or leaves, or in\nother analogous ways, that an earthly passion has not been extinguished\nby death, presents itself, as is well known, very frequently in popular\npoetry. Though the graves be made far apart, even on opposite sides of\nthe church, or one to the north and one to the south outside of the\nchurch, or one without kirk wall and one in the choir, however\nseparated, the vines or trees seek one another out, and mingle their\nbranches or their foliage:\n\n \"Even from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,\n Even in our ashes live their wonted fires!\"\n\nThe principal ballads which exhibit this conception in one or another\nform are the following:\n\nIn English, 'The Douglas Tragedy,' 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William,'\n'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' 'Fair Janet,' 'Prince Robert,' 'Lord\nLovel.' The plants in all these are either a brier and a rose, or a\nbrier and a birk.\n\n#Swedish.# Arwidsson, No 73: the graves are made east and west of the\nchurch, a linden grows from each, the trees meet over the church roof.\nSo E. Wigstr\u00f6m, Folkdiktning, No 20, p. 42. Arwidsson 74 #A#: Rosea\nLilla and the duke are buried south and north in the church-yard. A rose\nfrom her grave covers his with its leaves. The duke is then laid in her\ngrave, from which a linden springs. 74 #B#: the rose as before, and a\nlinden from the duke's grave. Arwidsson, 72, 68, Afzelius, No 19 (new\ned., 18), 23 (new ed., 21, 1, 2): a common grave, with a linden, two\ntrees, or lilies, and, in the last, roses also growing from the mouths\nof both lovers. In one version the linden leaves bear the inscription,\nMy father shall answer to me at doomsday.\n\n#Norwegian.# Landstad, 65: the lovers are laid north and south of the\nchurch; lilies grow over the church roof.\n\n#Danish.# Danske Viser, 124, 153, two roses. Kristensen, II, No 60, two\nlilies, interlocking over church wall and ridge. 61 #B#, #C#\n(==Afzelius, 19), separate graves; #B#, a lily from each grave; #C#, a\nflower from each breast. Grundtvig, 184 #G#, 271 #N#, a linden; Danske\nFolkeminder, 1861, p. 81, two lilies.\n\n#German.# 'Der Ritter u. die Maid,' (1) Nicolai, I, No 2,==Kretzschmer,\nI, 54; (2) Uhland, 97 #A#, Simrock, 12; (3) Erk's Liederhort, 26;\nHoffmann u. Richter, 4: the lovers are buried together, and there grow\nfrom their grave (1) three pinks, (2) three lilies, (3) two lilies.\nWunderhorn, 1857, I, 53, Mittler, No 91: the maid is buried in the\nchurchyard, the knight under the gallows. A lily grows from his grave,\nwith an inscription, Beid w\u00e4ren beisammen im Himmel. Ditfurth, II, 7:\ntwo lilies spring from her (or their) grave, bearing a similar\ninscription. In Haupt and Schmaler, Volkslieder der Wenden, I, 136, from\nthe German, rue is _planted_ on the maid's grave, in accordance with the\nlast words of the knight, and the same inscription appears on one of the\nleaves.\n\n'Graf Friedrich,' Uhland, 122, Wunderhorn, II, 293, Mittler, 108, Erk's\nLiederhort, 15 #a#: Graf Friedrich's bride is by accident mortally\nwounded while he is bringing her home. Her father kills him, and he is\ndragged at a horse's heels. Three lilies spring from his grave, with an\ninscription, Er w\u00e4r bei Gott geblieben. He is then buried with his\nbride, the transfer being attended with other miraculous manifestations.\nOther versions, Hoffmann u. Richter, 19, ==Mittler, 112, ==Liederhort,\n15; Mittler, 113, 114; also Meinert, 23, ==Mittler, 109, etc.: the\nlilies in most of these growing from the _bride's_ grave, with words\nattesting the knight's innocence.\n\nLilies with inscriptions also in Wunderhorn, II, p. 251, ==Mittler, 128,\n'Alle bei Gott die sich lieben;' Mittler, 130; Ditfurth, II, 4, 9;\nScherer, Jungbrunnen, 9 #A#, 25; Pogatschnigg und Hermann, 1458. Three\nlilies from a maid's grave: 'Die schwazbraune Hexe' ('Es blies ein\nJ\u00e4ger'), Nicolai, I, 8; Wunderhorn, I, 36; Gr\u00e4ter's Bragur, I, 280;\nUhland, 103; Liederhort, 9; Simrock, 93; Fiedler, p. 158; Ditfurth, II,\n33, 34; Reifferscheid, 15, etc. Three roses, Hoffmann u. Richter, 171,\np. 194; three pinks, _ib._, 172; rose, pink, lily, Alemannia, IV, 35.\nThree lilies from a man's grave: 'Der Todwunde:' Schade, Bergreien, 10,\n==Uhland, 93 #A#, ==Liederhort, 34 #g#, ==Mittler, 47, etc.\n\n#Portuguese.# 'Conde Nillo,' 'Conde Ni\u00f1o,' Almeida-Garrett, III, No 18,\nat p. 21; Braga, Rom. Geral., No 14, at p. 38,==Hartung, I, 17: the\ninfanta is buried at the foot of the high altar, Conde Nillo near the\nchurch door; a cypress and an orange [pines]. Almeida-Garrett, III, No\n20, at p. 38: a sombre clump of pines over the knight, reeds from the\nprincess's grave, which, though cut down, shoot again, and are heard\nsighing in the night. Braga, Archip. A\u00e7or., 'Filba Maria,' 'Dom\nDoardos,' 'A Ermida no Mar,' Nos 32, 33, 34, Hartung, I, 220-224;\nEstacio da Veiga, 'Dom Diniz,' p. 64-67, ==Hartung, I, 217, 2: tree and\npines, olive and pines, clove-tree and pine, roses and canes: in all,\nnew miracles follow the cutting down. So also Almeida-Garrett, No 6, I,\n167.\n\n#Roumanian.# Alecsandri, 7, Stanley, p. 16, 'Ring and Handkerchief,'\ntranslated by Stanley, p. 193, Murray, p. 56: a fir and a vine, which\nmeet over the church.\n\n#French.# Beaurepaire, Po\u00e9sie pop. en Normandie, p. 51: a thorn and an\nolive are _planted_ over the graves; the thorn embraces the olive.\n\n#Romaic.# Passow, Nos 414, 415, 456, 469; Zambelios, p. 754, No 41;\nTommaseo, Canti Popolari, III, 135; Chasiotis, p. 103, No 22: a cypress\nfrom the man's grave, a reed from the maid's (or from a common tomb);\nreversed in Passow, Nos 418, 470, and Schmidt, Griechische M\u00e4rchen,\nu.s.w., No 59, p. 203. Sakellarios, p. 25, No 9, cypress and apple-tree;\np. 38, No 13, cypress and lemon-tree. (F. Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, pp.\n166, 168, 182, 183.)\n\n#Servian.# Talvj, V.L. der Serben, II, p. 85: a fir and a rose; the rose\ntwines round the fir.\n\n#Wend.# Haupt and Schmaler, V.L. der Wenden, II, No 48: a maid, who\nkills herself on account of the death of her lover, orders two grape\nvines _to be planted_ over their graves: the vines intertwine.\n\n#Breton.# Luzel, I, p. 423: a fleur-de-lis springs from a common tomb,\nand is always in flower, however often it is plucked.\n\n#Italo-Albanian.# De Rada, Rapsodie d'un poema albanese, etc., p. 47:\nthe youth comes up (nacque) a cypress; the maid a white vine, which\nclings around the tree. Camarda, Appendice al saggio di grammatologia\ncomparata, 'Angelina,' p. 112, the same; but inappropriately, as\nLiebrecht has remarked, fidelity in love being wanting in this case.\n\n#Magyar.# The lovers are buried before and behind the altar; white and\nred lilies spring from the tombs; mother or father destroys or attempts\nto destroy the plants: Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, 2d ed., at p.\n92, p. 138, 131 f. Again, at p. 160, of the 'Two Princes' (Hero and\nLeander): here a white and a red tulip are _planted_ over the graves, in\na garden, and it is expressly said that the souls of the enamored pair\npassed into the tulips. In the first piece the miracle occurs twice. The\nlovers had thrown themselves into a deep lake; plants rose above the\nsurface of the water and intertwined (p. 91); the bodies were brought up\nby divers and buried in the church, where the marvel was repeated.\n\n#Afghan.# Audam and Doorkhaunee, a poem \"read, repeated, and sung,\nthrough all parts of the country,\" Elphinstone's Account of the Kingdom\nof Caubul, 1815, p. 185 f: two trees spring from their remains, and the\nbranches mingle over their tomb. First cited by Talvj, Versuch, p. 140.\n\n#Kurd.# Mem and Zin, a poem of Ahm\u00e9d X[/-a]ni, died 1652-3: two rose\nbushes spring from their graves and interlock. Bulletin de la classe des\nsciences historiques, etc., de l'acad. imp\u00e9r. des sciences de St. P\u00e9t.,\ntome XV, No 11, p. 170.\n\nThe idea of the love-animated plants has been thought to be derived from\nthe romance of Tristan, where it also occurs; agreeably to a general\nprinciple, somewhat hastily assumed, that when romances and popular\nballads have anything in common, priority belongs to the romances. The\nquestion as to precedence in this instance is an open one, for the\nfundamental conception is not less a favorite with ancient Greek than\nwith medi\u00e6val imagination.\n\nTristan and Isolde had unwittingly drunk of a magical potion which had\nthe power to induce an indestructible and ever-increasing love. Tristan\ndied of a wound received in one of his adventures, and Isolde of a\nbroken heart, because, though summoned to his aid, she arrived too late\nfor him to profit by her medical skill. They were buried in the same\nchurch. According to the French prose romance, a green brier issued from\nTristan's tomb, mounted to the roof, and, descending to Isolde's tomb,\nmade its way within. King Marc caused the brier to be cut down three\nseveral times, but the morning after it was as flourishing as\nbefore.[116]\n\nEilhart von Oberge, vv. 9509-21 (ed. Lichtenstein, Quellen u.\nForschungen, xix, 429) and the German prose romance (B\u00fcsching u. von der\nHagen, Buch der Liebe, c. 60), Ulrich von Th\u00fcrheim, vv. 3546-50, and\nHeinrich von Freiberg, vv. 6819-41 (in von der Hagen's ed. of G.v.\nStrassburg's Tristan) make King Marc _plant_, the first two a grape-vine\nover Tristan and a rose over Isolde, the others, wrongly, the rose over\nTristan and the vine over Isolde. These plants, according to Heinrich,\nstruck their roots into the hearts of the lovers below, while their\nbranches embraced above. Icelandic ballads and an Icelandic saga\nrepresent Tristan's wife as forbidding the lovers to be buried in the\nsame grave, and ordering them to be buried on opposite sides of the\nchurch. Trees spring from their bodies and meet over the church roof,\n(\u00cdslenzk Fornkv\u00e6\u00f0i, 23 #A#, #B#, #C#, #D#; Saga af Tristram ok \u00cds\u00f6nd,\nBrynjulfson, p. 199; Tristrams Saga ok \u00cdsondar, K\u00f6lbing, p. 112). The\nlater Titurel imitates the conclusion of Tristan. (Der j\u00fcngere Titurel,\ned. Hahn, sts 5789, 5790.)\n\nAmong the miracles of the Virgin there are several which are closely\nakin to the prodigies already noted. A lily is found growing from the\nmouth of a clerk, who, though not leading an exemplary life, had every\nday said his ave before the image of Mary: Unger, Mariu Saga, No 50;\nBerceo, No 3; Miracles de N.D. de Chartres, p. lxiii, No 29, and p. 239;\nMarien-legenden (Stuttgart, 1846), No xi and p. 269. A rose springs from\nthe grave and roots in the heart of a knight who had spared the honor\nof a maid because her name was Mary: Unger, No clvi, Hagen's\nGesammtabenteuer, lxxiii. Roses inscribed Maria grow from the mouth,\neyes, and ears of a monk: Unger, cxxxvii; and a lily grows over a monk's\ngrave, springing from his mouth, every leaf of which bears Ave Maria in\ngolden letters: Unger, cxxxviii; Gesammtabenteuer, lxxxviii; Libro de\nExenplos, Romania, 1878, p. 509, 43, 44; etc., etc.\n\nNo one can fail to be reminded of the purple, lily-shaped flower,\ninscribed with the mournful AI AI, that rose from the blood of\nHyacinthus, and of the other from the blood of Ajax, with the same\nletters, \"his name and eke his plaint,\" h\u00e6c nominis, illa querell\u00e6.\n(Ovid, Met. X, 210 ff; xiii, 394 ff.) The northern lindens have their\ncounterpart in the elms from the grave of Protesilaus, and in the trees\ninto which Philemon and Baucis were transformed. See, upon the whole\nsubject, the essay of Koberstein in the Weimar Jahrbuch, I, 73 ff, with\nK\u00f6hler's supplement, p. 479 ff; Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, II, 689 f,\nand III, 246.\n\n\"The ballad of the 'Douglas Tragedy,'\" says Scott, \"is one of the few to\nwhich popular tradition has ascribed complete locality. The farm of\nBlackhouse, in Selkirkshire, is said to have been the scene of this\nmelancholy event. There are the remains of a very ancient tower,\nadjacent to the farm-house, in a wild and solitary glen, upon a torrent\nnamed Douglas burn, which joins the Yarrow after passing a craggy rock\ncalled the Douglas craig.... From this ancient tower Lady Margaret is\nsaid to have been carried by her lover. Seven large stones, erected upon\nthe neighboring heights of Blackhouse, are shown, as marking the spot\nwhere the seven brethren were slain; and the Douglas burn is averred to\nhave been the stream at which the lovers stopped to drink: so minute is\ntradition in ascertaining the scene of a tragical tale, which,\nconsidering the rude state of former times, had probably foundation in\nsome real event.\"\n\nThe localities of the Danish story were ascertained, to her entire\nsatisfaction, by Anne Krabbe in 1605-6, and are given again in Resen's\nAtlas Danicus, 1677. See Grundtvig, II, 342 f.\n\n#B#, Scott's 'Douglas Tragedy,' is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og\nskotske Folkeviser, No 11; Afzelius, III, 86; Schubart, p. 159; Talvj,\np. 565; Wolff, Halle, I, 76; Hausschatz, p. 201; Rosa Warrens, No 23;\nGerhard, p. 28; Lo\u00e8ve Veimars, p. 292.\n\n'Ribold og Guldborg,' Danish #B#, is translated by Buchanan, p. 16\n(loosely); #G# by Jamieson, Illustrations, p. 317, and Prior, II, 400;\n#T# by Prior, II, 407; Swedish #A#, For. Quart. Rev., XXV, 41.\n'Hildebrand og Hilde,' Danish #A#, #B#, #F#, #H#, by Prior, II, 411-20.\n\n\nA\n\n #a#, #b#, from the papers of the late Robert White, Esq.,\n of Newcastle-on-Tyne: #c#, R. Bell, Ancient Poems,\n Ballads, etc. (1857), p. 122: #d#, fragmentary lines as\n remembered by Mrs Andrews, Mr White's sister, from her\n mother's singing.\n\n 1\n Oh did ye ever hear o brave Earl Bran?\n Ay lally, o lilly lally\n He courted the king's daughter of fair England.\n All i the night sae early\n\n 2\n She was scarcely fifteen years of age\n Till sae boldly she came to his bedside.\n\n 3\n 'O Earl Bran, fain wad I see\n A pack of hounds let loose on the lea.'\n\n 4\n 'O lady, I have no steeds but one,\n And thou shalt ride, and I will run.'\n\n 5\n 'O Earl Bran, my father has two,\n And thou shall have the best o them a.'\n\n 6\n They have ridden oer moss and moor,\n And they met neither rich nor poor.\n\n 7\n Until they met with old Carl Hood;\n He comes for ill, but never for good.\n\n 8\n 'Earl Bran, if ye love me,\n Seize this old carl, and gar him die.'\n\n 9\n 'O lady fair, it wad be sair,\n To slay an old man that has grey hair.\n\n 10\n 'O lady fair, I'll no do sae;\n I'll gie him a pound, and let him gae.'\n\n 11\n 'O where hae ye ridden this lee lang day?\n Or where hae ye stolen this lady away?'\n\n 12\n 'I have not ridden this lee lang day.\n Nor yet have I stolen this lady away.\n\n 13\n 'She is my only, my sick sister,\n Whom I have brought from Winchester.'\n\n 14\n 'If she be sick, and like to dead,\n Why wears she the ribbon sae red?\n\n 15\n 'If she be sick, and like to die,\n Then why wears she the gold on high?'\n\n 16\n When he came to this lady's gate,\n Sae rudely as he rapped at it.\n\n 17\n 'O where's the lady o this ha?'\n 'She's out with her maids to play at the ba.'\n\n 18\n 'Ha, ha, ha! ye are a' mistaen:\n Gae count your maidens oer again.\n\n 19\n 'I saw her far beyond the moor,\n Away to be the Earl o Bran's whore.'\n\n 20\n The father armed fifteen of his best men,\n To bring his daughter back again.\n\n 21\n Oer her left shoulder the lady looked then:\n 'O Earl Bran, we both are tane.'\n\n 22\n 'If they come on me ane by ane,\n Ye may stand by and see them slain.\n\n 23\n 'But if they come on me one and all,\n Ye may stand by and see me fall.'\n\n 24\n They have come on him ane by ane,\n And he has killed them all but ane.\n\n 25\n And that ane came behind his back,\n And he's gien him a deadly whack.\n\n 26\n But for a' sae wounded as Earl Bran was,\n He has set his lady on her horse.\n\n 27\n They rode till they came to the water o Doune,\n And then he alighted to wash his wounds.\n\n 28\n 'O Earl Bran, I see your heart's blood!'\n 'T is but the gleat o my scarlet hood.'\n\n 29\n They rode till they came to his mother's gate,\n And sae rudely as he rapped at it.\n\n 30\n 'O my son's slain, my son's put down,\n And a' for the sake of an English loun.'\n\n 31\n 'O say not sae, my dear mother,\n But marry her to my youngest brother.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 32\n 'This has not been the death o ane,\n But it's been that of fair seventeen.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\nB\n\n Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 246, ed. 1803; III, 6, ed. 1833:\n the copy principally used supplied by Mr Sharpe, the three\n last stanzas from a penny pamphlet and from tradition.\n\n 1\n 'Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas,' she says,\n 'And put on your armour so bright;\n Let it never be said that a daughter of thine\n Was married to a lord under night.\n\n 2\n 'Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,\n And put on your armour so bright,\n And take better care of your youngest sister,\n For your eldest's awa the last night.'\n\n 3\n He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,\n And himself on a dapple grey,\n With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,\n And lightly they rode away.\n\n 4\n Lord William lookit oer his left shoulder,\n To see what he could see,\n And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold,\n Come riding over the lee.\n\n 5\n 'Light down, light down, Lady Margret,' he said,\n 'And hold my steed in your hand,\n Until that against your seven brethren bold,\n And your father, I mak a stand.'\n\n 6\n She held his steed in her milk-white hand,\n And never shed one tear,\n Until that she saw her seven brethren fa,\n And her father hard fighting, who lovd her so dear.\n\n 7\n 'O hold your hand, Lord William!' she said,\n 'For your strokes they are wondrous sair;\n True lovers I can get many a ane,\n But a father I can never get mair.'\n\n 8\n O she's taen out her handkerchief,\n It was o the holland sae fine,\n And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds,\n That were redder than the wine.\n\n 9\n 'O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret,' he said,\n 'O whether will ye gang or bide?'\n 'I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William,' she said,\n 'For ye have left me no other guide.'\n\n 10\n He's lifted her on a milk-white steed,\n And himself on a dapple grey,\n With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,\n And slowly they baith rade away.\n\n 11\n O they rade on, and on they rade,\n And a' by the light of the moon,\n Until they came to yon wan water,\n And there they lighted down.\n\n 12\n They lighted down to tak a drink\n Of the spring that ran sae clear,\n And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood,\n And sair she gan to fear.\n\n 13\n 'Hold up, hold up, Lord William,' she says,\n 'For I fear that you are slain;'\n ''T is naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak,\n That shines in the water sae plain.'\n\n 14\n O they rade on, and on they rade,\n And a' by the light of the moon,\n Until they cam to his mother's ha door,\n And there they lighted down.\n\n 15\n 'Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says,\n 'Get up, and let me in!\n Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says,\n 'For this night my fair lady I've win.\n\n 16\n 'O mak my bed, lady mother,' he says,\n 'O mak it braid and deep,\n And lay Lady Margret close at my back,\n And the sounder I will sleep.'\n\n 17\n Lord William was dead lang ere midnight,\n Lady Margret lang ere day,\n And all true lovers that go thegither,\n May they have mair luck than they!\n\n 18\n Lord William was buried in St. Mary's kirk,\n Lady Margret in Mary's quire;\n Out o the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose,\n And out o the knight's a briar.\n\n 19\n And they twa met, and they twa plat,\n And fain they wad be near;\n And a' the warld might ken right weel\n They were twa lovers dear.\n\n 20\n But bye and rade the Black Douglas,\n And wow but he was rough!\n For he pulld up the bonny brier,\n And flang't in St. Mary's Loch.\n\n\nC\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 502. From the recitation of Mrs\n Notman.\n\n 1\n 'Rise up, rise up, my seven brave sons,\n And dress in your armour so bright;\n Earl Douglas will hae Lady Margaret awa\n Before that it be light.\n\n 2\n 'Arise, arise, my seven brave sons,\n And dress in your armour so bright;\n It shall never be said that a daughter of mine\n Shall go with an earl or a knight.'\n\n 3\n 'O will ye stand, fair Margaret,' he says,\n 'And hold my milk-white steed,\n Till I fight your father and seven brethren,\n In yonder pleasant mead?'\n\n 4\n She stood and held his milk-white steed,\n She stood trembling with fear,\n Until she saw her seven brethren fall,\n And her father that loved her dear.\n\n 5\n 'Hold your hand, Earl Douglas,' she says,\n 'Your strokes are wonderous sair;\n I may get sweethearts again enew,\n But a father I'll ne'er get mair.'\n\n 6\n She took out a handkerchief\n Was made o' the cambrick fine,\n And aye she wiped her father's bloody wounds,\n And the blood sprung up like wine.\n\n 7\n 'Will ye go, fair Margaret?' he said,\n 'Will ye now go, or bide?'\n 'Yes, I'll go, sweet William,' she said,\n 'For ye've left me never a guide.\n\n 8\n 'If I were to go to my mother's house,\n A welcome guest I would be;\n But for the bloody deed that's done this day\n I'll rather go with thee.'\n\n 9\n He lifted her on a milk-white steed\n And himself on a dapple gray;\n They drew their hats out over their face,\n And they both went weeping away.\n\n 10\n They rode, they rode, and they better rode,\n Till they came to yon water wan;\n They lighted down to gie their horse a drink\n Out of the running stream.\n\n 11\n 'I am afraid, Earl Douglas.' she said,\n 'I am afraid ye are slain;\n I think I see your bonny heart's blood\n Running down the water wan.'\n\n 12\n 'Oh no, oh no, fair Margaret,' he said,\n 'Oh no, I am not slain;\n It is but the scad of my scarlet cloak\n Runs down the water wan.'\n\n 13\n He mounted her on a milk-white steed\n And himself on a dapple gray,\n And they have reached Earl Douglas' gates\n Before the break of day.\n\n 14\n 'O rise, dear mother, and make my bed,\n And make it braid and wide,\n And lay me down to take my rest,\n And at my back my bride.'\n\n 15\n She has risen and made his bed,\n She made it braid and wide;\n She laid him down to take his rest,\n And at his back his bride.\n\n 16\n Lord William died ere it was day,\n Lady Margaret on the morrow;\n Lord William died through loss of blood and wounds,\n Fair Margaret died with sorrow.\n\n 17\n The one was buried in Mary's kirk,\n The other in Mary's quire;\n The one sprung up a bonnie bush,\n And the other a bonny brier.\n\n 18\n These twa grew, and these twa threw,\n Till they came to the top,\n And when they could na farther gae,\n They coost the lovers' knot.\n\n\nD\n\n Kinloch MSS, I, 327.\n\n 1\n 'Sleepst thou or wakst thou, Lord Montgomerie,\n Sleepst thou or wakst thou, I say?\n Rise up, make a match for your eldest daughter,\n For the youngest I carry away.'\n\n 2\n 'Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,\n Dress yourselves in the armour sae fine;\n For it ne'er shall be said that a churlish knight\n Eer married a daughter of mine.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n 'Loup aff, loup aff, Lady Margaret,' he said,\n 'And hold my steed in your hand,\n And I will go fight your seven brethren,\n And your father, where they stand.'\n\n 4\n Sometimes she gaed, sometimes she stood,\n But never dropt a tear,\n Until she saw her brethren all slain\n And her father who lovd her so dear.\n\n 5\n 'Hold thy hand, sweet William,' she says,\n 'Thy blows are wondrous sore;\n Sweethearts I may have many a one,\n But a father I'll never have more.'\n\n 6\n O she's taken her napkin frae her pocket,\n Was made o the holland fine,\n And ay as she dichted her father's bloody wounds,\n They sprang as red as the wine.\n\n 7\n 'Two chooses, two chooses, Lady Margret,' he says,\n 'Two chooses I'll make thee;\n Whether to go back to your mother again,\n Or go along with me.'\n\n 8\n 'For to go home to my mother again,\n An unwelcome guest I'd be;\n But since my fate has ordered it so,\n I'll go along with thee.'\n\n 9\n He has mounted her on a milk-white steed,\n Himself on the dapple gray,\n And blawn his horn baith loud and shill,\n And it sounded far on their way.\n\n 10\n They rode oer hill, they rode oer dale,\n They rode oer mountains so high,\n Until they came to that beautiful place\n Where Sir William's mother did lie.\n\n 11\n 'Rise up, rise up, lady mother,' he said,\n 'Rise up, and make much o your own;\n Rise up, rise up, lady mother,' he said,\n 'For his bride's just new come home.'\n\n 12\n Sir William he died in the middle o the night,\n Lady Margaret died on the morrow;\n Sir William he died of pure pure love,\n Lady Margaret of grief and sorrow.\n\n\nE\n\n Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 180. From recitation.\n\n 1\n He has lookit over his left shoulder,\n And through his bonnie bridle rein,\n And he spy'd her father and her seven bold brethren,\n Come riding down the glen.\n\n 2\n 'O hold my horse, Lady Margret,' he said,\n 'O hold my horse by the bonnie bridle rein,\n Till I fight your father and seven bold brethren,\n As they come riding down the glen.'\n\n 3\n Some time she rade, and some time she gaed,\n Till she that place did near,\n And there she spy'd her seven bold brethren slain,\n And her father who loved her so dear.\n\n 4\n 'O hold your hand, sweet William,' she said,\n 'Your bull baits are wondrous sair;\n Sweet-hearts I may get many a one,\n But a father I will never get mair.'\n\n 5\n She has taken a napkin from off her neck,\n That was of the cambrick so fine,\n And aye as she wiped her father's bloody wounds,\n The blood ran red as the wine.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 6\n He set her upon the milk-white steed,\n Himself upon the brown;\n He took a horn out of his pocket,\n And they both went weeping along.\n\n\nF\n\n Percy MS., p. 57; ed. Hales and Furnivall, I, 133.\n\n 1\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n Sayes 'Christ thee saue, good Child of Ell!\n Christ saue thee and thy steede!\n\n 2\n 'My father sayes he will [eat] noe meate,\n Nor his drinke shall doe him noe good,\n Till he haue slaine the Child of Ell,\n And haue seene his harts blood.'\n\n 3\n 'I wold I were in my sadle sett,\n And a mile out of the towne;\n I did not care for yo_u_r father\n And all his merry men!\n\n 4\n 'I wold I were in my sadle sett,\n And a little space him froe;\n I did not care for yo_u_r father\n And all that long him to!'\n\n 5\n He leaned ore his saddle bow\n To kisse this lady good;\n The teares _that_ went them _two_ betweene\n Were blend water and blood.\n\n 6\n He sett himselfe on one good steed,\n This lady on a palfray,\n And sett his litle horne to his mouth,\n And roundlie he rode away.\n\n 7\n He had not ridden past a mile,\n A mile out of the towne,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 8\n Her father was readye with her _seuen_ brether,\n He said, 'Sett thou my daughter downe!\n For it ill beseemes thee, thou false churles sonne,\n To carry her forth of this towne!'\n\n 9\n 'But lowd thou lyest, S_i_r Iohn the k_nigh_t,\n Thou now doest lye of me;\n A knight me gott, and a lady me bore;\n Soe neuer did none by thee.\n\n 10\n 'But light now downe, my lady gay,\n Light downe and hold my horsse,\n Whilest I and yo_u_r father and yo_u_r brether\n Doe play vs at this crosse.\n\n 11\n 'But light now downe, my owne trew loue,\n And meeklye hold my steede,\n Whilest yo_u_r father [and your _seuen_ brether] bold\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a, b.#\n\n _Obtained from recitation \"many years ago\" wrote Mr White\n in 1873, by James Telfer, of Laughtree Liddesdale, in some\n part of the neighboring country: the copy has the date\n 1818. #c# is said by the editor to have been taken down\n from the recitation of an old fiddler in Northumberland,\n but when and by whom he does not tell us. The three are\n clearly more or less \"corrected\" copies of the same\n original, #c# having suffered most from arbitrary changes.\n Alterations for rhyme's sake, or for propriety's, that are\n written above the lines or in the margin of #a# 2, 5, 8,\n 19, are adopted in #c# without advertisement._\n\n _Burden._ #b.# I the brave night sae early:\n\n #c.# I the brave nights so early:\n\n #d.# I (_or_ O) the life o the one, the randy.\n\n 1^1. #c.# Brand, _and always in_ #c#.\n\n 1^2. #a.# daughters.\n\n #b.# He's courted.\n\n 2^1. #c.# years that tide; that tide _is written over_ of\n age _in_ #a#.\n\n 2^2. #c.# When sae.\n\n 4^2. #c.# But thou.\n\n 5^2. #b.# best o these.\n\n #c.# best of tho. of tho _is written over_ o them a\n _in_ #a#.\n\n 6^2. #b, c.# have met.\n\n 7^1. #c.# Till at last they met.\n\n 7^2. #c.# He's aye for ill and never.\n\n 8^1. #b.# O Earl Bran.\n\n #c.# Now Earl Brand. Now _in the margin of_ #a#.\n\n 8^2. #b, c.# Slay this.\n\n 9^2. #b.# man that wears.\n\n #c.# carl that wears, carl ... wears _written over_ man\n ... has _in_ #a#.\n\n 10. #b.#\n O lady fair, I'll no do that,\n I'll pay him penny, let him be jobbing at.\n\n #c.#\n My own lady fair, I'll not do that,\n I'll pay him his fee\n\n 11^2. #b.# where have stoln this fair.\n\n #c.# And where have ye stown this fair.\n\n 13.\n #b.#\n She is my sick sister,\n Which I newly brought from Winchester.\n\n #c.#\n For she is, I trow, my sick sister,\n Whom I have been bringing fra Winchester.\n\n 14^1. #c.# nigh to dead.\n\n 14^2. #b, c.# What makes her wear.\n\n 15^1. #c.# If she's been.\n\n 15^2. #b, c.# What makes her wear the gold sae high.\n\n 16^1. #c.# When came the carl to the lady's yett.\n\n 16^2. #b.# rapped at.\n\n #c.# He rudely, rudely rapped thereat.\n\n 17^2. #b.# maids playen.\n\n #c.# a playing.\n\n #d.# She's out with the fair maids playing at the ball.\n\n 18^1. #b.# mistkane (?):\n\n 18^2. #b, c.# Ye may count.\n\n b^2. young Earl.\n\n 19. #c.#\n I met her far beyond the lea\n With the young Earl Brand, his leman to be:\n\n _In ~a lea~ is written over ~moor~, and ~With the young~,\n etc., stands as a \"correction.\"_\n\n 20. #b.#\n Her father, _etc._,\n And they have riden after them.\n\n #c.#\n Her father of his best men armed fifteen,\n And they're ridden after them bidene.\n\n 21^1. #b, c.# The lady looket [looked] over [owre] her\n left shoulder then.\n\n 22^1. #b, c.# If they come on me one by one,\n\n 22^2. #b.# Ye may stand by and see them fall.\n\n #c.# You may stand by till the fights be done.\n\n #d.# Then I will slay them every one.\n\n 23^1. #b.# all in all.\n\n #d.# all and all.\n\n 23^2. #d.# Then you will see me the sooner fall.\n\n 24^2. #b.# has slain.\n\n 24. #c.#\n They came upon him one by one,\n Till fourteen battles he has won.\n And fourteen men he has them slain,\n Each after each upon the plain.\n\n 25. #c.#\n But the fifteenth man behind stole round,\n And dealt him a deep and a deadly wound.\n\n 26. #c.#\n Though he was wounded to the deid,\n He set his lady on her steed.\n\n 27^1. #c.# river Donne:\n\n 27^2. #b.# And he lighted down.\n\n #c.# And there they lighted to wash his wound.\n\n 28^2. #b.# It's but the glent.\n\n #c.# It's nothing but the glent and my scarlet hood.\n\n 29^1. #c.# yett.\n\n 29^2. #b.# Sae ruddly as he rappet at.\n\n #c.# So faint and feebly he rapped thereat.\n\n 30^1. #b.# O my son's slain and cut down.\n\n #c.# O my son's slain, he is falling to swoon.\n\n 32. #b.#\n ... death of only one,\n But it's been the death of fair seventeen.\n\n _Instead of 32, #c# has_:\n\n To a maiden true he'll give his hand,\n To the king's daughter o fair England,\n To a prize that was won by a slain brother's brand.\n\n#B.#\n\n 3. _A stanza resembling this is found in Beaumont and\n Fletcher's 'Knight of the Burning Pestle' (1611), Dyce,\n II, 172, but may belong to some other ballad, as_ 'The\n Knight and Shepherd's Daughter:'\n\n He set her on a milk-white steed,\n And himself upon a grey;\n He never turned his face again,\n But he bore her quite away.\n\n 8^4. ware.\n\n 18^1. Marie.\n\n 20^4. flang'd.\n\n#C.#\n\n 12^3. _MS._ sc\u00e2d.\n\n#D.#\n\n 10. _The following stanza, superscribed \"~Mrs Lindores,\n Kelso~,\" was found among Mr Kinlock's papers, and was\n inserted at I, 331, of the Kinlock MSS. It may be a first\n recollection of #D# 10, but is more likely to be another\n version_:\n\n 'We raid over hill and we raid over dale,\n And we raid over mountains sae high,\n Until we cam in sicht o yon bonnie castle bowr\n Whare Sir William Arthur did lie.'\n\n#E.#\n\n 5-6. _\"Two stanzas are here omitted, in which Lord William\n offers her the choice of returning to her mother, or of\n accompanying him; and the ballad concludes with this [the\n 6th] stanza, which is twice repeated in singing.\"\n Motherwell's preface._\n\n#F.#\n\n 3^4. _MS._ merrymen.\n\n 6^2. of one palfray.\n\n _7, 8 are written in one stanza. Half a page, or about\n nine stanzas, is gone after st. 11._\n\n\n[107] 'Erlinton,' though not existing in a two-line stanza, follows\nimmediately after 'Earl Brand.' The copy of 'The Douglas Tragedy' in\nSmith's Scottish Minstrel, III, 86, is merely Scott's, with changes to\nfacilitate singing.\n\n[108] #B*#, III, 853, a fragment of five stanzas, has been dropped by\nGrundtvig from No 82, and assigned to No 249. See #D. g. F#. IV, 494.\n\n[109] Though the paradise has not been transmitted in any known copy of\n'Earl Brand,' it appears very distinctly in the opening stanza of\n'Leesome Brand' #A#. This last has several stanzas towards the close\n(33-35) which seem to belong to 'Earl Brand,' and perhaps derived these,\nthe \"unco land,\" and even its name, by the familiar process of\nintermixture of traditions.\n\n[110] See No 5, pp. 64, 65, 66.\n\n[111] Compare vv 49-56, \"Wilt thou ride to them, or wilt thou fight with\nthem, or wilt thou stand by thy love, sword in hand?\" \"I will not ride\nto them, I will not fight with them [i. e., begin the fight], but I will\nstand by my love, sword in hand,\" with Norwegian #A#, 29, 30: \"Shall we\nride to the wood, or shall we bide like men?\" \"We will not ride to the\nwood, but we will bide like men.\" And also with Danish #\u00c6#, sts 14, 15.\n\n[112] The chief branches, besides the Helgi lay and Walter, are the saga\nin Snorri's Edda, Sk\u00e1ldskaparmal, \u00a7 50; that in Saxo Grammaticus,\nStephanius, ed. 1644, pp. 88-90; S\u00f6rla \u00fe\u00e1ttr, in Fornaldar S\u00f6gur, I, 391\nff; the Shetland ballad printed in Low's Tour through the Islands of\nOrkney and Shetland, 108 ff, and in Barry's History of the Orkney\nIslands, 2d ed., 489 ff, and paraphrased in Hibbert's Description of the\nShetland Islands, 561 ff; the Thidrik saga, \u00a7\u00a7 233-239, Unger; Gudrun,\nv-viii. The names of father, daughter, and lover in these are: (1)\nH\u00fcgni, ----, H\u00f6gni, H\u00f6gin-, H\u00f6gni, ----, [Artus], Hagen; (2) [Sigr\u00fan],\nHilde-gunde, Hildr, Hilda, Hildr, Hildina, Hildr, Hilde; (3) Helgi,\n[Walter], Hedin, Hithin-, Hedin, ----, [Herburt], Hetel. Hagan, in\n'Waltharius,' may be said to take the place of the father, who is\nwanting; and this is in a measure true also of Hedin, Helgi's\nhalf-brother, in the lay of Helgi Hi\u00f6rvard's son. See the excellent\ndiscussion of the saga by Klee, Zur Hildesage, Leipzig, 1873.\n\nThe Swedish ballad, 'Herr Hjelmer,' #A#, Arwidsson, I, 155, No 21; #B#,\n#C#, Afzelius, II, 178, 226, No 74 (Helmer); #D#, #E#. Wigstr\u00f6m,\nFolkdiktning, p. 25, No 10 (Hjelman), has several points of agreement\nwith Ribold and the Hilde saga. The hero kills six of seven brothers\n[also the father, in #A#], spares the seventh on oath of fidelity, and\nis treacherously slain by him. The youngest brother carries her lover's\nhead to his sister, is invited to drink by her (in three of the four\ncopies), and slain while so engaged; reminding us of Hildina in the\nShetland ballad. Danish 'Herr Hj\u00e6lm,' Grundtvig, Danske Folkeminder,\n1861, p. 81, agrees with the Swedish, except that there are only three\nbrothers.\n\n[113] Helgakvi\u00f0a Hj\u00f6rvar\u00f0ssonar, ed. Grundtvig, 42-44, Ribold og\nGuldborg, #A# 33, 34, #B# 46, #D# 46, 47, #E# 42, #Q# 24. The\nobservation is Professor Bugge's.\n\n[114] H\u00f6ttr, er \u00d3\u00f0inn var reyndar, Hood, who was Odin really, Fornaldar\nS\u00f6gur, II, p. 25. Klee observes, p. 10 f, that H\u00f6gni [Hagen] is the evil\ngenius of the Hildesage. Sometimes he is the heroine's father; in\n'Waltharius,' strangely enough, the hero's old friend (and even there a\none-eyed man.) Klee treats the introduction of a rival lover (as in the\nShetland ballad and Gudrun) as a departure from the older story. But we\nhave the rival in Helgi Hundingslayer. The proper marplot in this lay is\nBlind the Ill-witted (Odin), whose part is sustained in 'Earl Brand' by\nthe malicious Hood, in several Norwegian ballads by a very enigmatical\n\"false P\u00e1l greive,\" in two other Norwegian ballads and one Danish by an\nold man, and, what is most remarkable, in the Shetland ballad by the\nrejected lover of Hildina (the Sir Nilaus of Danish #D#, Hertug Nilss\u00f3n\nof some Norwegian copies), who bears the name Hiluge, interpreted with\ngreat probability by Conrad Hofmann (Munich Sitzungsberichte, 1867, II,\n209, note), Illhugi, der B\u00f6ssinnige, evil-minded (Icelandic \u00edllhuga\u00f0r,\n\u00edllu\u00f0igr.)\n\n[115] Inimicitias Othinus serit, Saxo, p. 142, ed. 1644. See Grimm,\nDeutsche Mythologie, I, 120, note 2, III, 56, new ed., for Odin's bad\npoints, though some of Grimm's interpretations might now be objected to.\n\n[116] Et de la tombe de monseigneur Tristan yssoit une ronce belle et\nverte et bien feuilleue, qui alloit par dessus la chapelle, et\ndescendoit le bout de la ronce sur la tombe de la royne Yseult, et\nentroit dedans. La virent les gens du pays et la compt\u00e8rent au roy Marc.\nLe roy la fist couper par troys foys, et quant il l'avoit le jour fait\ncouper, le lendemain estoit aussi belle comme avoit aultre fois est\u00e9.\nFol. cxxiv as cited by Braga, Rom. Ger., p. 185.\n\n\n\n\n8\n\nERLINTON\n\n #A.# 'Erlinton,' Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 235, ed. 1803.\n\n #B.# 'True Tammas,' Mr R. White's papers.\n\n #C.# 'Robin Hood and the Tanner's Daughter,' Gutch's Robin\n Hood, II, 345.\n\n\n'Erlinton' (#A#) first appeared in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish\nBorder, the text formed \"from the collation of two copies obtained from\nrecitation.\" #B# is a manuscript copy, furnished by the late Mr Robert\nWhite of Newcastle, and was probably taken down from recitation by Mr\nJames Telfer early in the century. #C#, in which Robin Hood has taken\nthe place of a hero who had at least _connections_ out of Great Britain,\nwas first printed in Gutch's Robin Hood, from a manuscript of Mr Payne\nCollier, supposed to have been written about 1650.\n\nThis ballad has only with much hesitation been separated from the\nforegoing. In this as in that, a man induces a maid to go off with him;\nhe is set upon by a party of fifteen in #A#, #B#, as in 7 #A#; and he\nspares the life of one of his assailants [an old man, #A#, #B#, the\nyounger brother, #C#]. Some agreements as to details with Scandinavian\nRibold ballads have already been noticed, and it has been observed that\nwhile there is no vestige of the dead-naming in 'Earl Brand,' there is\nan obvious trace of it in 'Erlinton' #A#, #B#. 'Erlinton' #A#, #B# has\nalso one other correspondence not found in 'Earl Brand,'--the strict\nwatch kept over the lady (st. 2). Even the bigly bower, expressly built\nto confine her in, is very likely a reminiscence or a displacement of\nthe tower in which Hilde is shut up, _after_ her elopement, in some of\nthe Scandinavian ballads (Danish 83 #A#, #B#; Swedish #A#, dark house).\nBut notwithstanding these resemblances to the Ribold story, there is a\ndifference in the larger part of the details, and all the 'Erlinton'\nballads have a fortunate conclusion, which also does not seem forced, as\nit does in Arwidsson, 107, the only instance, perhaps, in which a\nfortunate conclusion in a Ribold ballad is of the least account; for\nGrundtvig's #F#, #G# are manifestly copies that have been tampered with,\nand Landstad 34 is greatly confused at the close. It may be an absolute\naccident, but 'Erlinton' #A#, #B# has at least one point of contact with\nthe story of Walter of Aquitania which is not found in 'Earl Brand.'\nThis story requires to be given in brief on account of its kinship to\nboth.\n\nWalter, with his betrothed Hildegunde, fly from the court of Attila, at\nwhich they have both lived as hostages since their childhood, taking\nwith them two boxes of jewels. Gunther, king of Worms, learns that a\nknight and lady, with a richly-laden horse, have passed the Rhine, and\nsets out in pursuit, with twelve of his best fighting men, resolved to\ncapture the treasure. The fugitives, after a very long ride, make a halt\nin a forest, and Walter goes to sleep with his head on Hildegunde's\nknees. The lady meanwhile keeps watch, and rouses her lover when she\nperceives by the dust they raise that horsemen are approaching. Gunther\nsends one of his knights with a message demanding the surrender of the\ntreasure. Walter scornfully refuses, but expresses a willingness to make\nthe king a present of a hundred bracelets, or rings, of red gold, in\ntoken of his respect. The messenger is sent back with directions to take\nthe treasure by force, if it should be refused again. Walter, having\nvainly offered a present of two hundred bracelets to avoid a conflict,\nis attacked by the knight, whom he slays. Ten others go the way of this\nfirst, and only the king and one of his troop, Hagen, a very\ndistinguished knight and an old comrade of Walter, remain. These now\nattack Walter; the combat is long and fierce; all three are seriously\nwounded, and finally so exhausted as to be forced to cease fighting.\nWalter and Hagen enter into a friendly talk while refreshing themselves\nwith wine, and in the end Gunther[117] is put on a horse and conducted\nhome by Hagen, while Walter and Hildegunde continue their journey to\nAquitania. There they were married and ruled thirty happy years.\n('Waltharius,' ed. R. Peiper, 1873.)\n\nThe particular resemblances of 'Erlinton' #A#, #B# to 'Walter' are that\nthe assailants are \"bold knights,\" or \"bravest outlaws,\" _not_ the\nlady's kinsmen; that there are two parleys before the fight; and that\nthe hero survives the fight and goes off with his love. The utmost that\ncould be insisted on is that some features of the story of Walter have\nbeen blended in the course of tradition with the kindred story of\nRibold. 'Erlinton' #C# is much less like 'Walter,' and more like\n'Ribold.'\n\nThe 'Sultan's Fair Daughter,' translated by Aigner, Ungarische\nVolksdichtungen, p. 93, 2d ed., has perhaps derived something from the\nWalter story. Two Magyars escape from the Sultan's prison by the aid of\nhis daughter, under promise of taking her to Hungary. She often looks\nbackwards, fearing pursuit. At last a large band overtake them. One of\nthe Magyars guards the lady; the other assaults the Turks, of whom he\nleaves only one alive, to carry back information. One of the two has a\nlove at home; the other takes the Sultan's daughter.\n\n * * * * *\n\n'Erlinton' is translated by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No\n24, and by Karl Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 12.\n\n\nA\n\n Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 235, ed. 1803; ed. 1833, II, 353.\n Made up from two copies obtained from recitation.\n\n 1\n Erlinton had a fair daughter;\n I wat he weird her in a great sin;\n For he has built a bigly bower,\n An a' to put that lady in.\n\n 2\n An he has warnd her sisters six,\n An sae has he her brethren se'en,\n Outher to watch her a' the night,\n Or else to seek her morn an een.\n\n 3\n She hadna been i that bigly bower\n Na not a night but barely ane,\n Till there was Willie, her ain true love,\n Chappd at the door, cryin 'Peace within!'\n\n 4\n 'O whae is this at my bower door,\n That chaps sae late, nor kens the gin?'\n 'O it is Willie, your ain true love,\n I pray you rise an let me in!'\n\n 5\n 'But in my bower there is a wake,\n An at the wake there is a wane;\n But I'll come to the green-wood the morn,\n Whar blooms the brier, by mornin dawn.'\n\n 6\n Then she's gane to her bed again,\n Where she has layen till the cock crew thrice,\n Then she said to her sisters a',\n 'Maidens, 't is time for us to rise.'\n\n 7\n She pat on her back her silken gown,\n An on her breast a siller pin,\n An she's tane a sister in ilka hand,\n An to the green-wood she is gane.\n\n 8\n She hadna walkd in the green-wood\n Na not a mile but barely ane,\n Till there was Willie, her ain true love,\n Whae frae her sisters has her taen.\n\n 9\n He took her sisters by the hand,\n He kissd them baith, an sent them hame,\n An he's taen his true love him behind,\n And through the green-wood they are gane.\n\n 10\n They hadna ridden in the bonnie green-wood\n Na not a mile but barely ane,\n When there came fifteen o the boldest knights\n That ever bare flesh, blood, or bane.\n\n 11\n The foremost was an aged knight,\n He wore the grey hair on his chin:\n Says, 'Yield to me thy lady bright,\n An thou shalt walk the woods within.'\n\n 12\n 'For me to yield my lady bright\n To such an aged knight as thee,\n People wad think I war gane mad,\n Or a' the courage flown frae me.'\n\n 13\n But up then spake the second knight,\n I wat he spake right boustouslie:\n 'Yield me thy life, or thy lady bright,\n Or here the tane of us shall die.'\n\n 14\n 'My lady is my warld's meed;\n My life I winna yield to nane;\n But if ye be men of your manhead,\n Ye'll only fight me ane by ane.'\n\n 15\n He lighted aff his milk-white steed,\n An gae his lady him by the head,\n Sayn, 'See ye dinna change your cheer,\n Untill ye see my body bleed.'\n\n 16\n He set his back unto an aik,\n He set his feet against a stane,\n An he has fought these fifteen men,\n An killd them a' but barely ane.\n\n 17\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n For he has left that aged knight.\n An a' to carry the tidings hame.\n\n 18\n When he gaed to his lady fair,\n I wat he kissd her tenderlie:\n 'Thou art mine ain love, I have thee bought;\n Now we shall walk the green-wood free.'\n\n\nB\n\n MS. of Robert White, Esq., of Newcastle, from James\n Telfer's collection.\n\n 1\n There was a knight, an he had a daughter,\n An he wad wed her, wi muckle sin;\n Sae he has biggit a bonnie bower, love,\n An a' to keep his fair daughter in.\n\n 2\n But she hadna been in the bonnie bower, love,\n And no twa hours but barely ane,\n Till up started Tammas, her ain true lover,\n And O sae fain as he wad been in.\n\n 3\n 'For a' sae weel as I like ye, Tammas,\n An for a' sae weel as I like the gin,\n I wadna for ten thousand pounds, love,\n Na no this night wad I let thee in.\n\n 4\n 'But yonder is a bonnie greenwud,\n An in the greenwud there is a wauk,\n An I'll be there an sune the morn, love,\n It's a' for my true love's sake.\n\n 5\n 'On my right hand I'll have a glove, love,\n An on my left are I'll have nane;\n I'll have wi' me my sisters six, love,\n An we will wauk the wuds our lane.'\n\n 6\n They hadna waukd in the bonnie greenwud,\n Na no an hour but barely ane,\n Till up start Tammas, her ain true lover,\n He's taen her sisters her frae mang.\n\n 7\n An he has kissed her sisters six, love,\n An he has sent them hame again,\n But he has keepit his ain true lover,\n Saying, 'We will wauk the wuds our lane.'\n\n 8\n They hadna waukd in the bonnie greenwud\n Na no an hour but barely ane,\n Till up start fifteen o the bravest outlaws\n That ever bure either breath or bane.\n\n 9\n An up bespake the foremost man, love,\n An O but he spake angrily:\n 'Either your life--or your lady fair, sir,\n This night shall wauk the wuds wi me.'\n\n 10\n 'My lady fair, O I like her weel, sir,\n An O my life, but it lies me near!\n But before I lose my lady fair, sir,\n I'll rather lose my life sae dear.'\n\n 11\n Then up bespak the second man, love,\n An aye he spake mair angrily,\n Saying, 'Baith your life, and your lady fair, sir,\n This night shall wauk the wuds wi me.'\n\n 12\n 'My lady fair, O I like her weel, sir,\n An O my life, but it lies me near!\n But before I lose my lady fair, sir,\n I'll rather lose my life sae dear.\n\n 13\n 'But if ye'll be men to your manhood,\n As that I will be unto mine,\n I'll fight ye every ane man by man,\n Till the last drop's blude I hae be slain.\n\n 14\n 'O sit ye down, my dearest dearie,\n Sit down and hold my noble steed,\n And see that ye never change your cheer\n Until ye see my body bleed.'\n\n 15\n He's feughten a' the fifteen outlaws,\n The fifteen outlaws every ane,\n He's left naething but the auldest man\n To go and carry the tidings hame.\n\n 16\n An he has gane to his dearest dear,\n An he has kissed her, cheek and chin,\n Saying, 'Thou art mine ain, I have bought thee dear,\n An we will wauk the wuds our lane.'\n\n\nC\n\n Gutch's Robin Hood, II, 345, from a MS. of Mr. Payne\n Collier's, supposed to have been written about 1650.\n\n 1\n As Robin Hood sat by a tree,\n He espied a prettie may,\n And when she chanced him to see,\n She turnd her head away.\n\n 2\n 'O feare me not, thou prettie mayde,\n And doe not flie from mee;\n I am the kindest man,' he said,\n 'That ever eye did see.'\n\n 3\n Then to her he did doffe his cap,\n And to her lowted low;\n 'To meete with thee I hold it good hap,\n If thou wilt not say noe.'\n\n 4\n Then he put his hand around her waste,\n Soe small, so tight, and trim,\n And after sought her lip to taste,\n And she to kissed him.\n\n 5\n 'Where dost thou dwell, my prettie maide?\n I prithee tell to me;'\n 'I am a tanner's daughter,' she said,\n 'John Hobbes of Barneslee.'\n\n 6\n 'And whither goest thou, pretty maide?\n Shall I be thy true love?'\n If thou art not afeard,' she said,\n 'My true love thou shalt prove.'\n\n 7\n 'What should I feare?' then he replied;\n 'I am thy true love now;'\n 'I have two brethren, and their pride\n Would scorn such one as thou.'\n\n 8\n 'That will we try,' quoth Robin Hood;\n 'I was not made their scorne;\n Ile shed my blood to doe the[e] good,\n As sure as they were borne.'\n\n 9\n 'My brothers are proude and fierce and strong;'\n 'I am,' said he, 'the same,\n And if they offer thee to wrong,\n Theyle finde Ile play their game.\n\n 10\n 'Through the free forrest I can run,\n The king may not controll;\n They are but barking tanners' sons,\n To me they shall pay toll.\n\n 11\n 'And if not mine be sheepe and kine,\n I have cattle on my land;\n On venison eche day I may dine,\n Whiles they have none in hand.'\n\n 12\n These wordes had Robin Hood scarce spoke,\n When they two men did see,\n Come riding till their horses smoke:\n 'My brothers both,' cried shee.\n\n 13\n Each had a good sword by his side,\n And furiouslie they rode\n To where they Robin Hood espied,\n That with the maiden stood.\n\n 14\n 'Flee hence, flee hence, away with speede!'\n Cried she to Robin Hood,\n 'For if thou stay, thoult surely bleede;\n I could not see thy blood.'\n\n 15\n 'With us, false maiden, come away,\n And leave that outlawe bolde;\n Why fledst thou from thy home this day,\n And left thy father olde?'\n\n 16\n Robin stept backe but paces five,\n Unto a sturdie tree;\n 'Ile fight whiles I am left alive;\n Stay thou, sweete maide, with mee.'\n\n 17\n He stood before, she stoode behinde,\n The brothers two drewe nie;\n 'Our sister now to us resign,\n Or thou full sure shalt die.'\n\n 18\n Then cried the maide, 'My brethren deare,\n With ye Ile freely wend,\n But harm not this young forrester,\n Noe ill doth he pretend.'\n\n 19\n 'Stande up, sweete maide, I plight my troth;\n Fall thou not on thy knee;\n Ile force thy cruell brothers both\n To bend the knee to thee.\n\n 20\n 'Stand thou behinde this sturdie oke,\n I soone will quell their pride;\n Thoult see my sword with furie smoke,\n And in their hearts' blood died.'\n\n 21\n He set his backe against a tree,\n His foote against a stone;\n The first blow that he gave so free\n Cleft one man to the bone.\n\n 22\n The tanners bold they fought right well,\n And it was one to two;\n But Robin did them both refell,\n All in the damsell's viewe.\n\n 23\n The red blood ran from Robins brow,\n All downe unto his knee;\n 'O holde your handes, my brethren now,\n I will goe backe with yee.'\n\n 24\n 'Stand backe, stand backe, my pretty maide,\n Stand backe and let me fight;\n By sweete St. James be no[t] afraide\n But I will it requite.'\n\n 25\n Then Robin did his sword uplift,\n And let it fall againe;\n The oldest brothers head it cleft,\n Right through unto his braine.\n\n 26\n 'O hold thy hand, bolde forrester,\n Or ill may thee betide;\n Slay not my youngest brother here,\n He is my father's pride.'\n\n 27\n 'Away, for I would scorne to owe,\n My life to the[e], false maide!'\n The youngest cried, and aimd a blow\n That lit on Robin's head.\n\n 28\n Then Robin leand against the tree,\n His life nie gone did seeme;\n His eyes did swim, he could not see\n The maiden start betweene.\n\n 29\n It was not long ere Robin Hood\n Could welde his sword so bright;\n Upon his feete he firmly stood,\n And did renew the fight.\n\n 30\n Untill the tanner scarce could heave\n His weapon in the aire;\n But Robin would not him bereave\n Of life, and left him there.\n\n 31\n Then to the greenewood did he fly,\n And with him went the maide;\n For him she vowd that she would dye,\n He'd live for her, he said.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 4^2. _Ed. 1833 has ~or kens~._\n\n#B.#\n\n 1^2. _If #A# 1^2 be right, gross injustice is done the\n father by changing ~I wat he weird her~ into ~he wad wed\n her~. One of the two is a singular corruption._\n\n _There is another copy of #B# among Mr White's papers,\n with the title 'Sir Thamas,' which I have no doubt has\n been \"revised,\" whether by Telfer, or by Mr White himself,\n it is impossible to say. The principal variations are here\n given, that others may be satisfied._\n\n 1^2. wed her mang his ain kin.\n\n 1^4. this fair.\n\n 2^3. Till up cam Thamas her only true love.\n\n 3^2. O tirl nae langer at the pin.\n\n 3^3. I wadna for a hundred pounds, love.\n\n 3^4. can I.\n\n 4^3. fu soon.\n\n 4^4. And by oursels we twa can talk.\n\n 5^{1,2}.\n I'll hae a glove on my right hand, love,\n And on my left I shall hae nane.\n\n 6^{2-4}.\n Beyond an hour, or scarcely twa,\n When up rode Thamas, her only true love,\n And he has tane her frae mang them a'.\n\n 7^1. He kissed her sisters, a' the six, love.\n\n 7^3. his winsome true love.\n\n 7^4. That they might walk.\n\n 8^1. didna walk.\n\n 8^{2-4}.\n Beyond two hours, or barely three,\n Till up cam seven[118] stalwart outlaws,\n The bauldest fellows that ane could see.\n\n 9^8. We'll take your life, for this lady fair, sir.\n\n 10^1. My lady's fair, I like her weel, sir.\n\n 11^{2,3}.\n And he spak still mair furiously;\n 'Flee, or we'll kill ye, because your lady.\n\n 12.\n 'My lady fair, I shall part na frae thee,\n And for my life, I did never fear;\n Sae before I lose my winsome lady,\n My life I'll venture for ane sae dear.\n\n 13.\n 'But if ye're a' true to your manhood,\n As I shall try to be true to mine,\n I'll fight ye a', come man by man then,\n Till the last drop o my bloud I tine.'\n\n 14^2. my bridled steed.\n\n 14^3. And mind ye never change your colour.\n\n 15.\n He fought against the seven outlaws,\n And he has beat them a' himsel;\n But he left the auldest man amang them\n That he might gae and the tidings tell.\n\n 16.\n Then he has gane to his dearest dearie,\n And he has kissed her oer and oer;\n 'Though thou art mine, I hae bought thee dearly,\n Now we shall sunder never more.'\n\n#C.#\n\n 1^1. _~Robinhood~, and so always._\n\n 31. _After this_: Finis, T. Fleming.\n\n\n[117] Gunther, as well remarked by Klee, 'Zur Hildesage,' p. 19, cannot\nhave belonged originally to the Hildegunde saga. No sufficient motive is\nfurnished for introducing him. In the Polish version of the story there\nis only one pursuer, Arinoldus, whom Walter slays. Rischka, Verh\u00e4ltniss\nder polnischen Sage von Walgierz Wdaly zu den deutschen Sagen von W. v.\nAquitanien, p. 8 ff.\n\n[118] \"The original ballad had fifteen. Seven would do as well, and the\nlatter number would seem more nearly to resemble the truth.\"\n\n\n\n\n9\n\nTHE FAIR FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND\n\n #A. a.# Deloney's 'Jack of Newbury,' reprint of 1859, p.\n 61. #b.# 'The Ungrateful Knight and the Fair Flower of\n Northumberland,' Ritson's Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 169.\n\n #B. a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 49. #b.# 'The Provost's Dochter,'\n Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 131.\n\n #C.# 'The Betrayed Lady.' #a.# Buchan's MSS, II, 166. #b.#\n Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 208.\n\n #D.# Motherwell's MS., p. 102.\n\n #E.# 'The Flower of Northumberland,' Mr Robert White's\n papers.\n\n\nThe earliest copy of this ballad is introduced as 'The Maidens'\nSong,'[119] in Deloney's Pleasant History of John Winchcomb, in his\nyounger yeares called Jacke of Newberie, a book written as early as\n1597. Mr Halliwell reprinted the \"9th\" edition, of the date 1633,[120]\nin 1859, and the ballad is found at p. 61 of the reprint (#A#). The copy\nin Ritson's Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 169, has a few variations, which are\nprobably to be explained by Ritson having used some other edition of\nDeloney. Ritson's text is used in The Borderer's Table Book, VI, 25,\nand was taken thence into Sheldon's Minstrelsy of the English Border,\nwith some arbitrary alterations. The ballad was formerly popular in\nScotland. Kinloch and Buchan printed #B# and #C# with some slight\nchanges; the texts are now given as they stand in the manuscripts. #E#,\na traditional version from the English border, has unfortunately been\nimproved by some literary pen.\n\nAn English lady is prevailed upon to release a Scot from prison, and to\nfly with him, on the promise of being made his wife, and (#A#) lady of\ncastles and towers. She takes much gold with her (#A#), and a swift\nsteed (two, #A#). According to #A# they come to a rough river; the lady\nis alarmed, but swims it, and is wet from top to toe. On coming within\nsight of Edinburgh, the faithless knight bids her choose whether she\nwill be his paramour or go back: he has wife and children. She begs him\nto draw his sword and end her shame: he takes her horse away, and leaves\nher. Two English knights come by, who restore her to her father. The\ndismissal takes place at the Scottish cross and moor in #B#; at a moor\nand a moss, #C#; at Scotland bridge, #D#; at a fair Scottish cross, #E#.\nShe offers to be servant in his kitchen rather than go back, #B#, #C#,\n#E#; begs him to throw her into the water, #D#; from his castle wall,\n#E#. He fees an old man to take her home on an old horse, #B#, #E#.\n\nWe do not find the whole of this story repeated among other European\nnations, but there are interesting agreements in parts with\nScandinavian, Polish, and German ballads.\n\nThere is some resemblance in the first half to a pretty ballad of the\nnorthern nations which treats in a brief way the theme of our exquisite\nromance of 'The Nutbrown Maid:' #Danish#, 'Den Trofaste Jomfru,'\nGrundtvig, No 249, IV, 494, nine copies, #A-I#, the first three from\n16th or 17th century manuscripts, the others from tradition of this\ncentury, as are also the following: #K-M#, 'Den Fredl\u00f8se,' Kristensen,\nII, 191, No 57: Swedish, 'De sju Gullbergen,' #A#, Afzelius, No 79, III,\n71, new ed., No 64, I, 322; #B#, #C#, Grundtvig, IV, 507 f: #Norwegian#\n#A#, 'Herre Per og stolt Margit,' Landstad, No 74, p. 590; #B#, 'Herr'\nNikelus,' Landstad, No 75, p. 594.[121] All tell very much the same\ntale. A knight carries off a maid on his horse, making her magnificent\npromises, among which are eight gold castles, Dan. #C#, #D#, #E#, #H#,\n#I#; one, #K#, #L#, #M#; eight, Norw. #A#; nine, Norw. #B#; seven, Swed.\n#B#; seven gold mountains, Swed. #A#, perhaps, by mistake of ber_gen_\nfor bor_gar_[122] She gets her gold together while he is saddling his\nhorse, Dan. #A, C, D, F, H, M#; Swed. #A#; Norw. #A#, #B#. They come to\na sea-strand or other water, it is many miles to the nearest land, Dan.\n#B#, #D#, Swed. #A#, #C#; the lady wishes she were at home, Dan. #E#,\n#F#, Swed. #B#, #C#. He swims the horse across, Dan. #A#, #B#, #D#, #E#,\n#F#, #H#, #K#, #L#, #M#; Swed. #A#, #B#, #C# [part of the way, having\nstarted in a boat, Norw. #A#, #B#]. The maid wrings her clothes, Dan.\n#A#, #D#, #K#, #L#; Swed. #A#; Norw. #A#, #B#. She asks, Where are the\ngold castles which you promised? Dan. #C# 7, #D# 14, #K# 9, #L# 7, #M#\n8; Norw. #A# 22, #B# 16.[123] He tells her that he has no gold castle\nbut this green turf, Dan. #C# 8; he needs none but the black ground and\nthick wood, Dan. #K# 10: he is a penniless, banished man. She offers him\nher gold to buy him a charter of peace. In all, except Dan. #A#, #B#,\n#C#, and the incomplete Dan. #I#, Norw. #B#, he goes on to say that he\nhas plighted faith to another woman, and she meekly replies, Then I will\nbe your servant. He continues the trial no further, reveals himself as\nof wealth and rank, says that she shall have ladies to wait on her, and\nmakes her his queen. The knight is king of England in Dan. #B#, #H#,\nKing Henry, simply, in Dan. #F#. The gold castles prove to be realities:\nthere is in Dan. #E# even one more than was promised.[124]\n\nThe #Polish# ballads of the class of 'Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight'\n(see p. 39 f) have thus much in common with 'The Fair Flower of\nNorthumberland:' a maid is induced to go off with a man on horseback,\nand takes gold with her; after going a certain distance, he bids her\nreturn home; in #AA#, #H#, #R#, he gives her her choice whether to\nreturn or to jump into the river; she prefers death (cf. #D# 3, 5, p.\n116); in all they finally come to a river, or other water, into which he\nthrows her.[125]\n\nThere is a #German# ballad which has some slight connection with all the\nforegoing, and a very slight story it is altogether: 'Stolz Heinrich,'\nSimrock, No 9, p. 23, 'Stolz Syburg,' Reiffenberg, No 16, p. 32, No 17,\np. 34, from the Lower Rhine and M\u00fcnster; made over, in Kretzschmer, I,\n187, No 106. Heinrich, or Syburg, wooes a king's daughter in a distant\nland. He asks her to go with him, and says he has seven mills in his\ncountry. \"Tell me what they grind,\" says Margaret, \"and I will go with\nyou.\" The mills grind sugar and cinnamon, mace and cloves. They come to\na green heath. Margaret thinks she sees the mills gleaming: he tells her\nthat a green heath is all he has. \"Then God have mercy that I have come\nso far,\" she says; draws a sword; kneels before him, and stabs herself.\n\nThe ballad of 'Young Andrew,' further on, has points in common with 'The\nFair Flower of Northumberland.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#C# is translated by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Lieder der Vorzeit, No\n31, p. 137.\n\n\nA\n\n #a.# Deloney's Pleasant History of John Winchcomb, 9th\n ed., London, 1633, reprinted by Halliwell, p. 61. #b.#\n Ritson's Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 169.\n\n 1\n It was a knight in Scotland borne\n Follow, my love, come over the strand\n Was taken prisoner, and left forlorne,\n Even by the good Earle of Northumberland.\n\n 2\n Then was he cast in prison strong,\n Where he could not walke nor lie along,\n Even by the goode Earle of Northumberland.\n\n 3\n And as in sorrow thus he lay,\n The Earle's sweete daughter walkt that way,\n And she the faire flower of Northumberland.\n\n 4\n And passing by, like an angell bright,\n The prisoner had of her a sight,\n And she the faire flower of Northumberland.\n\n 5\n And loud to her this knight did crie,\n The salt teares standing in his eye,\n And she the faire flower of Northumberland.\n\n 6\n 'Faire lady,' he said, 'take pity on me,\n And let me not in prison dye,\n And you the faire flower of Northumberland.'\n\n 7\n 'Faire Sir, how should I take pity on thee,\n Thou being a foe to our countrey,\n And I the faire flower of Northumberland.'\n\n 8\n 'Faire lady, I am no foe,' he said,\n 'Through thy sweet love heere was I stayd,\n For thee, the faire flower of Northumberland.'\n\n 9\n 'Why shouldst thou come heere for love of me,\n Having wife and children in thy countrie?\n And I the faire flower of Northumberland.'\n\n 10\n 'I sweare by the blessed Trinitie,\n I have no wife nor children, I,\n Nor dwelling at home in merrie Scotland.\n\n 11\n 'If curteously you will set me free,\n I vow that I will marrie thee,\n So soone as I come in faire Scotland.\n\n 12\n 'Thou shalt be a lady of castles and towers,\n And sit like a queene in princely bowers,\n When I am at home in faire Scotland.'\n\n 13\n Then parted hence this lady gay,\n And got her father's ring away,\n To helpe this sad knight into faire Scotland.\n\n 14\n Likewise much gold she got by sleight,\n And all to helpe this forlorne knight\n To wend from her father to faire Scotland.\n\n 15\n Two gallant steedes, both good and able,\n She likewise tooke out of the stable,\n To ride with this knight into faire Scotland.\n\n 16\n And to the jaylor she sent this ring,\n The knight from prison forth to bring,\n To wend with her into faire Scotland.\n\n 17\n This token set the prisoner free,\n Who straight went to this faire lady,\n To wend with her into faire Scotland.\n\n 18\n A gallant steede he did bestride,\n And with the lady away did ride,\n And she the faire flower of Northumberland.\n\n 19\n They rode till they came to a water cleare:\n 'Good Sir, how should I follow you heere,\n And I the faire flower of Northumberland?\n\n 20\n 'The water is rough and wonderfull deepe,\n An[d] on my saddle I shall not keepe,\n And I the faire flower of Northumberland.'\n\n 21\n 'Feare not the foord, faire lady,' quoth he,\n 'For long I cannot stay for thee,\n And thou the faire flower of Northumberland.'\n\n 22\n The lady prickt her wanton steed,\n And over the river swom with speede,\n And she the faire flower of Northumberland.\n\n 23\n From top to toe all wet was shee:\n 'This have I done for love of thee,\n And I the faire flower of Northumberland.'\n\n 24\n Thus rode she all one winter's night,\n Till Edenborow they saw in sight,\n The chiefest towne in all Scotland.\n\n 25\n 'Now chuse,' quoth he, 'thou wanton flower,\n Whe'r thou wilt be my paramour,\n Or get thee home to Northumberland.\n\n 26\n 'For I have wife, and children five,\n In Edenborow they be alive;\n Then get thee home to faire England.\n\n 27\n 'This favour shalt thou have to boote,\n Ile have thy horse, go thou on foote,\n Go, get thee home to Northumberland.'\n\n 28\n 'O false and faithlesse knight,' quoth shee,\n 'And canst thou deale so bad with me,\n And I the faire flower of Northumberland?\n\n 29\n 'Dishonour not a ladie's name,\n But draw thy sword and end my shame,\n And I the faire flower of Northumberland.'\n\n 30\n He tooke her from her stately steed,\n And left her there in extreme need,\n And she the faire flower of Northumberland.\n\n 31\n Then sate she downe full heavily;\n At length two knights came riding by,\n Two gallant knights of faire England.\n\n 32\n She fell downe humbly on her knee,\n Saying, 'Courteous knights, take pittie on me,\n And I the faire flower of Northumberland.\n\n 33\n 'I have offended my father deere,\n And by a false knight that brought me heere,\n From the good Earle of Northumberland.'\n\n 34\n They tooke her up behind them then,\n And brought her to her father's againe,\n And he the good Earle of Northumberland.\n\n 35\n All you faire maidens be warned by me,\n Scots were never true, nor never will be,\n To lord, nor lady, nor faire England.\n\n\nB\n\n #a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 49, in the handwriting of J. Beattie.\n #b.# Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 134, from the\n recitation of Miss E. Beattie.\n\n 1\n The provost's daughter went out a walking,\n A may's love whiles is easy won\n She heard a poor prisoner making his moan,\n And she was the fair flower of Northumberland.\n\n 2\n 'If any lady would borrow me\n Out into the prison strong,\n I would make her a lady of high degree,\n For I am a great lord in fair Scotland.'\n\n 3\n She's done her to her father's bed-stock,\n A may's love whiles is easy won\n She's stolen the keys o many braw lock,\n And she's loosd him out o the prison strong.\n\n 4\n She's done her to her father's stable,\n A may's love whiles is easy won\n She's taen out a steed that was both swift and able,\n To carry them both to fair Scotland.\n\n 5\n O when they came to the Scottish cross,\n A may's love whiles is easy won\n 'Ye brazen-faced whore, light off o my horse,\n And go get you back to Northumberland!'\n\n 6\n O when they came to the Scottish moor,\n A may's love whiles is easy won\n 'Get off o my horse, you're a brazen-faced whore,\n So go get you back to Northumberland!'\n\n 7\n 'O pity on me, O pity,' said she,\n 'O that my love was so easy won!\n Have pity on me as I had upon thee,\n When I loosd you out of the prison strong.'\n\n 8\n 'O how can I have pity on thee?\n O why was your love so easy won!\n When I have a wife and children three\n More worthy than a' Northumberland.'\n\n 9\n 'Cook in your kitchen I will be,\n O that my love was so easy won!\n And serve your lady most reverently,\n For I darena go back to Northumberland.'\n\n 10\n 'Cook in my kitchen you shall not be,\n Why was your love so easy won!\n For I will have no such servants as thee,\n So get you back to Northumberland.'\n\n 11\n But laith was he the lassie to tyne,\n A may's love whiles is easy won\n He's hired an old horse and feed an old man,\n To carry her back to Northumberland.\n\n 12\n O when she came her father before,\n A may's love whiles is easy won\n She fell down on her knees so low\n For she was the fair flower of Northumberland.\n\n 13\n 'O daughter, O daughter, why was ye so bold,\n Or why was your love so easy won,\n To be a Scottish whore in your fifteen year old?\n And you the fair flower of Northumberland!'\n\n 14\n Her mother she gently on her did smile,\n O that her love was so easy won!\n 'She is not the first that the Scotts have beguild,\n But she's still the fair flower of Northumberland.\n\n 15\n 'She shanna want gold, she shanna want fee,\n Altho that her love was so easy won,\n She shanna want gold to gain a man wi,\n And she's still the fair flower of Northumberland.'\n\n\nC\n\n #a.# Buchan's MSS, II, 166. #b.# Buchan's Ballads of the\n North of Scotland, II, 208.\n\n 1\n As I went by a jail-house door,\n Maid's love whiles is easy won\n I saw a prisoner standing there,\n 'I wish I were home in fair Scotland.\n\n 2\n 'Fair maid, will you pity me?\n Ye'll steal the keys, let me gae free:\n I'll make you my lady in fair Scotland.\n\n 3\n 'I'm sure you have no need of me,\n For ye have a wife and bairns three,\n That lives at home in fair Scotland.'\n\n 4\n He swore by him that was crownd with thorn,\n That he never had a wife since the day he was born,\n But livd a free lord in fair Scotland.\n\n 5\n She went unto her father's bed-head,\n She's stown the key o mony a lock,\n She's let him out o prison strong.\n\n 6\n She's went to her father's stable,\n She's stown a steed baith wight and able,\n To carry them on to fair Scotland.\n\n 7\n They rode till they came to a muir,\n He bade her light aff, they'd call her a whore,\n If she didna return to Northumberland.\n\n 8\n They rode till they came to a moss,\n He bade her light aff her father's best horse,\n And return her again to Northumberland.\n\n 9\n 'I'm sure I have no need of thee,\n When I have a wife and bairns three,\n That lives at home in fair Scotland.'\n\n 10\n 'I'll be cook in your kitchen,\n And serve your lady handsomelie,\n For I darena gae back to Northumberland.'\n\n 11\n 'Ye cannot be cook in my kitchen,\n My lady cannot fa sic servants as thee,\n So ye'll return again to Northumberland.'\n\n 12\n When she went thro her father's ha,\n She looted her low amongst them a',\n She was the fair flower o Northumberland.\n\n 13\n Out spake her father, he spake bold,\n 'How could ye be a whore in fifteen years old,\n And you the flower of Northumberland?'\n\n 14\n Out spake her mother, she spake wi a smile,\n 'She's nae the first his coat did beguile,\n Ye're welcome again to Northumberland.'\n\n\nD\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 102.\n\n 1\n She's gane down to her father's stable,\n O my dear, and my love that she wan\n She's taen out a black steed baith sturdy and able,\n And she's away to fair Scotland.\n\n 2\n When they came to Scotland bridge,\n 'Light off, you whore, from my black steed,\n And go your ways back to Northumberland.'\n\n 3\n 'O take me by the body so meek,\n And throw me in the water so deep,\n For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.'\n\n 4\n 'I'll no take thee by the body so meek,\n Nor throw thee in the water so deep;\n Thou may go thy ways back to Northumberland.'\n\n 5\n 'Take me by the body so small,\n And throw me in yon bonny mill-dam,\n For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.'\n\n\nE\n\n \"Written down from memory by Robert Hutton, Shepherd,\n Peel, Liddesdale.\" Mr R. White's papers.\n\n 1\n A bailiff's fair daughter, she lived by the Aln,\n A young maid's love is easily won\n She heard a poor prisoner making his moan,\n And she was the flower of Northumberland.\n\n 2\n 'If ye could love me, as I do love thee,\n A young maid's love is hard to win\n I'll make you a lady of high degree,\n When once we go down to fair Scotland.'\n\n 3\n To think of the prisoner her heart was sore,\n A young maid's love is easily won\n Her love it was much, but her pity was more,\n And she, etc.\n\n 4\n She stole from her father's pillow the key,\n And out of the dungeon she soon set him free,\n And she, etc.\n\n 5\n She led him into her father's stable,\n And they've taken a steed both gallant and able,\n To carry them down to fair Scotland.\n\n 6\n When they first took the way, it was darling and dear;\n As forward they fared, all changed was his cheer,\n And she, etc.\n\n 7\n They rode till they came to a fair Scottish corse;\n Says he, 'Now, pray madam, dismount from my horse,\n And go get you back to Northumberland.\n\n 8\n 'It befits not to ride with a leman light,\n When awaits my returning my own lady bright,\n My own wedded wife in fair Scotland.'\n\n 9\n The words that he said on her fond heart smote,\n She knew not in sooth if she lived or not,\n And she, etc.\n\n 10\n She looked to his face, and it kythed so unkind\n That her fast coming tears soon rendered her blind,\n And she, etc.\n\n 11\n 'Have pity on me as I had it on thee,\n O why was my love so easily won!\n A slave in your kitchen I'm willing to be,\n But I may not go back to Northumberland.\n\n 12\n 'Or carry me up by the middle sae sma,\n O why was my love so easily won!\n And fling me headlong from your high castle wa,\n For I dare not go back to Northumberland.'\n\n 13\n Her wailing, her woe, for nothing they went,\n A young maid's love is easily won\n His bosom was stone and he would not relent,\n And she, etc.\n\n 14\n He turned him around and he thought of a plan,\n He bought an old horse and he hired an old man,\n To carry her back to Northumberland.\n\n 15\n A heavy heart makes a weary way,\n She reached her home in the evening gray,\n And she, etc.\n\n 16\n And all as she stood at her father's tower-gate,\n More loud beat her heart than her knock thereat,\n And she, etc.\n\n 17\n Down came her step-dame, so rugged and doure,\n O why was your love so easily won!\n 'In Scotland go back to your false paramour,\n For you shall not stay here in Northumberland.'\n\n 18\n Down came her father, he saw her and smiled,\n A young maid's love is easily won\n 'You are not the first that false Scots have beguiled,\n And ye're aye welcome back to Northumberland.\n\n 19\n 'You shall not want houses, you shall not want land,\n You shall not want gold for to gain a husband,\n And ye're aye welcome back to Northumberland.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n 2. _Halliwell's Deloney, in the first line of the burden,\n has ~leape over~, but not elsewhere._\n\n 9^2. in the.\n\n 25^2. Where.\n\n#b.#\n\n 3^2. walks.\n\n 3^4. she is.\n\n 5^1. aloud.\n\n 13^3. _omits_ sad.\n\n 15^3. the knight.\n\n 16^2. forth did.\n\n 24^3. The fairest.\n\n 27^1 thou shalt.\n\n 32^2. knight.\n\n 35^2. never were.\n\n#B. b.#\n\n 2^2. this prison.\n\n 4^3. _omits_ that was.\n\n 6^3. ye brazen-fac'd.\n\n 11^3. He hired.\n\n 12^3. fell at his feet.\n\n 13^1. _omits_ so.\n\n 14^1. mother on her sae gentlie smild, _etc._\n\n#C. a.#\n\n 8^2. Her bade.\n\n 8^3. return him.\n\n#b.#\n\n 5^1. into.\n\n 13^2. at fifteen.\n\n#D.#\n\n 2. _Thus in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xv_:\n\n When they came to Scotland brig,\n O my dear, my love that she wan!\n 'Light off, ye hure, from my black steed,\n And his ye awa to Northumberland.'\n\n#E.#\n\n \"The Flower of Northumberland. Written down from memory by\n Robert Hutton, Shepperd, Peel, Liddesdale, and sent by\n James Telfor to his friend Robert White, Newcastle on\n Tyne. 20 copies printed.\" _Mr White's note._\n\n\n[119] \"Two of them singing the dittie,\" says Deloney, \"and all the rest\nbearing the burden.\"\n\n[120] The earliest edition now known to exist is of 1619.\n\n[121] Some of these ballads begin with stanzas which are found also in\nKvindemorderen and Ribold ballads (our No 4, No 7), where also a young\nwoman is carried off furtively by a man. This is only what is to be\nexpected.\n\n[122] By mistake, most probably. But in one of the Polish ballads, cited\na little further on, #Q# (Kolberg, P. 1. Polskiego, 5 pp), the maid is\ntold, \"In my country the mountains are golden, the mountains are of\ngold.\"\n\n[123] So 'Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight,' #D# 11:\n\n 'Is this your bowers and lofty towers?'\n\n[124] There is a similarity, which is perhaps not accidental, between\nthese Scandinavian ballads and 'Child Waters.' Child Waters makes Ellen\nswim a piece of water, shows her his hall--\"of red gold shines the\ntower\"--where the fairest lady is his paramour, subjects her to menial\nservices, and finally, her patience withstanding all trials, marries\nher.\n\n[125] They pass the water in #Q# only, and that in a boat. She is thrown\nin from a bridge in #V#, #W#, the bridge of Cracow in #C#: cf. Scotland\nbridge, #D# 2 of this ballad. By a curious accident, it is at a wayside\ncrucifix that the man begins his change of demeanor in Polish #CC# 2\n(Kolberg, #ddd#), as in #B# 5, #E# 7, of this ballad, it is at a\nScottish cross.\n\n\n\n\n10\n\nTHE TWA SISTERS\n\n #A. a.# 'The Miller and the King's Daughter,' broadside of\n 1656, Notes and Queries, 1st S., V, 591. #b.# Wit\n Restor'd, 1658, \"p. 51,\" in the reprint of 1817, p. 153.\n #c.# 'The Miller and the King's Daughters,' Wit and\n Drollery, ed. 1682, p. 87. #d.# 'The Miller and the King's\n Daughter,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 315.\n\n #B. a.# 'The Twa Sisters,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 39.\n #b.# 'The Cruel Sister,' Wm. Tytler's Brown MS., No 15.\n #c.# 'The Cruel Sister,' Abbotsford MS., \"Scottish Songs,\"\n fol. 21. #d.# 'The Twa Sisters,' Jamieson's Popular\n Ballads, I, 48.\n\n #C.# 'The Cruel Sister,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 143\n (1802).\n\n #D.# 'The Bonnie Milldams of Binnorie,' Kinloch MSS, II,\n 49.\n\n #E.# 'The Twa Sisters,' Sharpe's Ballad Book, No X, p. 30.\n\n #F.# 'The Bonny Bows o London,' Motherwell's MS., p. 383.\n\n #G.# Motherwell's MS., p. 104.\n\n #H.# Motherwell's MS., p. 147.\n\n #I.# 'Bonnie Milldams o Binnorie,' Kinloch MSS, V, 425.\n\n #J.# 'The Miller's Melody,' Notes and Queries, 4th S., V,\n 23.\n\n #K.# 'Binnorie,' Kinloch's papers.\n\n #L. a.# 'The Miller's Melody,' Notes and Queries, 1st S.,\n V, 316. #b.# 'The Drowned Lady,' The Scouring of the White\n Horse, p. 161.\n\n #M.# 'Binorie, O an Binorie,' Murison MS., p. 79.\n\n #N.# 'Binnorie,' [Pinkerton's] Scottish Tragic Ballads, p.\n 72.\n\n #O.# 'The Bonny Bows o London.' #a.# Buchan's Ballads of\n the North of Scotland, II, 128. #b.# Christie's\n Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 42.\n\n #P. a.# 'The Twa Sisters,' Motherwell's MS., p. 245. #b.#\n 'The Swan swims bonnie O,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy,\n Appendix, p. xx.\n\n #Q.# 'The Twa Sisters,' communicated by J. F. Campbell,\n Esq.\n\n #R. a.# 'The Three Sisters,' Notes and Q., 1st S., VI,\n 102. #b.# 'Bodown,' communicated by J. F. Campbell, Esq.\n #c.# 'The Barkshire Tragedy,' The Scouring of the White\n Horse, p. 158.\n\n #S.# Kinloch MSS, VI, 89.\n\n #T.# 'Sister, dear Sister,' Allingham's Ballad Book, p.\n xxxiii.\n\n #U.# From Long Island, N.Y., communicated by Mr W. W.\n Newell.\n\n\nThis is one of the very few old ballads which are not extinct as\ntradition in the British Isles. Even drawing-room versions are spoken of\nas current, \"generally traced to some old nurse, who sang them to the\nyoung ladies.\"[126] It has been found in England, Scotland, Wales, and\nIreland, and was very early in print. Dr Rimbault possessed and\npublished a broadside of the date 1656[127] (#A a#), and the same copy\nis included in the miscellany called Wit Restor'd, 1658. Both of these\nname \"Mr Smith\" as the author; that is, Dr James Smith, a well-known\nwriter of humorous verses, to whom the larger part of the pieces in Wit\nRestor'd has been attributed. If the ballad were ever in Smith's hands,\nhe might possibly have inserted the three burlesque stanzas, 11-13; but\nsimilar verses are found in another copy (#L a#), and might easily be\nextemporized by any singer of sufficiently bad taste. Wit and Drollery,\nthe edition of 1682, has an almost identical copy of the ballad, and\nthis is repeated in Dryden's Miscellany, edition of 1716, Part III, p.\n316. In 1781 Pinkerton inserted in his Tragic Ballads one with the title\n'Binnorie,' purporting to be from Scottish tradition. Of twenty-eight\ncouplets, barely seven are genuine. Scott printed in 1802 a copy (#C#)\ncompounded from one \"in Mrs Brown's MS.\" (#B b#) and a fragment of\nfourteen stanzas which had been transcribed from recitation by Miss\nCharlotte Brooke, adopting a burden found in neither.[128] Jamieson\nfollowed, four years after, with a tolerably faithful, though not, as he\nsays, _verbatim_, publication of his copy of Mrs Brown's ballad,\nsomewhat marred, too, by acknowledged interpolations. This text of Mrs\nBrown's is now correctly given, with the whole or fragments of eleven\nothers, hitherto unpublished.\n\nThe ballad is as popular with the Scandinavians as with their Saxon\ncousins. Grundtvig, 'Den talende Strengeleg,' No 95, gives nine #Danish#\nversions and one stanza of a tenth; seven, #A-E#, in II, 507 ff, the\nremainder, #H-K#, in III, 875 ff. One more, #L#, is added by Kristensen,\nNo 96, I, 253. Of these, only #E# had been previously printed. All are\nfrom tradition of this century.\n\nThere are two #Icelandic# versions, #A# from the 17th, #B# from the\n19th, century, printed in \u00cdslenzk Fornkv\u00e6\u00f0i, No 13, 'H\u00f6rpu kv\u00e6\u00f0i.'\n\nOf twelve #Norwegian# versions, #A#, by Moe, \"is printed in Norske\nUniversitets og Skole-Annaler for 1850, p. 287,\" and in Moe's Samlede\nSkrifter, II, 118, 'D\u00e6 bur ein Mann h\u00e6r utm\u00e6 Aa;' #B#, by Lindeman,\nAnnaler, as before, \"p. 496,\" and in his Norske Fjeldmelodier, vol. I,\nTekst-Bilag, p. 4, No 14, 'Dei tv\u00e6 Systa;' #C#, by Landstad, 'Dei tvo\nsystar,' No 53, p. 480; #D-L# are described by Professor Bugge in\nGrundtvig, III, 877 f; #M# \"is printed in Illustreret Nyhedsblads\nNytaarsgave for 1860, p. 77, Christiania.\"\n\nFour #F\u00e4r\u00f6e# versions are known: #A#, 'H\u00f6rpur\u00edma,' \"in Svabo's MS., No\n16, I, 291,\" incorrectly printed by Afzelius, I, 86, and accurately,\nfrom a copy furnished by Grundtvig, in Bergstr\u00f6m's edition of Afzelius,\nII, 69; #B#, a compound of two versions taken down by Pastor Lyngbye and\nby Pastor Schr\u00f6ter, in Nyeste Skilderie af Kj\u00f8benhavn, 1821, col. 997\nff; #C#, a transcript from recitation by Hammershaimb (Grundtvig); #D#,\n\"in Fugloyjarb\u00f3k, No 31.\"\n\n#Swedish# versions are: #A#, 'Den underbara Harpan,' Afzelius, No 17, I,\n81, new ed., No 16, 1, I, 72: #B#, 'De tv\u00e5 Systrarne,' Afzelius, No 69,\nIII, 16, new ed., No 16, 2, I, 74: #C#, #D#, #E#, unprinted copies in\nCavallius and Stephens's collection: #F#, 'De tv\u00e5 Systrarne,' Arwidsson,\nNo 99, II, 139: #G#, 'Systermordet,' E. Wigstr\u00f6m, Sk\u00e5nska Visor, p. 4,\nand the same, Folkdiktning, etc., No 7, p. 19: #H#, Rancken, N\u00e5gra Prof\naf Folks\u00e5ng, No 3, p. 10. Afzelius, moreover, gives variations from four\nother copies which he had collected, III, 20 ff, new ed., II, 74 ff; and\nRancken from three others. Both of the editors of the new Afzelius have\nrecently obtained excellent copies from singers. The ballad has also\nbeen found in Finnish, Bergstr\u00f6m's Afzelius, II, 79.\n\nThere is a remarkable agreement between the Norse and English ballads\ntill we approach the conclusion of the story, with a natural diversity\nas to some of the minuter details.\n\nThe sisters are king's daughters in English #A#, #B#, #C#, #H#, #O# (?),\n#P#, #Q#, #R a#, and in Swedish #B# and two others of Afzelius's\nversions. They are an earl's daughters in Swedish #F#, and sink to\nfarmer's daughters in English #R b#, #c#,[129] Swedish #A#, #G#,\nNorwegian #C#.\n\nIt is a thing made much of in most of the Norse ballads that the younger\nsister is fair and the older dark; the younger is bright as the sun, as\nwhite as ermine or as milk, the elder black as soot, black as the earth,\nIcelandic #A#, Swedish #A#, #B#, #G#, Danish #A#, #D#, etc.; and this\ndifference is often made the ground for very unhandsome taunts, which\nqualify our compassion for the younger; such as Wash all day, and you\nwill be no whiter than God made you, Wash as white as you please, you\nwill never get a lover, F\u00e4r\u00f6e #A#, #B#, Norwegian #A#, #C#, etc. This\ncontrast may possibly be implied in \"the youngest was the fairest\nflower,\" English #F#, #G#, #Q# [\"sweetest,\" #D#], but is expressed only\nin #M#, \"Ye was fair and I was din\" (dun), and in #P a#, \"The old was\nblack and the young are fair.\"\n\nThe scene of action is a seashore in Icelandic and F\u00e4r\u00f6e #A#, #B#,\nNorwegian #A#, Swedish #A#, #B#, #G#, #H#, and in all the Danish\ncomplete copies: a seashore, or a place where ships come in, in English\n#A#, #B a#, #D-I#, #Q#, #R a#, #T#, but in all save the last of these\n(the last is only one stanza) we have the absurdity of a body drowned in\nnavigable water being discovered floating down a mill-stream.[130] #B c#\nhas \"the deep mill-dam;\" #C# \"the river-strand,\" perhaps one of Scott's\nchanges; #M#, \"the dams;\" #L#, #O#, #P#, #R b c#, a river, Tweed\nmill-dam, or the water of Tweed. Norwegian #B# has a river.\n\nThe pretence for the older sister's taking the younger down to the water\nis in English #A-E#, #G#, #H#, #I#, #O#, #Q#, to see their father's\nships come in; in Icelandic #B# to wash their silks;[131] in most of the\nNorse ballads to wash themselves, so that, as the elder says, \"we may be\nalike white,\" Danish #C-H#, Norwegian #A#, #C#, Swedish #F#, #G#, F\u00e4r\u00f6e\n#A#, #B#. Malice prepense is attributed to the elder in Swedish #B#,\n#F#, Norwegian C, Danish #E#, #F#, #G#: but in F\u00e4r\u00f6e #A#, #B#, Norwegian\n#A#, #B#, and perhaps some other cases, a previous evil intent is not\ncertain, and the provocations of the younger sister may excuse the elder\nso far.\n\nThe younger is pushed from a stone upon which she sits, stands, or\nsteps, in English #B#, #C#, #E-H#, #M#, #O#, #Q#, Icelandic #A#, #B#,\nF\u00e4r\u00f6e #A#, #B#, Norwegian #A#, #B#, #C#, Danish #A-E#, #H#, #L#, Swedish\n#G#, #H#, and Rancken's other copies.\n\nThe drowning scene is the same in all the ballads, except as to one\npoint. The younger sister, to save her life, offers or consents to\nrenounce her lover in the larger number, as English #B-E#, #G#, #H#,\n#I#, #M#, #P#, #Q#, Danish #A-D#, #F#, #G#, #I#, Swedish #A-D#, #G#,\n#H#; and in Icelandic #B# and \"all the F\u00e4r\u00f6e\" ballads she finally\nyields, after first saying that her lover must dispose of himself. But\nSwedish #F#, with more spirit, makes the girl, after promising\neverything else, reply:\n\n 'Help then who can, help God above!\n But ne'er shalt thou get my dear true-love.'\n\nIn this refusal concur Icelandic #A#, Danish #E#, #H#, #L#, and all the\nNorwegian versions except #L#.\n\nSwedish #A#, #G#, and Rancken's versions (or two of them) make the\nyounger sister, when she sees that she must drown, send greetings to her\nfather, mother, true-love [also brother, sister, Rancken], and add in\neach case that she is drinking, or dancing, her bridal in the flood,\nthat her bridal-bed is made on the white-sand, etc.\n\nThe body of the drowned girl is discovered, in nearly all the English\nballads, by some member of the miller's household, and is taken out of\nthe water by the miller. In #L b#, which, however, is imperfect at the\nbeginning, a harper finds the body. In the Icelandic ballads it is found\non the seashore by the lover; in all the Norwegian but #M# by two\nfishermen, as also in Swedish #D# [fishermen in Swedish #B#]; in all the\nF\u00e4r\u00f6e versions and Norwegian #M# by two \"pilgrims;\"[132] in Danish\n#A-F#, #L#, and Swedish #C# by two musicians, Danish #H#, Swedish #A#,\n#G#, one. Danish #G#, which is corrupted at the close, has three\nmusicians, but these simply witness and report the drowning.\n\nAccording to all complete and uncorrupted forms of the ballad, either\nsome part of the body of the drowned girl is taken to furnish a musical\ninstrument, a harp or a viol,[133] or the instrument is wholly made from\nthe body. This is done in the Norse ballads by those who first find the\nbody, save in Swedish #B#, where fishermen draw the body ashore, and a\npassing \"speleman\" makes the instrument. In English it is done by the\nmiller, #A#; by a harper, #B#, #C#, #G#, #L b# (the _king's_ harper in\n#B#); by a fiddler, #D#, #E#, #I#, #L a# (?), #O#, #P# (the _king's_\nfiddler, #O# (?), #P#); by both a fiddler and the king's harper, #H#; in\n#F# by the father's herdsman, who happens to be a fiddler.\n\nPerhaps the original conception was the simple and beautiful one which\nwe find in English #B# and both the Icelandic ballads, that the king's\nharper, or the girl's lover, takes three locks of her yellow hair to\nstring his harp with. So we find three tets of hair in #D#, #E#, #I#,\nand three links in #F#, #P#, used, or directed to be used, to string the\nfiddle or the fiddle-bow, and the same, apparently, with Danish #A#.\nInfelicitous additions were, perhaps, successively made; as a harp-frame\nfrom the breast-bone in English #C#, and fiddle-pins formed of the\nfinger-joints, English #F#, #O#, Danish #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#, #L#. Then we\nhave all three: the frame of the instrument formed from the breast (or\ntrunk), the screws from the finger-joints, the strings from the hair,\nSwedish #A#, #B#, #G#, Norwegian #A#, #C#, #M#. And so one thing and\nanother is added, or substituted, as fiddle-bows of the arms or legs,\nSwedish #C#, #D#, Danish #H#, English #L a#; a harp-frame from the arms,\nNorwegian #B#, F\u00e4r\u00f6e #A#; a fiddle-frame from the skull, Swedish #C#, or\nfrom the back-bone, English #L b#; a _plectrum_ from the arm, F\u00e4r\u00f6e #B#;\nstrings from the veins, English #A#; a bridge from the nose, English\n#A#, #L a#; \"h\u00f8rp\u00f8nota\" from the teeth, Norwegian #B#; till we end with\nthe buffoonery of English #A# and #L a#.\n\nSwedish #H# has nothing about the finding of the body. Music is wanted\nfor the bridal, and a man from another village, who undertakes to\nfurnish it, looks three days for a proper tree to make a harp of. The\nsinger of this version supplied the information, lost from the ballad,\nthat the drowned sister had floated ashore and grown up into a linden,\nand that this was the very tree which was chosen for the harp. (See,\nfurther on, a Lithuanian, a Slovak, and an Esthonian ballad.)\n\nAll the Norse ballads make the harp or fiddle to be taken to a wedding,\nwhich chances to be that of the elder sister with the drowned girl's\nbetrothed.[134] Unfortunately, many of the English versions are so\ninjured towards the close that the full story cannot be made out. There\nis no wedding-feast preserved in any of them. The instrument, in #A#,\n#B#, #C#, #H#, is taken into the king's presence. The viol in #A# and\nthe harp in #H# are expressly said to speak. The harp is laid upon a\nstone in #C#, #J#, and plays \"its lone;\" the fiddle plays of itself in\n#L b#.[135] #B# makes the harper play, and #D#, #F#, #K#, #O#, which say\nthe fiddle played, probably mean that there was a fiddler, and so\nperhaps with all the Norse versions; but this is not very material,\nsince in either case the instrument speaks \"with most miraculous organ.\"\n\nThere are three strings made from the girl's hair in Icelandic #A#, #B#,\nEnglish #B# [veins, English #A#], and the three tets or links in English\n#D#, #E#, #F#, #I#, #P# were no doubt taken to make three strings\noriginally. Corresponding to this are three enunciations of the\ninstrument in English #A#, #B#, #C#, Icelandic #A#, F\u00e4r\u00f6e #A#,[136] #B#,\nSwedish #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, #G#, #H#, Danish #A#, #D#, #F#, #I#. These\nare reduced to two in Icelandic #B#, Danish #B#, #C#, #H#, #L#, Swedish\n#D#, and even to one in English #D#, #F#, #I#, #K#, #O#, but some of\nthese have suffered injury towards the conclusion. The number is\nincreased to four in Norwegian #B#, to five in Norwegian #A#, #D#, and\neven to six in Norwegian #C#, #K#, #M#. The increase is, of course, a\nlater exaggeration, and very detrimental to the effect. In those English\ncopies in which the instrument speaks but once,[137] #D#, #F#, #K#, #O#,\nand we may add #P#, it expresses a desire for vengeance: Hang my sister,\n#D#, #F#, #K#; Ye'll drown my sister, as she's dune me, #O#; Tell him to\nburn my sister, #P#. This is found in no Norse ballad, neither is it\nfound in the earliest English versions. These, and the better forms of\nthe Norse, reveal the awful secret, directly or indirectly, and, in the\nlatter case, sometimes note the effect on the bride. Thus, in Icelandic\n#B#, the first string sounds, The bride is our sister; the second, The\nbride is our murderer. In Danish #B# the first fiddle plays, The bride\nis my sister; the second, The bridegroom is my true-love; in #C#, #H#,\nthe first strain is, The bride has drowned her sister, the second, Thy\nsister is driven [blown] to land. F\u00e4r\u00f6e #A#, #B#, have: (1) The bride\nwas my sister; (2) The bride was my murderer; (3) The bridegroom was my\ntrue-love. The bride then says that the harp disturbs her much, and that\nshe lists to hear it no more. Most impressive of all, with its terse,\nshort lines, is Icelandic #A#:\n\n The first string made response:\n 'The bride was my sister once.'\n\n The bride on the bench, she spake:\n 'The harp much trouble doth make.'\n\n The second string answered the other:\n 'She is parting me and my lover.'\n\n Answered the bride, red as gore:\n 'The harp is vexing us sore.'\n\n The canny third string replied:\n 'I owe my death to the bride.'\n\n He made all the harp-strings clang;\n The bride's heart burst with the pang.\n\nThis is the wicked sister's end in both of the Icelandic ballads and in\nF\u00e4r\u00f6e #A#, #B#. In Swedish #A#, #G#, at the first stroke on the harp she\nlaughs; at the second she grows pale [has to be undressed]; upon the\nthird she lay dead in her bed [falls dead on the floor]. She is burned\nin Danish #A#, #B#, #C#, #F#, #G#, Swedish #B#, Norwegian #A#, #B#, #C#,\n#I#, #M#. In Norwegian #K#, #L#, the younger sister (who is restored to\nlife) begs that the elder may not be burned, but sent out of the country\n(cf. English #R b c#); nevertheless, she is buried alive in #L#, which\nis her fate also in #E#, and in other unprinted versions. A prose\ncomment upon Danish #I# has her stabbed by the bridegroom.\n\nNorwegian #B# 21 makes the bride, in her confusion at the revelations of\nthe harp, ask the bridegroom to drive the fiddler out of the house. So\nfar from complying, the bridegroom orders him mead and wine, and the\nbride to the pile. In Norwegian #C# the bride treads on the harper's\nfoot, then orders the playing to stop; but the bridegroom springs from\nthe table, and cries, Let the harp have its song out, pays no regard to\nthe lady's alleging that she has so bad a head that she cannot bear it,\nand finally sends her to the pile. So, nearly, Norwegian #A#. In Danish\n#A#, #C#, #D#, #H#, #L#, vainly in the first two, the bride tries to\nhush the fiddler with a bribe. He endeavors to take back what he has\nsaid in #D#, #L#, declaring himself a drunken fool (the passage is\nborrowed from another ballad): still in #L#, though successful for the\nnonce, she comes to the stake and wheel some months after. In #H# the\nfiddler dashes the instrument against a stone, seemingly to earn his\nbribe, but this trait belongs to versions which take the turn of the\nNorwegian. In #C# 15 the bride springs from the table, and says, Give\nthe fiddlers a trifle, and let them go. This explains the last stanza of\nEnglish #A# (cf., Norwegian #B# 21):\n\n Now pay the miller for his payne,\n And let him bee gone in the divel's name.\n\nSwedish #F# has an entirely perverted and feeble conclusion. \"A good\nman\" takes the younger sister from the water, carries her to his house,\nrevives her, and nurses her till the morrow, and then restores her to\nher father, who asks why she is so pale, and why she had not come back\nwith her sister. She explains that she had been pushed into the water,\n\"and we may thank this good man that I came home at all.\" The father\ntells the elder that she is a disgrace to her country, and condemns her\nto the \"blue tower.\" But her sister intercedes, and a cheerful and\nhandsome wedding follows.\n\nSwedish #C# and nearly all the Norwegian ballads[138] restore the\ndrowned girl to life, but not by those processes of the Humane Society\nwhich are successfully adopted by the \"arlig man\" in Swedish #F#. The\nharp is dashed against a stone, or upon the floor, and the girl stands\nforth \"as good as ever.\" As Landstad conceives the matter (484, note 7),\nthe elder sister is a witch, and is in the end burned _as such_. The\nwhite body of the younger is made to take on the appearance of a crooked\nlog, which the fishermen (who, by the way, are angels in #C#, #E#)\ninnocently shape into a harp, and the music, vibrating from her hair\n\"through all her limbs, marrow and bone,\" acts as a disenchantment.\nHowever this may be, the restoration of the younger sister, like all\ngood endings foisted on tragedies, emasculates the story.\n\nEnglish #F# 9 has the peculiarity, not noticed elsewhere, that the\ndrowning girl catches at a broom-root, and the elder sister forces her\nto let go her hold.[139] In Swedish #G# she is simply said to swim to an\nalder-root. In English #G# 8 the elder drives the younger from the land\nwith a switch, in #I# 8 pushes her off with a silver wand.\n\nEnglish #O# introduces the _ghost_ of the drowned sister as instructing\nher father's fiddler to make a string of her hair and a peg of her\nlittle finger bone, which done, the first spring the fiddle plays, it\nsays,\n\n 'Ye'll drown my sister as she's dune me.'\n\n#P#, which is disordered at the end, seems to have agreed with #O#. In\n#Q# the ghost sends, by the medium of the miller and his daughter,\nrespects to father, mother, and true-love, adding a lock of yellow hair\nfor the last. The ghost is found in #N#, Pinkerton's copy, as well, but\nthere appears to the lover at dead of night, two days after the\ndrowning. It informs him of the murder, and he makes search for the\nbody. This is a wide departure from the original story, and plainly a\nmodern perversion. Another variation, entirely wanting in ancient\nauthority, appears in #R#, #S#. The girl is not dead when she has\nfloated down to the mill-dam, and, being drawn out of the water by the\nmiller, offers him a handsome reward to take her back to her father\n[#S#, to throw her in again!]. The miller takes the reward, and pushes\nthe girl in again, for which he is hanged.[140]\n\n#Q# has a burden partly Gaelic,\n\n ... ohone and aree (alack and O Lord),\n On the banks of the Banna (White River), ohone and aree,\n\nwhich may raise a question whether the Scotch burden Binnorie\n(pronounced B\u00ednnorie, as well as Binn\u00f3rie) is corrupted from it, or the\ncorruption is on the other side. Mr Campbell notices as quaint the reply\nin stanza 9:\n\n 'I did not put you in with the design\n Just for to pull you out again.'\n\nWe have had a similar reply, made under like circumstances, in Polish\nversions of No 4: see p. 40, note.\n\nAll the Norse versions of this ballad are in two-line stanzas, and all\nthe English, except #L b# and in part #L a#.\n\nSome of the traits of the English and Norse story are presented by an\nEsthonian ballad, 'The Harp,' Neus, Ehstnische Volkslieder, No 13, p.\n56. Another version is given in Rosenpl\u00e4nter's Beitr\u00e4ge zur genauern\nKenntniss der ehstnischen Sprache, Heft 4, 142, and a third, says Neus,\nin Ch. H. J. Schlegel's Reisen in mehrere russische Gouvernements, V,\n140. A young woman, who tells her own story, is murdered by her\nsisters-in-law and buried in a moor. She comes up as a birch, from\nwhich, with the jaw-bone of a salmon, the teeth of a pike, and her own\nhair (the account is somewhat confused) a harp is made. The harp is\ntaken to the hall by the murdered girl's brother, and responds to his\nplaying with tones of sorrow like those of the bride who leaves father\nand mother for the house of a husband.[141]\n\nA Slovak ballad often translated (Talvj, Historical View, etc., p. 392;\nWenzig's Slawische Volkslieder, p. 110, Westslawischer M\u00e4rchenschatz,\n273, and Bibliothek Slavischer Poesien, p. 134; Lewestam, Polnische\nVolksagen und M\u00e4rchen, p. 151) comes nearer in some respects. A daughter\nis cursed by her mother for not succeeding in drawing water in frosty\nweather. Her bucket turns to stone, but she to a maple. Two fiddlers\ncome by, and, seeing a remarkably fine tree, propose to make of it\nfiddles and fiddle-sticks. When they cut into the tree, blood spirts\nout. The tree bids them go on, and when they have done, play before the\nmother's door, and sing, Here is your daughter, that you cursed to\nstone. At the first notes the mother runs to the window, and begs them\nto desist, for she has suffered much since she lost her daughter.\n\nThe soul of a dead girl speaks through a tree, again, in a Lithuanian\nballad, Nesselmann, Littauische Volkslieder, No 378, p. 320. The girl is\ndrowned while attempting to cross a stream, carried down to the sea, and\nfinally thrown ashore, where she grows up a linden. Her brother makes a\npipe from a branch, and the pipe gives out sweet, sad tones. The mother\nsays, That tone comes not from the linden; it is thy sister's soul, that\nhovers over the water. A like idea is met with in another Lithuanian\nballad, Rhesa, Dainos, ed. Kurschat, No 85, p. 231. A sister plucks a\nbud from a rose-bush growing over the grave of her brother, who had died\nfrom disappointed love. How fragrant! she exclaims. But her mother\nanswers, with tears, It is not the rosebud, but the soul of the youth\nthat died of grief.\n\nThough the range of the ballad proper is somewhat limited, popular tales\nequivalent as to the characteristic circumstances are very widely\ndiffused.\n\nA Polish popular tale, which is, indeed, half song, Wojcicki, Klechdy,\ned. 1851, II, 15 (Lewestam, p. 105), Kolberg, Pie\u015bni ludu Polskiego,\np. 292, No 40 #a#, #b#, #c#, approaches very close to the English-Norse\nballad. There were three sisters, all pretty, but the youngest far\nsurpassing the others. A young man from the far-off Ukraine fell in with\nthem while they were making garlands. The youngest pleased him best, and\nhe chose her for his wife. This excited the jealousy of the eldest, and\na few days after, when they were gathering berries in a wood, she killed\nthe youngest, notwithstanding the resistance of the second sister,\nburied her, and gave out that she had been torn to pieces by wolves.\nWhen the youth came to ask after his love, the murderess told him this\ntale, and so won him by her devoted consolations that he offered her his\nhand. A willow grew out of the grave of the youngest, and a herdsman\nmade a pipe from one of its boughs. Blow as he would, he could get no\nsound from the pipe but this:\n\n 'Blow on, herdsman, blow! God shall bless thee so.\n The eldest was my slayer, the second tried to stay her.'\n\nThe herdsman took the pipe to the house of the murdered girl. The\nmother, the father, and the second sister successively tried it, and the\npipe always sang a like song, Blow, mother, blow, etc. The father then\nput the pipe into the eldest sister's hands. She had hardly touched it,\nwhen blood spattered her cheeks, and the pipe sang:\n\n 'Blow on, sister, blow: God shall wreak me now.\n Thou, sister, 't was didst slay me, the younger tried to stay thee,'\n etc.\n\nThe murderess was torn by wild horses.\n\nProfessor Bugge reports a Norwegian tale, Grundtvig, III, 878, which\nresembles the ballad at the beginning. There were in a family two\ndaughters and a son. One sister was wasteful, the other saving. The\nsecond complained of the first to her parents, and was killed and buried\nby the other. Foliage covered the grave, so that it could not be seen,\nbut on the trees under which the body lay, there grew \"strings.\" These\nthe brother cut off and adapted to his fiddle, and when he played, the\nfiddle said, My sister is killed. The father, having heard the fiddle's\nrevelation, brought his daughter to confess her act.\n\nThere is a series of tales which represent a king, or other personage,\nas being afflicted with a severe malady, and as promising that whichever\nof his children, commonly three sons, should bring him something\nnecessary for his cure or comfort should be his heir: (1) 'La Flor del\nLilil\u00e1,' Fernan Caballero, L\u00e1grimas, cap. 4; (2) 'La ca\u00f1a del riu de\narenas,' Mil\u00e1, Observaciones sobre la poesia popular, p. 178, No 3; (3)\n'Es kommt doch einmal an den Tag,' M\u00fcllenhof, Sagen, u. s. w., p. 495,\nNo 49; (4) 'Vom singenden Dudelsack,' Gonzenbach, Sicilianische M\u00e4rchen,\nI, 329, No 51. Or the inheritance is promised to whichever of the\nchildren finds something lost, or rich and rare, a griffin's feather, a\ngolden branch, a flower: (5) 'Die Greifenfeder,' Schneller, M\u00e4rchen und\nSagen aus W\u00e4lschtirol, p. 143, No 51; (6) 'La Flanuto,' Blad\u00e9, Contes et\nproverbes populaires recueillis en Armagnac, p. 3, No 1; (7)\nWackernagel, in Haupt's Zeitschrift, III, 35, No 3, == 'Das\nTodtebeindli,' Colshorn, C. u. Th., M\u00e4rchen u. Sagen, p. 193, No 71, ==\nSutermeister, Kinder-u.-Hausm\u00e4rchen aus der Schweiz, p. 119, No 39. Or a\nking promises his daughter to the man who shall capture a dangerous wild\nbeast, and the exploit is undertaken by three brothers [or two]: (8)\n'Der singende Knochen,' Grimms, K. u. H. m\u00e4rchen, I, 149, No 28 (1857);\n(9) 'Die drei Br\u00fcder,' Curtze, Volks\u00fcberlieferungen aus dem F\u00fcrstenthum\nWaldeck, p. 53, No 11; (10) 'Der Rohrstengel,' Haltrich, Deutsche\nVolksm\u00e4rchen aus dem Sachsenlande, u. s. w., p. 225, No 42. With these\nwe may group, though divergent in some respects, (11) 'Der goldene\nApfel,' Toeppen, Aberglauben aus Masuren, p. 139.[142] In all these\ntales the youngest child is successful, and is killed, out of envy, by\nthe eldest or by the two elder. [There are only two children in (6),\n(7), (8); in (4) the second is innocent, as in the Polish tale.] Reeds\ngrow over the spot where the body is buried (1), (2), (10), (11), or an\nelder bush (3), out of which a herdsman makes a pipe or flute; or a\nwhite bone is found by a herdsman, and he makes a pipe or horn of it\n(5-9); or a bag-pipe is made of the bones and skin of the murdered youth\n(4). The instrument, whenever it is played, attests the murder.\n\nAmong the tales of the South African Bechuana, there is one of a younger\nbrother, who has been killed by an older, immediately appearing as a\nbird, and announcing what has occurred. The bird is twice killed, and\nthe last time burnt and its ashes scattered to the winds, but still\nreappears, and proclaims that his body lies by a spring in the desert.\nGrimms, K. u. H. m. III, 361. Liebrecht has noted that the fundamental\nidea is found in a Chinese drama, 'The Talking Dish,' said to be based\non a popular tale. An innkeeper and his wife kill one of their guests\nfor his money, and burn the body. The innkeeper collects the ashes and\npounds the bones, and makes a sort of mortar and a dish. This dish\nspeaks very distinctly, and denounces the murderers. Journal Asiatique,\n1851, 4th Series, vol. 18, p. 523.\n\n * * * * *\n\nDanish #A#, #E# are translated by Prior, I, 381, 384. English #B#, with\nuse of #C#, is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser,\np. 104, No 15; #C#, by Afzelius, III, 22. #C#, by Talvj, Versuch, u. s.\nw., p. 532; by Schubart, p. 133; by Gerhard, p. 143; by Doenniges, p.\n81; Arndt, p. 238. #C#, with use of Aytoun's compounded version, by R.\nWarrens, Schottische V. L. der Vorzeit, p. 65; Allingham's version by\nKnortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 180.\n\n\nA\n\n #A. a.# Broadside \"printed for Francis Grove, 1656,\"\n reprinted in Notes and Queries, 1st S., V, 591. #b.# Wit\n Restor'd, 1658, \"p. 51,\" p. 153 of the reprint of 1817.\n #c.# Wit and Drollery, ed. 1682, p. 87,== Dryden's\n Miscellany, Part 3, p. 316, ed. 1716. #d.# Jamieson's\n Popular Ballads, I, 315.\n\n 1\n There were two sisters, they went playing,\n With a hie downe downe a downe-a\n To see their father's ships come sayling in.\n With a hy downe downe a downe-a\n\n 2\n And when they came unto the sea-brym,\n The elder did push the younger in.\n\n 3\n 'O sister, O sister, take me by the gowne,\n And drawe me up upon the dry ground.'\n\n 4\n 'O sister, O sister, that may not bee,\n Till salt and oatmeale grow both of a tree.'\n\n 5\n Somtymes she sanke, somtymes she swam,\n Until she came unto the mill-dam.\n\n 6\n The miller runne hastily downe the cliffe,\n And up he betook her withouten her life.\n\n 7\n What did he doe with her brest-bone?\n He made him a violl to play thereupon.\n\n 8\n What did he doe with her fingers so small?\n He made him peggs to his violl withall.\n\n 9\n What did he doe with her nose-ridge?\n Unto his violl he made him a bridge.\n\n 10\n What did he doe with her veynes so blew?\n He made him strings to his violl thereto.\n\n 11\n What did he doe with her eyes so bright?\n Upon his violl he played at first sight.\n\n 12\n What did he doe with her tongue so rough?\n Unto the violl it spake enough.\n\n 13\n What did he doe with her two shinnes?\n Unto the violl they danc'd Moll Syms.\n\n 14\n Then bespake the treble string,\n 'O yonder is my father the king.'\n\n 15\n Then bespake the second string,\n 'O yonder sitts my mother the queen.'\n\n 16\n And then bespake the strings all three,\n 'O yonder is my sister that drowned mee.'\n\n 17\n 'Now pay the miller for his payne,\n And let him bee gone in the divel's name.'\n\n\nB\n\n #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 39. #b.# Wm. Tytler's Brown\n MS., No 15. #c.# Abbotsford MS., \"Scottish Songs,\" fol.\n 21. #d.# Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 48.\n\n 1\n There was twa sisters in a bowr,\n Edinburgh, Edinburgh\n There was twa sisters in a bowr,\n Stirling for ay\n There was twa sisters in a bowr,\n There came a knight to be their wooer.\n Bonny Saint Johnston stands upon Tay\n\n 2\n He courted the eldest wi glove an ring,\n But he lovd the youngest above a' thing.\n\n 3\n He courted the eldest wi brotch an knife,\n But lovd the youngest as his life.\n\n 4\n The eldest she was vexed sair,\n An much envi'd her sister fair.\n\n 5\n Into her bowr she could not rest,\n Wi grief an spite she almos brast.\n\n 6\n Upon a morning fair an clear,\n She cried upon her sister dear:\n\n 7\n 'O sister, come to yon sea stran,\n An see our father's ships come to lan.'\n\n 8\n She's taen her by the milk-white han,\n An led her down to yon sea stran.\n\n 9\n The younges[t] stood upon a stane,\n The eldest came an threw her in.\n\n 10\n She tooke her by the middle sma,\n An dashd her bonny back to the jaw.\n\n 11\n 'O sister, sister, tak my han,\n An Ise mack you heir to a' my lan.\n\n 12\n 'O sister, sister, tak my middle,\n An yes get my goud and my gouden girdle.\n\n 13\n 'O sister, sister, save my life,\n An I swear Ise never be nae man's wife.'\n\n 14\n 'Foul fa the han that I should tacke,\n It twin'd me an my wardles make.\n\n 15\n 'Your cherry cheeks an yallow hair\n Gars me gae maiden for evermair.'\n\n 16\n Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam,\n Till she came down yon bonny mill-dam.\n\n 17\n O out it came the miller's son,\n An saw the fair maid swimmin in.\n\n 18\n 'O father, father, draw your dam,\n Here's either a mermaid or a swan.'\n\n 19\n The miller quickly drew the dam,\n An there he found a drownd woman.\n\n 20\n You coudna see her yallow hair\n For gold and pearle that were so rare.\n\n 21\n You coudna see her middle sma\n For gouden girdle that was sae braw.\n\n 22\n You coudna see her fingers white,\n For gouden rings that was sae gryte.\n\n 23\n An by there came a harper fine,\n That harped to the king at dine.\n\n 24\n When he did look that lady upon,\n He sighd and made a heavy moan.\n\n 25\n He's taen three locks o her yallow hair,\n An wi them strung his harp sae fair.\n\n 26\n The first tune he did play and sing,\n Was, 'Farewell to my father the king.'\n\n 27\n The nextin tune that he playd syne,\n Was, 'Farewell to my mother the queen.'\n\n 28\n The lasten tune that he playd then,\n Was, 'Wae to my sister, fair Ellen.'\n\n\nC\n\n Scott's Minstrelsy, 1802, II; 143. Compounded from #B b#\n and a fragment of fourteen stanzas transcribed from the\n recitation of an old woman by Miss Charlotte Brooke.\n\n 1\n There were two sisters sat in a bour;\n Binnorie, O Binnorie\n There came a knight to be their wooer.\n By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie\n\n 2\n He courted the eldest with glove and ring,\n But he loed the youngest aboon a' thing.\n\n 3\n He courted the eldest with broach and knife,\n But he loed the youngest aboon his life.\n\n 4\n The eldest she was vexed sair,\n And sore envied her sister fair.\n\n 5\n The eldest said to the youngest ane,\n 'Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?'\n\n 6\n She's taen her by the lilly hand,\n And led her down to the river strand.\n\n 7\n The youngest stude upon a stane,\n The eldest came and pushed her in.\n\n 8\n She took her by the middle sma,\n And dashed her bonnie back to the jaw.\n\n 9\n 'O sister, sister, reach your hand,\n And ye shall be heir of half my land.'\n\n 10\n 'O sister, I'll not reach my hand,\n And I'll be heir of all your land.\n\n 11\n 'Shame fa the hand that I should take,\n It's twin'd me and my world's make.'\n\n 12\n 'O sister, reach me but your glove,\n And sweet William shall be your love.'\n\n 13\n 'Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove,\n And sweet William shall better be my love.\n\n 14\n 'Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair\n Garrd me gang maiden evermair.'\n\n 15\n Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam,\n Until she came to the miller's dam.\n\n 16\n 'O father, father, draw your dam,\n There's either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.'\n\n 17\n The miller hasted and drew his dam,\n And there he found a drowned woman.\n\n 18\n You could not see her yellow hair,\n For gowd and pearls that were sae rare.\n\n 19\n You could na see her middle sma,\n Her gowden girdle was sae bra.\n\n 20\n A famous harper passing by,\n The sweet pale face he chanced to spy.\n\n 21\n And when he looked that ladye on,\n He sighed and made a heavy moan.\n\n 22\n He made a harp of her breast-bone,\n Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone.\n\n 23\n The strings he framed of her yellow hair,\n Whose notes made sad the listening ear.\n\n 24\n He brought it to her father's hall,\n And there was the court assembled all.\n\n 25\n He laid this harp upon a stone,\n And straight it began to play alone.\n\n 26\n 'O yonder sits my father, the king,\n And yonder sits my mother, the queen.\n\n 27\n 'And yonder stands my brother Hugh,\n And by him my William, sweet and true.'\n\n 28\n But the last tune that the harp playd then,\n Was 'Woe to my sister, false Helen!'\n\n\nD\n\n Kinloch's MSS, II, 49. From the recitation of Mrs\n Johnston, a North-country lady.\n\n 1\n There lived three sisters in a bouer,\n Edinbruch, Edinbruch\n There lived three sisters in a bouer,\n Stirling for aye\n There lived three sisters in a bouer,\n The youngest was the sweetest flowr.\n Bonnie St Johnston stands upon Tay\n\n 2\n There cam a knicht to see them a',\n And on the youngest his love did fa.\n\n 3\n He brought the eldest ring and glove,\n But the youngest was his ain true-love.\n\n 4\n He brought the second sheath and knife,\n But the youngest was to be his wife.\n\n 5\n The eldest sister said to the youngest ane,\n 'Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?'\n\n 6\n And as they walked by the linn,\n The eldest dang the youngest in.\n\n 7\n 'O sister, sister, tak my hand,\n And ye'll be heir to a' my land.'\n\n 8\n 'Foul fa the hand that I wad take,\n To twin me o my warld's make.'\n\n 9\n 'O sister, sister, tak my glove,\n And yese get Willie, my true-love.'\n\n 10\n 'Sister, sister, I'll na tak your glove,\n For I'll get Willie, your true-love.'\n\n 11\n Aye she swittert, and aye she swam,\n Till she cam to yon bonnie mill-dam.\n\n 12\n The miller's dochter cam out wi speed,\n It was for water, to bake her bread.\n\n 13\n 'O father, father, gae slack your dam;\n There's in't a lady or a milk-white swan.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 14\n They could na see her coal-black eyes\n For her yellow locks hang oure her brees.\n\n 15\n They could na see her weel-made middle\n For her braid gowden girdle.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 16\n And by there cam an auld blind fiddler,\n And took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 17\n The first spring that the bonnie fiddle playd,\n 'Hang my cruel sister, Alison,' it said.\n\n\nE\n\n Sharpe's Ballad Book, No 10, p. 30.\n\n 1\n There livd twa sisters in a bower,\n Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch!\n There lived twa sisters in a bower,\n Stirling for aye!\n The youngest o them O she was a flower!\n Bonny Sanct Johnstoune that stands upon Tay!\n\n 2\n There cam a squire frae the west,\n He loed them baith, but the youngest best.\n\n 3\n He gied the eldest a gay gold ring,\n But he loed the youngest aboon a' thing.\n\n 4\n 'O sister, sister, will ye go to the sea?\n Our father's ships sail bonnilie.'\n\n 5\n The youngest sat down upon a stane;\n The eldest shot the youngest in.\n\n 6\n 'O sister, sister, lend me your hand,\n And you shall hae my gouden fan.\n\n 7\n 'O sister, sister, save my life,\n And ye shall be the squire's wife.'\n\n 8\n First she sank, and then she swam,\n Untill she cam to Tweed mill-dam.\n\n 9\n The millar's daughter was baking bread,\n She went for water, as she had need.\n\n 10\n 'O father, father, in our mill-dam\n There's either a lady, or a milk-white swan.'\n\n 11\n They could nae see her fingers small,\n Wi diamond rings they were coverd all.\n\n 12\n They could nae see her yellow hair,\n Sae mony knots and platts were there.\n\n 13\n They could nae see her lilly feet,\n Her gowden fringes war sae deep.\n\n 14\n Bye there cam a fiddler fair,\n And he's taen three taits o her yellow hair.\n\n\nF\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 383. From the recitation of Agnes\n Lyle, Kilbarchan, 27th July, 1825.\n\n 1\n There was two ladies livd in a bower,\n Hey with a gay and a grinding O\n The youngest o them was the fairest flower\n About a' the bonny bows o London.\n\n 2\n There was two ladies livd in a bower,\n An wooer unto the youngest did go.\n\n 3\n The oldest one to the youngest did say,\n 'Will ye take a walk with me today,\n And we'll view the bonny bows o London.\n\n 4\n 'Thou'll set thy foot whare I set mine,\n Thou'll set thy foot upon this stane.'\n\n 5\n 'I'll set my foot where thou sets thine:'\n The old sister dang the youngest in,\n At, etc.\n\n 6\n 'O sister dear, come tak my hand,\n Take my life safe to dry land,'\n At, etc.\n\n 7\n 'It's neer by my hand thy hand sall come in,\n It's neer by my hand thy hand sall come in,\n At, etc.\n\n 8\n 'It's thy cherry cheeks and thy white briest bane\n Gars me set a maid owre lang at hame.'\n\n 9\n She clasped her hand[s] about a brume rute,\n But her cruel sister she lowsed them out.\n\n 10\n Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam,\n Till she cam to the miller's dam.\n\n 11\n The miller's bairns has muckle need,\n They were bearing in water to bake some breid.\n\n 12\n Says, 'Father, dear father, in our mill-dam,\n It's either a fair maid or a milk-white swan.'\n\n 13\n The miller he's spared nae his hose nor his shoon\n Till he brocht this lady till dry land.\n\n 14\n I wad he saw na a bit o her feet,\n Her silver slippers were made so neat.\n\n 15\n I wad he saw na a bit o her skin,\n For ribbons there was mony a ane.\n\n 16\n He laid her on a brume buss to dry,\n To see wha was the first wad pass her by.\n\n 17\n Her ain father's herd was the first man\n That by this lady gay did gang.\n\n 18\n He's taen three links of her yellow hair,\n And made it a string to his fiddle there.\n\n 19\n He's cut her fingers long and small\n To be fiddle-pins that neer might fail.\n\n 20\n The very first spring that the fiddle did play,\n 'Hang my auld sister,' I wad it did say.\n\n 21\n 'For she drowned me in yonder sea,\n God neer let her rest till she shall die,'\n At the bonny bows o London.\n\n\nG\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 104. From Mrs King, Kilbarchan.\n\n 1\n There were three sisters lived in a bouir,\n Hech, hey, my Nannie O\n And the youngest was the fairest flouir.\n And the swan swims bonnie O\n\n 2\n 'O sister, sister, gang down to yon sand,\n And see your father's ships coming to dry land.'\n\n 3\n O they have gane down to yonder sand,\n To see their father's ships coming to dry land.\n\n 4\n 'Gae set your fit on yonder stane,\n Till I tye up your silken goun.'\n\n 5\n She set her fit on yonder stane,\n And the auldest drave the youngest in.\n\n 6\n 'O sister, sister, tak me by the hand,\n And ye'll get a' my father's land.\n\n 7\n 'O sister, sister, tak me by the gluve,\n An ye'll get Willy, my true luve.'\n\n 8\n She had a switch into her hand,\n And ay she drave her frae the land.\n\n 9\n O whiles she sunk, and whiles she swam,\n Until she swam to the miller's dam.\n\n 10\n The miller's daughter gade doun to Tweed,\n To carry water to bake her bread.\n\n 11\n 'O father, O father, what's yon in the dam?\n It's either a maid or a milk-white swan.'\n\n 12\n They have tane her out till yonder thorn,\n And she has lain till Monday morn.\n\n 13\n She hadna, hadna twa days lain,\n Till by there came a harper fine.\n\n 14\n He made a harp o her breast-bane,\n That he might play forever thereon.\n\n\nH\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 147. From I. Goldie, March, 1825.\n\n 1\n There were three sisters lived in a hall,\n Hey with the gay and the grandeur O\n And there came a lord to court them all.\n At the bonnie bows o London town\n\n 2\n He courted the eldest with a penknife,\n And he vowed that he would take her life.\n\n 3\n He courted the youngest with a glove,\n And he said that he'd be her true love.\n\n 4\n 'O sister, O sister, will you go and take a walk,\n And see our father's ships how they float?\n\n 5\n 'O lean your foot upon the stone,\n And wash your hand in that sea-foam.'\n\n 6\n She leaned her foot upon the stone,\n But her eldest sister has tumbled her down.\n\n 7\n 'O sister, sister, give me your hand,\n And I'll make you lady of all my land.'\n\n 8\n 'O I'll not lend to you my hand,\n But I'll be lady of your land.'\n\n 9\n 'O sister, sister, give me your glove,\n And I'll make you lady of my true love.'\n\n 10\n 'It's I'll not lend to you my glove,\n But I'll be lady of your true love.'\n\n 11\n Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam,\n Until she came to a miller's dam.\n\n 12\n The miller's daughter was coming out wi speed,\n For water for to bake some bread.\n\n 13\n 'O father, father, stop the dam,\n For it's either a lady or a milk-white swan.'\n\n 14\n He dragged her out unto the shore,\n And stripped her of all she wore.\n\n 15\n By cam a fiddler, and he was fair,\n And he buskit his bow in her bonnie yellow hair.\n\n 16\n By cam her father's harper, and he was fine,\n And he made a harp o her bonny breast-bone.\n\n 17\n When they came to her father's court,\n The harp [and fiddle these words] spoke:\n\n 18\n 'O God bless my father the king,\n And I wish the same to my mother the queen.\n\n 19\n 'My sister Jane she tumbled me in,\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\nI\n\n Kinloch MSS, V, 425. From the recitation of M. Kinnear,\n 23d August, 1826.\n\n 1\n There war twa sisters lived in a bouer,\n Binnorie and Binnorie\n There cam a squire to court them baith.\n At the bonnie mill-streams o Binnorie\n\n 2\n He courted the eldest with jewels and rings,\n But he lovd the youngest the best of all things.\n\n 3\n He courted the eldest with a penknife,\n He lovd the youngest as dear as his life.\n\n 4\n It fell ance upon a day\n That these twa sisters hae gane astray.\n\n 5\n It was for to meet their father's ships that had come in.\n . . . . . . .\n\n 6\n As they walked up the linn,\n The eldest dang the youngest in.\n\n 7\n 'O sister, sister, tak my hand,\n And ye'll hae Lud John and aw his land.'\n\n 8\n With a silver wand she pushd her in,\n . . . . . . .\n\n 9\n 'O sister, sister, tak my glove,\n And ye sall hae my ain true love.'\n\n 10\n The miller's dochter cam out wi speed.\n It was for a water to bake her bread.\n\n 11\n 'O father, father, gae slack your dam;\n There's either a white fish or a swan.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 12\n Bye cam a blind fiddler that way,\n And he took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair.\n\n 13\n And the first spring that he playd,\n It said, 'It was my sister threw me in.'\n\n\nJ\n\n Notes and Queries, 4th S., V, 23, from the north of\n Ireland.\n\n 1\n There were two ladies playing ball,\n Hey, ho, my Nannie O\n A great lord came to court them all.\n The swan she does swim bonnie O\n\n 2\n He gave to the first a golden ring,\n He gave to the second a far better thing.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n He made a harp of her breast-bone\n . . . . . . .\n\n 4\n He set it down upon a stone,\n And it began to play its lone.\n\n\nK\n\n Mr G.R. Kinloch's papers, Kinloch MSS, II, 59. From Mrs\n Lindores.\n\n 1\n 'O sister, sister, gie me your hand,\n Binnorie and Binnorie\n And I'll give the half of my fallow-land,\n By the bonnie mill-dams of Binnorie.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 2\n The first time the bonnie fiddle played,\n 'Hang my sister, Alison,' it said,\n 'At the bonnie mill-dams of Binnorie.'\n\n\nL\n\n #a.# From oral tradition, Notes and Queries, 1st S., V,\n 316. #b.# The Scouring of the White Horse, p. 161. From\n North Wales.\n\n 1\n O was it eke a pheasant cock,\n Or eke a pheasant hen,\n Or was it the bodye of a fair ladye,\n Come swimming down the stream?\n\n 2\n O it was not a pheasant cock,\n Nor eke a pheasant hen,\n But it was the bodye of a fair ladye\n Came swimming down the stream.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n And what did he do with her fair bodye?\n Fal the lal the lal laral lody\n He made it a case for his melodye.\n Fal, etc.\n\n 4\n And what did he do with her legs so strong?\n He made them a stand for his violon.\n\n 5\n And what did he do with her hair so fine?\n He made of it strings for his violine.\n\n 6\n And what did he do with her arms so long?\n He made them bows for his violon.\n\n 7\n And what did he do with her nose so thin?\n He made it a bridge for his violin.\n\n 8\n And what did he do with her eyes so bright?\n He made them spectacles to put to his sight.\n\n 9\n And what did he do with her petty toes?\n He made them a nosegay to put to his nose.\n\n\nM\n\n Taken down from recitation at Old Deir, 1876, by Mrs A.F.\n Murison. MS., p. 79.\n\n 1\n There lived twa sisters in yonder ha,\n Bin\u00f3rie O an Bin\u00f3rie\n They hadna but ae lad atween them twa,\n He's the bonnie miller lad o Bin\u00f3rie.\n\n 2\n It fell oot upon a day,\n The auldest ane to the youngest did say,\n At the bonnie mill-dams o Bin\u00f3rie,\n\n 3\n 'O sister, O sister, will ye go to the dams,\n To hear the blackbird thrashin oer his songs?\n At the,' etc.\n\n 4\n 'O sister, O sister, will ye go to the dams,\n To see oor father's fish-boats come safe to dry lan?\n An the bonnie miller lad o Binorie.'\n\n 5\n They hadna been an oor at the dams,\n Till they heard the blackbird thrashin oer his tune,\n At the, etc.\n\n 6\n They hadna been an oor at the dams\n Till they saw their father's fish-boats come safe to dry lan,\n Bat they sawna the bonnie miller laddie.\n\n 7\n They stood baith up upon a stane,\n An the eldest ane dang the youngest in,\n I the, etc.\n\n 8\n She swam up, an she swam doon,\n An she swam back to her sister again,\n I the, etc.\n\n 9\n 'O sister, O sister, len me your han,\n An yes be heir to my true love,\n He's the bonnie miller lad o Binorie.'\n\n 10\n 'It was not for that love at I dang you in,\n But ye was fair and I was din,\n And yes droon i the dams o Binorie.'\n\n 11\n The miller's daughter she cam oot,\n For water to wash her father's hans,\n Frae the, etc.\n\n 12\n 'O father, O father, ye will fish your dams,\n An ye'll get a white fish or a swan,\n I the,' etc.\n\n 13\n They fished up and they fished doon,\n But they got nothing but a droonet woman,\n I the, etc.\n\n 14\n Some o them kent by her skin sae fair,\n But weel kent he by her bonnie yallow hair\n She's the bonnie miller's lass o Binorie.\n\n 15\n Some o them kent by her goons o silk,\n But weel kent he by her middle sae jimp,\n She's the bonnie miller's lass o Binorie.\n\n 16\n Mony ane was at her oot-takin,\n But mony ane mair at her green grave makin,\n At the bonny mill-dams o Binorie.\n\n\nN\n\n [Pinkerton's] Scottish Tragic Ballads, p. 72.\n\n 1\n There were twa sisters livd in a bouir,\n Binnorie, O Binnorie\n Their father was a baron of pouir.\n By the bonnie mildams of Binnorie\n\n 2\n The youngest was meek, and fair as the may\n Whan she springs in the east wi the gowden day.\n\n 3\n The eldest austerne as the winter cauld,\n Ferce was her saul, and her seiming was bauld.\n\n 4\n A gallant squire cam sweet Isabel to wooe;\n Her sister had naething to luve I trow.\n\n 5\n But filld was she wi dolour and ire,\n To see that to her the comlie squire\n\n 6\n Preferd the debonair Isabel:\n Their hevin of luve of spyte was her hell.\n\n 7\n Till ae ein she to her sister can say,\n 'Sweit sister, cum let us wauk and play.'\n\n 8\n They wauked up, and they wauked down,\n Sweit sang the birdis in the vallie loun.\n\n 9\n Whan they cam to the roaring lin,\n She drave unweiting Isabel in.\n\n 10\n 'O sister, sister, tak my hand,\n And ye sall hae my silver fan.\n\n 11\n 'O sister, sister, tak my middle,\n And ye sall hae my gowden girdle.'\n\n 12\n Sumtimes she sank, sumtimes she swam,\n Till she cam to the miller's dam.\n\n 13\n The miller's dochtor was out that ein,\n And saw her rowing down the streim.\n\n 14\n 'O father deir, in your mil-dam\n There is either a lady or a milk-white swan!'\n\n 15\n Twa days were gane, whan to her deir\n Her wraith at deid of nicht cold appeir.\n\n 16\n 'My luve, my deir, how can ye sleip,\n Whan your Isabel lyes in the deip!\n\n 17\n 'My deir, how can ye sleip bot pain\n Whan she by her cruel sister is slain!'\n\n 18\n Up raise he sune, in frichtfu mude:\n 'Busk ye, my meiny, and seik the flude.'\n\n 19\n They socht her up and they socht her doun,\n And spyd at last her glisterin gown.\n\n 20\n They raisd her wi richt meikle care;\n Pale was her cheik and grein was her hair.\n\n\nO\n\n #a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 128.\n #b.# Traditional Ballad Airs, edited by W. Christie, I,\n 42.\n\n 1\n There were twa sisters in a bower,\n Hey wi the gay and the grinding\n And ae king's son has courted them baith.\n At the bonny bonny bows o London\n\n 2\n He courted the youngest wi broach and ring,\n He courted the eldest wi some other thing.\n\n 3\n It fell ance upon a day\n The eldest to the youngest did say,\n\n 4\n 'Will ye gae to yon Tweed mill-dam,\n And see our father's ships come to land?'\n\n 5\n They baith stood up upon a stane,\n The eldest dang the youngest in.\n\n 6\n She swimmed up, sae did she down,\n Till she came to the Tweed mill-dam.\n\n 7\n The miller's servant he came out,\n And saw the lady floating about.\n\n 8\n 'O master, master, set your mill,\n There is a fish, or a milk-white swan.'\n\n 9\n They could not ken her yellow hair,\n [For] the scales o gowd that were laid there.\n\n 10\n They could not ken her fingers sae white,\n The rings o gowd they were sae bright.\n\n 11\n They could not ken her middle sae jimp,\n The stays o gowd were so well laced.\n\n 12\n They could not ken her foot sae fair,\n The shoes o gowd they were so rare.\n\n 13\n Her father's fiddler he came by,\n Upstarted her ghaist before his eye.\n\n 14\n 'Ye'll take a lock o my yellow hair,\n Ye'll make a string to your fiddle there.\n\n 15\n 'Ye'll take a lith o my little finger bane,\n And ye'll make a pin to your fiddle then.'\n\n 16\n He's taen a lock o her yellow hair,\n And made a string to his fiddle there.\n\n 17\n He's taen a lith o her little finger bane,\n And he's made a pin to his fiddle then.\n\n 18\n The firstand spring the fiddle did play,\n Said, 'Ye'll drown my sister, as she's dune me.'\n\n\nP\n\n #a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 245. #b.# Motherwell's\n Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xx, xx.\n\n 1\n There were twa ladies in a bower,\n Hey my bonnie Nannie O\n The old was black and the young ane fair.\n And the swan swims bonnie O\n\n 2\n Once it happened on a day\n The auld ane to the young did say,\n\n 3\n The auld ane to the young did say,\n 'Will you gae to the green and play?'\n\n 4\n 'O sister, sister, I daurna gang,\n For fear I file my silver shoon.'\n\n 5\n It was not to the green they gaed,\n But it was to the water of Tweed.\n\n 6\n She bowed her back and she's taen her on,\n And she's tumbled her in Tweed mill-dam.\n\n 7\n 'O sister, O sister, O tak my hand,\n And I'll mak you heir of a' my land.'\n\n 8\n 'O sister, O sister, I'll no take your hand,\n And I'll be heir of a' your land.'\n\n 9\n 'O sister, O sister, O tak my thumb,\n And I'll give you my true-love John.'\n\n 10\n 'O sister, O sister, I'll no tak your thumb,\n And I will get your true-love John.'\n\n 11\n Aye she swattered and aye she swam,\n Until she came to the mouth of the dam.\n\n 12\n The miller's daughter went out to Tweed,\n To get some water to bake her bread.\n\n 13\n In again she quickly ran:\n 'Here's a lady or a swan in our mill-dam.'\n\n 14\n Out went the miller and his man\n And took the lady out of the dam.\n\n 15\n They laid her on the brae to dry;\n Her father's fiddler then rode by.\n\n 16\n When he this lady did come near,\n Her ghost to him then did appear.\n\n 17\n 'When you go to my father the king,\n You'll tell him to burn my sister Jean.\n\n 18\n 'When you go to my father's gate,\n You'll play a spring for fair Ellen's sake.\n\n 19\n 'You'll tak three links of my yellow hair,\n And play a spring for evermair.'\n\n\nQ\n\n Copied Oct. 26, 1861, by J.F. Campbell, Esq., from a\n collection made by Lady Caroline Murray; traced by her to\n an old nurse, and beyond the beginning of this century.\n\n 1\n There dwelt twa sisters in a bower,\n Oh and ohone, and ohone and aree!\n And the youngest she was the fairest flower.\n On the banks of the Banna, ohone and aree!\n\n 2\n There cam a knight to court the twa,\n But on the youngest his love did fa.\n\n 3\n He courted the eldest with ring and wi glove,\n But he gave the youngest all his love.\n\n 4\n He courted the eldest with brooch and wi knife,\n But he loved the youngest as his life.\n\n 5\n 'O sister, O sister, will ye come to the stream,\n To see our father's ships come in?'\n\n 6\n The youngest stood upon a stane,\n Her sister came and pusht her in.\n\n 7\n 'O sister, O sister, come reach me your hand,\n And ye shall hae all our father's land.\n\n 8\n 'O sister, O sister, come reach me your glove,\n And you shall hae William to be your true love.'\n\n 9\n 'I did not put you in with the design\n Just for to pull you out again.'\n\n 10\n Some time she sank, some time she swam,\n Until she came to a miller's dam.\n\n 11\n The miller's daughter dwelt on the Tweed,\n She went for water to bake her bread.\n\n 12\n 'O faither, faither, come drag me your dam,\n For there's aither a lady in't, or a milk-white swan.'\n\n 13\n The miller went, and he dragd his dam,\n And he brought her fair body to lan.\n\n 14\n They couldna see her waist sae sma\n For the goud and silk about it a'.\n\n 15\n They couldna see her yallow hair\n For the pearls and jewels that were there.\n\n 16\n Then up and spak her ghaist sae green,\n 'Do ye no ken the king's dochter Jean?\n\n 17\n 'Tak my respects to my father the king,\n And likewise to my mother the queen.\n\n 18\n 'Tak my respects to my true love William,\n Tell him I deid for the love of him.\n\n 19\n 'Carry him a lock of my yallow hair,\n To bind his heart for evermair.'\n\n\nR\n\n #a.# Notes and Queries, 1st S., VI, 102, from Lancashire.\n #b.# Written down for J.F. Campbell, Esq., Nov. 7, 1861,\n at Wishaw House, Lancashire, by Lady Louisa Primrose, #c.#\n 'The Scouring of the White Horse,' p. 158, from Berkshire,\n as heard by Mr Hughes from his father.\n\n 1\n There was a king of the north countree,\n Bow down, bow down, bow down\n There was a king of the north countree,\n And he had daughters one, two, three.\n I'll be true to my love, and my love'll be true to me\n\n 2\n To the eldest he gave a beaver hat,\n And the youngest she thought much of that.\n\n 3\n To the youngest he gave a gay gold chain,\n And the eldest she thought much of the same.\n\n 4\n These sisters were walking on the bryn,\n And the elder pushed the younger in.\n\n 5\n 'Oh sister, oh sister, oh lend me your hand,\n And I will give you both houses and land.'\n\n 6\n 'I'll neither give you my hand nor glove,\n Unless you give me your true love.'\n\n 7\n Away she sank, away she swam,\n Until she came to a miller's dam.\n\n 8\n The miller and daughter stood at the door,\n And watched her floating down the shore.\n\n 9\n 'Oh father, oh father, I see a white swan,\n Or else it is a fair woman.'\n\n 10\n The miller he took up his long crook,\n And the maiden up from the stream he took.\n\n 11\n 'I'll give to thee this gay gold chain,\n If you'll take me back to my father again.'\n\n 12\n The miller he took the gay gold chain,\n And he pushed her into the water again.\n\n 13\n The miller was hanged on his high gate\n For drowning our poor sister Kate.\n\n 14\n The cat's behind the buttery shelf,\n If you want any more, you may sing it yourself.\n\n\nS\n\n Kinloch MSS, VI, 89, in Kinloch's hand.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n 'O father, father, swims a swan,'\n This story I'll vent to thee\n 'O father, father, swims a swan,\n Unless it be some dead woman.'\n I'll prove true to my true love,\n If my love prove true to me\n\n 2\n The miller he held out his long fish hook,\n And hooked this fair maid from the brook.\n\n 3\n She offered the miller a gold ring stane\n To throw her into the river again.\n\n 4\n Down she sunk, and away she swam,\n Until she came to her father's brook.\n\n 5\n The miller was hung at his mill-gate,\n For drowning of my sister Kate.\n\n\nT\n\n Allingham's Ballad Book, p. xxxiii. From Ireland.\n\n 'Sister, dear sister, where shall we go play?'\n Cold blows the wind, and the wind blows low\n 'We shall go to the salt sea's brim.'\n And the wind blows cheerily around us, high ho\n\n\nU\n\n Communicated by Mr W.W. Newell, as repeated by an ignorant\n woman in her dotage, who learned it at Huntington, Long\n Island, N.Y.\n\n 1\n There was a man lived in the mist,\n Bow down, bow down\n He loved his youngest daughter best.\n The bow is bent to me,\n So you be true to your own true love,\n And I'll be true to thee.\n\n 2\n These two sisters went out to swim;\n The oldest pushed the youngest in.\n\n 3\n First she sank and then she swam,\n First she sank and then she swam.\n\n 4\n The miller, with his rake and hook,\n He caught her by the petticoat.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. b.#\n\n 1^1, went a-playing.\n\n _Burden^2._ a downe-o.\n\n#c.#\n\n 1^1. went a-playing.\n\n _Burden^{1,2}._ With a hey down, down, a down, down-a.\n\n 4^2. Till oat-meal and salt grow both on a tree.\n\n 6^1. ran hastily down the clift.\n\n 6^2. And up he took her without any life.\n\n 13^2. Moll Symns.\n\n 14^1, 15^1. Then he bespake.\n\n 17^2. And let him go i the devil's name.\n\n#d.#\n\n 1^1, went a-playing.\n\n 1^2, ships sailing in.\n\n 2^1. into.\n\n 3^2. me up on.\n\n 6^2. withouten life.\n\n#B. a.#\n\n 26, 27, 28. _An_ it _has been written in as a conjectural\n emendation by Jamieson, ~he did it play, {it/he} playd~;\n and ~it~ is adopted by Jamieson in his printed copy: see\n below, #d# 26, 27, 28._\n\n#b.#\n\n _The first stanza only, agreeing with #a# 1, is given by\n Anderson, Nichols's Illustrations, VII, 178._\n\n#c.#\n\n _Evidently a copy of Mrs Brown's version, and in Scott's\n MS. it has the air, as all the Tytler-Brown ballads had.\n Still it has but twenty-three stanzas, whereas Dr Anderson\n gives fifty-eight lines as the extent of the Tytler-Brown\n copy of 'The Cruel Sister' (Nichols, Illus. Lit. Hist.,\n VII, 178). This, counting the first stanza, with the\n burden, as four lines, according to the arrangement in\n Scott's MS., would tally exactly with the Jamieson-Brown\n MS., #B a#._\n\n _It would seem that #B c# had been altered by somebody in\n order to remove the absurd combination of sea and\n mill-dam; the invitation to go see the ships come to land,\n #B a# 7, is omitted, and \"~the deep mill-dam~\"\n substituted, in 8, for \"~yon sea-stran~.\" Stanza 17 of\n #c#, \"~They raisd her~,\" etc., cited below, occurs in\n Pinkerton, #N# 20, and is more likely to be his than\n anybody's._\n\n 2^1. brooch and ring.\n\n 2^2. abune a' thing.\n\n 3^1. wooed ... with glove and knife.\n\n 3^2. looed the second.\n\n 5^2. she well nigh brist.\n\n 7. _wanting._\n\n 8^2. led her to the deep mill-dam.\n\n 9^2. Her cruel sister pushd her in.\n\n 11^2. And Ise mak ye.\n\n 12. _wanting._\n\n 14^1. Shame fa the hand that I shall tak.\n\n 15^1. gowden hair.\n\n 15^2. gar ... maiden ever mair.\n\n 16. _wanting._\n\n 17^1. Then out and cam.\n\n 17^2. swimming down.\n\n 18^1. O father, haste and draw.\n\n 19^1. his dam.\n\n 19^2. And then. (?)\n\n _Instead of 20-22_:\n\n They raisd her wi meikle dule and care,\n Pale was her cheek and green was her hair.\n\n 24^1. that corpse upon.\n\n 25^2. he's strung.\n\n 26^1, 27^1, 28^1, _for ~tune~, ~line~, if the copy be\n right._\n\n 27^1. The next.\n\n 28^1. The last.\n\n 28^2. fause Ellen.\n\n \"Note by Ritson. 'The fragment of a very different copy of\n this ballad has been communicated to J.R. by a friend at\n Dublin.'\" [_J.C. Walker, no doubt._]\n\n#d.#\n\n _Jamieson, Popular Ballads and Songs, I, 48, says that he\n gives his text verbatim as it was taken from the\n recitation of the lady in Fifeshire (Mrs Brown), to whom\n both he and Scott were so much indebted. That this is not\n to be understood with absolute strictness will appear from\n the variations which are subjoined. Jamieson adds that he\n had received another copy from Mrs Arrott of Aberbrothick,\n \"~but as it furnished no readings by which the text could\n have been materially improved~,\" it was not used. Both\n Jamieson and Scott substitute the \"~Binnorie~\" burden,\n \"~the most common and popular~,\" says Scott, for the one\n given by Mrs Brown, with which Mrs Arrott's agreed. It may\n be added that Jamieson's interpolations are stanzas 20,\n 21, 27, etc., and not, as he says (I, 49), 19, 20, 27,\n etc. These interpolations also occur as such in the\n manuscript._\n\n 1^1. sisters livd.\n\n 2^2. aboon.\n\n 3^2. he loved.\n\n 4^2. and sair envied.\n\n 5^1. Intill her bower she coudna.\n\n 5^2. maistly brast.\n\n 11^2. mak ye.\n\n 14^2. me o.\n\n 16^1. _omits ~an~._\n\n 16^2. came to the mouth o yon mill-dam.\n\n 18^2. There's.\n\n 20^2. that was.\n\n 22^2. that were.\n\n 26^1. it did.\n\n 27^1. it playd seen.\n\n 28^1. thirden tune that it.\n\n _A copy in Motherwell's MS., p. 239, is derived from\n Jamieson's printed edition. It omits the interpolated\n stanzas, and makes a few very slight changes._\n\n#C.#\n\n _Scott's account of his edition is as follows (II, 143,\n later ed., III, 287)_:\n\n \"It is compiled from a copy in Mrs Brown's MS., intermixed\n with a beautiful fragment, of fourteen verses, transmitted\n to the editor by J.C. Walker, Esq., the ingenious\n historian of the Irish bards. Mr Walker, at the same time,\n favored the editor with the following note: 'I am indebted\n to my departed friend, Miss Brooke, for the foregoing\n pathetic fragment. Her account of it was as follows: This\n song was transcribed, several years ago, from the memory\n of an old woman, who had no recollection of the concluding\n verses; probably the beginning may also be lost, as it\n seems to commence abruptly.' The first verse and burden of\n the fragment run thus:\n\n \"'O sister, sister, reach thy hand!\n Hey ho, my Nanny, O\n And you shall be heir of all my land.\n While the swan swims bonny, O'\"\n\n _Out of this stanza, or the corresponding one in Mrs\n Brown's copy, Scott seems to have made his 9, 10._\n\n#E.#\n\n \"My mother used to sing this song.\" Sharpe's Ballad Book,\n ed. of 1880, note, p. 129.\n\n#F.#\n\n 2^2. An wooer.\n\n#G.#\n\n 2^1. _~strand~, with ~sand~ written above: ~sand~ in 3^1._\n\n#I.#\n\n 1^2. _var. in MS._ There was a knicht and he loved them\n bath.\n\n 7. _The following stanza was subsequently written on an\n opposite blank page,--perhaps derived from #D# 8_:\n\n Foul fa the hand that I wad take,\n To twin me and my warld's make.\n\n 10^2. _~a~ was, perhaps, meant to be expunged, but is only\n a little blotted._\n\n 11^2. _var._ a lady or a milk-white swan.\n\n 12, 13 _were written in later than the rest; at the same\n time, apparently, as the stanza above (7)._\n\n#K.#\n\n _Found among Mr Kinloch's papers by Mr Macmath, and\n inserted by him as a note on p. 59, vol. II, of Kinloch's\n MSS. The order of the stanzas is there, wrongly,\n inverted._\n\n 1^2. _var._ I wad give you.\n\n#L. a.#\n\n _These fragments were communicated to Notes and Queries,\n April 3, 1852, by \"~G. A. C.~,\" who had heard '~The\n Miller's Melody~' sung by an old lady in his childhood,\n and who represents himself as probably the last survivor\n of those who had enjoyed the privilege of listening to her\n ballads. We may, therefore, assign this version to the\n latter part of the 18th century. The two four-line stanzas\n were sung to \"~a slow, quaint strain~.\" Two others which\n followed were not remembered, \"~but their purport was that\n the body 'stopped hard by a miller's mill,' and that this\n 'miller chanced to come by,' and took it out of the water\n 'to make a melodye.'~\" G.A.C. goes on to say_: \"My\n venerable friend's tune here became a more lively one, and\n the time quicker; but I can only recollect a few of the\n couplets, and these not correctly nor in order of\n sequence, in which the transformation of the lady into a\n viol is described.\"\n\n#b.#\n\n _Some stanzas of this four-line version, with a ludicrous\n modern supplement, are given in '~The Scouring of the\n White Horse~,' p. 161, as from the Welsh marshes. Five out\n of the first six verses are there said to be very old\n indeed, \"~the rest all patchwork by different hands~.\" Mr\n Hughes has kindly informed me that he derived the ballad\n from his father, who had originally learned it at Ruthyn\n when a boy. What is material here follows_:\n\n 1\n O it was not a pheasant cock,\n Nor yet a pheasant hen,\n But O it was a lady fair\n Came swimming down the stream.\n\n 2\n An ancient harper passing by\n Found this poor lady's body,\n To which his pains he did apply\n To make a sweet mel\u00f3dy.\n\n 3\n To cat-gut dried he her inside,\n He drew out her back-bone,\n And made thereof a fiddle sweet\n All for to play upon.\n\n 4\n And all her hair, so long and fair,\n That down her back did flow,\n O he did lay it up with care,\n To string his fiddle bow.\n\n 5\n And what did he with her fingers,\n Which were so straight and small?\n O he did cut them into pegs,\n To screw up his fiddoll.\n\n 6\n Then forth went he, as it might be,\n Upon a summer's day,\n And met a goodly company,\n Who asked him in to play.\n\n | 7\n | Then from her bones he drew such tones\n | As made their bones to ache,\n | They sounded so like human groans\n | Their hearts began to quake.\n\n | 8\n | They ordered him in ale to swim,--\n | For sorrow's mighty dry,--\n | And he to share their wassail fare\n | Essayd right willingly.\n\n 9\n He laid his fiddle on a shelf\n In that old manor-hall,\n It played and sung all by itself,\n And thus sung this fiddoll:\n\n | 10\n | 'There sits the squire, my worthy sire,\n | A-drinking hisself drunk,' etc., etc.\n\n#N.#\n\n _Pinkerton tells us, in the Preface to his ~Ancient\n Scottish Poems~, p. cxxxi, that \"~Binnorie is one half\n from tradition, one half by the editor~.\" One fourth and\n three fourths would have been a more exact apportionment.\n The remainder of his text, which is wholly of his\n invention, is as follows_:\n\n 'Gae saddle to me my swiftest steid;\n Her fere, by my fae, for her dethe sall bleid.'\n A page cam rinning out owr the lie:\n 'O heavie tydings I bring,' quoth he.\n 'My luvely lady is far awa gane;\n We weit the fairy hae her tane.\n Her sister gaed wood wi dule and rage;\n Nocht cold we do her mind to suage.\n \"O Isabel, my sister,\" she wold cry,\n \"For thee will I weip, for thee will I die.\"\n Till late yestrene, in an elric hour,\n She lap frae aft the hichest touir.'\n 'Now sleip she in peace,' quoth the gallant squire;\n 'Her dethe was the maist that I cold require.\n But I'll main for the, my Isabel deir,\n Full mony a dreiry day, hot weir.'\n\n 20. _This stanza occurs also in #B c# (17), and was\n perhaps borrowed from Pinkerton by the reviser of that\n copy._\n\n#O. a#.\n\n _Buchan's note, II, 320_: \"I have seen four or five\n different versions of this ballad, but none in this dress,\n nor with the same chorus.... The old woman from whose\n recitation I took it down says she had heard another way\n of it, quite local, whose burden runs thus:\n\n 'Ever into Buchanshire, vari vari O.'\"\n\n 1^2. hae courted.\n\n#b.#\n\n _Mr Christie has \"~epitomized~\" Buchan's copy (omitting\n stanzas 9-12), with these few slight alterations from the\n singing of a Banffshire woman, who died in 1860, at the\n age of nearly eighty_:\n\n _Burden_: It's hey, etc.\n\n 2^2. And he courted the eldest wi mony other thing.\n\n 3^1. But it fell.\n\n 5^2. And the eldest.\n\n#P. b.#\n\n _This stanza only_:\n\n There livd twa sisters in a bower,\n Hey my bonnie Annie O\n There cam a lover them to woo.\n And the swan swims bonnie O,\n And the swan swims bonnie O\n\n#Q.#\n\n _The burden is given thus in ~Pop. Tales of the West\n Highlands~, IV, 125_:\n\n Oh ochone, ochone a rie,\n On the banks of the Banna, ochone a rie.\n\n#R. a.#\n\n _The title '~The Three Sisters,~' and perhaps the first\n stanza, belongs rather to ~No 1 #A#, #B#, p. 3f.~_\n\n#b.#\n\n 1.\n A farmer there lived in the north countree,\n Bo down\n And he had daughters one, two, three.\n And I'll be true unto my love, if he'll be true unto me\n\n (_The burden is given as ~Bo down, bo down~, etc., in\n ~Popular Tales of the West Highlands~, IV, 125._)\n\n _Between 1 and 2 #b# has_:\n\n The eldest she had a lover come,\n And he fell in love with the younger one.\n\n He bought the younger a ...\n The elder she thought ...\n\n 3. _wanting._\n\n 4^1. The sisters they walkt by the river brim.\n\n 6^2. my true love.\n\n 8.\n The miller's daughter was at the door,\n As sweet as any gillyflower.\n\n 9.\n O father, O father, there swims a swain,\n And he looks like a gentleman.\n\n 10.\n The miller he fetcht his line and hook,\n And he fisht the fair maiden out of the brook.\n\n 11^1. O miller, I'll give you guineas ten,\n\n 12.\n The miller he took her guineas ten,\n And then he popt her in again.\n\n 13^1. ... behind his back gate,\n\n 13^2. the farmer's daughter Kate.\n\n\n _Instead of 14_:\n\n The sister she sailed over the sea,\n And died an old maid of a hundred and three.\n\n The lover became a beggar man,\n And he drank out of a rusty tin can.\n\n #b# _8, 11, 12, 14, 15 are cited in ~Popular Tales of the\n West Highlands~, IV, 127._\n\n#c.#\n\n 1.\n A varmer he lived in the west countree,\n Hey-down, bow-down\n A varmer he lived in the west countree,\n And he had daughters one, two, and dree.\n And I'll be true to my love,\n If my love'll be true to me.\n\n 2, 3. _wanting._\n\n 4^1. As thay wur walking by the river's brim.\n\n 5^1. pray gee me thy hand.\n\n 7^1. So down she sank and away she swam.\n\n 8.\n The miller's daughter stood by the door,\n As fair as any gilly-flower.\n\n 9.\n here swims a swan,\n Very much like a drownded gentlewoman.\n\n 10.\n The miller he fot his pole and hook,\n And he fished the fair maid out of the brook.\n\n 11^1. O miller, I'll gee thee guineas ten.\n\n 12^2. pushed the fair maid in again.\n\n _Between 12 and 13 #c# has_,\n\n But the crowner he cum and the justice too,\n With a hue and a cry and a hullaballoo.\n\n They hanged the miller beside his own gate\n For drowning the varmer's daughter, Kate.\n\n _Instead of 14_:\n\n The sister she fled beyond the seas,\n And died an old maid among black savagees.\n\n So I've ended my tale of the west countree,\n And they calls it the Barkshire Tragedee.\n\n#S.#\n\n 1^2. _MS._ Or less (?).\n\n#T.#\n\n \"Sung to a peculiar and beautiful air.\" _Allingham, p.\n xxxiii._\n\n\n[126] Campbell's Popular Tales of the West Highlands, IV, 126, 1862.\n\n[127] Jamieson, in his Popular Ballads, II, 315, prints the ballad, with\nfive inconsiderable variations from the broadside, as from Musarum\nDelici\u00e6, 2d edition, 1656. The careful reprint of this book, and of the\nsame edition, in \"Faceti\u00e6,\" etc., 1817, does not contain this piece, and\nthe first edition, of 1655, differed in no respect as to contents,\naccording to the editor of \"Faceti\u00e6.\" Still it is hardly credible that\nJamieson has blundered, and we may suppose that copies, ostensibly of\nthe same edition, varied as to contents, a thing common enough with old\nbooks.\n\n[128] Cunningham has re-written Scott's version, Songs of Scotland, II,\n109, 'The Two Fair Sisters.' He says, \"I was once deeply touched with\nthe singing of this romantic and mournful song.... I have ventured to\nprint it in the manner I heard it sung.\" There is, to be sure, no reason\nwhy he should not have heard his own song sung, _once_, and still less\nwhy he should not have been deeply touched with his own pathos.\nCunningham adds one genuine stanza, resembling the first of #G#, #J#,\n#P#:\n\n Two fair sisters lived in a bower,\n Hey ho my nonnie O\n There came a knight to be their wooer.\n While the swan swims bonnie O\n\n[129] English #M# is confused on this point. The sisters live in a hall.\nThe burden in st. 1 makes them love a miller-lad; but in 14, 15, calls\nthe drowned girl \"the bonnie miller's-lass o Binorie.\"\n\n[130] The sisters, #D#, #I#, walk by, up, a linn; #G#, go to a sand\n[strand]; #Q#, go to the stream; #R a#, walk on the bryn.\n\n[131] Swedish #H# begins, \"Dear sister, come follow me to the\nclapping-stone:\" \"Nay, I have no foul clothes.\" So #F# 6, 7, #G# 4, 5,\nF\u00e4r\u00f6e #A# 6, nearly; and then follows the suggestion that they should\nwash themselves. Another of Rancken's copies begins, \"Two sisters went\nto the bucking-stone, to buck their clothes snow-white,\" #H#; and so\nRancken's #S# nearly.\n\n[132] There are, besides the two fishermen, in Norwegian #A#, two\n\"twaddere,\" i.e., landloupers, possibly (Bugge) a corruption of the word\nrendered pilgrims, F\u00e4r\u00f6e vallarar, Swedish vallare. The vallarar in\nthese ballads are perhaps more respectable than those whose acquaintance\nwe shall make through the Norse versions of 'Babylon,' and may be\nallowed to be harmless vagrants, but scarcely better, seeing that they\nare ranked with \"staff-carls\" in Norges Gamle Love, cited by Cleasby and\nVigfusson at 'vallari.'\n\n[133] A harp in the Icelandic and Norwegian ballads, F\u00e4r\u00f6e #A#, #B#,\n#C#, Swedish #A#, #B#, #D#, #G#, #H#; a harp in English #B#, #C#, #G#,\n#J#. A harp is not named in any of the Danish versions, but a fiddle is\nmentioned in #C#, #E#, #H#, is plainly meant in #A#, and may always be\nintended; or perhaps _two_ fiddles in all but #H# (which has only one\nfiddler), and the corrupted #G#. #D# begins with two fiddlers, but\nconcludes with only one. We have a fiddle in Swedish #C#, and in English\n#A#, #D#, #E#, #F#, #I#, #J#, #K#, #L#, #O#, #P#; both harp and fiddle\nin #H#.\n\n[134] Some of the unprinted Norwegian ballads are not completely\ndescribed, but a departure from the rule of the major part would\nprobably have been alluded to.\n\n[135] The stanza, 9, in which this is said is no doubt as to its form\nentirely modern, but not so the idea. #I# has \"the first spring that he\nplayd, _it_ said,\" etc.\n\n[136] The fourth string is _said_ to speak in F\u00e4r\u00f6e #A# 30, but no\nutterance is recorded, and this is likely to be a mistake. In many of\nthe versions, and in this, after the strings have spoken individually,\nthey unite in a powerful but inarticulate concord.\n\n[137] #I# has lost the terminal stanzas.\n\n[138] Not #M#, and apparently not #D#, which ends:\n\n When he kissed the harp upon the mouth, his heart broke.\n\n[139] So the traitor John pushes away Catherine's hands in 'Lady Isabel\nand the Elf Knight,' Polish #Q# 25 (see p. 40). In the French versions\n#A#, #C#, #E# of the same, the knight catches at a branch to save\nhimself, and the lady cuts it off with his sword.\n\n[140] The miller begins to lose character in #H#:\n\n 14\n He dragged her out unto the shore,\n And stripped her of all she wore.\n\n[141] Neus also refers to an Esthonian saga of R\u00f6gutaja's wife, and to\n'Die Pfeiferin,' a tale, in Das Inland, 1846, No 48, Beilage, col. 1246\nff, 1851, No 14, col. 230 ff; and to a Slovenian ballad in Tielemann,\nLivona, ein historisch-poetisches Taschenbuch, 1812, p. 187.\n\n[142] All these are cited in K\u00f6hler's note, Gonzenbach, II, 235.\n\n\n\n\n11\n\nTHE CRUEL BROTHER\n\n #A.# '[The] Cruel Brother, or the Bride's Testament.' #a.#\n Alex. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS. #b.# Jamieson's Popular\n Ballads, I, 66.\n\n #B.# The Kinloch MSS, I, 21.\n\n #C.# 'Ther waur three ladies,' Harris MS., p. 11 b.\n\n #D. a.# Notes and Queries, 1st S., VI, 53. #b.# 2d S., V,\n 171.\n\n #E.# Notes and Queries, 4th S., V, 105.\n\n #F.# 'The Three Knights,' Gilbert's Ancient Christmas\n Carols, 2d ed., p. 68.\n\n #G.# 'Fine Flowers of the Valley.' #a.# Herd's MSS, I, 41.\n #b.# Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 88.\n\n #H.# Fragment appended to #G#.\n\n #I.# The Kinloch MSS, I, 27.\n\n #J.# As current in County Meath, Ireland, about 1860.\n\n #K.# Notes and Queries, 4th S., IV, 517.\n\n\n#A a# was obtained directly from Mrs Brown of Falkland, in 1800, by\nAlexander Fraser Tytler. Jamieson says that he gives #b# verbatim from\nthe recitation of Mrs Arrott; but it would seem that this must have been\na slip of memory, for the two agree except in half a dozen words. #B#,\n#C#, #I#, #J# are now for the first time printed. #G# only was taken\ndown earlier than the present century.\n\nAytoun remarks (1858): \"This is, perhaps, the most popular of all the\nScottish ballads, being commonly recited and sung even at the present\nday.\" The copy which he gives, I, 232, was \"taken down from recitation,\"\nbut is nevertheless a compound of #G# and #A b#, with a few unimportant\nvariations, proceeding, no doubt, from imperfect recollection.[143] The\ncopy in Dixon's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs, p. 56, repeated in\nBell's volume of the same title, p. 50, is Gilbert's #F#. Dixon informs\nus that the ballad was (in 1846) still popular amongst the peasantry in\nthe west of England. Cunningham gives us a piece called 'The Three\nLadies of Leithan Ha,' Songs of Scotland, II, 87, which he would fain\nhave us believe that he did not know he had written himself. \"The common\ncopies of this tragic lyric,\" he truly says, \"differ very much from\nthis; not so much in the story itself as in the way it is told.\"\n\nAll versions but #K#, which has pretty nearly lost all point, agree\nafter the opening stanzas. #A-E# have three ladies and only one knight;\n#F# has three knights and one lady; #G#, #I#, #J#, #K# have three ladies\nand three knights [lords in #G#, \"bonny boys\" in #I#, the first line\nbeing caught from 'Sir Hugh.'] Three knights are to no purpose; only one\nknight has anything to do. The reason for three ladies is, of course,\nthat the youngest may be preferred to the others,--an intention somewhat\nobscured in #B#. The ladies are in colors in #B#, #C#, #I#, #J#, and\nthis seems to be the better interpretation in the case of #G#, though a\nstrict construction of the language would rather point to the other. The\ncolors are transferred to the knights in #F# because there is only one\nlady. In #K# this is a part of the general depravation of the ballad.\n\n'Rizzardo bello,' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, No 83, seems to be the\nsame story, with a change of relations such as we often find in ballad\npoetry. Rizzardo is conducting his bride home, and on the way embraces\nand kisses her. Her brother witnesses \"questo onore,\" and thrusts his\nsword into the happy bridegroom's heart. Rizzardo tells his bride to\ncome on slowly; he will go before to make preparation. He begs his\nmother to open the doors, for his bride is without, and he is wounded to\ndeath. They try to make the bride eat. She says she can neither eat nor\ndrink: she must put her husband to bed. He gives her a ring, saying,\nYour brother has been the death of me; then another ring, in sign that\nshe is to be wife of two brothers. She answers him as Guldborg answers\nRibold, that she would die rather: \"Rather die between two knives than\nbe wife of two brothers.\" This ballad was obtained from a peasant woman\nof Castagnero. Another version, which unfortunately is not printed, was\nsung by a woman at Ostiglia on the Po.\n\nDr Prior remarks that the offence given by not asking a brother's assent\nto his sister's marriage was in ballad-times regarded as unpardonable.\nOther cases which show the importance of this preliminary, and the\nsometimes fatal consequences of omitting it, are: 'Hr. Peder og\nMettelille,' Grundtvig, No 78, II, 325, sts 4, 6; 'Jomfruen i Skoven,'\nDanske Viser, III, 99, st. 15; 'Jomfru Ellensborg og Hr. Olof,' ib.,\nIII, 316, st. 16; 'Iver Lang og hans S\u00f8ster,' ib., IV, 87, st. 116;\n'Herr Helmer Blaa,' ib., IV, 251, st. 8; 'Jomfru Giselmaar,' ib., IV,\n309, st. 13. See Prior's Ancient Danish Ballads, III, 112, 232 f, 416.\n\nThere is a very common German ballad, 'Graf Friedrich,' in which a bride\nreceives a mortal wound during the bringing-home, but accidentally, and\nfrom the bridegroom's hand. The marriage train is going up a hill; the\nway is narrow; they are crowded; Graf Friedrich's sword shoots from its\nsheath and wounds the bride. The bridegroom is exceedingly distressed;\nhe tries to stop the bleeding with his shirt; she begs that they may\nride slowly. When they reach the house there is a splendid feast, and\neverything is set before the bride; but she can neither eat nor drink,\nand only wishes to lie down. She dies in the night. Her father comes in\nthe morning, and, learning what has happened, runs Graf Friedrich\nthrough, then drags his body at a horse's heels, and buries it in a bog.\nThree lilies sprang from the spot, with an inscription announcing that\nGraf Friedrich was in heaven, and a voice came from the sky commanding\nthat the body should be disinterred. The bridegroom was then buried with\nhis bride, and this act of reparation was attended with other miraculous\nmanifestations. As the ballads stand now, the kinship of 'Graf\nFriedrich' with 'The Cruel Brother' is not close and cannot be insisted\non; still an early connection is not improbable.\n\nThe versions of 'Graf Friedrich' are somewhat numerous, and there is a\ngeneral agreement as to all essentials. They are: #A#, a Nuremberg\nbroadside \"of about 1535,\" which has not been made accessible by a\nreprint. #B#, a Swiss broadside of 1647, without place, \"printed in\nSeckendorf's Musenalmanach f\u00fcr 1808, p. 19;\" Uhland, No 122, p. 277;\nMittler, No 108; Wunderhorn, II, 293 (1857); Erk's Liederhort, No\n15^a, p. 42; B\u00f6hme, No 79, p. 166: also, in Wunderhorn, 1808, II, 289,\nwith omission of five stanzas and with many changes; Simrock, No 11,\np. 28, omitting four stanzas and with changes; as written down by\nGoethe for Herder, D\u00fcntzer u. Herder, Briefe Goethes, u.s.w., Aus\nHerder's Nachlass, I, 167, with the omission of eight stanzas and with\nsome variations. #C#, Wunderhorn (1857), II, 299, from the\nSchwarzwald,==Erlach, IV, 291, Mittler, No 113. #D#, Taschenbuch f\u00fcr\nDichter, u.s.w., Theil VIII, 122, from Upper Lusatia,==Erlach, III,\n448, Talvj, Charakteristik, p. 421. #E#, from the Kuhl\u00e4ndchen,\nMeinert, p. 23,==Mittler, No 109. #F#, Hoffmann u. Richter,\nSchlesische V. L., No 19, p. 35,==Mittler, No 112, Erk's Liederhort,\nNo 15, p. 40. #G#, Zingerle, in Wolf's Zeitschrift f\u00fcr deutsche\nMythologie, I, 341, from Meran. #H#, from Uckermark, Brandenburg,\nMittler, No 114. #I#, Hesse, from oral tradition, Mittler, No 111.\n#J#, Erk u. Irmer, II, 54, No 54, from the neighborhood of\nHalle,==Mittler, No 110. #K#, from Estedt, district of Magdeburg,\nParisius, p. 31, No 9.\n\nA Danish ballad, 'Den saarede Jomfru,' Grundtvig, No 244, IV, 474, has\nthis slight resemblance with 'Graf Friedrich:' While a knight is dancing\nwith a princess, his sword glides from the scabbard and cuts her hand.\nTo save her partner from blame, she represents to her father that she\nhad cut herself with her brother's sword. This considerateness so\ntouches the knight (who is, of course, her equal in rank) that he offers\nher his hand. The Danish story is found also in Norwegian and in F\u00e4r\u00f6e\nballads.\n\nThe peculiar testament made by the bride in 'The Cruel Brother,' by\nwhich she bequeaths good things to her friends, but ill things to the\nauthor of her death, is highly characteristic of ballad poetry. It will\nbe found again in 'Lord Ronald,' 'Edward,' and their analogues. Still\nother ballads with this kind of testament are: 'Frillens H\u00e6vn,'\nGrundtvig, No 208 #C#, 16-18, IV, 207; a young man, stabbed by his\nleman, whom he was about to give up in order to marry, leaves his lands\nto his father, his bride-bed to his sister, his gilded couch to his\nmother, and his knife to his leman, wishing it in her body. 'M\u00f8en paa\nBaalet,' Grundtvig, No 109 #A#, 1821, II, 587; Ole, falsely accused by\nher brother, and condemned to be burned, gives her mother her silken\nsark, her sister her shoes, her father her horse, and her brother her\nknife, with the same wish. 'Kong Valdemar og hans S\u00f8ster,' Grundtvig, No\n126, III, 97, has a testament in #A-E# and #I#; in #I#, 14-19 (III,\n912), Liden Kirsten bequeaths her knife, with the same imprecation, to\nthe queen, who, in the other copies, is her unrelenting foe: so Lillelin\nto Herr Adelbrand, Danske Viser, III, 386, No 162, 16-18, Kristensen, I,\n262, No 100, #A# 20-23, having been dragged at a horse's heels in\nresentment of a taunt. 'Hustru og Mands Moder,' Grundtvig, No. 84, II,\n404, has a testament in #A#, #B#, #D#, #H#, and in the last three a\nbequest of shoes or sark to a cruel mother-in-law or foster-mother, with\nthe wish that she may have no peace or much pain in the wearing.\n'Catarina de Li\u00f3,' Briz y Candi, Cansons de la Terra, I, 209, has been\nbeaten by her mother-in-law while in a delicate state. When she is at\nthe point of death, the mother-in-law asks what doctor she will have and\nwhat will she will make. \"My will,\" says Catherine, \"will not please you\nmuch. Send back my velvet dress to my father's; my gala dress give my\nsister; give my working dress to the maid, my jewels to the Virgin.\"\n\"And what will you leave to me?\" \"What I leave you will not please you\nmuch: my husband to be hanged, my mother-in-law to be quartered, and my\nsister-in-law to be burned.\" 'Le Testament de Marion,' another version\nof this story from the south of France, Uchaud, Gard, Po\u00e9sies pop. de la\nFrance, MS., IV, fol. 283, bequeaths \"my laces to my sister Marioun, my\nprettiest gowns to my sister Jeanneton; to my rascal of a husband three\nfine cords, and, if that is not enough (to hang him), the hem of his\nshirt.\" The Portuguese ballad of 'Dona Helena' rather implies than\nexpresses the imprecation: Braga, C.P. do Archipelago A\u00e7oriano, p. 225,\nNo 15, p. 227, No 16; Almeida-Garrett, III, 56; Hartung, I, 233-43, No\n18. Helena leaves her husband's house when near childbirth, out of fear\nof his mother. Her husband, who does not know her reason, goes after\nher, and compels her to return on horseback, though she has just borne a\nson. The consequences are what might be expected, and Helena desires to\nmake her shrift and her will. She leaves one thing to her oldest sister,\nanother to her youngest. \"And your boy?\" \"To your bitch of a mother,\ncause of my woes.\" \"Rather to yours,\" says the husband, \"for I shall\nhave to kill mine\" (so Braga; Garrett differs somewhat). 'Die Frau zur\nWeissenburg' (#A#), Uhland, p. 287, No 123 #B#, Scherer's Jungbrunnen,\np. 94, No 29; 'Das Lied von der L\u00f6wenburg' (#B#), Simrock, p. 65, No 27;\n'Hans Steutlinger' (#C#), Wunderhorn, II, 168 (1857), all one story,\nhave a bitterly sarcastic testament. A lady instigates her paramour to\nkill her husband. The betrayed man is asked to whom he will leave his\nchildren [commit, #A#, bequeath, #B#, #C#]. \"To God Almighty, for he\nknows who they are.\" \"Your property?\" \"To the poor, for the rich have\nenough.\" \"Your wife?\" \"To young Count Frederic, whom she always liked\nmore than me (#A#).\" \"Your castle?\" \"To the flames.\"\n\nIn some cases there is no trace of animosity towards the person who has\ncaused the testator's death; as in 'El testamento de Amelia' (who has\nbeen poisoned by her mother), Mil\u00e1, Observaciones, p. 103, No 5, Briz y\nSalt\u00f3, Cansons de la Terra, II, 197 (two copies); 'Herren B\u00e5ld,'\nAfzelius, I, 76, No 16 (new ed. I, 59, No 15); a Swedish form of\n'Frillens H\u00e6vn,' Grundtvig, IV, 203; 'Ren\u00e9e le Glaz' and 'Ervoanik Le\nLintier,' Luzel, C.P. de la Basse Bretagne, I, 405, 539, 553. There are\nalso simple testaments where there is no occasion for an ill\nremembrance, as in 'Ribold og Guldborg,' Grundtvig, No 82, #I#, #K#,\n#L#, #U#, #X#, #\u00c6#, Kristensen, II, No 84 B; 'Pontplancoat;' Luzel, I,\n383, 391. And, again, there are parodies of these wills. Thus the fox\nmakes his will: Grundtvig, Gamle danske Minder, 1854, 'Mikkels\nArvegods,' p. 24, and p. 25 a copy from a manuscript three hundred years\nold; Kristensen, Jyske Folkeviser, II, 324, No 90; 'Reven og Bj\u00f6nnen,'\n'Reven og Nils fiskar,' Landstad, Nos 85, 86, p. 637, 639: and the\nrobin, 'Robin's Tesment,' Buchan, I, 273, Herd's MSS, I, 154, and\nScottish Songs (1776), II, 166, Chambers' Popular Rhymes, p. 38, \"new\nedition.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nTranslated in Grundtvig's Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 33, p. 212,\n#F#, with use of #A# and #G b#; Aytoun's copy, with omissions, by Rosa\nWarrens, Schottische Volkslieder der Vorzeit, No 17, p. 80; after\nAllingham and others, by Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 5,\np. 16.\n\n\nA\n\n #a.# Alex. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS. #b.# Jamieson's\n Popular Ballads, I, 66, purporting to be from the\n recitation of Mrs Arrot of Aberbrothick.\n\n 1\n There was three ladies playd at the ba,\n With a hey ho and a lillie gay\n There came a knight and played oer them a'.\n As the primrose spreads so sweetly\n\n 2\n The eldest was baith tall and fair,\n But the youngest was beyond compare.\n\n 3\n The midmost had a graceful mien,\n But the youngest lookd like beautie's queen.\n\n 4\n The knight bowd low to a' the three,\n But to the youngest he bent his knee.\n\n 5\n The ladie turned her head aside,\n The knight he woo'd her to be his bride.\n\n 6\n The ladie blushd a rosy red,\n And sayd, 'Sir knight, I'm too young to wed.'\n\n 7\n 'O ladie fair, give me your hand,\n And I'll make you ladie of a' my land.'\n\n 8\n 'Sir knight, ere ye my favor win,\n You maun get consent frae a' my kin.'\n\n 9\n He's got consent frae her parents dear,\n And likewise frae her sisters fair.\n\n 10\n He's got consent frae her kin each one,\n But forgot to spiek to her brother John.\n\n 11\n Now, when the wedding day was come,\n The knight would take his bonny bride home.\n\n 12\n And many a lord and many a knight\n Came to behold that ladie bright.\n\n 13\n And there was nae man that did her see,\n But wishd himself bridegroom to be.\n\n 14\n Her father dear led her down the stair,\n And her sisters twain they kissd her there.\n\n 15\n Her mother dear led her thro the closs,\n And her brother John set her on her horse.\n\n 16\n She leand her oer the saddle-bow,\n To give him a kiss ere she did go.\n\n 17\n He has taen a knife, baith lang and sharp,\n And stabbd that bonny bride to the heart.\n\n 18\n She hadno ridden half thro the town,\n Until her heart's blude staind her gown.\n\n 19\n 'Ride softly on,' says the best young man,\n 'For I think our bonny bride looks pale and wan.'\n\n 20\n 'O lead me gently up yon hill,\n And I'll there sit down, and make my will.'\n\n 21\n 'O what will you leave to your father dear?'\n 'The silver-shod steed that brought me here.'\n\n 22\n 'What will you leave to your mother dear?'\n 'My velvet pall and my silken gear.'\n\n 23\n 'What will you leave to your sister Anne?'\n 'My silken scarf and my gowden fan.'\n\n 24\n 'What will you leave to your sister Grace?'\n 'My bloody cloaths to wash and dress.'\n\n 25\n 'What will you leave to your brother John?'\n 'The gallows-tree to hang him on.'\n\n 26\n 'What will you leave to your brother John's wife?'\n 'The wilderness to end her life.'\n\n 27\n This ladie fair in her grave was laid,\n And many a mass was oer her said.\n\n 28\n But it would have made your heart right sair,\n To see the bridegroom rive his haire.\n\n\nB\n\n Kinloch's MSS, I, 21, from Mary Barr, May, 1827,\n Clydesdale.\n\n 1\n A gentleman cam oure the sea,\n Fine flowers in the valley\n And he has courted ladies three.\n With the light green and the yellow\n\n 2\n One o them was clad in red:\n He asked if she wad be his bride.\n\n 3\n One o them was clad in green:\n He asked if she wad be his queen.\n\n 4\n The last o them was clad in white:\n He asked if she wad be his heart's delight.\n\n 5\n 'Ye may ga ask my father, the king:\n Sae maun ye ask my mither, the queen.\n\n 6\n 'Sae maun ye ask my sister Anne:\n And dinna forget my brither John.'\n\n 7\n He has asked her father, the king:\n And sae did he her mither, the queen.\n\n 8\n And he has asked her sister Anne:\n But he has forgot her brother John.\n\n 9\n Her father led her through the ha,\n Her mither danced afore them a'.\n\n 10\n Her sister Anne led her through the closs,\n Her brither John set her on her horse.\n\n 11\n It's then he drew a little penknife,\n And he reft the fair maid o her life.\n\n 12\n 'Ride up, ride up,' said the foremost man;\n 'I think our bride comes hooly on.'\n\n 13\n 'Ride up, ride up,' said the second man;\n 'I think our bride looks pale and wan.'\n\n 14\n Up than cam the gay bridegroom,\n And straucht unto the bride he cam.\n\n 15\n 'Does your side-saddle sit awry?\n Or does your steed ...\n\n 16\n 'Or does the rain run in your glove?\n Or wad ye chuse anither love?'\n\n 17\n 'The rain runs not in my glove,\n Nor will I e'er chuse anither love.\n\n 18\n 'But O an I war at Saint Evron's well,\n There I wad licht, and drink my fill!\n\n 19\n 'Oh an I war at Saint Evron's closs,\n There I wad licht, and bait my horse!'\n\n 20\n Whan she cam to Saint Evron's well,\n She dought na licht to drink her fill.\n\n 21\n Whan she cam to Saint Evron's closs,\n The bonny bride fell aff her horse.\n\n 22\n 'What will ye leave to your father, the king?'\n 'The milk-white steed that I ride on.'\n\n 23\n 'What will ye leave to your mother, the queen?'\n 'The bluidy robes that I have on.'\n\n 24\n 'What will ye leave to your sister Anne?'\n 'My gude lord, to be wedded on.'\n\n 25\n 'What will ye leave to your brither John?'\n 'The gallows pin to hang him on.'\n\n 26\n 'What will ye leave to your brither's wife?'\n 'Grief and sorrow a' the days o her life.'\n\n 27\n 'What will ye leave to your brither's bairns?'\n 'The meal-pock to hang oure the arms.'\n\n 28\n Now does she neither sigh nor groan:\n She lies aneath yon marble stone.\n\n\nC\n\n Harris MS., p. 11 b, No 7.\n\n 1\n There waur three ladies in a ha,\n Hech hey an the lily gey\n By cam a knicht, an he wooed them a'.\n An the rose is aye the redder aye\n\n 2\n The first ane she was cled in green;\n 'Will you fancy me, an be my queen?'\n\n 3\n 'You may seek me frae my father dear,\n An frae my mither, wha did me bear.\n\n 4\n 'You may seek me frae my sister Anne,\n But no, no, no frae my brither John.'\n\n 5\n The niest ane she was cled in yellow;\n 'Will you fancy me, an be my marrow?'\n\n 6\n 'Ye may seek me frae my father dear,\n An frae my mither, wha did me bear.\n\n 7\n 'Ye may seek me frae my sister Anne,\n But no, no, no frae my brither John.'\n\n 8\n The niest ane she was cled in red:\n 'Will ye fancy me, an be my bride?'\n\n 9\n 'Ye may seek me frae my father dear,\n An frae my mither wha did me bear.\n\n 10\n 'Ye may seek me frae my sister Anne,\n An dinna forget my brither John.'\n\n 11\n He socht her frae her father, the king,\n An he socht her frae her mither, the queen.\n\n 12\n He socht her frae her sister Anne,\n But he forgot her brither John.\n\n 13\n Her mither she put on her goun,\n An her sister Anne preened the ribbons doun.\n\n 14\n Her father led her doon the close,\n An her brither John set her on her horse.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 15\n Up an spak our foremost man:\n 'I think our bonnie bride's pale an wan.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 16\n 'What will ye leave to your father dear?'\n 'My ... an my ... chair.'\n\n 17\n 'What will ye leave to your mither dear?'\n 'My silken screen I was wont to wear.'\n\n 18\n 'What will ye leave to your sister Anne?'\n 'My silken snood an my golden fan.'\n\n 19\n 'What will you leave to your brither John?'\n 'The gallows tree to hang him on.'\n\n\nD\n\n Notes and Queries, 1st S., VI, 53, 2d S., V, 171. As sung\n by a lady who was a native of County Kerry, Ireland.\n\n 1\n There were three ladies playing at ball,\n Farin-dan-dan and farin-dan-dee\n There came a white knight, and he wooed them all.\n With adieu, sweet honey, wherever you be\n\n 2\n He courted the eldest with golden rings,\n And the others with many fine things.\n And adieu, etc.\n\n\nE\n\n Notes and Queries, 4th S., V, 105. From Forfarshire, W.F.\n\n There were three sisters playin at the ba,\n Wi a hech hey an a lillie gay\n There cam a knicht an lookt ower the wa'.\n An the primrose springs sae sweetly.\n Sing Annet, an Marret, an fair Maisrie,\n An the dew hangs i the wood, gay ladie.\n\n\nF\n\n Gilbert's Ancient Christmas Carols, 2d ed., p. 68, as\n remembered by the editor. West of England.\n\n 1\n There did three knights come from the west,\n With the high and the lily oh\n And these three knights courted one lady.\n As the rose was so sweetly blown\n\n 2\n The first knight came was all in white,\n And asked of her, if she'd be his delight.\n\n 3\n The next knight came was all in green,\n And asked of her, if she'd be his queen.\n\n 4\n The third knight came was all in red,\n And asked of her, if she would wed.\n\n 5\n 'Then have you asked of my father dear,\n Likewise of her who did me bear?\n\n 6\n 'And have you asked of my brother John?\n And also of my sister Anne?'\n\n 7\n 'Yes, I have asked of your father dear,\n Likewise of her who did you bear.\n\n 8\n 'And I have asked of your sister Anne,\n But I've not asked of your brother John.'\n\n 9\n Far on the road as they rode along,\n There did they meet with her brother John.\n\n 10\n She stooped low to kiss him sweet,\n He to her heart did a dagger meet.\n\n 11\n 'Ride on, ride on,' cried the serving man,\n 'Methinks your bride she looks wondrous wan.'\n\n 12\n 'I wish I were on yonder stile,\n For there I would sit and bleed awhile.\n\n 13\n 'I wish I were on yonder hill,\n There I'd alight and make my will.'\n\n 14\n 'What would you give to your father dear?'\n 'The gallant steed which doth me bear.'\n\n 15\n 'What would you give to your mother dear?'\n 'My wedding shift which I do wear.\n\n 16\n 'But she must wash it very clean,\n For my heart's blood sticks in evry seam.'\n\n 17\n 'What would you give to your sister Anne?'\n 'My gay gold ring and my feathered fan.'\n\n 18\n 'What would you give to your brother John?'\n 'A rope and gallows to hang him on.'\n\n 19\n 'What would you give to your brother John's wife?'\n 'A widow's weeds, and a quiet life.'\n\n\nG\n\n #a.# Herd's MSS, I, 41. #b.# Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776,\n I, 88.\n\n 1\n There was three ladys in a ha,\n Fine flowers i the valley\n There came three lords amang them a',\n Wi the red, green, and the yellow\n\n 2\n The first of them was clad in red:\n 'O lady fair, will you be my bride?'\n\n 3\n The second of them was clad in green:\n 'O lady fair, will you be my queen?'\n\n 4\n The third of them was clad in yellow:\n 'O lady fair, will you be my marrow?'\n\n 5\n 'You must ask my father dear,\n Likewise the mother that did me bear.'\n\n 6\n 'You must ask my sister Ann,\n And not forget my brother John,'\n\n 7\n 'I have askt thy father dear,\n Likewise thy mother that did thee bear.\n\n 8\n 'I have askt thy sister Ann,\n But I forgot thy brother John.'\n\n 9\n Her father led her through the ha,\n Her mother dancd before them a'.\n\n 10\n Her sister Ann led her through the closs,\n Her brother John put her on her horse.\n\n 11\n 'You are high and I am low;\n Let me have a kiss before you go.'\n\n 12\n She was louting down to kiss him sweet,\n Wi his penknife he wounded her deep.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 13\n 'O lead me over into yon stile,\n That I may stop and breath a while.\n\n 14\n 'O lead me over to yon stair,\n For there I'll ly and bleed ne mair.'\n\n 15\n 'O what will you leave your father dear?'\n 'That milk-white steed that brought me here.'\n\n 16\n 'O what will you leave your mother dear?'\n 'The silken gown that I did wear.'\n\n 17\n 'What will you leave your sister Ann?'\n 'My silken snood and golden fan.'\n\n 18\n 'What will you leave your brother John?'\n 'The highest gallows to hang him on.'\n\n 19\n 'What will you leave your brother John's wife?'\n 'Grief and sorrow to end her life.'\n\n 20\n 'What will ye leave your brother John's bairns?'\n 'The world wide for them to range.'\n\n\nH\n\n Herd's MSS, I, 44, II, 75; Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 90;\n appended to #G#.\n\n She louted down to gie a kiss,\n With a hey and a lilly gay\n\n He stuck his penknife in her hass.\n And the rose it smells so sweetly\n\n 'Ride up, ride up,' cry'd the foremost man;\n 'I think our bride looks pale and wan.'\n\n\nI\n\n Kinloch's MSS, I, 27. From Mrs Bouchart, an old lady\n native of Forfarshire.\n\n 1\n There war three bonnie boys playing at the ba,\n Hech hey and a lily gay\n There cam three ladies to view them a'.\n And the rose it smells sae sweetlie\n\n 2\n The first ane was clad in red:\n 'O,' says he, 'ye maun be my bride.'\n\n 3\n The next o them was clad in green:\n 'O,' says he, 'ye maun be my queen.'\n\n 4\n The tither o them was clad in yellow:\n 'O,' says he, 'ye maun be my marrow.'\n\n 5\n 'Ye maun gang to my father's bouer,\n To see gin your bride he'll let me be.'\n\n 6\n Her father led her doun the stair,\n Her mither at her back did bear.\n\n 7\n Her sister Jess led her out the closs,\n Her brother John set her on the horse.\n\n 8\n She loutit doun to gie him a kiss;\n He struck his penknife thro her breist.\n\n 9\n 'Ride on, ride on,' says the foremaist man;\n 'I think our bride looks pale and wan.'\n\n 10\n 'Ride on, ride on,' says the merry bridegroom;\n 'I think my bride's blude is rinnin doun.'\n\n 11\n 'O gin I war at yon bonnie hill,\n I wad lie doun and bleed my fill!\n\n 12\n 'O gin I war at yon bonnie kirk-yard,\n I wad mak my testament there!'\n\n 13\n 'What will ye leave to your father dear?'\n 'The milk-white steed that brocht me here.'\n\n 14\n 'What will ye leave to your mother dear?'\n 'The bluidy robes that I do wear.'\n\n 15\n 'What will ye leave to your sister Ann?'\n 'My silken snood and gowden fan.'\n\n 16\n 'What will ye leave to your sister Jess?'\n 'The bonnie lad that I loe best.'\n\n 17\n 'What will ye leave to your brother John?'\n 'The gallows pin to hang him on.'\n\n 18\n 'What will ye leave to your brother John's wife?'\n 'Sorrow and trouble a' her life.'\n\n 19\n 'What will ye leave to your brother's bairns?'\n 'The warld's wide, and let them beg.'\n\n\nJ\n\n From Miss Margaret Reburn, as current in County Meath,\n Ireland, about 1860.\n\n 1\n There were three sisters playing ball,\n With the high and the lily O\n And there came three knights to court them all.\n With the rosey sweet, heigh ho\n\n 2\n The eldest of them was drest in green:\n 'I wish I had you to be my queen.'\n\n 3\n The second of them was drest in red:\n 'I wish I had you to grace my bed.'\n\n 4\n The youngest of them was drest in white:\n 'I wish I had you to be my wife.'\n\n 5\n 'Did ye ask my father brave?\n Or did ye ask my mother fair?\n\n 6\n 'Or did ye ask my brother John?\n For without his will I dare not move on.'\n\n 7\n 'I did ask your parents dear,\n But I did not see your brother John.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 8\n 'Ride on, ride on,' said the first man,\n 'For I fear the bride comes slowly on.'\n\n 9\n 'Ride on, ride on,' said the next man,\n 'For lo! the bride she comes bleeding on.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 10\n 'What will you leave your mother dear?'\n 'My heart's best love for ever and aye.'\n\n 11\n 'What will ye leave your sister Anne?'\n 'This wedding garment that I have on.'\n\n 12\n 'What will ye leave your brother John's wife?'\n 'Grief and sorrow all the days of her life.'\n\n 13\n 'What will ye leave your brother John?'\n 'The highest gallows to hang him on.'\n\n 14\n 'What will ye leave your brother John's son?'\n 'The grace of God to make him a man.'\n\n\nK\n\n Notes and Queries, 4th S., IV, 517, as \"sung in Cheshire\n amongst the people\" in the last century. T. W.\n\n 1\n There were three ladies playing at ball,\n Gilliver, Gentle, and Rosemary\n There came three knights and looked over the wall.\n Sing O the red rose and the white lilly\n\n 2\n The first young knight, he was clothed in red,\n And he said, 'Gentle lady, with me will you wed?'\n\n 3\n The second young knight, he was clothed in blue,\n And he said, 'To my love I shall ever be true.'\n\n 4\n The third young knight, he was clothed in green,\n And he said, 'Fairest maiden, will you be my queen?'\n\n 5\n The lady thus spoke to the knight in red,\n 'With you, sir knight, I never can wed.'\n\n 6\n The lady then spoke to the knight in blue,\n And she said, 'Little faith I can have in you.'\n\n 7\n The lady then spoke to the knight in green,\n And she said, ''T is at court you must seek for a queen.'\n\n 8\n The three young knights then rode away,\n And the ladies they laughed, and went back to their play.\n Singing, etc.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. b.#\n\n 6^2. oer young.\n\n 10^2. spear at.\n\n 17^2. the bonny.\n\n 19^1. said.\n\n 23^1. And what will ye.\n\n 25^1. This fair lady.\n\n 25^2. And a mass.\n\n _Variations of Aytoun's copy, sts. 9-13, 16, 17, 20-24:\n 11^1 omits ~And~; 12^1, 13^1 omit ~dear~; 13^2 omits\n ~And~; 16^1, ~through half~ for ~half thro~; 17^2 omits\n ~For, bonny~; 21^2, ~pearlin~ for ~silken~; 22^1 omits\n ~And~; 22^2, ~My silken gown that stands its lane~; 23^2,\n ~shirt~ for ~cloaths~; 24^1, ~And what~; 24^2, ~The gates\n o hell to let him in~._\n\n#B.#\n\n \"I have seen a fragment of another copy in which [the\n burden is]\n\n The red rose and the lily\n And the roses spring fu sweetly.\" _Kinloch_, p. 19.\n\n#F.#\n\n 9^1. For on the road.\n\n#G. a.#\n\n 1. _Burden^2. ~The red, green~, etc.: afterwards, ~Wi the\n red~, etc._\n\n 2^2. _MS. also_, He askt of me if I'd be his bride.\n\n 3^2. _MS. also_, He askt of me if I'd be his queen.\n\n 4^2. _MS. also_, He askt me if I'd be his marrow.\n\n 15^2. _MS. also_, The gold and silver that I have here.\n\n 16^2. _MS. also_, The silken garment.\n\n 17^2. _MS. also_, My satine hat.\n\n 20^2, _MS. also_, The world wide, let them go beg.\n\n#b.#\n\n 7^2. the mother.\n\n#b.#\n\n 14^1. into yon stair.\n\n _Variations of Aytoun's copy, sts. 1-8, 14, 15, 18, 19\n from Herd, 1776_: 1^1, three sisters; 2^2, 3^2, 4^2 _omit_\n fair; 5^1, O ye maun; 6^1, And ye; 7^1, O I have; 8^1, And\n I have ask'd your sister; 8^2, your brother; 14^2, Give me\n a kiss; 15^2, When wi his knife.\n\n#H.#\n\n \"I have heard this song, to a very good tune not in any\n collection, with the above variations--the chorus, of the\n whole as in the above two verses.\" _Herd's note in his\n MSS._\n\n\n[143] Aytoun, 1-8==Herd, 1776, 1-8: 9-13==Jamieson, 11-15: 14, 15==Herd,\n11, 12: 16, 17==Jamieson, 18, 19: 18, 19==Herd, 13, 14: 20-24==Jamieson,\n21-25.\n\n\n\n\n12\n\nLORD RANDAL\n\n #A.# From a manuscript copy, probably of the beginning of\n this century.\n\n #B.# 'Lord Donald,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p.\n 110.\n\n #C.# Motherwell's MS., p. 69.\n\n #D.# Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1803, III, 292.\n\n #E.# Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, p. 261.\n\n #F.# 'Lord Ronald, my Son,' Johnson's Museum, No 327, p.\n 337.\n\n #G.# Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 319.\n\n #H.# From recitation, 1881.\n\n #I.# 'Tiranti, my Son.' #a.# Communicated by a lady of\n Boston, #b.# By an aunt of the same. #c.# By a lady of New\n Bedford. #d.# By a lady of Cambridge. #e#, #f#, #g#. By\n ladies of Boston.\n\n #J.# 'The Bonnie Wee Croodlin Dow,' Motherwell's MS., p.\n 238.\n\n #K. a.# 'The Croodlin Doo,' Chambers, Scottish Ballads, p.\n 324. #b.# 'The Wee Croodlen Doo,' Chambers, Popular\n Rhymes, 1842, p. 53. #c.# Johnson's Museum, by Stenhouse\n and Laing, IV, 364*.\n\n #L.# 'Willie Doo,' Buchan's MSS, II, 322, and Ballads, II,\n 179.\n\n #M.# 'The Croodin Doo,' Chambers, Popular Rhymes, 1870, p.\n 51.\n\n #N.# Kinloch MSS, V, 347.\n\n #O.# 'The Croodlin Doo.' From a manuscript belonging to\n the Fraser-Tytler family.\n\n\nThe title 'Lord Randal' is selected for this ballad because that name\noccurs in one of the better versions, and because it has become familiar\nthrough Scott's Minstrelsy. Scott says that the hero was more generally\ntermed Lord Ronald: but in the versions that have come down to us this\nis not so. None of these can be traced back further than a century. #F#\nand #D# were the earliest published. Jamieson remarks with respect to\n#G# (1814): \"An English gentleman, who had never paid any attention to\nballads, nor ever read a collection of such things, told me that when a\nchild he learnt from a playmate of his own age, the daughter of a\nclergyman in Suffolk, the following imperfect ditty.\" #I#, a version\ncurrent in eastern Massachusetts, may be carried as far back as any.\n#a#, #b# derive from Elizabeth Foster, whose parents, both natives of\neastern Massachusetts, settled, after their marriage, in Maine, where\nshe was born in 1789. Elizabeth Foster's mother is remembered to have\nsung the ballad, and I am informed that the daughter must have learned\nit not long after 1789, since she was removed in her childhood from\nMaine to Massachusetts, and continued there till her death. 'Tiranti'\n['Taranti'] may not improbably be a corruption of Lord Randal.\n\nThe copy in Smith's Scottish Minstrel, III, 58, is Scott's altered. The\nfirst four stanzas are from the Border Minstrelsy, except the last line\nof the fourth, which is from Johnson's Museum. The last two stanzas are\na poor modern invention.\n\nThree stanzas which are found in #A#. Cunningham's Scottish Songs, I,\n286 f, may be given for what they are worth. 'The house of Marr,' in the\nfirst, is not to be accepted on the simple ground of its appearance in\nhis pages. The second is inserted in his beautified edition of Scott's\nballad, and has its burden accordingly; but there is, besides this, no\ninternal evidence against the second, and none against the third.\n\n 'O where have you been, Lord Ronald, my son?\n O where have you been, my handsome young man?'\n 'At the house of Marr, mother, so make my bed soon,\n For I'm wearied with hunting, and fain would lie down.'\n\n 'O where did she find them, Lord Randal, my son?\n O where did she catch them, my handsome young man?'\n 'Neath the bush of brown bracken, so make my bed soon,\n For I'm wae and I'm weary, and fain would lie down.'\n\n 'O what got your bloodhounds, Lord Ronald, my son?\n O what got your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?'\n 'They lapt the broo, mother, so make my bed soon,\n I am wearied with hunting, and fain would lie down.'\n\nA pot-pourri or quodlibet, reprinted in Wolff's Egeria, p. 53, from a\nVeronese broadside of the date 1629, shows that this ballad was popular\nin #Italy# more than 250 years ago; for the last but one of the\nfragments which make up the medley happens to be the first three lines\nof 'L'Avvelenato,' very nearly as they are sung at the present day, and\nthese are introduced by a summary of the story:\n\n \"Io vo' finire con questa _d'un amante\n Tradito dall' amata._\n Oh che l'\u00e8 s\u00ec garbata\n A cantarla in ischiera:\n _'Dov' andastu iersera,\n Figliuol mio ricco, savio e gentile?\n Dov' andastu iersera'?_\"[144]\n\nThe ballad was first recovered in 1865, by Dr G. B. Bolza, who took it\ndown from the singing of very young girls at Loveno. Since then good\ncopies have been found at Venice. #A#, 'L'Avvelenato,' Bolza, Canzoni\npopolari comasche, No 49, Sitzungsberichte of the Vienna Academy\n(philos. histor. class), LIII, 668, is of seventeen stanzas, of seven\nshort lines, all of which repeat but two: the 8th and 10th stanzas are\nimperfect.[145] A mother inquires of her son where he has been. He has\nbeen at his mistress's, where he has eaten part of an eel; the rest was\ngiven to a dog, that died in the street. The mother declares that he has\nbeen poisoned. He bids her send for the doctor to see him, for the\ncurate to shrive him, for the notary to make his will. He leaves his\nmother his palace, his brothers his carriage and horses, his sisters a\ndowry, his servants a free passage to mass (\"la strada d'and\u00e0 a messa\" #\nnothing), a hundred and fifty masses for his soul; for his mistress the\ngallows to hang her. #B#, #C#, 'L'Avvelenato,' Bernoni, Nuovi Canti\npopolari veneziani, 1874, No 1, p. 5, p. 3, have twelve and eighteen\nfour-line stanzas, the questions and answers in successive stanzas, and\nthe last three lines of the first pair repeated respectively\nthroughout.[146] #B#, which is given as a variant of #C#, agrees with\n#A# as to the agent in the young man's death. It is his mistress in #B#,\nbut in #C# it is his mother. In both, as in #A#, he has eaten of an eel.\nThe head he gave to the dogs, the tail to the cats (#C#). He leaves to\nhis stewards (castaldi) his carriages and horses (#C#); to his herdsmen\nhis cows and fields; to the maids his chamber furnishings; to his sister\nthe bare privilege of going to mass (#C#, as in #A#); to his mother\n[wife, #C#] the keys of his treasure. \"La forca per picarla\" is in #B#\nas in #A# the bequest to his false love, instead of whom we have his\nmother in #C#.\n\nThe corresponding #German# ballad has been known to the English for two\ngenerations through Jamieson's translation. The several versions, all\nfrom oral tradition of this century, show the same resemblances and\ndifferences as the English.\n\n#A#, #B#, 'Schlangenk\u00f6chin,' eight stanzas of six lines, four of which\nare burden, #A#, Liederhort, p. 6, No 2^a, from the neighborhood of\nWilsnack, Brandenburg, #B#, Peter, I, 187, No 6, from Weidenau, Austrian\nSilesia, run thus: Henry tells his mother that he has been at his\nsweetheart's (but not a-hunting); has had a speckled fish to eat, part\nof which was given to the dog [cat, #B#], which burst. Henry wishes his\nfather and mother all blessings, and hell-pains to his love, #A# 6-8.\nHis mother, #B# 8, asks where she shall make his bed: he replies, In the\nchurch-yard. #C#, 'Grossmutter Schlangenk\u00f6chin,' first published in\n1802, in Maria's (Clemens Brentano's) romance Godwi, II, 113, afterward\nin the Wunderhorn, I, 19 (ed. 1819, I, 20, ed. 1857), has fourteen\ntwo-line stanzas, or seven of four lines, one half burden. The copy in\nZuccalmaglio, p. 217, No 104, \"from Hesse and North Germany,\" is the\nsame thing with another line of burden intercalated and two or three\nslight changes. Maria has been at her grandmother's, who gave her a fish\nto eat which she had caught in her kitchen garden; the dog ate the\nleavings, and his belly burst. The conclusion agrees with #B#, neither\nhaving the testament. #D#, 'Stiefmutter,' seven stanzas of four short\nlines, two being burden, Uhland, No 120, p. 272; excepting one slight\nvariation, the same as Liederhort, p. 5, No 2, from the vicinity of\nB\u00fcckeburg, Lippe-Schaumburg. A child has been at her mother's sister's\nhouse, where she has had a well-peppered broth and a glass of red wine.\nThe dogs [and cats] had some broth too, and died on the spot. The child\nwishes its father a seat in heaven, for its mother one in hell. #E#,\n'Kind, wo bist du denn henne west?' Reiffenberg, p. 8, No 4, from\nB\u00f6kendorf, Westphalia, four stanzas of six lines, combining question and\nanswer, two of the six burden. A child has been at its step-aunt's, and\nhas had a bit of a fish caught in the nettles along the wall. The child\ngives all its goods to its brother, its clothes to its sister, but three\ndevils to its [step-]mother. #F#, 'Das vergiftete kind,' seven four-line\nstanzas, two burden, Schuster, Siebenb\u00fcrgisch-s\u00e4chsische V. L., p. 62,\nNo 58, from M\u00fchlbach. A child tells its father that its heart is\nbursting; it has eaten of a fish, given it by its mother, which the\nfather declares to be an adder. The child wishes its father a seat in\nheaven, its mother one in hell.\n\n#A#, #B# are nearer to 'Lord Randal,' and have even the name Henry which\nwe find in English #C#. #C-F# are like #J-O#, 'The Croodlin Doo.'\n\n#Dutch.# 'Isabelle,' Snellaert, p. 73, No 67, seven four-line stanzas,\nthe first and fourth lines repeated in each. Isabel has been sewing at\nher aunt's, and has eaten of a fish with yellow stripes that had been\ncaught with tongs in the cellar. The broth, poured into the street,\ncaused the dogs to burst. She wishes her aunt a red-hot furnace, herself\na spade to bury her, her brother a wife like his mother.\n\n#Swedish.# #A#, 'Den lillas Testamente,' ten five-line stanzas, three\nlines burden, Afzelius, III, 13, No 68; ed. Bergstr\u00f6m, I, 291, No 55. A\ngirl, interrogated by her step-mother, says she has been at her aunt's,\nand has eaten two wee striped fishes. The bones she gave the dog; the\nstanza which should describe the effect is wanting. She wishes heaven\nfor her father and mother, a ship for her brother, a jewel-box and\nchests for her sister, and hell for her step-mother and her nurse. #B#,\nArwidsson, II, 90, No 88, nine five-line stanzas, two lines burden. In\nthe first stanza, evidently corrupt, the girl says she has been at her\nbrother's. She has had eels cooked with pepper, and the bones, given to\nthe dogs, made them burst. She gives her father good corn in his barns,\nher brother and sister a ship, etc., hell to her step-mother and nurse.\n\n#Danish.# Communicated by Prof. Grundtvig, as obtained for the first\ntime from tradition in 1877; five stanzas of five lines, three lines\nrepeating. Elselille, in answer to her mother, says she has been in the\nmeadow, where she got twelve small snakes. She wishes heavenly joy to\nher father, a grave to her brother, hell torment to her sister.\n\n#Magyar.# 'Der vergiftete Knabe,' Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen,\n2^e Auflage, p. 127, in nine six-line stanzas, four being a burden.\nJohnnie, in answer to his mother, says he has been at his\nsister-in-law's, and has eaten a speckled toad, served on her handsomest\nplate, of which he is dying. He bequeaths to his father his best\ncarriage, to his brothers his finest horses, to his sister his house\nfurniture, to his sister-in-law everlasting damnation, to his mother\npain and sorrow.\n\n#Wendish.# 'Der vergiftete Knabe,' Haupt u. Schmaler, I, 110, No 77,\ntwelve four-line stanzas, combining question and answer, the first and\nlast line repeating. Henry has been at the neighbor's, has eaten part of\na fish caught in the stable with a dung-fork; his dog ate the rest, and\nburst. There is no testament. His mother asks him where she shall make\nhis bed; he replies, In the churchyard; turn my head westward, and cover\nme with green turf.\n\nThe numerous forms of this story show a general agreement, with but\nlittle difference except as to the persons who are the object and the\nagent of the crime. These are, according to the Italian\ntradition,--which is 250 years old, while no other goes back more than a\nhundred years, and far the larger part have been obtained in recent\nyears,--a young man and his true-love; and in this account unite two of\nthe three modern Italian versions, English #A-G#, German #A#, #B#. Scott\nsuggests that the handsome young sportsman (whom we find in English #A#,\n#C#, #D#, #E#, #F#, #H#) may have been exchanged for a little child\npoisoned by a step-mother, to excite greater interest in the nursery.\nThis seems very reasonable. What girl with a lover, singing the ballad,\nwould not be tempted to put off the treacherous act on so popular,\nthough most unjustly popular, an object of aversion? A mother, again,\nwould scarcely allow \"mother\" to stand, as is the case in Italian #C#\nand German #F#, and a singer who considered that all blood relations\nshould be treated as sacred would ascribe the wickedness to somebody\nbeyond that pale, say a neighbor, as the Wendish ballad does, and\nZuccalmaglio's reading of German #C#. The step-mother is expressly named\nonly in English #J#, #K c#, #L#, #M#, #N#, #O#, and in four of these,\n#J#, #K c#, #M#, #O#, the child has a mammie,[147] which certainly\nproves an _alibi_ for the step-mother, and confirms what Scott says.\nThere is a step-aunt in German #E# and Swedish #A#, and the aunt in\nGerman #D# and the Dutch ballad, and the grandmother in English #I#, #K\na#, #b#, German #C#, are perhaps meant (as the brother in Swedish #B#\ncertainly is) to be step-relations and accommodating instruments.\n\nThe poisoning is shifted to a wife in English #H#, to an uncle in\nEnglish #I d#, and to a sister-in-law in the Magyar version.\n\nThere is all but universal consent that the poisoning was done by\nserving up snakes for fish. The Magyar says a toad, English #M# a\nfour-footed fish,[148] German #D# a well-peppered broth and a glass of\nred wine. English #L# adds a drink of hemlock stocks to the speckled\ntrout; #F#, #H# have simply poison. The fish are distinctively eels in\nthe Italian versions, and in English #A#, #D#, #E#, #G#, #I#, Swedish\n#B#. English #A#, #J#, #K#, #M#, #N#, #O#, German #A-D#, the Italian,\nSwedish, Dutch, Wendish versions, and by implication English #C#, #D#,\n#E# also, concur in saying that a part of the fish was given to a dog\n[dogs, cat, cats], and that death was the consequence. Bursting or\nswelling is characteristic of this kind of poisoning: German #A#, #B#,\n#C#, #F#, English #D#, #E#, and the Dutch and Wendish versions.\n\nThe dying youth or child in many cases makes a nuncupative will, or\ndeclares his last wishes, upon a suggestion proceeding from the person\nwho is by him, commonly from the mother: English #A#, #B#, #C#, #H#,\n#I#: German #A#, #D#, #E#, #F#: the Italian, Dutch, Swedish, Danish,\nMagyar versions. The bequest to the poisoner is the gallows in English\n#B#, #C#, #H#, #I#, Italian #A#, #B#, #C#; hell, English #A#, German\n#A#, #D#, #F#, Swedish #A#, #B#, Danish; and an equivalent in German\n#E#, the Dutch and the Magyar copy. 'The Cruel Brother,' No 11, and\n'Edward,' No 13, have a will of this same fashion.\n\nIn all the English versions the burden has the entreaty \"Make my bed,\"\nand this is addressed to the mother in all but #L#, #N#. In #H#, an\nIrish copy, and #I#, an American one, the mother asks where the bed\nshall be made; and the answer is, In the churchyard. This feature is\nfound again in German #B#, #C# and in the Wendish version.\n\nThe resemblance in the form of the stanza in all the versions deserves a\nword of remark. For the most part, the narrative proceeds in sections of\ntwo short lines, or rather half lines, which are a question and an\nanswer, the rest of the stanza being regularly repeated. English #L#,\n#N#, as written (#L# not always), separate the question and answer; this\nis done, too, in Italian #B#, #C#. German #E#, on the contrary, has two\nquestions and the answers in each stanza, and is altogether peculiar.\nSwedish #B# varies the burden in part, imagining father, brother,\nsister, etc., to ask what the little girl will give to each, and\nadapting the reply accordingly, \"Faderen min,\" \"Broderen min.\"\n\nA Bohemian and a Catalan ballad which have two of the three principal\ntraits of the foregoing, the poisoning and the testament, do not\nexhibit, perhaps have lost, the third, the employment of snakes.\n\nThe story of the first is that a mother who dislikes the wife her son\nhas chosen attempts to poison her at the wedding feast. She sets a glass\nof honey before the son, a glass of poison before the bride. They\nexchange cups. The poison is swift. The young man leaves four horses to\nhis brother, eight cows to his sister, his fine house to his wife. \"And\nwhat to me, my son?\" asks the mother. A broad mill-stone and the deep\nMoldau is the bequest to her. Waldau, B\u00f6hmische Granaten, II, 109, cited\nby Reifferscheid, p. 137 f.\n\nThe Catalan ballad seems to have been softened at the end. Here again a\nmother hates her daughter-in-law. She comes to the sick woman, \"com qui\nno 'n sab\u00e8s res,\" and asks What is the matter? The daughter says, You\nhave poisoned me. The mother exhorts her to confess and receive the\nsacrament, and then make her will. She gives her castles in France to\nthe poor and the pilgrims [and the friars], and to her brother Don\nCarlos [who, in one version is her husband]. Two of the versions\nremember the Virgin. \"And to me?\" \"To you, my husband [my cloak,\nrosary], that when you go to mass you may remember me.\" In one version\nthe mother asks the dying woman where she will be buried. She says At\nSaint Mary's. Mil\u00e0, Observaciones, p. 103 f, No 5, two versions: Briz y\nSalt\u00f3, II, 197 f, two also, the first nearly the same as Mil\u00e0's first.\n\nPoisoning by giving a snake as food, or by infusing the venom in drink,\nis an incident in several other popular ballads.\n\nDonna Lombarda attempts, at the instigation of a lover, to rid herself\nof her husband by pounding a serpent, or its head, in a mortar, and\nmixing the juice with his wine [in one version simply killing the snake\nand putting it in a cask]: Nigra, Canzoni del Piemonti, in Rivista\nContemporanea, XII, 32 ff, four versions; Marcoaldi, p. 177, No 20;\nWolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p. 46, No 72; Righi, Canti popolari\nveronesi, p. 37, No 100*; Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 1, No 1;\nBernoni, C. p. veneziani, Puntata V, No 1. In three of Nigra's versions\nand in Ferraro's the drink is offered when the husband returns from\nhunting. The husband, rendered suspicious by the look of the wine, or\nwarned of his danger, forces his wife to drink first. So in a northern\nballad, a mother who attempts to destroy her sons [step-sons] with a\nbrewage of this description is obliged to drink first, and bursts with\nthe poison: 'Eiturbyrlunar kv\u00e6\u00f0i,' \u00cdslenzk Fornkv., II, 79, No 43 A;\n'Fru Gundela,' Arwidsson, II, 92, No 89; 'Signelill aa hennes synir,'\nBugge, p. 95, No XX, the last half.\n\nIn one of the commonest Slavic ballads, a girl, who finds her brother an\nobstacle to her desires, poisons him, at the instigation and under the\ninstruction of the man she fancies, or of her own motion, by giving him\na snake to eat, or the virus in drink. The object of her passion, on\nbeing informed of what she has done, casts her off, for fear of her\ndoing the like to him. Bohemian: 'Sestra travi\u010dka,' Erben, P. n. w\n\u010cech\u00e1ch, 1842, I, 9, No 2, Proston\u00e1rodni \u010desk\u00e9 P., 1864, p. 477,\nNo 13; Swoboda, Sb\u00edrka \u010d. n. P., p. 19; German translations by\nSwoboda, by Wenzig, W. s. M\u00e4rchenschatz, p. 263, I. v. D\u00fcringsfeld,\nB\u00f6hmische Rosen, p. 176, etc. Moravian: Su\u0161il, p. 167, No 168.\nSlovak, \u010celakowsky, Slowansk\u00e9 n. P., III, 76. Polish: Kolberg, P. L.\np., I, 115, No 8, some twenty versions; Wojcicki, P. L.\nbia\u0142ochrobatow, etc., I, 71, 73, 232, 289; Pauli, P. L. polskiego, p.\n81, 82: Konopka, P. L. krakowskiego, p. 125. Servian: Vuk, I, 215, No\n302, translated by Talvj, II, 192, and by Kapper, Ges\u00e4nge der Serben,\nII, 177. Russian: \u010celakowsky, as above, III, 108. Etc. The attempt is\nmade, but unsuccessfully, in Sacharof, P. russkago N., IV, 7.\n\nA version given by De Rada, Rapsodie d'un poema albanese, p. 78, canto\nx, resembles the Slavic, with a touch of the Italian. A man incites a\ngirl to poison her brother by pounding the poison out of a serpent's\nhead and tail and mixing it with wine.\n\nIn a widely spread Romaic ballad, a mother poisons the bride whom her\nson has just brought home,--an orphan girl in some versions, but in one\na king's daughter wedding a king's son. The cooks who are preparing the\nfeast are made to cook for the bride the heads of three snakes [nine\nsnakes' heads, a three-headed snake, winged snakes and two-headed\nadders]. In two Epirote versions the poisoned girl bursts with the\neffects. \"\u03a4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03b1 \u03c0\u03b5\u03b8\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1,\" Passow, p. 335, No 456,\nnearly==Zambelios, p. 753, No 41; Passow, p. 337, No 457; Tommaseo,\nCanti popolari, III, 135; Jeannaraki, p. 127, No 130[149]; Chasiotis\n(Epirote), p. 51, No 40, \"\u1f29 \u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b3\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f21 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03b7 \u03c0\u03b5\u03b8\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u00b7\"\np. 103, No 22, \"\u1f49 \u0394\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f21 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03b7 \u03c0\u03b5\u03b8\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1.\" (Liebrecht,\nVolkskunde, p. 214.)\n\nAn Italian mother-in-law undertakes to poison her son's wife with a\nsnake-potion. The wife, on her husband's return from the chase,\ninnocently proposes to share the drink with him. Her husband no sooner\nhas tasted than he falls dead. (Kaden, Italien's Wunderhorn, p. 85).\n\nScott cites in his preface to 'Lord Randal' a passage from a MS.\nchronicle of England, in which the death of King John is described as\nbeing brought about by administering to him the venom of a toad (cf. the\nMagyar ballad). The symptoms--swelling and rupture--are found in the\nScandinavian and Epirote ballads referred to above, besides those\npreviously noticed (p. 155). King John had asked a monk at the abbey of\nSwinshed how much a loaf on the table was worth. The monk answered a\nhalf-penny. The king said that if he could bring it about, such a loaf\nshould be worth twenty pence ere half a year. The monk thought he would\nrather die than that this should come to pass. \"And anon the monk went\nunto his abbot and was shrived of him, and told the abbot all that the\nking said, and prayed his abbot to assoil him, for he would give the\nking such a wassail that all England should be glad and joyful thereof.\nThen went the monk into a garden, and found a toad therein, and took her\nup, and put her in a cup, and filled it with good ale, and pricked her\nin every place, in the cup, till the venom came out in every place, and\nbrought it before the king, and kneeled, and said: 'Sir, wassail: for\nnever in your life drank ye of such a cup.' 'Begin, monk,' said the\nking: and the monk drank a great draught, and took the king the cup, and\nthe king also drank a great draught, and set down the cup. The monk anon\nwent to the firmary, and there died anon, on whose soul God have mercy,\namen. And five monks sing for his soul especially, and shall while the\nabbey standeth. The king was anon full evil at ease, and commanded to\nremove the table, and asked after the monk; and men told him that he was\ndead, for his womb was broke in sunder. When the king heard this tiding,\nhe commanded for to truss: but all it was for nought, for his belly\nbegan to swell from the drink that he drank, that he died within two\ndays, the morrow after Saint Luke's day.\" Minstrelsy, III, 287 f. The\nsame story in Eulogium Historiarum, ed. Haydon, III, 109 f.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#B# and #K c# are translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske\nFolkeviser, p. 284, 286. #D#, by W. Grimm, 3 Altschottische Lieder, p.\n3; by Schubart, p. 177; Arndt, p. 229; Doenniges, p. 79; Gerhardt, p.\n83; Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 174. #K a# by Fiedler, Geschichte\nder volksth\u00fcmlichen schottischen Liederdichtung, II, 268. German #C# is\ntranslated by Jamieson, Illustrations, p. 320: Swedish #A# by W. and M.\nHowitt, Literature and Romance of Northern Europe, I, 265.\n\n\nA\n\n From a small manuscript volume lent me by Mr William\n Macmath, of Edinburgh, containing four pieces written in\n or about 1710, and this ballad in a later hand. Charles\n Mackie, August, 1808, is scratched upon the binding.\n\n 1\n 'O where ha you been, Lord Randal, my son?\n And where ha you been, my handsome young man?'\n 'I ha been at the greenwood; mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down.'\n\n 2\n 'An wha met ye there, Lord Randal, my son?\n An wha met you there, my handsome young man?'\n 'O I met wi my true-love; mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm wearied wi huntin, an fain wad lie down.'\n\n 3\n 'And what did she give you, Lord Randal, my son?\n And what did she give you, my handsome young man?'\n 'Eels fried in a pan; mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down.'\n\n 4\n 'And wha gat your leavins, Lord Randal, my son?\n And wha gat your leavins, my handsom young man?'\n 'My hawks and my hounds; mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie down.'\n\n 5\n 'And what becam of them, Lord Randal, my son?\n And what becam of them, my handsome young man?'\n 'They stretched their legs out an died; mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie down.'\n\n 6\n 'O I fear you are poisoned, Lord Randal, my son!\n I fear you are poisoned, my handsome young man!'\n 'O yes, I am poisoned; mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.'\n\n 7\n 'What d' ye leave to your mother, Lord Randal, my son?\n What d' ye leave to your mother, my handsome young man?'\n 'Four and twenty milk kye; mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.'\n\n 8\n 'What d' ye leave to your sister, Lord Randal, my son?\n What d' ye leave to your sister, my handsome young man?'\n 'My gold and my silver; mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm sick at the heart, an I fain wad lie down.'\n\n 9\n 'What d' ye leave to your brother, Lord Randal, my son?\n What d' ye leave to your brother, my handsome young man?'\n 'My houses and my lands; mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.'\n\n 10\n 'What d' ye leave to your true-love, Lord Randal, my son?\n What d' ye leave to your true-love, my handsome young man?'\n 'I leave her hell and fire; mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down.'\n\n\nB\n\n Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 110. From Mrs\n Comie, Aberdeen.\n\n 1\n 'O whare hae ye been a' day, Lord Donald, my son?\n O whare hae ye been a' day, my jollie young man?'\n 'I've been awa courtin; mither, mak my bed sune,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.'\n\n 2\n 'What wad ye hae for your supper, Lord Donald, my son?\n What wad ye hae for your supper, my jollie young man?'\n 'I've gotten my supper; mither, mak my bed sune,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.'\n\n 3\n 'What did ye get for your supper, Lord Donald, my son?\n What did ye get for your supper, my jollie young man?'\n 'A dish of sma fishes; mither mak my bed sune,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.'\n\n 4\n 'Whare gat ye the fishes, Lord Donald, my son?\n Whare gat ye the fishes, my jollie young man?'\n 'In my father's black ditches; mither, mak my bed sune,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.'\n\n 5\n 'What like were your fishes, Lord Donald, my son?\n What like were your fishes, my jollie young man?'\n 'Black backs and spreckld bellies; mither, mak my bed sune,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.'\n\n 6\n 'O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Donald, my son!\n O I fear ye are poisond, my jollie young man!'\n 'O yes! I am poisond; mither mak my bed sune,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.'\n\n 7\n 'What will ye leave to your father, Lord Donald my son?\n What will ye leave to your father, my jollie young man?'\n 'Baith my houses and land; mither, mak my bed sune,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.'\n\n 8\n 'What will ye leave to your brither, Lord Donald, my son?\n What will ye leave to your brither, my jollie young man?'\n 'My horse and the saddle; mither, mak my bed sune,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.'\n\n 9\n 'What will ye leave to your sister, Lord Donald, my son?\n What will ye leave to your sister, my jollie young man?'\n 'Baith my gold box and rings; mither, mak my bed sune,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.'\n\n 10\n 'What will ye leave to your true-love, Lord Donald, my son?\n What will ye leave to your true-love, my jollie young man?'\n 'The tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree,\n And lat her hang there for the poysoning o me.'\n\n\nC\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 69. From the recitation of Margaret\n Bain, in the parish of Blackford, Perthshire.\n\n 1\n 'What's become of your hounds, King Henrie, my son?\n What's become of your hounds, my pretty little one?'\n 'They all died on the way; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.'\n\n 2\n 'What gat ye to your supper, King Henry, my son?\n What gat ye to your supper, my pretty little one?'\n 'I gat fish boiled in broo; mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.'\n\n 3\n 'What like were the fish, King Henry, my son?\n What like were the fish, my pretty little one?'\n 'They were spreckled on the back and white on the belly; mother, make\n my bed soon,\n For I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.'\n\n 4\n 'What leave ye to your father, King Henry, my son?\n What leave ye to your father, my pretty little one?'\n 'The keys of Old Ireland, and all that's therein; mother, make my bed\n soon,\n For I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.'\n\n 5\n 'What leave ye to your brother, King Henry, my son?\n What leave ye to your brother, my pretty little one?'\n 'The keys of my coffers and all that's therein; mother, mak my bed\n soon,\n For I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.'\n\n 6\n 'What leave ye to your sister, King Henry, my son?\n What leave ye to your sister, my pretty little one?'\n 'The world's wide, she may go beg; mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.'\n\n 7\n 'What leave ye to your trew-love, King Henry, my son?\n What leave ye to your trew-love, my pretty little one?'\n 'The highest hill to hang her on, for she's poisoned me and my hounds\n all; mother, make my bed soon,\n Oh I'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie down.'\n\n\nD\n\n Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1803, III, 292.\n\n 1\n 'O where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?\n O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?'\n 'I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.'\n\n 2\n 'Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?\n Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?'\n 'I din'd wi my true-love; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.'\n\n 3\n 'What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?\n What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?'\n 'I gat eels boild in broo; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.'\n\n 4\n 'What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son?\n What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?'\n 'O they swelld and they died; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie down.'\n\n 5\n 'O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Randal, my son!\n O I fear ye are poisond, my handsome young man!'\n 'O yes! I am poisond; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.'\n\n\nE\n\n Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, p. 261. \"A\n version still popular in Scotland,\" 1849.\n\n 1\n 'Ah where have you been, Lairde Rowlande, my son?\n Ah where have you been, Lairde Rowlande, my son?'\n 'I've been in the wild woods; mither, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.'\n\n 2\n 'Oh you've been at your true love's, Lairde Rowlande, my son!\n Oh you've been at your true-love's, Lairde Rowlande, my son!'\n 'I've been at my true-love's; mither, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.'\n\n 3\n 'What got you to dinner, Lairde Rowlande, my son?\n What got you to dinner, Lairde Rowlande, my son?'\n 'I got eels boild in brue; mither, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.'\n\n 4\n 'What's become of your warden, Lairde Rowlande, my son?\n What's become of your warden, Lairde Rowlande, my son?'\n 'He died in the muirlands; mither, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.'\n\n 5\n 'What's become of your stag-hounds, Lairde Rowlande, my son?\n What's become of your stag-hounds, Lairde Rowlande, my son?'\n 'They swelled and they died; mither, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.'\n\n\nF\n\n Johnson's Museum, No 327, p. 337. Communicated by Burns.\n\n 1\n 'O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?\n O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?'\n 'I hae been wi my sweetheart; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm weary wi the hunting, and fain wad lie down.'\n\n 2\n 'What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?\n What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?'\n 'I hae got deadly poison; mother, make my bed soon,\n For life is a burden that soon I'll lay down.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\nG\n\n Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 319. Originally\n from a clergyman's daughter, in Suffolk.\n\n 1\n 'Where have you been today, Billy, my son?\n Where have you been today, my only man?'\n 'I've been a wooing; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick at heart, and fain would lay down.'\n\n 2\n 'What have you ate today, Billy, my son?\n What have you ate today, my only man?'\n 'I've ate eel-pie; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick at heart, and shall die before noon.'\n\n\nH\n\n Taken down by me, February, 1881, from the recitation of\n Ellen Healy, as repeated to her by a young girl at\n \"Lackabairn,\" Kerry, Ireland, about 1868.\n\n 1\n 'Where was you all day, my own pretty boy?\n Where was you all day, my comfort and joy?'\n 'I was fishing and fowling; mother, make my bed soon,\n There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.'\n\n 2\n 'What did you have for your breakfast, my own pretty boy?\n What did you have for your breakfast, my comfort and joy?'\n 'A cup of strong poison; mother, make my bed soon,\n There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.'\n\n 3\n 'I fear you are poisoned, my own pretty boy,\n I fear you are poisoned, my comfort and joy!'\n 'O yes, I am poisoned; mother, make my bed soon,\n There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.'\n\n 4\n 'What will you leave to your father, my own pretty boy?\n What will you leave to your father, my comfort and joy?'\n 'I'll leave him my house and my property; mother, make my bed soon,\n There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.'\n\n 5\n 'What will you leave to your mother, my own pretty boy?\n What will you leave to your mother, my comfort and joy?'\n 'I'll leave her my coach and four horses; mother, make my bed soon,\n There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.'\n\n 6\n 'What will you leave to your brother, my own pretty boy?\n What will you leave to your brother, my comfort and joy?'\n 'I'll leave him my bow and my fiddle; mother, make my bed soon,\n There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.'\n\n 7\n 'What will you leave to your sister, my own pretty boy?\n What will you leave to your sister, my comfort and joy?'\n 'I'll leave her my gold and my silver; mother, make my bed soon,\n There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.'\n\n 8\n 'What will you leave to your servant, my own pretty boy?\n What will you leave to your servant, my comfort and joy?'\n 'I'll leave him the key of my small silver box; mother, make my bed\n soon,\n There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.'\n\n 9\n 'What will you leave to your children, my own pretty boy?\n What will you leave to your children, my comfort and joy?'\n 'The world is wide all round for to beg; mother, make my bed soon,\n There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.'\n\n 10\n 'What will you leave to your wife, my own pretty boy?\n What will you leave to your wife, my comfort and joy?'\n 'I'll leave her the gallows, and plenty to hang her; mother, make my\n bed soon,\n There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.'\n\n 11\n 'Where shall I make it, my own pretty boy?\n Where shall I make it, my comfort and joy?'\n 'Above in the churchyard, and dig it down deep,\n Put a stone to my head and a flag to my feet,\n And leave me down easy until I'll take a long sleep.'\n\n\nI\n\n #a.# Communicated by Mrs L. F. Wesselhoeft, of Boston, as\n sung to her when a child by her grandmother, Elizabeth\n Foster, born in Maine, who appears to have learned the\n ballad of her mother about 1800. #b.# By a daughter of\n Elizabeth Foster, as learned about 1820. #c.# By Miss\n Ellen Marston, of New Bedford, as learned from her mother,\n born 1778. #d.# By Mrs Cushing, of Cambridge, Mass., as\n learned in 1838 from a schoolmate, who is thought to have\n derived it from an old nurse. #e.# By Mrs Augustus Lowell,\n of Boston. #f.# By Mrs Edward Atkinson, of Boston, learned\n of Mrs A. Lowell, in girlhood. #g.# By Mrs A. Lowell, as\n derived from a friend.\n\n 1\n 'O where have you been, Tiranti, my son?\n O where have you been, my sweet little one?'\n 'I have been to my grandmother's; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.'\n\n 2\n 'What did you have for your supper, Tiranti, my son?\n What did you have for your supper, my sweet little one?'\n 'I had eels fried in butter; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.'\n\n 3\n 'Where did the eels come from, Tiranti, my son?\n Where did the eels come from, my sweet little one?'\n 'From the corner of the haystack; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.'\n\n 4\n 'What color were the eels, Tiranti, my son?\n What color were the eels, my sweet little one?'\n 'They were streak\u00ebd and strip\u00ebd; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.'\n\n 5\n 'What'll you give to your father, Tiranti, my son?\n What'll you give to your father, my sweet little one?'\n 'All my gold and my silver; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.'\n\n 6\n 'What'll you give to your mother, Tiranti, my son?\n What'll you give to your mother, my sweet little one?'\n 'A coach and six horses; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.'\n\n 7\n 'What'll you give to your grandmother, Tiranti, my son?\n What'll you give to your grandmother, my sweet little one?'\n 'A halter to hang her; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.'\n\n 8\n 'Where'll you have your bed made, Tiranti, my son?\n Where'll you have your bed made, my sweet little one?'\n 'In the corner of the churchyard; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick to my heart, and I'm faint to lie down.'\n\n\nJ\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 238. From the recitation of Miss\n Maxwell, of Brediland.\n\n 1\n 'O whare hae ye been a' day, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?\n O whare hae ye been a' day, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?'\n 'I 've been at my step-mother's; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!\n I 've been at my step-mother's; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!'\n\n 2\n 'O what did ye get at your step-mother's, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?'\n [_Twice._]\n 'I gat a wee wee fishie; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!' [_Twice._]\n\n 3\n 'O whare gat she the wee fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?'\n 'In a dub before the door; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!'\n\n 4\n 'What did ye wi the wee fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?'\n 'I boild it in a wee pannie; oh mak my bed, mammy, now!'\n\n 5\n 'Wha gied ye the banes o the fishie till, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?'\n 'I gied them till a wee doggie; oh mak my bed, mammie, now!'\n\n 6\n 'O whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie wee croodlin dow?\n O whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?'\n 'It shot out its fit and died, and sae maun I do too;\n Oh mak my bed, mammy, now, now, oh mak my bed, mammy, now!'\n\n\nK\n\n #a.# Chambers' Scottish Ballads, p. 324. #b.# Chambers'\n Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1842, p. 53. #c.# The\n Stenhouse-Laing ed. of Johnson's Museum, IV, 364*,\n communicated by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.\n\n 1\n 'O whaur hae ye been a' the day, my little wee croodlin doo?'\n 'O I 've been at my grandmother's; mak my bed, mammie, now!'\n\n 2\n 'O what gat ye at your grandmother's, my little wee croodlin doo?'\n 'I got a bonnie wee fishie; mak my bed, mammie, now!'\n\n 3\n 'O whaur did she catch the fishie, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?'\n 'She catchd it in the gutter hole: mak my bed, mammie, now!'\n\n 4\n 'And what did she do wi the fish, my little wee croodlin doo?'\n 'She boiled it in a brass pan; O mak my bed, mammie, now!'\n\n 5\n 'And what did ye do wi the banes o't, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?'\n 'I gied them to my little dog; mak my bed, mammie, now!'\n\n 6\n 'And what did your little doggie do, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?'\n 'He stretched out his head, his feet, and deed; and so will I, mammie,\n now!'\n\n\nL\n\n Buchan's MSS, II, 322; Ballads of the North of Scotland,\n II, 179.\n\n 1\n 'Whar hae ye been a' the day, Willie doo, Willie doo?\n Whar hae ye been a' the day, Willie, my doo?'\n\n 2\n 'I've been to see my step-mother; make my bed, lay me down;\n Make my bed, lay me down, die shall I now!'\n\n 3\n 'What got ye frae your step-mother, Willie doo, Willie doo?\n What got ye frae your step-mother, Willie, my doo?'\n\n 4\n 'She gae me a speckled trout; make my bed, lay me down;\n She gae me a speckled trout, die shall I now!'\n\n 5\n 'Whar got she the speckled trout, Willie doo, Willie doo?'\n 'She got it amang the heather hills; die shall I now.'\n\n 6\n 'What did she boil it in, Willie doo, Willie doo?'\n 'She boild it in the billy-pot; die shall I now!'\n\n 7\n 'What gaed she you for to drink, Willie doo, Willie doo?\n What gaed she you for to drink, Willie, my doo?'\n\n 8\n 'She gaed me hemlock stocks; make my bed, lay me down;\n Made in the brewing pot; die shall I now!'\n\n 9\n They made his bed, laid him down, poor Willie doo, Willie doo;\n He turnd his face to the wa; he 's dead now!\n\n\nM\n\n Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1870, p. 51. \"Mrs Lockhart's\n copy.\"\n\n 1\n 'Where hae ye been a' the day, my bonny wee croodin doo?'\n 'O I hae been at my stepmother's house; make my bed, mammie, now, now,\n now,\n Make my bed, mammie, now!'\n\n 2\n 'Where did ye get your dinner?' my, etc.\n 'I got it at my stepmother's;' make, etc.\n\n 3\n 'What did she gie ye to your dinner?'\n 'She gae me a little four-footed fish.'\n\n 4\n 'Where got she the four-footed fish?'\n 'She got it down in yon well strand;' O make, etc.\n\n 5\n 'What did she do with the banes o't?'\n 'She gae them to the little dog.'\n\n 6\n 'O what became o the little dog?'\n 'O it shot out its feet and died;' O make, etc.\n\n\nN\n\n Kinloch's MSS, V, 347. In Dr John Hill Burton's hand.\n\n 1\n 'Fare hae ye been a' day, a' day, a' day,\n Fare hae ye been a' day, my little wee croudlin doo?'\n\n 2\n 'I 've been at my step-mammie's, my step-mammie's, my step-mammie's,\n I 've been at my step-mammie's; come mack my beddy now!'\n\n 3\n 'What got ye at yer step-mammie's,\n My little wee croudlin doo?'\n\n 4\n 'She gied me a spreckled fishie;\n Come mack my beddy now!'\n\n 5\n 'What did ye wi the baenies oet,\n My little wee croudlin doo?'\n\n 6\n 'I gaed them till her little dogie;\n Come mack my beddy now!'\n\n 7\n 'What did her little dogie syne,\n My little wee croudlin doo?'\n\n 8\n 'He laid down his heed and feet;\n And sae shall I dee now!'\n\n\nO\n\n From a manuscript collection, copied out in 1840 or 1850,\n by a granddaughter of Alexander Fraser-Tytler, p. 67.\n\n 1\n 'O where hae ye been a' the day, my wee wee croodlin doo doo?\n O where hae ye been a' the day, my bonnie wee croodlin doo?'\n 'O I hae been to my step-mammie's; mak my bed, mammy, noo, noo,\n Mak my bed, mammy, noo!'\n\n 2\n 'O what did yere step-mammie gie to you?' etc.\n 'She gied to me a wee wee fish,' etc.\n\n 3\n '[O] what did she boil the wee fishie in?'\n 'O she boiled it in a wee wee pan; it turned baith black an blue, blue,\n It turned baith black an blue.'\n\n 4\n 'An what did she gie the banes o't to?'\n 'O she gied them to a wee wee dog;' mak, etc.\n\n 5\n 'An what did the wee wee doggie do then?'\n 'O it put out its tongue and its feet, an it deed; an sae maun I do\n noo, noo,\n An sae maun I do noo!'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#C.#\n\n 4^2. your father, King Henry, my son.\n\n#I. a.#\n\n 1^4. _~faint to~, an obvious corruption of ~fain to~, is\n found also in #b#, #c#; #d# has fain wad; #e#, ~faint~ or\n ~fain~; #f#, ~fain~; #g#, ~I faint to~. N. B. 8 stands 5\n in the MS. copy, but is the last stanza in all others\n which have it._\n\n #b.#\n\n 2^1. for your dinner.\n\n _After 2 follows_:\n\n Who cooked you the eels, Tiranti, my son? etc.\n O 't was my grandmother; mother, make my bed soon, etc.\n\n #b# 5==#a# 3:\n\n ^1. Where did she get the, eels? etc.\n\n ^3. By the side of the haystack, etc.\n\n #b# 6==#a# 7 : 7==#a# 8 : 8==#a# 5.\n\n 8^4. and die to lie down.\n\n #a# is wanting in_ #b#.\n\n #c.#\n\n 1^4. at my heart (_and always_).\n\n 2^1. O what did she give you? _etc._\n\n 2^3. Striped eels fried, etc.\n\n 3==#a# 4.\n\n 3^1. O how did they look? etc.\n\n 3^3. Ringed, streaked, and speckled, etc.\n\n 4==#a# 3.\n\n 4^1. O where did they come from?\n\n 5^1. O what will you give your father, my son?\n\n 5^2. O what will you give him?\n\n 5^3. A coach and six horses.\n\n 6^1. O what will you give your mother, my son? _as in 5._\n\n 6^3. All my gold and my silver.\n\n 7^1. O what will you give your granny? _as in 5._\n\n 8^1. O where'll, etc.\n\n #c# _adds, as 9_:\n\n So this is the end of Tiranti my son,\n So this is the end of my sweet little one:\n His grandmother poisoned him with an old dead snake,\n And he left her a halter to hang by the neck.\n\n #d.#\n\n 1^1, _etc._ Tyrante.\n\n 1^3. O I've been to my uncle's, _etc._\n\n 1^4. and fain wad lie doun.\n\n 2^3. eels and fresh butter.\n\n 3==#a# 4.\n\n 3^3. black strip\u00ebd with yellow.\n\n 4==#a# 7.\n\n 4^1. What'll ye will to your mither?\n\n 4^3. My gold and my silver.\n\n 5==#a# 6.\n\n 5^1 What'll ye will to your father?\n\n 5^3. My coach and my horses.\n\n 6==#a# 8.\n\n 6^1. What'll you will to your uncle?\n\n _3, 5 of #a# are wanting._\n\n #e.#\n\n 1^4. For I'm sick at heart, and faint [fain] to lie down.\n\n 3==#a# 7.\n\n 3^1. What will you leave your mother?\n\n 3^3. A box full of jewels.\n\n 4^1. What will you leave your sister?\n\n 4^3. A box of fine clothing.\n\n 5==#a# 8.\n\n 5^3. A rope to hang her with.\n\n 6==#a# 5.\n\n 6^1 Where shall I make it?\n\n _3, 4 of #a# are wanting._\n\n #f.#\n\n _This copy was derived from the singing of the lady who\n communicated #e#, and they naturally agree closely._\n\n 1^4, fain to lie down. #f# 3==e 4 : #f# 4==e 3.\n\n #g.#\n\n 1^4. For I'm sick at the heart, and I faint to lie down.\n\n 2^1. What did you get at your grandmother's?\n\n 2^3. I got eels stewed in butter.\n\n 3==#a# 8.\n\n 3^1. What will you leave ...\n\n 4^1. What will you leave to your brother?\n\n 4^3. A full suit of mourning.\n\n 5==#a# 7.\n\n 5^1. leave to your mother.\n\n 5^3. A carriage and fine horses.\n\n 6==#a# 5.\n\n _3, 4 of #a# are wanting._\n\n#K.#\n\n #a#, #b#, #c# are printed, in the publications in which\n they occur, in four-line stanzas._\n\n #b.#\n\n _Omits 4._\n\n 6^1. the little doggie.\n\n 6^2. as I do, mammie, noo.\n\n #c.#\n\n 1^1, my bonnie wee crooden doo: _and always_.\n\n 1^2. at my step-mither's.\n\n 2.\n And what did scho gie you to eat ...\n Scho gied to me a wee fishie....\n\n 3^1. An what did she catch the fishie in ...\n\n _4 is wanting_.\n\n#L.#\n\n _Written in the MS., and printed by Buchan, in stanzas of\n 4 lines._\n\n#M.#\n\n _Printed by Chambers in stanzas of 4 lines, the last\n repeated._\n\n#N.#\n\n _The second line of each stanza is written as two in the\n MS._\n\n#O.#\n\n _The stanza, being written with short lines in the\n manuscript, is of seven lines, including the repetitions._\n\n\n[144] Opera nuova, nella quale si contiene una incatenatura di pi\u00f9\nvillanelle ed altre cose ridiculose.... Data in luce per me Camillo,\ndetto il Bianchino, cieco Florentino. Fliegendes Blatt von Verona, 1629.\nEgeria, p. 53; p. 260, note 31.--With the above (Egeria, p. 59) compare\nespecially the beginning of Italian #B#, further on.\n\n[145] It begins:\n\n \"D\u00f4ve s\u00ee st\u00e2 jersira,\n _Figliuol mio caro, fiorito e gentil?\n D\u00f4ve s\u00ee st\u00e2 jersira_?\"\n \"S\u00f4n st\u00e2 dalla mia dama;\n _Sign\u00f3ra Mama, mio core sta mal!\n Son st\u00e2 dalla mia dama;\n Ohim\u00e8! ch'io moro, ohim\u00e8_!\"\n\n[146] E.g. (#B#):\n\n 1\n \"E dove xestu st\u00e0 gieri sera,\n Figlio mio rico, sapio e gentil?\n E dove xestu st\u00e0 gieri sera,\n Gentil mio cavalier?\"\n\n 2\n \"E mi so' stato da la mia bela;\n Signora madre, el mio cuor st\u00e0 mal!\n E mi so' stato da la mia bela;\n Oh Dio, che moro, ohim\u00e8!\"\n\n 3\n \"E cossa t'\u00e0la dato da \u00e7ena,\n Figlio mio?\" etc.\n\n 4\n \"E la m'\u00e0 dato 'n'anguila rostita;\n Signora madre,\" etc.\n\n[147] Grundtvig notices this absurdity, Eng. og skotske F. v, p. 286,\nnote **.\n\n[148] \"The nurse or nursery maid who sung these verses (to a very\nplaintive air) always informed the juvenile audience that the\nstep-mother was a rank witch, and that the fish was an ask (newt), which\nwas in Scotland formerly deemed a most poisonous reptile.\" C. K. Sharpe,\nin the Musical Museum, Laing-Stenhouse, IV, 364*.\n\n[149] A golden bird, sitting on the bride's hand, sings, \"You had better\nnot go there; you will have a bad mother-in-law and a bad\nfather-in-law.\" There are ill omens also in Passow, No 437.\n\n\n\n\n13\n\nEDWARD\n\n #A. a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 139. #b.# Motherwell's\n Minstrelsy, p. 339. From recitation.\n\n #B.# Percy's Reliques, 1765, I, 53. Communicated by Sir\n David Dalrymple.\n\n #C.# MS. of A. Laing, one stanza.\n\n\n#A b#, \"given from the recitation of an old woman,\" is evidently #A a#\nslightly regulated by Motherwell. #B#, we are informed in the 4th\nedition of the Reliques, p. 61, was sent Percy by Sir David Dalrymple,\nLord Hailes. Motherwell thought there was reason to believe \"that his\nlordship made a few slight verbal improvements on the copy he\ntransmitted, and altered the hero's name to Edward,--a name which, by\nthe bye, never occurs in a Scottish ballad, except where allusion is\nmade to an English king.\"[150] Dalrymple, at least, would not be likely\nto change a Scotch for an English name. The Bishop might doubtless\nprefer Edward to Wat, or Jock, or even Davie. But as there is no\nevidence that any change of name was made, the point need not be\ndiscussed. As for other changes, the word \"brand,\" in the first stanza,\nis possibly more literary than popular; further than this the language\nis entirely fit. The affectedly antique spelling[151] in Percy's copy\nhas given rise to vague suspicions concerning the authenticity of the\nballad, or of the language: but as spelling will not make an old ballad,\nso it will not unmake one. We have, but do not need, the later\ntraditional copy to prove the other genuine. 'Edward' is not only\nunimpeachable, but has ever been regarded as one of the noblest and most\nsterling specimens of the popular ballad.\n\nMotherwell seems to incline to regard 'Edward' rather as a detached\nportion of a ballad than as complete in itself. \"The verses of which it\nconsists,\" he says, \"generally conclude the ballad of 'The Twa\nBrothers,' and also some versions of 'Lizie Wan:'\" Minstrelsy, LXVII,\n12. The Finnish parallel which Motherwell refers to, might have\nconvinced him that the ballad is complete as it is; and he knew as well\nas anybody that one ballad is often appended to another by reciters, to\nlengthen the story or improve the conclusion.[152] More or less of\n'Edward' will be found in four versions of 'The Twa Brothers' and two of\n'Lizie Wan,' further on in this volume.\n\nThis ballad has been familiarly known to have an exact counterpart in\n#Swedish#. There are four versions, differing only as to length: 'Sven i\nRoseng\u00e5rd,' #A#, Afzelius, No 67, III, 4, eleven two-line stanzas, with\nthree more lines of burden; #B#, III, 3, six stanzas (Bergstr\u00f6m's ed.,\nNo 54, 1, 2); #C#, Arwidsson, No 87 #A#, II, 83, eighteen stanzas; #D#,\nNo 87 B, II, 86, sixteen stanzas. The same in #Danish#: #A#, Grundtvig,\nEngelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 175, nine stanzas; #B#, Boisen, Nye\nog gamle Viser, 10th ed., No 95, p. 185, 'Brodermordet.' And in\n#Finnish#, probably derived from the Swedish, but with traits of its\nown: #A#, Schr\u00f6ter's Finnische Runen, p. 124, 'Werinen Pojka,' The\nBloodstained Son, fifteen two-line stanzas, with two lines of refrain;\n#B#, 'Velisurmaaja,' Brother-Murderer, Kanteletar, p. x, twenty stanzas.\n\nAll these are a dialogue between mother and son, with a question and\nanswer in each stanza. The mother asks, Where have you been? The son\nreplies that he has been in the stable [Danish, grove, fields; Finnish\n#A#, on the sea-strand]. \"How is it that your foot is bloody?\"[153]\n[clothes, shirt; Finnish, \"How came your jerkin muddy?\" etc.] A horse\nhas kicked or trod on him. \"How came your sword so bloody?\" He then\nconfesses that he has killed his brother. [Swedish #D# and the Danish\ncopies have no question about the foot, etc.] Then follows a series of\nquestions as to what the son will do with himself, and what shall become\nof his wife, children, etc., which are answered much as in the English\nballad. Finally, in all, the mother asks when he will come back, and he\nreplies (with some variations), When crows are white. And that will be?\nWhen swans are black. And that? When stones float. And that? When\nfeathers sink, etc. This last feature, stupidly exaggerated in some\ncopies, and even approaching burlesque, is one of the commonplaces of\nballad poetry, and may or may not have been, from the beginning, a part\nof the ballads in which it occurs. Such a conclusion could not be made\nto adhere to 'Edward,' the last stanza of which is peculiar in\nimplicating the mother in the guilt of the murder. Several versions of\n'The Twa Brothers' preserve this trait, and 'Lizie Wan' also.\n\nThe stanza of this ballad was originally, in all probability, one of two\nlines--a question and an answer--with refrains, as we find it in #A# 10,\n11, 12, and the corresponding Swedish and Finnish ballad; and in 'Lord\nRandal,' #J#, #K#, etc., and also the corresponding Swedish and German\nballad. #A# 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9 are now essentially stanzas of one line,\nwith refrains; that is, the story advances in these at that rate. #A# 4,\n7 (==#C#) are entirely irregular, substituting narrative or descriptive\ncircumstances for the last line of the refrain, and so far forth\ndeparting from primitive simplicity.[154] The stanza in #B# embraces\nalways a question and a reply, but for what is refrain in other forms of\nthe ballad we have epical matter in many cases. #A# 1, 2,\nsubstantially,==#B# 1; #A# 3, 4==#B# 2; #A# 5, 6==#B# 3; #A# 8, 9==#B#\n4; #A# 11==6; #A# 12==7.\n\nTestaments such as this ballad ends with have been spoken of under No\n11.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 26,\np. 172; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. L., No 21, p. 96; by Wolff,\nHalle des V\u00f6lker, I, 22, and Hausschatz, p. 223. #B#, in Afzelius, III,\n10; \"often in Danish,\" Grundtvig; by Herder, Volkslieder, II, 207; by\nD\u00f6ring, p. 217; Gerhard, p. 88; Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 27.\nSwedish #A#, by W. and M. Howitt, Literature and Romance of Northern\nEurope, I, 263.[155]\n\n\nA\n\n #a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 139. From Mrs King, Kilbarchan.\n #b.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 339.\n\n 1\n 'What bluid's that on thy coat lap,\n Son Davie, son Davie?\n What bluid's that on thy coat lap?\n And the truth come tell to me.'\n\n 2\n 'It is the bluid of my great hawk,\n Mother lady, mother lady:\n It is the bluid of my great hawk,\n And the truth I have told to thee.'\n\n 3\n 'Hawk's bluid was neer sae red,\n Son Davie, son Davie:\n Hawk's bluid was neer sae red,\n And the truth come tell to me.'\n\n 4\n 'It is the bluid of my greyhound,\n Mother lady, mother lady:\n It is the bluid of my greyhound,\n And it wadna rin for me.'\n\n 5\n 'Hound's bluid was neer sae red,\n Son Davie, son Davie:\n Hound's bluid was neer sae red,\n And the truth come tell to me.'\n\n 6\n 'It is the bluid o my brither John,\n Mother lady, mother lady:\n It is the bluid o my brither John,\n And the truth I have told to thee.'\n\n 7\n 'What about did the plea begin,\n Son Davie, son Davie?'\n 'It began about the cutting of a willow wand\n That would never been a tree.'\n\n 8\n 'What death dost thou desire to die,\n Son Davie, son Davie?\n What death dost thou desire to die?\n And the truth come tell to me.'\n\n 9\n 'I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,\n Mother lady, mother lady:\n I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,\n And ye'll never see mair o me.'\n\n 10\n 'What wilt thou leave to thy poor wife,\n Son Davie, son Davie?'\n 'Grief and sorrow all her life,\n And she'll never see mair o me.'\n\n 11\n 'What wilt thou leave to thy old son,\n Son Davie, son Davie?'\n 'I'll leave him the weary world to wander up and down,\n And he'll never get mair o me.'\n\n 12\n 'What wilt thou leave to thy mother dear,\n Son Davie, son Davie?'\n 'A fire o coals to burn her, wi hearty cheer,\n And she'll never get mair o me.'\n\n\nB\n\n Percy's Reliques, 1765, I, 53. Communicated by Sir David\n Dalrymple.\n\n 1\n 'Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,\n Edward, Edward,\n Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,\n And why sae sad gang yee O?'\n 'O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,\n Mither, mither,\n O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,\n And I had nae mair bot hee O.'\n\n 2\n 'Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,\n Edward, Edward,\n Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,\n My deir son I tell thee O.'\n 'O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,\n Mither, mither,\n O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,\n That erst was sae fair and frie O.'\n\n 3\n 'Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,\n Edward, Edward,\n Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,\n Sum other dule ye drie O.'\n 'O I hae killed my fadir deir,\n Mither, mither,\n O I hae killed my fadir deir,\n Alas, and wae is mee O!'\n\n 4\n 'And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that,\n Edward, Edward?\n And whatten penance will ye drie for that?\n My deir son, now tell me O.'\n 'Ile set my feit in yonder boat,\n Mither, mither,\n Ile set my feit in yonder boat,\n And Ile fare ovir the sea O.'\n\n 5\n 'And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha,\n Edward, Edward?\n And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha,\n That were sae fair to see O?'\n 'Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa,\n Mither, mither,\n Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa,\n For here nevir mair maun I bee O.'\n\n 6\n 'And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,\n Edward, Edward?\n And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,\n Whan ye gang ovir the sea O?'\n 'The warldis room, late them beg thrae life,\n Mither, mither,\n The warldis room, late them beg thrae life,\n For thame nevir mair wul I see O.'\n\n 7\n 'And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir,\n Edward, Edward?\n And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir?\n My deir son, now tell me O.'\n 'The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,\n Mither, mither,\n The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,\n Sic counseils ye gave to me O.'\n\n\nC\n\n MS. of Alexander Laing, 1829, p. 25.\n\n 'O what did the fray begin about?\n My son, come tell to me:'\n 'It began about the breaking o the bonny hazel wand,\n And a penny wad hae bought the tree.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. b.#\n\n 1^4. tell to me O. _And so every fourth line._\n\n 7^4. That would never hae been a tree O.\n\n 10^4. And she'll never get mair frae me O.\n\n 11^3. The weary warld to wander up and down.\n\n#B.#\n\n _Initial ~qu~ for ~w~ and ~z~ for ~y~ have been changed\n throughout to ~w~ and ~y~._\n\n 6^7. let.\n\n\n[150] An eager \"Englishman\" might turn Motherwell's objection to the\nname into an argument for 'Edward' being an \"English\" ballad.\n\n[151] That is to say, initial _quh_ and _z_ for modern _wh_ and _y_, for\nnothing else would have excited attention. Perhaps a transcriber thought\nhe ought to give the language a look at least as old as Gavin Douglas,\nwho spells _quhy_, _dois_, _\u021dour_. The _quh_ would serve a purpose,\nif understood as indicating that the aspirate was not to be dropped, as\nit often is in English _why_. The _z_ is the successor of \u021d, and was\nmeant to be pronounced _y_, as _z_ is, or was, pronounced in\n_gaberlunzie_ and other Scottish words. See Dr J. A. H. Murray's Dialect\nof the Southern Counties of Scotland, pp. 118, 129. Since _quh_ and _z_\nserve rather as rocks of offence than landmarks, I have thought it best\nto use _wh_ and _y_.\n\n[152] Motherwell also speaks of a ballad of the same nature as quoted in\nWerner's 'Twenty-Fourth of February.' The stanza cited (in Act I, Scene\n1) seems to be Herder's translation of 'Edward' given from memory.\n\n[153] We have a similar passage in most of the copies of the third class\nof the German ballads corresponding to No 4. A brother asks the man who\nhas killed his sister why his shoes [sword, hands] are bloody. See p.\n36, p. 38. So in 'Herr Axel,' Arwidsson, No 46, I, 308.\n\n[154] These have perhaps been adapted to the stanza of 'The Twa\nBrothers,' with some versions of which, as already remarked, the present\nballad is blended.\n\n[155] With regard to translations, I may say now, what I might well have\nsaid earlier, that I do not aim at making a complete list, but give such\nas have fallen under my notice.\n\n\n\n\n14\n\nBABYLON; OR, THE BONNIE BANKS O FORDIE\n\n #A. a, b.# 'Babylon; or, The Bonnie Banks o Fordie,'\n Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 88. #c.# The same, Appendix,\n p. xxii, No XXVI.\n\n #B. a.# Herd's MSS, I, 38, II, 76. #b.# 'The Banishd Man,'\n The Scots Magazine, October, 1803, p. 699, evidently\n derived from Herd.\n\n #C.# Motherwell's MS., p. 172.\n\n #D.# Motherwell's MS., p. 174.\n\n #E.# 'Duke of Perth's Three Daughters,' Kinloch's Ancient\n Scottish Ballads, p. 212.\n\n\n#B a# is from tradition of the latter half of the eighteenth century;\nthe other copies from the earlier part of this.\n\nThree sisters go out (together, #A#, #B#, #C#, successively, #D#, #E#)\nto gather flowers (#A#, #B#, #E#). A banished man (outlyer bold, #D#,\nLoudon lord, #E#) starts up from a hiding-place, and offers them one\nafter the other the choice of being his wife or dying by his hand.\n\n (#A.#)\n 'It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife,\n Or will ye die by my wee penknife?'\n\n (#D.#)\n 'Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?'\n\nThe first and the second express a simple preference for death, and are\nkilled and laid by, \"to bear the red rose company\" (#A#). The youngest,\nin #A#, says she has a brother in the wood, who will kill him if he\nkills her. The outlaw asks the brother's name, finds that he himself is\nthe man, and takes his own life with the same weapon that had shed the\nblood of his sisters. #B#, #C#, #D# have three brothers, the youngest of\nwhom is the banished lord (#C#), the outlyer bold (#D#). The story is\ndefective in #B#, #C#. In #D# the outlaw, on finding what he has done,\ntakes a long race, and falls on his knife. The conclusion of #E# is not\nso finely tragic. A brother John comes riding by just as the robber is\nabout to kill the third sister, apprehends him by the agency of his\nthree pages, and reserves him to be hanged on a tree,\n\n Or thrown into the poisond lake,\n To feed the toads and rattle-snake.\n\nAccording to the account given by Herd, and repeated by Jamieson, the\nstory of the lost conclusion of #B# made the banished man discover that\nhe had killed his two brothers as well as his two sisters.\n\nThis ballad, with additional circumstances, is familiar to all branches\nof the Scandinavian race.\n\n#Danish.# There are many versions from oral tradition, as yet unprinted,\nbesides these two: #A#, 'Hr. Truels's D\u00f8ttre,' Danske Viser, III, 392,\nNo 164, there reprinted from Sandvig, Beskrivelse over \u00d8en M\u00f8en, 1776:\n#B#, 'Herr Thors B\u00f8rn,' from recent tradition of North Sleswig,\nBerggreen, Danske Folke-Sange, 3d ed., p. 88, No 42.\n\n#A.# Herr Truels' three daughters oversleep their matins one morning,\nand are roused by their mother. If we have overslept our matins, they\nsay, we will make up at high mass. They set out for church, and in a\nwood fall in with three robbers, who say:\n\n 'Whether will ye be three robbers' wives,\n Or will ye rather lose your lives?'\n\nMuch rather death, say they. The two elder sisters submitted to their\nfate without a word; the third made a hard resistance. With her last\nbreath she adjured the robbers to seek a lodging at Herr Truels' that\nnight. This they did. They drank so long that they drank Herr Truels to\nbed. Then they asked his wife to promise herself to all three. First,\nshe said, she must look into their bags. In their bags she saw her\ndaughters' trinkets. She excused herself for a moment, barred the door\nstrongly, roused her husband, and made it known to him that these guests\nhad killed his three daughters. Herr Truels called on all his men to\narm. He asked the robbers who was their father. They said that they had\nbeen stolen by robbers, on their way to school, one day; had had a hard\nlife for fourteen years; and the first crime they had committed was\nkilling three maids yesterday. Herr Truels revealed to them that they\nhad murdered their sisters, and offered them new clothes, in which they\nmight go away. \"Nay,\" they said, \"not so; life for life is meet.\" They\nwere taken out of the town, and their heads struck off. #B# differs from\n#A# in only a few points. The robbers ask lodging at Herr Thor's, as\nbeing pilgrims. When he discovers their true character, he threatens\nthem with the wheel. They say, Shall we come to the wheel? Our father\ndrinks Yule with the king. They tell him their story, and their father\noffers them saddle and horse to make their best way off. They reply, \"We\nwill give blood for blood,\" spread their cloaks on the floor, and let\ntheir blood run.\n\n#Swedish.# 'Pehr Tyrsons D\u00f6ttrar i W\u00e4nge.' #A#, Arwidsson, II, 413, No\n166. #B#, Afzelius, III, 193, No 98: ed. Bergstr\u00f6m, I, 380, No 84, 1.\n#C#, Afzelius, III, 197: ed. Bergstr\u00f6m, I, 382, No 84, 2, as old as the\nlast half of the seventeenth century. #D#, Afzelius, III, 202: ed.\nBergstr\u00f6m, I, 384, No 84, 3. #E#, \"C. J. Wess\u00e9n, De paroecia K\u00e4rna (an\nacademical dissertation), Upsala, 1836,\" Arwidsson, as above, who\nmentions another unprinted copy in the Royal Library.\n\n#A.# Herr T\u00f6res' daughters overslept matins, dressed themselves\nhandsomely, and set off for mass. All on the heath they were met by\nthree wood-robbers, who demanded, Will ye be our wives, or lose your\nlives? The first answered: God save us from trying either! the second,\nRather let us range the world! the third, Better death with honor! But\n\n First were they the three wood-robbers' wives,\n And after that they lost their young lives.\n\nThe robbers strip them; then go and ask to be taken in by Herr T\u00f6res. He\nserves them with mead and wine, but presently begins to wish his\ndaughters were at home. His wife sees him to bed; then returns to her\nguests, who offer her a silken sark to pass the night with them. \"Give\nme a sight of the silken sark,\" she cries, with prophetic soul: \"God\nhave mercy on my daughters!\" She rouses her husband, and tells him that\nthe robbers have slain his bairns. He puts on his armor and kills two of\nthem: the third begs to be spared till he can say who were his kin; his\nfather's name is T\u00f6res! Father and mother resolve to build a church for\npenance, and it shall be called Kerna. #B#, #C#, #D#. The girls meet\nthree \"vallare,\" strolling men, and none of them good (#C#). The robbers\ncut off the girls' heads on the trunk of a birch (cf. English #C# 5:\n\"It's lean your head upon my staff,\" and with his pen-knife he has\ncutted it aff): three springs burst forth immediately. They go to the\nhouse, and ask the mother if she will buy silken sarks that nine maids\nhave stitched (#B#). She says:\n\n 'Open your sacks, and let me see:\n Mayhap I shall know them all three.'\n\nThe father, in #B#, when he discovers that he has slain his own sons,\ngoes to the smith, and has an iron band fastened round his middle. The\nparents vow to build a church as an expiation, and it shall be called\nKerna (#B#, #C#).\n\n#F\u00e4r\u00f6e.# 'Torkilds Riim, eller St. Catharin\u00e6 Vise, 'Lyngbye, F\u00e6r\u00f8iske\nQv\u00e6der, p. 534/p. 535. In this form of the story, as in the Icelandic\nversions which follow, the robbers are not the brothers of the maids.\nTorkild's two daughters sleep till the sun shines on their beds. Their\nfather wakens them, and tells Katrine she is waited for at church.\nKatrine dresses herself splendidly, but does not disdain to saddle her\nown horse.\n\n And since no knave was ready to help,\n Katrine bridled the horse herself.\n\n And since no knave was standing about,\n Herself put the bit in her horse's mouth.\n\nFirst she came upon three strollers (vadlarar[156]), then two, then one,\nand the last asked her whether she would pass the night with him (vera\nqv\u00f6ldar vujv) or die. He cut off her head, and wherever her blood ran a\nlight kindled; where her head fell a spring welled forth: where her body\nlay a church was [afterwards] built. The rover came to Torkild's house,\nand the father asked if he had seen Katrine. He said she had been at\nMary kirk the day before, and asked for a lodging, feigning to be sick.\nThis was readily granted. He went to bed, and Aasa, the other sister,\nwaited upon him. He offered her a silken sark to sleep with him. Aasa\nasked to see the sark first, and found on it her sister's mark. The\nfellow went on to offer her a blue cloak and gold crown successively,\nand on both of these she saw her sister's mark. Aasa bade him\ngood-night, went to her father, and told him that the man they had\nhoused had killed his daughter. Torkild ordered his swains to light a\npile in the wood: early the next morning they burned the murderer on it.\n\n#Icelandic.# Five Icelandic versions, and the first stanza of two more,\nare given in \u00cdslenzk Fornkv\u00e6\u00f0i, I, 108 ff, No 15, 'Vallara kv\u00e6\u00f0i.'\n\nThe story is nearly the same as in the F\u00e4r\u00f6e ballad. Two of Thorkell's\ndaughters sleep till after the sun is up (#B#, #C#). They wash and\ndress; they set out for church (#C#). On the heath they encounter a\nstrolling man, #A#; a tall, large man, #C#, #E#; a horseman or knight,\n#D#. He greets them: \"Why will ye not speak? Are ye come of elves, or of\nkings themselves?\" #A# [Are ye come of earls, or of beggar-churls? #B#].\nThey answer, We are not come of elves, nor of kings themselves; we are\nThorkell's daughters, and serve Mary kirk. He asks, Will ye choose to\nlose your life, or shall I rather take you to wife? The choice, they\nsay, is hard: they would rather die. He kills them and buries them. At\nnight he goes to Thorkell's house, where Asa is alone. He knocks to be\nlet in; Asa refuses; he draws the latch with his deft fingers (#A#, #C#,\n#D#). He offers Asa a silken sark to sleep with him [and a blue cloak to\nsay nothing, #A#]. She asked to see the sark, and knew her sisters'\nwork, begged him to wait a moment, went to her father, and told him that\nthe murderer of his daughters was there. Thorkell dashed his harp to the\nfloor [and kicked over the table, #D#, #E#]. The murderer in the morning\nwas hanged like a dog, #A#, #B#. [Thorkell tore at his hair and cut him\ndown with an elder-stock, #C#; they fought three days, and on the fourth\nthe villain was hanged in a strap, #E#, the knight was hanging like a\ndog, #D#]. A miraculous light burned over the place where the maids had\nbeen buried, #A# 16, #C# 27, #D# 24, #E# 12. When their bodies were\ntaken into the church, the bells rang of themselves, #D#.\n\n#Norwegian# versions of this ballad have been obtained from tradition,\nbut none as yet have been published.\n\n\"The mains and burn of Fordie, the banks of which are very beautiful,\"\nsays Aytoun (I, 159), \"lie about six miles to the east of Dunkeld.\"\nTradition has connected the story with half a dozen localities in\nSweden, and, as Professor Grundtvig informs me, with at least eight\nplaces in the different provinces of Denmark. The Kerna church of the\nSwedish ballads, not far from Link\u00f6ping (Afzelius), has been popularly\nsupposed to derive its name from a Catharina, Karin, or Karna, killed by\nher own brother, a wood-robber, near its site. See Afzelius, ed.\nBergstr\u00f6m, II, 329 ff: Danske Viser, III, 444 f.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 34,\np. 216, and, with some slight use of Aytoun, I, 160, by Rosa Warrens,\nSchottische Volkslieder der Vorzeit, No 18, p. 85. Danish #A#, by Prior,\nIII, 252.\n\n\nA\n\n #a.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 88. #b.# The same. #c.#\n The same, Appendix, p. xxii, No XXVI, apparently from\n South Perthshire.\n\n 1\n There were three ladies lived in a bower,\n Eh vow bonnie\n And they went out to pull a flower.\n On the bonnie banks o Fordie\n\n 2\n They hadna pu'ed a flower but ane,\n When up started to them a banisht man.\n\n 3\n He's taen the first sister by her hand,\n And he's turned her round and made her stand.\n\n 4\n 'It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife,\n Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?'\n\n 5\n 'It's I'll not be a rank robber's wife,\n But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife.'\n\n 6\n He's killed this may, and he's laid her by,\n For to bear the red rose company.\n\n 7\n He's taken the second ane by the hand,\n And he's turned her round and made her stand.\n\n 8\n 'It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife,\n Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?'\n\n 9\n 'I'll not be a rank robber's wife,\n But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife.'\n\n 10\n He's killed this may, and he's laid her by,\n For to bear the red rose company.\n\n 11\n He's taken the youngest ane by the hand,\n And he's turned her round and made her stand.\n\n 12\n Says, 'Will ye be a rank robber's wife,\n Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?'\n\n 13\n 'I'll not be a rank robber's wife,\n Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife.\n\n 14\n 'For I hae a brother in this wood.\n And gin ye kill me, it's he'll kill thee.'\n\n 15\n 'What's thy brother's name? come tell to me.'\n 'My brother's name is Baby Lon.'\n\n 16\n 'O sister, sister, what have I done!\n O have I done this ill to thee!\n\n 17\n 'O since I've done this evil deed,\n Good sall never be seen o me.'\n\n 18\n He's taken out his wee pen-knife,\n And he's twyned himsel o his ain sweet life.\n\n\nB\n\n #a.# Herd's MSS, I, 38, II, 76. #b.# The Scots Magazine,\n Oct., 1803, p. 699, communicated by Jamieson, and\n evidently from Herd's copy.\n\n 1\n There wond three ladies in a bower,\n Annet and Margret and Marjorie\n And they have gane out to pu a flower.\n And the dew it lyes on the wood, gay ladie\n\n 2\n They had nae pu'd a flower but ane,\n When up has started a banished man.\n\n 3\n He has taen the eldest by the hand,\n He has turned her about and bade her stand.\n\n 4\n 'Now whether will ye be a banisht man's wife,\n Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?'\n\n 5\n 'I will na be ca'd a banished man's wife,\n I'll rather be sticked wi your pen-knife.'\n\n 6\n And he has taen out his little pen-knife,\n And frae this lady he has taen the life.\n\n 7\n He has taen the second by the hand,\n He has turned her about and he bad her stand.\n\n 8\n 'Now whether will ye be a banisht man's wife,\n Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?'\n\n 9\n 'I will na be ca'd a banished man's wife;\n I'll rather be sticked wi your pen-knife.'\n\n 10\n And he has taen out his little pen-knife,\n And frae this lady he has taen the life.\n\n 11\n He has taen the youngest by the hand,\n He has turned her about and he bad her stand.\n\n 12\n 'Now whether will ye be a banished man's wife,\n Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife?'\n\n 13\n 'I winnae be called a banished man's wife,\n Nor yet will I be sticked wi your pen-knife.\n\n 14\n 'But gin my three brethren had been here,\n Ye had nae slain my sisters dear.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\nC\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 172. From J. Goldie, March, 1825.\n\n 1\n There were three sisters on a road,\n Gilly flower gentle rosemary\n And there they met a banished lord.\n And the dew it hings over the mulberry tree\n\n 2\n The eldest sister was on the road,\n And there she met with the banished lord.\n\n 3\n 'O will ye consent to lose your life,\n Or will ye be a banished lord's wife?'\n\n 4\n 'I'll rather consent to lose my life\n Before I'll be a banished lord's wife.'\n\n 5\n 'It's lean your head upon my staff,'\n And with his pen-knife he has cutted it aff.\n\n 6\n He flang her in amang the broom,\n Saying, 'Lye ye there till another ane come.'\n\n 7\n The second sister was on the road,\n And there she met with the banished lord.\n\n 8\n 'O will ye consent to lose your life,\n Or will ye be a banished lord's wife?'\n\n 9\n 'I'll rather consent to lose my life\n Before I'll be a banished lord's wife.'\n\n 10\n 'It's lean your head upon my staff,'\n And with his pen-knife he has cutted it aff.\n\n 11\n He flang her in amang the broom,\n Saying, 'Lie ye there till another ane come.'\n\n 12\n The youngest sister was on the road,\n And there she met with the banished lord.\n\n 13\n 'O will ye consent to lose your life,\n Or will ye be a banished lord's wife?'\n\n 14\n 'O if my three brothers were here,\n Ye durstna put me in such a fear.'\n\n 15\n 'What are your three brothers, altho they were here,\n That I durstna put you in such a fear?'\n\n 16\n 'My eldest brother's a belted knight,\n The second, he's a ...\n\n 17\n 'My youngest brother's a banished lord,\n And oftentimes he walks on this road.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\nD\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 174. From the recitation of Agnes\n Lyle, Kilbarchan, July 27, 1825.\n\n 1\n There were three sisters, they lived in a bower,\n Sing Anna, sing Margaret, sing Marjorie\n The youngest o them was the fairest flower.\n And the dew goes thro the wood, gay ladie\n\n 2\n The oldest of them she's to the wood gane,\n To seek a braw leaf and to bring it hame.\n\n 3\n There she met with an outlyer bold,\n Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.\n\n 4\n 'Istow a maid, or istow a wife?\n Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?'\n\n 5\n 'O kind sir, if I hae 't at my will,\n I'll twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead still.'\n\n 6\n He's taen out his we pen-knife,\n He's twinned this young lady of her sweet life\n\n 7\n He wiped his knife along the dew;\n But the more he wiped, the redder it grew.\n\n 8\n The second of them she's to the wood gane,\n To seek her old sister, and to bring her hame.\n\n 9\n There she met with an outlyer bold,\n Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.\n\n 10\n 'Istow a maid, or istow a wife?\n Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?'\n\n 11\n 'O kind sir, if I hae 't at my will,\n I'll twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead still.'\n\n 12\n He's taen out his we pen-knife,\n He's twinned this young lady of her sweet life.\n\n 13\n He wiped his knife along the dew;\n But the more he wiped, the redder it grew.\n\n 14\n The youngest of them she's to the wood gane,\n To seek her two sisters, and to bring them hame.\n\n 15\n There she met with an outlyer bold,\n Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.\n\n 16\n 'Istow a maid, or istow a wife?\n Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?'\n\n 17\n 'If my three brethren they were here,\n Such questions as these thou durst nae speer.'\n\n 18\n 'Pray, what may thy three brethren be,\n That I durst na mak so bold with thee? '\n\n 19\n 'The eldest o them is a minister bred,\n He teaches the people from evil to good.\n\n 20\n 'The second o them is a ploughman good,\n He ploughs the land for his livelihood.\n\n 21\n 'The youngest of them is an outlyer bold,\n Lies many a long night in the woods so cold.'\n\n 22\n He stuck his knife then into the ground,\n He took a long race, let himself fall on.\n\n\nE\n\n Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 212. From\n Mearnsshire.\n\n 1\n The Duke o Perth had three daughters,\n Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;\n And Elizabeth's to the greenwud gane,\n To pu the rose and the fair lilie.\n\n 2\n But she hadna pu'd a rose, a rose,\n A double rose, but barely three,\n Whan up and started a Loudon lord,\n Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.\n\n 3\n 'Will ye be called a robber's wife?\n Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife?\n For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie,\n For pu'in them sae fair and free.'\n\n 4\n 'Before I'll be called a robber's wife,\n I'll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife,\n For pu'in,' etc.\n\n 5\n Then out he's tane his little pen-knife,\n And he's parted her and her sweet life,\n And thrown her oer a bank o brume,\n There never more for to be found.\n\n 6\n The Duke o Perth had three daughters,\n Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;\n And Margaret's to the greenwud gane,\n To pu the rose and the fair lilie.\n\n 7\n She hadna pu'd a rose, a rose,\n A double rose, but barely three,\n When up and started a Loudon lord,\n Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.\n\n 8\n 'Will ye be called a robber's wife?\n Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife?\n For pu'in,' etc.\n\n 9\n 'Before I'll be called a robber's wife,\n I'll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife,\n For pu'in,' etc.\n\n 10\n Then out he's tane his little pen-knife,\n And he's parted her and her sweet life,\n For pu'in, etc.\n\n 11\n The Duke o Perth had three daughters,\n Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie;\n And Mary's to the greenwud gane,\n To pu the rose and the fair lilie.\n\n 12\n She hadna pu'd a rose, a rose,\n A double rose, but barely three,\n When up and started a Loudon lord,\n Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen.\n\n 13\n 'O will ye be called a robber's wife?\n Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife?\n For pu'in,' etc.\n\n 14\n 'Before I'll be called a robber's wife,\n I'll rather be stickit wi your bloody knife,\n For pu'in,' etc.\n\n 15\n But just as he took out his knife,\n To tak frae her her ain sweet life,\n Her brother John cam ryding bye,\n And this bloody robber he did espy.\n\n 16\n But when he saw his sister fair,\n He kennd her by her yellow hair;\n He calld upon his pages three,\n To find this robber speedilie.\n\n 17\n 'My sisters twa that are dead and gane,\n For whom we made a heavy maene,\n It's you that's twinnd them o their life,\n And wi your cruel bloody knife.\n\n 18\n 'Then for their life ye sair shall dree;\n Ye sail be hangit on a tree,\n Or thrown into the poisond lake,\n To feed the toads and rattle-snake.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. a.#\n\n \"Given from two copies obtained from recitation, which\n differ but little from each other. Indeed, the only\n variation is in the verse where the outlawed brother\n unweetingly slays his sister.\" [19.] _Motherwell._\n\n #b.#\n\n 19.\n He's taken out his wee penknife,\n Hey how bonnie\n And he's twined her o her ain sweet life.\n On the, etc.\n\n #c.#\n\n _The first stanza, only_:\n\n There were three sisters livd in a bower,\n Fair Annet and Margaret and Marjorie\n And they went out to pu a flower.\n And the dew draps off the hyndberry tree\n\n#B. a.#\n\n \"To a wild melancholy old tune not in any collection.\"\n\n \"N.B. There are a great many other verses which I could\n not recover. Upon describing her brothers, the banished\n man finds that he has killed his two brothers and two\n sisters,--upon which he kills himself.\" _Herd._\n\n 2^2. _MS._ Quhen.\n\n 4^1, 4^2, 5^2, 12^1, 12^2, 13^2, 14^2. ye, your, yet,\n _MS._ ze, zour, zet. _8, 9, 10 are not written out._\n\n #b.#\n\n \"Of this I have got only 14 stanzas, but there are many\n more. It is a horrid story. The banished man discovers\n that he has killed two of his brothers and his three (?)\n sisters, upon which he kills himself.\" _Jamieson_.\n\n _The first two stanzas only are cited by Jamieson_.\n\n 1^1. three sisters.\n\n 2^2. up there started.\n\n#C.#\n\n _7-11 and 12^2 are not written out in the MS._ \"Repeat as\n to the second sister, mutatis mutandis.\" _Motherwell._\n\n#D#.\n\n _9-13 are not written out in the MS._ \"Same as 1st\n sister.\" _Motherwell._\n\n 14^2. bring her.\n\n _15,16 are not written out._ \"Same as 1st and 2d sisters,\n but this additional, viz^t.\" _M._\n\n 22^2. longe, _or_ large?\n\n\n[156] Lyngbye insists on translating _vadlarar_ pilgrims, though his\npeople understood the word to mean robbers. He refers to the Icelandic\nvallari, which, originally a pilgrim, came to mean a tramp. No one can\nfail to recognize the character who has become the terror of our rural\ndistricts, and to whom, in our preposterous regard for the rights of\n\"man,\" we sacrifice the peace, and often the lives, of women.\n\n\n\n\n15\n\nLEESOME BRAND\n\n #A.# 'Leesome Brand.' #a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North\n of Scotland, I, 38. #b.# Motherwell's MS., p. 626.\n\n #B.# 'The Broom blooms bonnie,' etc., Motherwell's MS., p.\n 365.\n\n\nThis is one of the cases in which a remarkably fine ballad has been\nworse preserved in Scotland than anywhere else. Without light from\nabroad we cannot fully understand even so much as we have saved, and\n_with_ this light comes a keen regret for what we have lost.\n\n#A#, from Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, is found also in\nMotherwell's MS., but without doubt was derived from Buchan. Though\ninjured by the commixture of foreign elements, #A# has still much of the\noriginal story. #B# has, on the contrary, so little that distinctively\nand exclusively belongs to this story that it might almost as well have\nbeen put with the following ballad, 'Sheath and Knife,' as here. A third\nballad, 'The Birth of Robin Hood,' preserves as much of the story as\n#A#, but in an utterly incongruous and very modern setting, being, like\n'Erlinton,' #C#, forced into an absurd Robin Hood framework.\n\nThe mixture of four-line with two-line stanzas in #A# of course comes\nfrom different ballads having been blended, but for all that, these\nballads might have had the same theme. Stanzas 33-35, however, are such\nas we meet with in ballads of the 'Earl Brand' class, but not in those\nof the class to which 'Leesome Brand' belongs. In the English ballads,\nand nearly all the Danish, of the former class, there is at least a\nconversation between son and mother [father], whereas in the other the\ncatastrophe excludes such a possibility. Again, the \"unco land\" in the\nfirst stanza, \"where winds never blew nor cocks ever crew,\" is at least\na reminiscence of the paradise depicted in the beginning of many of the\nversions of 'Ribold and Guldborg,' and stanza 4 of 'Leesome Brand'\nclosely resembles stanza 2 of 'Earl Brand,' #A#.[157] Still, the first\nand fourth stanzas suit one ballad as well as the other, which is not\ntrue of 33-35.\n\nThe name Leesome Brand may possibly be a corruption of Hildebrand, as\nEarl Brand almost certainly is; but a more likely origin is the\nGysellannd of one of the kindred Danish ballads.\n\nThe white hind, stanzas 28, 30, is met with in no other ballad of this\nclass, and, besides this, the last four stanzas are in no kind of\nkeeping with what goes before, for the \"young son\" is spoken of as\nhaving been first brought home at some previous period. Grundtvig has\nsuggested that the hind and the blood came from a lost Scottish ballad\nresembling 'The Maid Transformed into a Hind,' D.g.F, No 58. In this\nballad a girl begs her brother, who is going hunting, to spare the\nlittle hind that \"plays before his foot.\" The brother nevertheless\nshoots the hind, though not mortally, and sets to work to flay it, in\nwhich process he discovers his sister under the hind's hide. His sister\ntells him that she had been successively changed into a pair of\nscissors, a sword, a hare, a hind, by her step-mother, and that she was\nnot to be free of the spell until she had drunk of her brother's blood.\nHer brother at once cuts his fingers, gives her some of his blood, and\nthe girl is permanently restored to her natural shape, and afterwards is\nhappily married. Stanzas similar to 36-41 of #A# and 12-16 of #B# will\nbe found in the ballad which follows this, to which they are especially\nwell suited by their riddling character; and I believe that they belong\nthere, and not here. It is worthy of remark, too, that there is a _hind_\nin another ballad, closely related to No 16 ('The Bonny Hind'), and that\nthe hind in 'Leesome Brand' may, in some way not now explicable, have\ncome from this. The confounding of 'Leesome Brand' with a ballad of the\n'Bonny Hind' class would be paralleled in Danish, for in 'Redselille og\nMedelvold' #T# (and perhaps #I#, see Grundtvig's note, V, 237), the\nknight is the lady's brother.\n\nThe \"auld son\" in #B#, like the first bringing home of the _young_ son\nin #A# 45, 47, shows how completely the proper story has been lost sight\nof. There should be no son of any description at the point at which this\nstanza comes in, and _auld_ son should everywhere be _young_ son. The\nbest we can do, to make sense of stanza 3, is to put it after 8, with\nthe understanding that woman and child are carried off for burial;\nthough really there is no need to move them on that account. The\nshooting of the child is unintelligible in the mutilated state of the\nballad. It is apparently meant to be an accident. Nothing of the kind\noccurs in other ballads of the class, and the divergence is probably a\nsimple corruption.\n\nThe ballad which 'Leesome Brand' represents is preserved among the\nScandinavian races under four forms.\n\n#Danish.# I. 'Bolde Hr. Nilaus' L\u00f6n,' a single copy from a manuscript\nof the beginning of the 17th century: Grundtvig, V, 231, No 270. II.\n'Redselille og Medelvold,' in an all but unexampled number of versions,\nof which some sixty are collated, and some twenty-five printed, by\nGrundtvig, most of them recently obtained from tradition, and the oldest\na broadside of about the year 1770: Grundtvig, V, 234, No 271. III.\n'S\u00f6nnens Sorg,' Grundtvig, V, 289, No 272, two versions only: #A# from\nthe middle of the 16th century; #B# three hundred years later,\npreviously printed in Berggreen's Danske Folkesange, I, No 83 (3d ed.).\nIV. 'Stalbroders Kvide,' Grundtvig, V, 301, No 273, two versions: #A#\nfrom the beginning of the 17th century, #B# from about 1570.\n\n#Swedish.# II. #A#, broadside of 1776, reprinted in Grundtvig, No 271,\nV, 281, Bilag 1, and in Jamieson's Illustrations, p. 373 ff, with a\ntranslation. #B#, 'Herr Redevall,' Afzelius, II, 189, No 58, new ed. No\n51. #C#, 'Krist' Lilla och Herr Tideman,' Arwidsson, I, 352, No 54 A.\n#D#, #E#, #F#, #G#, from Cavallius and Stephens' manuscript collection,\nfirst printed by Grundtvig, No 271, V, 282 ff, Bilag 2-5. #H#, 'Rosa\nlilla,' Eva Wigstr\u00f6m, Folkvisor fr\u00e5n Sk\u00e5ne, in Ur de nordiska Folkens\nLif, af Artur Hazelius, p. 133, No 8. III. A single version, of date\nabout 1650, 'Moder och Son,' Arwidsson, II, 15, No 70.\n\n#Norwegian.# II. Six versions and a fragment, from recent tradition:\n#A-E#, #G#, first printed by Grundtvig, No 271, V, 284 ff, Bilag 6-11;\n#F#, 'Grivilja,' in Lindeman's Norske Fjeldmelodier, No 121. III. Six\nversions from recent tradition, #A-F#, first printed by Grundtvig, No\n272, V, 297 ff, Bilag I-6.\n\n#Icelandic.# III. 'Sonar harmur,' \u00cdslenzk Fornkv\u00e6\u00f0i, I, 140 ff, No 17,\nthree versions, #A#, #B#, #C#, the last, which is the oldest, being from\nlate in the 17th century; also the first stanza of a fourth, #D#.\n\nAll the Scandinavian versions are in two-line stanzas save Danish 272\n#B#, and #A# in part, and Icelandic 17 #C#, which are in four; the last,\nhowever, in stanzas of two couplets.\n\nIt will be most convenient to give first a summary of the story of\n'Redselille og Medelvold,' and to notice the chief divergences of the\nother ballads afterwards. A mother and her daughter are engaged in\nweaving gold tissue. The mother sees milk running from the girl's\nbreasts, and asks an explanation. After a slight attempt at evasion, the\ndaughter confesses that she has been beguiled by a knight. The mother\nthreatens both with punishment: he shall be hanged [burned, broken on\nthe wheel, sent out of the country, i.e., sold into servitude], and she\nsent away [broiled on a gridiron, burned, drowned]. Some copies begin\nfurther back, with a stanza or two in which we are told that the knight\nhas served in the king's court, and gained the favor of the king's\ndaughter. Alarmed by her mother's threats, the maid goes to her lover's\nhouse at night, and after some difficulty in effecting an entrance (a\ncommonplace, like the ill-boding milk above) informs him of the fate\nthat awaits them. The knight is sufficiently prompt now, and bids her\nget her gold together while he saddles his horse. They ride away, with\n[or without] precautions against discovery, and come to a wood. Four\nNorwegian versions, #A#, #B#, #C#, #G#, and also two Icelandic versions,\n#A#, #B#, of 'S\u00f8nnens Sorg,' interpose a piece of water, and a\ndifficulty in crossing, owing to the ferryman's refusing help or the\nwant of oars; but this passage is clearly an infiltration from a\ndifferent story. Arriving at the wood, the maid desires to rest a while.\nThe customary interrogation does not fail,--whether the way is too long\nor the saddle too small. The knight lifts her off the horse, spreads his\ncloak for her on the grass, and she gives way to her anguish in such\nexclamations as \"My mother had nine women: would that I had the worst of\nthem!\" \"My mother would never have been so angry with me but she would\nhave helped me in this strait!\" Most of the Danish versions make the\nknight offer to bandage his eyes and render such service as a man may;\nbut she replies that she would rather die than that man should know of\nwoman's pangs. So Swedish #H#, nearly. Partly to secure privacy, and\npartly from thirst, she expresses a wish for water, and her lover goes\nin search of some. (This in nearly all the Danish ballads, and many of\nthe others. But in four of the Norwegian versions of 'S\u00f8nnens Sorg' the\nlover is told to go and amuse himself, much as in our ballads.) When he\ncomes to the spring or the brook, there sits a nightingale and sings.\n_Two_ nightingales, a small bird, a voice from heaven, a small dwarf, an\nold man, replace the nightingale in certain copies, and in others there\nis nothing at all; but the great majority has a single nightingale, and,\nas Grundtvig points out, the single bird is right, for the bird is\nreally a vehicle for the soul of the dead Redselille. The nightingale\nsings, \"Redselille lies dead in the wood, with two sons [son and\ndaughter] in her bosom.\" All that the nightingale has said is found to\nbe true. According to Danish #O# and Swedish #C#, the knight finds the\nlady and a child, according to Swedish #B# and Norwegian #A#, #B#, #C#,\nthe lady and two sons, dead. In Danish #B#, #L# (as also the Icelandic\n'Sonar Harmur,' #A#, #B#, and Danish 'Stalbroders Kvide,' #A#) the\nknight digs a grave, and lays mother and children in it; he lays himself\nwith them in #A# and #M#. It is not said whether the children are dead\nor living, and the point would hardly be raised but for what follows. In\nDanish #D#, #P# and Swedish #F#, it is expressly mentioned that the\nchildren are _alive_, and in #Q#, #R#, #S#, #T#, #U#, six copies of #V#,\nand #Y#, and also in 'Bolde Hr. Nilaus' L\u00f8n,' and in 'S\u00f8nnens Sorg,'\nDanish #A#, Norwegian #A#, #C#, #D#, #E#, the children are heard, or\nseem to be heard, shrieking from under the ground. Nearly all the\nversions make the knight run himself through with his sword, either\nimmediately after the others are laid in the grave, or after he has\nridden far and wide, because he cannot endure the cries of the children\nfrom under the earth. This would seem to be the original conclusion of\nthe story; the horrible circumstance of the children being buried alive\nis much more likely to be slurred over or omitted at a later day than to\nbe added.\n\nWe may pass over in silence the less important variations in the very\nnumerous versions of 'Redselille and Medelvold,' nor need we be detained\nlong by the other three Scandinavian forms of the ballad. 'S\u00f8nnens Sorg'\nstands in the same relation to 'Redselille and Medelvold' as 'Hildebrand\nand Hilde,' does to 'Ribold and Guldborg' (see p. 89 of this volume);\nthat is, the story is told in the first person instead of the third. A\nfather asks his son why he is so sad, Norwegian #A#, #B#, #C#, #D#,\nIcelandic #A#, #B#, #C#, #D#. Five years has he sat at his father's\nboard, and never uttered a merry word. The son relates the tragedy of\nhis life. He had lived in his early youth at the house of a nobleman,\nwho had three daughters. He was on very familiar terms with all of them,\nand the youngest loved him. When the time came for him to leave the\nfamily, she proposed that he should take her with him, Danish #B#,\nIcelandic #A#, #B#, #C# [_he_ makes the proposal in Norwegian #C#]. From\nthis point the narrative is much the same as in 'Redselille and\nMedelvold,' and at the conclusion he falls dead in his father's arms [at\nthe table], Norwegian #A#, #B#, #D#, Icelandic #A#. The mother takes the\nplace of the father in Danish #B# and Swedish, and perhaps it is the\nmother who tells the story in English #A#, but the bad condition of the\ntext scarcely enables us to say. Danish #B# and the Swedish copy have\nlost the middle and end of the proper story: there is no wood, no\nchildbirth, no burial. The superfluous boat of some Norwegian versions\nof 'Redselille' reappears in these, and also in Icelandic #A#, #B#; it\nis overturned in a storm, and the lady is drowned.\n\n'Stalbroders Kvide' differs from 'S\u00f8nnens Sorg' only in this: that the\nstory is related to a comrade instead of father or mother.\n\n'Bolde Hr. Nilaus' L\u00f8n,' which exists but in a single copy, has a\npeculiar beginning. Sir Nilaus has served eight years in the king's\ncourt without recompense. He has, however, gained the favor of the\nking's daughter, who tells him that she is suffering much on his\naccount. If this be so, says Nilaus, I will quit the land with speed. He\nis told to wait till she has spoken to her mother. She goes to her\nmother and says: Sir Nilaus has served eight years, and had no reward;\nhe desires the best that it is in your power to give. The queen\nexclaims, He shall never have my only daughter's hand! The young lady\nimmediately bids Nilaus saddle his horse while she collects her gold,\nand from this point we have the story of Redselille.\n\n#Dutch.# Willems, Oude vlaemsche Liederen, p. 482, No 231, 'De Ruiter en\nMooi Elsje;' Hoffmann v. Fallersleben, Niederl\u00e4ndische Volkslieder, 2d\ned., p. 170, No 75: broadside of the date 1780.\n\nA mother inquires into her daughter's condition, and learns that she is\ngoing with child by a trooper (he is called both 'ruiter' and\n'landsknecht'). The conversation is overheard by the other party, who\nasks the girl whether she will ride with him or bide with her mother.\nShe chooses to go with him, and as they ride is overtaken with pains.\nShe asks whether there is not a house where she can rest. The soldier\nbuilds her a hut of thistles, thorns, and high stakes, and hangs his\ncloak over the aperture. She asks him to go away, and to come back when\nhe hears a cry: but the maid was dead ere she cried. The trooper laid\nhis head on a stone, and his heart brake with grief.\n\n#German.# #A#, Simrock, No 40, p. 92, 'Von Farbe so bleich,' from Bonn\nand Rheindorf, repeated in Mittler, No 194. The mother, on learning her\ndaughter's plight, imprecates a curse on her. The maid betakes herself\nto her lover, a trooper, who rides off with her. They come to a cool\nspring, and she begs for a fresh drink, but, feeling very ill, asks if\nthere is no hamlet near, from which she could have woman's help. The aid\nof the trooper is rejected in the usual phrase, and he is asked to go\naside, and answer when called. If there should be no call, she will be\ndead. There was no call, and she was found to be dead, with two sons in\nher bosom. The trooper wrapped the children in her apron, and dug her\ngrave with his sword. #B#, Reifferscheid, Westf\u00e4lische Volkslieder, p.\n106, 'Ach Wunder \u00fcber Wunder,' from B\u00f6kendorf: much the same as to the\nstory. #C#, Mittler, No 195, p. 175, 'Von Farbe so bleich,' a fragment\nof a copy from Hesse; Zuccalmaglio, p. 187, No 90, 'Die Waisen,' an\nentire copy, ostensibly from the Lower Rhine, but clearly owing its last\nfourteen stanzas to the editor. The trooper, in this supplement, leaves\nthe boys with his mother, and goes over seas. The boys grow up, and set\nout to find their father. In the course of their quest, they pass a\nnight in a hut in a wood, and are overheard saying a prayer for their\nfather and dead mother, by a person who announces herself as their\nmaternal grandmother! After this it is not surprising that the father\nhimself should turn up early the next morning. The same editor, under\nthe name of Montanus, gives in Die deutschen Volksfeste, p. 45 f, a part\nof this ballad again, with variations which show his hand beyond a\ndoubt. We are here informed that the ballad has above a hundred stanzas,\nand that the conclusion is that the grandmother repents her curse, makes\nher peace with the boys, and builds a convent.\n\n#French.# Bujeaud, Chants et Chansons populaires des provinces de\nl'Ouest, #A#, I, 198, #B#, I, 200, 'J'entends le rossignolet.' #A#. This\nballad has suffered injury at the beginning and the end, but still\npreserves very well the chief points of the story. A lover has promised\nhis mistress that after returning from a long absence he would take her\nto see his country. While traversing a wood she is seized with her\npains. The aid of her companion is declined: \"Cela n'est point votre\nm\u00e9tier.\" She begs for water. The lover goes for some, and meets a lark,\nwho tells him that he will find his love dead, with a child in her arms.\nTwo stanzas follow which are to no purpose. #B#. The other copy of this\nballad has a perverted instead of a meaningless conclusion, but this\nkeeps some traits that are wanting in #A#. It is a two-line ballad, with\nthe nightingale in the refrain: \"J'entends le rossignolet.\" A fair maid,\nwalking with her lover, falls ill, and lies down under a thorn. The\nlover asks if he shall go for her mother. \"She would not come: she has a\ncruel heart.\" Shall I go for mine? \"Go, like the swallow!\" He comes back\nand finds his love dead, and says he will die with his mistress. The\nabsurd conclusion follows that she was feigning death to test his love.\n\nThe names in the Scandinavian ballads, it is remarked by Grundtvig, V,\n242, 291, are not Norse, but probably of German derivation, and, if\nsuch, would indicate a like origin for the story. The man's name, for\ninstance, in the Danish 'S\u00f8nnens Sorg,' #A#, Gysellannd, seems to point\nto Gisalbrand or Gisalbald, German names of the 8th or 9th century.\nThere is some doubt whether this Gysellannd is not due to a corruption\narising in the course of tradition (see Grundtvig, V, 302); but if the\nname may stand, it will account for our Leesome Brand almost as\nsatisfactorily as Hildebrand does for Earl Brand in No 7.\n\nThe passage in which the lady refuses male assistance during her\ntravail--found as well in almost all the Danish versions of 'Redselille\nand Medelvold,' in the German and French, and imperfectly in Swedish\n#D#--occurs in several other English ballads, viz., 'The Birth of Robin\nHood,' 'Rose the Red and White Lily,' 'Sweet Willie,' of Finlay's\nScottish Ballads, II, 61, 'Burd Helen,' of Buchan, II, 30, 'Bonnie\nAnnie,' No 23. Nearly the whole of the scene in the wood is in\n'Wolfdietrich.' Wolfdietrich finds a dead man and a woman naked to the\ngirdle, who is clasping the stem of a tree. The man, who was her\nhusband, was taking her to her mother's house, where her first child was\nto be born, when he was attacked by the dragon Schadesam. She was now in\nthe third day of her travail. Wolfdietrich, having first wrapped her in\nhis cloak, offers his help, requesting her to tear a strip from her\nshift and bind it round his eyes. She rejects his assistance in this\nform, but sends him for water, which he brings in his helmet, but only\nto find the woman dead, with a lifeless child at her breast. He wraps\nmother and child in his mantle, carries them to a chapel, and lays them\non the altar; then digs a grave with his sword, goes for the body of the\nman, and buries all three in the grave he has made. Grimm, Altd\u00e4nische\nHeldenlieder, p. 508; Holtzmann, Der grosse Wolfdietrich, st. 1587-1611;\nAmelung u. J\u00e4nicke,[158] Ortnit u. die Wolfdietriche, II, 146, #D#, st.\n51-75; with differences, I, 289, B, st. 842-848; mother and child\nsurviving, I, 146, #A#, st. 562-578; Weber's abstract of the Heldenbuch,\nin Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 119, 120.\n\n'Herr Medelvold,' a mixed text of Danish II, Danske Viser, No 156, is\ntranslated by Jamieson, Illustrations, p. 377; by Borrow, Romantic\nBallads, p. 28 (very ill); and by Prior, No 101. Swedish, II, #A#. is\ntranslated by Jamieson, _ib._, p. 373.\n\n\nA\n\n#a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 38. #b.# Motherwell's\nMS., p. 626.\n\n 1\n My boy was scarcely ten years auld,\n Whan he went to an unco land,\n Where wind never blew, nor cocks ever crew,\n Ohon for my son, Leesome Brand!\n\n 2\n Awa to that king's court he went,\n It was to serve for meat an fee;\n Gude red gowd it was his hire,\n And lang in that king's court stayd he.\n\n 3\n He hadna been in that unco land\n But only twallmonths twa or three,\n Till by the glancing o his ee,\n He gaind the love o a gay ladye.\n\n 4\n This ladye was scarce eleven years auld,\n When on her love she was right bauld;\n She was scarce up to my right knee,\n When oft in bed wi men I'm tauld.\n\n 5\n But when nine months were come and gane,\n This ladye's face turnd pale and wane.\n\n 6\n To Leesome Brand she then did say,\n 'In this place I can nae mair stay.\n\n 7\n 'Ye do you to my father's stable,\n Where steeds do stand baith wight and able.\n\n 8\n 'Strike ane o them upo the back,\n The swiftest will gie his head a wap.\n\n 9\n 'Ye take him out upo the green,\n And get him saddled and bridled seen.\n\n 10\n 'Get ane for you, anither for me,\n And lat us ride out ower the lee.\n\n 11\n 'Ye do you to my mother's coffer,\n And out of it ye'll take my tocher.\n\n 12\n 'Therein are sixty thousand pounds,\n Which all to me by right belongs.'\n\n 13\n He's done him to her father's stable,\n Where steeds stood baith wicht and able.\n\n 14\n Then he strake ane upon the back,\n The swiftest gae his head a wap.\n\n 15\n He's taen him out upo the green,\n And got him saddled and bridled seen.\n\n 16\n Ane for him, and another for her,\n To carry them baith wi might and virr.\n\n 17\n He's done him to her mother's coffer,\n And there he 's taen his lover's tocher;\n\n 18\n Wherein were sixty thousand pound,\n Which all to her by right belongd.\n\n 19\n When they had ridden about six mile,\n His true love then began to fail.\n\n 20\n 'O wae's me,' said that gay ladye,\n 'I fear my back will gang in three!\n\n 21\n 'O gin I had but a gude midwife,\n Here this day to save my life,\n\n 22\n 'And ease me o my misery,\n O dear, how happy I woud be!'\n\n 23\n 'My love, we're far frae ony town,\n There is nae midwife to be foun.\n\n 24\n 'But if ye'll be content wi me,\n I'll do for you what man can dee.'\n\n 25\n 'For no, for no, this maunna be,'\n Wi a sigh, replied this gay ladye.\n\n 26\n 'When I endure my grief and pain,\n My companie ye maun refrain.\n\n 27\n 'Ye'll take your arrow and your bow,\n And ye will hunt the deer and roe.\n\n 28\n 'Be sure ye touch not the white hynde,\n For she is o the woman kind.'\n\n 29\n He took sic pleasure in deer and roe,\n Till he forgot his gay ladye.\n\n 30\n Till by it came that milk-white hynde,\n And then he mind on his ladye syne.\n\n 31\n He hasted him to yon greenwood tree,\n For to relieve his gay ladye;\n\n 32\n But found his ladye lying dead,\n Likeways her young son at her head.\n\n 33\n His mother lay ower her castle wa,\n And she beheld baith dale and down;\n And she beheld young Leesome Brand,\n As he came riding to the town.\n\n 34\n 'Get minstrels for to play,' she said,\n 'And dancers to dance in my room;\n For here comes my son, Leesome Brand,\n And he comes merrilie to the town.'\n\n 35\n 'Seek nae minstrels to play, mother,\n Nor dancers to dance in your room;\n But tho your son comes, Leesome Brand,\n Yet he comes sorry to the town.\n\n 36\n 'O I hae lost my gowden knife;\n I rather had lost my ain sweet life!\n\n 37\n 'And I hae lost a better thing,\n The gilded sheath that it was in.'\n\n 38\n 'Are there nae gowdsmiths here in Fife,\n Can make to you anither knife?\n\n 39\n 'Are there nae sheath-makers in the land,\n Can make a sheath to Leesome Brand?'\n\n 40\n 'There are nae gowdsmiths here in Fife,\n Can make me sic a gowden knife;\n\n 41\n 'Nor nae sheath-makers in the land,\n Can make to me a sheath again.\n\n 42\n 'There ne'er was man in Scotland born,\n Ordaind to be so much forlorn.\n\n 43\n 'I 've lost my ladye I lovd sae dear,\n Likeways the son she did me bear.'\n\n 44\n 'Put in your hand at my bed head,\n There ye'll find a gude grey horn;\n In it three draps o' Saint Paul's ain blude,\n That hae been there sin he was born.\n\n 45\n 'Drap twa o them o your ladye,\n And ane upo your little young son;\n Then as lively they will be\n As the first night ye brought them hame.'\n\n 46\n He put his hand at her bed head,\n And there he found a gude grey horn,\n Wi three draps o' Saint Paul's ain blude,\n That had been there sin he was born.\n\n 47\n Then he drappd twa on his ladye,\n And ane o them on his young son,\n And now they do as lively be,\n As the first day he brought them hame.\n\n\nB\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 365. From the recitation of Agnes\n Lyle, Kilbarchan.\n\n 1\n 'There is a feast in your father's house,\n The broom blooms bonnie and so is it fair\n It becomes you and me to be very douce.\n And we'll never gang up to the broom nae mair\n\n 2\n 'You will go to yon hill so hie;\n Take your bow and your arrow wi thee.'\n\n 3\n He's tane his lady on his back,\n And his auld son in his coat lap.\n\n 4\n 'When ye hear me give a cry,\n Ye'll shoot your bow and let me lye.\n\n 5\n 'When ye see me lying still,\n Throw away your bow and come running me till.'\n\n 6\n When he heard her gie the cry,\n He shot his bow and he let her lye.\n\n 7\n When he saw she was lying still,\n He threw away his bow and came running her till.\n\n 8\n It was nae wonder his heart was sad\n When he shot his auld son at her head.\n\n 9\n He houkit a grave, long, large and wide,\n He buried his auld son doun by her side.\n\n 10\n It was nae wonder his heart was sair\n When he shooled the mools on her yellow hair.\n\n 11\n 'Oh,' said his father, 'son, but thou'rt sad!\n At our braw meeting you micht be glad.'\n\n 12\n 'Oh,' said he, 'Father, I've lost my knife\n I loved as dear almost as my own life.\n\n 13\n 'But I have lost a far better thing,\n I lost the sheath that the knife was in.'\n\n 14\n 'Hold thy tongue, and mak nae din;\n I'll buy thee a sheath and a knife therein.'\n\n 15\n 'A' the ships eer sailed the sea\n Neer'll bring such a sheath and a knife to me.\n\n 16\n 'A' the smiths that lives on land\n Will neer bring such a sheath and knife to my hand.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. b.#\n\n 1^2. he came to.\n\n 1^3. For wind ... and cock never.\n\n 4^4. bed wi him.\n\n 5^2. His lady's.\n\n 22^2. would I be.\n\n 29^1. deer and doe.\n\n 30^2. And then on his lady he did mind.\n\n 31^1. to greenwood tree.\n\n 33^1. the castle wa.\n\n 34^1. Go, minstrels.\n\n 43^1. lady I 've loved.\n\n 44^8. draps Saint Paul's.\n\n 44^4. That has.\n\n 45^2. little wee son.\n\n#B.#\n\n 2^1. Will you.\n\n\n[157] And also stanza 3 of Buchan's 'Fairy Knight,' 'The Elfin Knight,'\n#D#, p. 17 of this volume, which runs:\n\n I hae a sister eleven years auld,\n And she to the young men's bed has made bauld.\n\n[158] Who suggests, II, xlv, somewhat oddly, that the passage may have\nbeen taken from Revelation, xii, 2 f, 13 f.\n\n\n\n\n16\n\nSHEATH AND KNIFE\n\n #A. a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 286. #b.# 'The broom blooms\n bonnie and says it is fair,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p.\n 189.\n\n #B.# Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. by D. Laing, p. 159.\n\n #C.# 'The broom blooms bonie,' Johnson's Museum, No 461.\n\n #D.# Notes and Queries, First Series, V, 345, one stanza.\n\n\nThe three stanzas of this ballad which are found in the Musical Museum\n(#C#) were furnished, it is said, by Burns. It was first printed in full\n(#A b#) in Motherwell's Minstrelsy. Motherwell retouched a verse here\nand there slightly, to regulate the metre. #A a# is here given as it\nstands in his manuscript. #B# consists of some scattered verses as\nremembered by Sir W. Scott.\n\nThe directions in 3, 4 receive light from a passage in 'Robin Hood's\nDeath and Burial:'\n\n 'But give me my bent bow in my hand,\n And a broad arrow I'll let flee,\n And where this arrow is taken up\n There shall my grave diggd be.\n\n 'Lay me a green sod under my head,' etc.\n\nOther ballads with a like theme are 'The Bonny Hind,' further on in this\nvolume, and the two which follow it.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTranslated in Grundtvig's E. og s. Folkeviser, No 49, p. 308; Wolff's\nHalle der V\u00f6lker, I, 64.\n\n\nA\n\n #a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 286. From the recitation of Mrs\n King, Kilbarchan Parish, February 9, 1825. #b.# 'The broom\n blooms bonnie and says it is fair,' Motberwell's\n Minstrelsy, p. 189.\n\n 1\n It is talked the warld all over,\n The brume blooms bonnie and says it is fair\n That the king's dochter gaes wi child to her brither.\n And we'll never gang doun to the brume onie mair\n\n 2\n He's taen his sister doun to her father's deer park,\n Wi his yew-tree bow and arrows fast slung to his back.\n\n 3\n 'Now when that ye hear me gie a loud cry,\n Shoot frae thy bow an arrow and there let me lye.\n\n 4\n 'And when that ye see I am lying dead,\n Then ye'll put me in a grave, wi a turf at my head.'\n\n 5\n Now when he heard her gie a loud cry,\n His silver arrow frae his bow he suddenly let fly.\n Now they'll never, etc.\n\n 6\n He has made a grave that was lang and was deep,\n And he has buried his sister, wi her babe at her feet.\n And they'll never, etc.\n\n 7\n And when he came to his father's court hall,\n There was music and minstrels and dancing and all.\n But they'll never, etc.\n\n 8\n 'O Willie, O Willie, what makes thee in pain?'\n 'I have lost a sheath and knife that I'll never see again.'\n For we'll never, etc.\n\n 9\n 'There is ships o your father's sailing on the sea\n That will bring as good a sheath and a knife unto thee.'\n\n 10\n 'There is ships o my father's sailing on the sea,\n But sic a sheath and a knife they can never bring to me.'\n Now we'll never, etc.\n\n\nB\n\n Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. by D. Laing, p. 159: Sir Walter\n Scott, from his recollection of a nursery-maid's singing.\n\n 1\n Ae lady has whispered the other,\n The broom grows bonnie, the broom grows fair\n Lady Margaret's wi bairn to Sir Richard, her brother.\n And we daur na gae doun to the broom nae mair\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 2\n 'And when ye hear me loud, loud cry,\n O bend your bow, let your arrow fly.\n And I daur na, etc.\n\n 3\n 'But when ye see me lying still,\n O then you may come and greet your fill.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 4\n 'It's I hae broken my little pen-knife\n That I loed dearer than my life.'\n And I daur na, etc.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 5\n 'It's no for the knife that my tears doun run,\n But it's a' for the case that my knife was kept in.'\n\n\nC\n\n Johnson's Museum, No 461.\n\n 1\n It's whispered in parlour, it's whispered in ha,\n The broom blooms bonie, the broom blooms fair\n Lady Marget's wi child amang our ladies a'.\n And she dare na gae down to the broom nae mair\n\n 2\n One lady whisperd unto another\n Lady Marget's wi child to Sir Richard, her brother.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n 'O when that you hear my loud loud cry,\n Then bend your bow and let your arrows fly.\n For I dare na,' etc.\n\n\nD\n\n Notes and Queries, 1st Series, V, 345, communicated by E.\n F. Rimbault.\n\n 1\n Ae king's dochter said to anither,\n Broom blooms bonnie an grows sae fair\n We'll gae ride like sister and brither.\n But we'll never gae down to the broom nae mair\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. b.#\n\n _Motherwell's printed copy has these variations:_\n\n 1^1. It is talked, it is talked; _a variation found in the\n MS._\n\n 3^1. O when ... loud, loud cry.\n\n 3^2. an arrow frae thy bow.\n\n 4^1. cauld and dead.\n\n 5^1. loud, loud cry.\n\n 6^1. has houkit.\n\n 6^2. babie.\n\n 7^1. came hame.\n\n 7^2. dancing mang them a': _this variation also in the\n MS._\n\n 9^1, 10^1. There are.\n\n#B.#\n\n \"I have heard the 'Broom blooms bonnie' sung by our poor\n old nursery-maid as often as I have teeth in my head, but\n after cudgelling my memory I can make no more than the\n following stanzas.\" _Scott, Sharpe's Ballad Book, 1880, p.\n 159._\n\n _Scott makes Effie Deans, in The Heart of Mid-Lothian,\n vol. I, ch. 10, sing this stanza, probably of his own\n making:_\n\n The elfin knight sat on the brae,\n The broom grows bonny, the broom grows fair\n And by there came lilting a lady so gay.\n And we daurna gang down to the broom nae mair\n\n\n\n\n17\n\nHIND HORN\n\n #A.# 'Hindhorn,' Motherwell's MS., p. 106.\n\n #B.# 'Young Hyndhorn,' Motherwell's MS., p. 418.\n\n #C. a.# 'Young Hyn Horn,' Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 42.\n #b.# Motherwell's MS., p. 413.\n\n #D.# 'Young Hynhorn,' Cromek's Select Scotish Songs, II,\n 204.\n\n #E.# 'Hynd Horn,' Motherwell's MS., p. 91.\n\n #F.# Lowran Castle, or the Wild Boar of Curridoo: with\n other Tales. By R. Trotter, Dumfries, 1822.\n\n #G.# 'Hynde Horn,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p.\n 135.\n\n #H.# 'Hynd Horn,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, II, 268.\n\n\nA defective copy of this ballad was printed in Cromek's Select Scottish\nSongs, Ancient and Modern, 1810 (#D#). A fragment, comprising the first\nhalf of the story, was inserted in \"Lowran Castle, or the Wild Boar of\nCurridoo: with other Tales,\" etc., by Robert Trotter, Dumfries,\n1822[159] (#F#). A complete copy was first given in Kinloch's Ancient\nScottish Ballads, 1827 (#G#); another, described by the editor as made\nup from Cromek's fragment and two copies from recitation, in\nMotherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 36,[160] later in the same year; and a\nthird, closely resembling Kinloch's, in Buchan's Ballads of the North of\nScotland, in 1828 (#H#). Three versions complete, or nearly so, and a\nfragment of a fourth are now printed for the first time, all from\nMotherwell's manuscripts (#A#, #B#, #C#, #E#).\n\nThe stanza about the auger bore [wimble bore], #B# 1, #F# 3, #H# 4, is\nmanifestly out of place. It is found in 'The Whummil Bore' (see further\non), and may have slipped into 'Hind Horn' by reason of its following,\nin its proper place, a stanza beginning, \"Seven lang years I hae served\nthe king:\" cf. #F# 2, #H# 3.\n\n#G# 17, 18, 21, 22, which are not intelligible in their present\nconnection, are perhaps, as well as #G# 16, #H# 18-20, borrowed from\nsome Robin Hood ballad, in which a change is made with a beggar.\n\nThe noteworthy points in the story of Hind Horn are these. Hind Horn has\nserved the king seven years (#D#, #F#), and has fallen in love with his\ndaughter. She gives Hind Horn a jewelled ring: as long as the stone\nkeeps its color, he may know that she is faithful; but if it changes\nhue, he may ken she loves another man. The king is angry (#D#), and Hind\nHorn goes to sea [is sent, #D#]. He has been gone seven years, #E#, #F#\n[seven years and a day, #B#], when, looking on his ring, he sees that\nthe stone is pale and wan, #A-H#. He makes for the land at once, and,\nmeeting an old beggar, asks him for news. No news but the king's\ndaughter's wedding: it has lasted nine days [two and forty, #A#], and\nshe will not go into the bride-bed till she hears of Hind Horn, #E#.\nHind Horn changed cloaks and other gear with the beggar, and when he\ncame to the king's gate asked for a drink in Horn's name,[161] #A#, #B#,\n#D#. The bride herself came down, and gave him a drink out of her own\nhand, #A#, #B#, #C#, #G#, #H#. He drank out the drink and dropped in the\nring.\n\n 'O gat ye 't by sea, or gat ye 't by lan,\n Or gat ye 't aff a dead man's han?'\n\nSo she asked; and he answered:\n\n 'I gat na 't by sea, I gat na 't by lan,\n But I gat it out of your own han.' #D# 14.\n\n 'I got na 't by sea, I got na 't by land,\n Nor got I it aff a drownd man's hand;\n\n 'But I got it at my wooing,\n And I'll gie it at your wedding.' #G# 29, 30.\n\nThe bride, who had said,\n\n 'I'll go through nine fires so hot,\n But I'll give him a drink for Young Hynhorn's sake,' #B# 16,\n\nis no less ready now:\n\n 'I'll tak the red gowd frae my head,\n And follow you and beg my bread.\n\n 'I'll tak the red gowd frae my hair,\n And follow you for evermair.' #H# 31, 32.\n\nBut Hind Horn let his cloutie cloak fall, #G#, #H#, and told her,\n\n 'Ye need na leave your bridal gown,\n For I'll make ye ladie o many a town.'\n\nThe story of Horn, of which this ballad gives little more than the\ncatastrophe, is related at full in\n\nI. 'King Horn,' a _gest_ in about 1550 short verses, preserved in three\nmanuscripts: the oldest regarded as of the second half of the 13th\ncentury, or older; the others put at 1300 and a little later. All three\nhave been printed: (1.) By Michel, Horn et Rimenhild, p. 259 ff,\nBannatyne Club, 1845; J. R. Lumby, Early English Text Society, 1866; and\nin editions founded on Lumby's text, by M\u00e4tzner, Altenglische\nSprachproben, p. 270 ff, and later by Wissmann, Quellen u. Forschungen,\nNo 45. (2.) By Horstmann, Archiv f\u00fcr das Studium der neueren Sprachen,\n1872, L, 39 ff. (3.) By Ritson, A.E. Metrical Romance\u00ebs, II, 91 ff.\n\nII. 'Horn et Rymenhild,' a romance in about 5250 heroic verses,\npreserved likewise in three manuscripts; the best in the Public Library\nof the University of Cambridge, and of the 14th century.\n\nIII. 'Horn Childe and Maiden Rimnild,' from a manuscript of the 14th\ncentury, in not quite 100 twelve-line stanzas: Ritson, Metrical\nRomance\u00ebs, III, 282 ff; Michel, p. 341 ff.\n\nHorn, in the old English _gest_, is son of Murry [Allof], king of\nSuddenne. He is a youth of extraordinary beauty, and has twelve\ncomrades, of whom Athulf and Fikenild are his favorites. One day, as\nMurry was out riding, he came upon fifteen ships of Saracens, just\narrived. The pagans slew the king, and insured themselves, as they\nthought, against Horn's future revenge by putting him and his twelve\naboard a vessel without sail or rudder; but \"the children\" drove to\nshore, unhurt, on the coast of Westerness. The king, Ailmar, gave them a\nkind reception, and committed them to Athelbrus, his steward, to be\nproperly brought up. Rymenhild, the king's daughter, fell in love with\nHorn, and having, with some difficulty, prevailed upon Athelbrus to\nbring him to her bower, offered herself to him as his wife. It were no\nfair wedding, Horn told her, between a thrall and a king,--a speech\nwhich hurt Rymenhild greatly; and Horn was so moved by her grief that he\npromised to do all she required, if she would induce the king to knight\nhim. This was done the next day, and Horn at once knighted all his\ncomrades. Rymenhild again sent for Horn, and urged him now to make her\nhis wife. But Horn said he must first prove his knighthood: if he came\nback alive, he would then marry her. Upon this Rymenhild gave him a\nring, set with stones of such virtue that he could never be slain if he\nlooked on it and thought of his leman. The young knight had the good\nfortune to fall in immediately with a ship full of heathen hounds, and\nby the aid of his ring killed a hundred of the best of them. The next\nday he paid Rymenhild a visit, and found her drowned in grief on account\nof a bad dream. She had cast her net in the sea, and a great fish had\nbroken it: she weened she should lose the fish that she would choose.\nHorn strove to comfort her, but could not conceal his apprehension that\ntrouble was brewing. The fish proved to be Fikenild, Horn's much\ncherished friend. He told Ailmar of the intimacy with Rymenhild, and\nasserted that Horn meant to kill the king as well as marry the princess.\nAilmar was very angry (v. 724, Wissmann), and much grieved, too. He\nfound the youth in his daughter's bower, and ordered him to quit the\nland anon. Horn saddled his horse and armed himself, then went back to\nRymenhild, and told her that he was going to a strange land for seven\nyears: if, after that, he neither came nor sent word, she might take a\nhusband. He sailed a good way eastward (v. 799) to Ireland, and,\nlanding, met two princes, who invited him to take service with their\nfather. The king, Thurston, welcomed him, and had soon occasion to\nemploy him; for at Christmas came into court a giant, with a message\nfrom pagans newly arrived. They proposed that one of them should fight\nthree Christians:\n\n 'If your three slay our one.\n Let all this land be your own;\n If our one oercomes your three,\n All this land then ours shall be.'\n\nHorn scorned to fight on such terms; he alone would undertake three of\nthe hounds; and so he did. In the course of a hard fight it came out\nthat these were the very heathen that had slain King Murry. Horn looked\non his ring and thought on Rymenhild, then fell on his foes. Not a man\nof them escaped; but King Thurston lost many men in the fight, among\nthem his two sons. Having now no heir, he offered Horn his daughter\nReynild and the succession. Horn replied that he had not earned such a\nreward yet. He would serve the king further; and when he asked for his\ndaughter, he hoped the king would not refuse her.\n\nSeven years Horn stayed with King Thurston, and to Rymenhild neither\nsent nor went. A sorry time it was for her, and worst at the end, for\nKing Modi of Reynis asked her in marriage, and her father consented. The\nwedding was to be in a few days. Rymenhild despatched messengers to\nevery land, but Horn heard nothing, till one day, when he was going out\nto shoot, he encountered one of these, and learned how things stood. He\nsent word to his love not to be troubled; he would be there betimes.\nBut, alas, the messenger was drowned on his way back, and Rymenhild,\npeering out of her door for a ray of hope, saw his body washed up by the\nwaves. Horn now made a clean breast to Thurston, and asked for help.\nThis was generously accorded, and Horn set sail for Westerness. He\narrived not too early on the day of the wedding,--\"ne might he come no\nlater!\"--left his men in a wood, and set off for Ailmar's court alone.\nHe met a palmer, and asked his news. The palmer had come from a bridal;\na wedding of maid Rymenhild, who wept and would not be married, because\nshe had a husband, though he was out of the land. Horn changed clothes\nwith the palmer, put on the sclavin, took scrip and staff, blackened his\nskin and twisted his lip, and presented himself at the king's gate. The\nporter would not let him in; Horn kicked open the wicket, threw the\nporter over the bridge, made his way into the hall, and sat down in the\nbeggars' row. Rymenhild was weeping as if she were out of her wits, but\nafter meat she rose to give all the knights and squires drink from a\nhorn which she bare: such was the custom. Horn called to her:\n\n 'Skink us with the first,\n The beggars ben athirst.'\n\nShe laid down her horn and filled him a gallon bowl; but Horn would not\ndrink of that. He said, mysteriously, \"Thou thinkest I am a beggar, but\nI am a fisher, come far from the East, to fish at thy feast. My net lies\nnear at hand, and hath full seven year. I am come to see if it has taken\nany fish.\n\n 'I am come to fish;\n Drink to me from thy dish,\n Drink to Horn from horn!'\"\n\nRymenhild looked at him, a chill creeping over her heart. What he meant\nby his fishing she did not see. She filled her horn and drank to him,\nhanded it to the pilgrim, and said, \"Drink thy fill, and tell me if ever\nthou saw Horn.\" Horn drank, and threw the ring into the vessel. When the\nprincess went to bower, she found the ring she had given Horn. She\nfeared he was dead, and sent for the palmer. The palmer said Horn had\ndied on the voyage to Westerness, and had begged him to go with the ring\nto Rymenhild. Rymenhild could bear no more. She threw herself on her\nbed, where she had hid a knife, to kill both King Modi and herself if\nHorn should not come; she set the knife to her heart, and there Horn\nstopped her. He wiped off the black, and cried, \"I am Horn!\" Great was\ntheir bliss, but it was not a time to indulge themselves fully.\n\n Horn sprang out of hall,\n And let his sclavin fall, (1246)\n\nand went to summon his knights. Rymenhild sent after him the faithful\nAthulf, who all the while had been watching for Horn in the tower. They\nslew all that were in the castle, except King Ailmar and Horn's old\ncomrades. Horn spared even Fikenild, taking an oath of fidelity from him\nand the rest. Then he made himself known to Ailmar, denied what he had\nbeen charged with, and would not marry Rymenhild even now, not till he\nhad won back Suddenne. This he went immediately about; but while he was\nengaged in clearing the land of Saracens and rebuilding churches, the\nfalse Fikenild bribed young and old to side with him, built a strong\ncastle, \"married\" Rymenhild, carried her into his fortress, and began a\nfeast. Horn, warned in a dream, again set sail for Westerness, and came\nin by Fikenild's new castle. Athulf's cousin was on the shore, to tell\nhim what had happened; how Fikenild had wedded Rymenhild that very day;\nhe had beguiled Horn twice. Force would not avail now. Horn disguised\nhimself and some of his knights as harpers and fiddlers, and their music\ngained them admittance. Horn began a lay which threw Rymenhild into a\nswoon. This smote him to the heart; he looked on his ring and thought of\nher. Fikenhild and his men were soon disposed of. Horn was in a\ncondition to reward all his faithful adherents. He married Athulf to\nThurston's daughter, and made Rymenhild queen of Suddenne.\n\nThe French romance contains very nearly the same story, extended, by\nexpansions of various sorts, to about six times the length of King Horn.\nIt would be out of place to notice other variations than those which\nrelate to the story preserved in the ballads. Rimild offers Horn a ring\nwhen she first avows her love. He will not take it then, but accepts a\nsecond tender, after his first fight. When he is accused to the king, he\noffers to clear himself by combat with heavy odds, but will not submit,\nking's son as he is, to purgation by oath. The king says, then he may\nquit the land and go--to Norway, if he will. Horn begs Rimild to\nmaintain her love for him seven years. If he does not come then, he will\nsend her word to act thereafter at her pleasure. Rimild exchanges the\nring she had previously given him for one set with a sapphire, wearing\nwhich faithfully he need not fear death by water nor fire, battle nor\ntourney (vv 2051-8). He looks at this ring when he fights with the pagan\nthat had killed his father, and it fires his heart to extraordinary\nexploits (3166 ff). Having learned through a friend, who had long been\nseeking him, that Rimild's father is about to marry her to a young king\n(Modun), Horn returns to Brittany with a large force. He leaves his men\nin a woody place, and goes out alone on horseback for news; meets a\npalmer, who tells him that the marriage is to take place that very day;\ngives the palmer his fine clothes in exchange for sclavin, staff and\nscrip, forces his way into the city, and is admitted to the banquet hall\nwith the beggars. After the guests had eaten (4152 ff), Rimild filled a\nsplendid cup with piment, presented it first _a sun dru_, and then, with\nher maids, served the whole company. As she was making her fifth round,\nHorn pulled her by the sleeve, and reproached her with attending only to\nthe rich. \"Your credit would be greater should you serve _us_.\" She set\na handsome cup before him, but he would not drink. \"Corn apelent Horn li\nEngleis,\" he said. \"If, for the love of him who bore that name, you\nwould give me the same horn that you offered your _ami_, I would share\nit with you.\" All but fainting, Rimild gave him the horn. He threw in\nhis ring, even that which she had given him at parting, drank out half,\nand begged her to drink by the love of him whom he had named. In\ndrinking, she sipped the ring into her mouth, and she saw at once what\nit was (4234). \"I have found a ring,\" said she. \"If it is yours, take\nit. Blest be he to whom I gave it: if you know aught of him, conceal it\nnot. If you are Horn, it were a great sin not to reveal yourself.\" Horn\nowned that the ring was his, but denied knowledge of the man she spake\nof. For himself, he had been reared in that land, and by service had\ncome into possession of a hawk, which, before taming it, he had put in a\ncage: that was nigh seven years since: he had come now to see what it\namounted to. If it should prove to be as good as when he left it, he\nwould carry it away with him; but if its feathers were ruffled and\nbroken, he would have nothing to do with it. At this, Rimild broke into\na laugh, and cried, \"Horn, 't is you, and your hawk has been safely\nkept!\"[162] She would go with him or kill herself. Horn saw that she had\nspoken truth, but, to try her yet further, said he was indeed Horn, whom\nshe had loved, but he had come back with nothing: why should she follow\na poor wretch who could not give her a gown to her back? \"Little do you\nknow me,\" was her reply. \"I can bear what you bear, and there is no king\nin the East for whom I would quit you.\"\n\n'Horn Childe and Maiden Rimnild,' with many diversities of its own as to\ndetails, is more like the French than the English romance as to the\nstory, and, on the other hand, has one or two resemblances to the\nballads which they both lack. Rimnild's father, maddened by the traitor\nWikel's false information, beats her till she bleeds, and threatens to\nslay Horn. Rimnild, expecting her lover to be at least exiled, assures\nHorn that she will marry no other man for seven years. The king, who had\nshut himself up till his first wrath was past, tells Horn, when he next\ncomes into his presence, that if he is found in the land on the morrow,\nhe shall be drawn with horses and hanged. Rimnild, at parting, gives him\na ring, with these words:\n\n 'Loke thou forsake it for no thing,\n It schal ben our tokening;\n The ston it is wele trewe.\n When the ston wexeth wan,\n Than chaungeth the thou\u021dt of thi leman,\n Take than a newe;\n When the ston wexeth rede,\n Than have Y lorn mi maidenhed,\n O\u021daines the untrewe.'\n\n (Michel, st. 48.)\n\nHorn, for his part, bids her every day look into a spring in her arbor:\nshould she see his shadow, then he is about to marry another; till then\nhis thought will not have changed (sts 48, 49). Though loved, as before,\nby another princess, Horn kept his faith; but when seven years were\ngone, on looking at the stone he saw that its hue was changed (st. 71).\nHe immediately gathered a force, and set sail for Rimnild. On landing he\nsaw a beggar, who turned out to be one of his old friends, and had been\nlooking for him a long time. That day Moging the king was to marry\nRimnild. They changed weeds (76); Horn forced his way into the castle.\nWhile Rimnild was serving the guests, Horn, who had tried to pass for a\nfool, called to her to attend to God's men. She fetched him drink, and\nhe said, \"For Horn's love, if ever he was dear to thee, go not ere this\nbe drunk.\" He threw the ring into the cup: she brought him another drink\n(something is wrong here, for nothing is said of her seeing and\nrecognizing the ring), and asked if Horn were there. She fainted when\nshe learned that he was, but on recovering sent Hatherof (==Athulf) to\nbid the king make merry, and then to gather periwinkle and ivy, \"grasses\nthat ben of main\" (to stain her face with, no doubt), and then to tell\nHorn to wait for her under a woodside.\n\n 'When al this folk is gon to play,\n He and Y schal steal oway,\n Bituene the day and the ni\u021dt.' (87)\n\nHatherof did his message. Of true love Horn was sure. He said he would\ncome into the field with a hundred knights. A tournament follows, as in\nthe French romance; the royal bridegroom is unhorsed, but spared;\ntreachery is punished and forced to confession.\n\n Now is Rimnild tuiis wedde,\n Horn brou\u021dt hir to his bedde. (94)\n\nThat the lay or gest of King Horn is a far more primitive poem than the\nFrench romance, and could not possibly be derived from it, will probably\nbe plain to any one who will make even a hasty comparison of the two;\nand that the contrary opinion should have been held by such men as\nWarton and Tyrwhitt must have been the result of a general theory, not\nof a particular examination.[163] There is, on the other hand, no\nsufficient reason for supposing that the English lay is the source of\nthe other two poems. Nor do the special approximations of the ballads to\nthe romance of Horn Child oblige us to conclude that these, or any of\nthem, are derived from that poem. The particular resemblances are the\ndiscoloration of the ring, the elopement with the bride, in #C#, #G#,\n#H# (which is only prepared for, but not carried out, in Horn Child),\nand the agreement between the couplet just cited from Horn Child,\n\n Now is Rimnild tuiis wedde,\n Horn brou\u021dt hir to his bedde,\n\nand the last stanza of #A#, #B#, #C#:\n\n The bridegroom he had wedded the bride,\n But Young Hind Horn he took her to bed. (#A#)\n\n The bridegroom thought he had the bonnie bride wed,\n But Young Hyn Horn took the bride to bed. (#B#)\n\n Her ain bridegroom had her first wed,\n But Young Hyn Horn had her first to bed. (#C#)\n\nThe likeness evinces a closer affinity of the oral traditions with the\nlater English romance than with the earlier English or the French, but\nno filiation. And were filiation to be accepted, there would remain the\nquestion of priority. It is often assumed, without a misgiving, that\noral tradition must needs be younger than anything that was committed to\nwriting some centuries ago; but this requires in each case to be made\nout; there is certainly no antecedent probability of that kind.[164]\n\nTwo Scandinavian ballads, as Dr Prior has remarked, seem to have been at\nleast suggested by the romances of Horn.\n\n(1.) 'Unge Hr. Tor og Jomfru Tore,' Grundtvig, No 72, II, 263,\ntranslated by Prior, III, 151. Of this there are two traditional\nversions: #A# from a manuscript of the sixteenth century, #B# from one\nof the seventeenth. They agree in story. In #A#, Tor asks S\u00f8lffuermord\nhow long she will wait for him. Nine years, she answers, if she can do\nso without angering her friends. He will be satisfied with eight. Eight\nhave passed: a family council is held, and it is decided that she shall\nnot have Young Tor, but a certain rich count. Her father \"gives her\naway\" that same day. The lady goes up to a balcony and looks seaward.\nEverybody seems to be coming home but her lover. She begs her brother to\nride down to the shore for her. Tor is just coming in, hails the\nhorseman, and eagerly asks how are the maids in the isle. The brother\ntells him that _his_ maid has waited eight years, and is even now\ndrinking her bridal, but with tears. Tor takes his harp and chess-board,\nand plays outside the bridal hall till the bride hears and knows him. He\nthen enters the hall, and asks if there is anybody that can win a game\nof chess. The father replies, Nobody but S\u00f8lffuermord, and she sits a\nbride at the board. The mother indulgently suggests that the midsummer\nday is long, and the bride might well try a game. The bride seeks an\nexpress sanction of her father, who lessons her the livelong day, being\nsuspicious of Tor, but towards evening consents to her playing a little\nwhile,--not long. Tor wins the first game, and must needs unpack his\nheart in a gibing parable, ending\n\n 'Full hard is gold to win,\n And so is a trothless quean.'\n\nShe wins the next game, takes up the parable, and says\n\n 'Many were glad their faith to hold,\n Were their lot to be controlled.'\n\nThey are soon at one, and resolve to fly. They slip away, go aboard\nTor's ship, and put off. The bride's parents get information, and the\nmother, who is a professor of the black art, raises a storm which she\nmeans shall sink them both. No one can steer the ship but the bride. She\nstands at the helm, with her gold crown on, while her lover is lying\nseasick on the deck, and she brings the craft safe into Norway, where a\nsecond wedding is celebrated.\n\n(2.) The other ballad is 'Herr Lovmand og Herr Thor,' Syv, iv, No 68,\nDanske Viser, IV, 180, No 199, translated by Prior, II, 442. Lovmand,\nhaving betrothed Ingelil, asks how long she will be his maid. \"Eight\nyears, if I may,\" she says. This term has elapsed; her brothers consult,\nand give her to rich Herr Thor. They drink the bridal for five days; for\nnine days; she will not go to bed. On the evening of the tenth, they\nbegin to use force. She begs that she may first go to the look-out\nup-stairs. From there she sees ships, great and small, and the sails\nwhich her own hands have made for her lover. Her brother goes down to\nthe sea, as in the other ballad, and has a similar interview. Lovmand\nhas the excuse of having been sick seven years. He borrows the brother's\nhorse, flies faster than a bird, and the torch is burning at the door of\nthe bride's house when he arrives. Thor is reasonable enough to give up\nthe bride, and to accept Lovmand's sister.\n\nThe ballad is extremely common in Sweden, and at least six versions have\nbeen published. #A#, 'Herr Lagman och Herr Thor,' from a manuscript of\nthe end of the sixteenth century, Arwidsson, I, 165, No 24; #B#, from a\nmanuscript, _ib._, p. 168; #C#, from oral tradition, p. 171; #D#,\n'Lageman och hans Brud,' Eva Wigstr\u00f6m, Folkdiktning samlad och\nupptecknad i Sk\u00e5ne, p. 29, No 12; #E#, 'Stolt Ingrid,' Folkvisor fr\u00e5u\nSk\u00e5ne, upptecknade af E. Wigstr\u00f6m, in Hazelius, Ur de nordiska Folkens\nLif, p. 121, No 3; #F#, 'Deielill och Lageman,' Fagerlund, Anteckningar\nom Korpo och Houtsk\u00e4rs Socknar, p. 192, No 3. In #A#, #D# the bride goes\noff in her lover's ship; in #C# he carries her off on his horse, when\nthe dancing is at its best, and subsequently, upon the king's\nrequisition, settles matters with his rival by killing him in single\nfight. The stolid bridegroom, in the others, consents to a peaceable\narrangement.\n\nCertain points in the story of Horn--the long absence, the sudden\nreturn, the appearance under disguise at the wedding feast, and the\ndropping of the ring into a cup of wine obtained from the bride--repeat\nthemselves in a great number of romantic tales. More commonly it is a\nhusband who leaves his wife for seven years, is miraculously informed on\nthe last day that she is to be remarried on the morrow, and is restored\nto his home in the nick of time, also by superhuman means. Horn is\nwarned to go back, in the ballads and in Horn Child, by the\ndiscoloration of his ring, but gets home as he can; this part of the\nstory is slurred over in a way that indicates a purpose to avoid a\nsupernatural expedient.\n\nVery prominent among the stories referred to is that of Henry of\nBrunswick [Henry the Lion, Reinfrid of Brunswick], and this may well be\nput first, because it is preserved in Scandinavian popular ballads.[165]\n\n(1.) The latest of these, a Swedish ballad, from a collection made at\nthe end of the last century, 'Hertig Henrik,' Arwidsson, No 168, II,\n422, represents Duke Henry as telling his wife that he is minded to go\noff for seven years (he says not whither, but it is of course to the\nEast); should he stay eight or nine, she may marry the man she fancies.\nHe cuts a ring in two; gives her one half and keeps the other. He is\nmade captive, and serves a heathen lord and lady seven years, drawing\nhalf the plough, \"like another horse.\" His liberation is not accounted\nfor, but he was probably set free by his mistress, as in the ballad\nwhich follows. He gets possession of an excellent sword, and uses it on\nan elephant who is fighting with a lion. The grateful lion transports\nthe duke to his own country while he is asleep. A herdsman, of whom he\nasks food, recommends him to go to the Brunswick mansion, where there is\na wedding, and Duke Henry's former spouse is the bride. When Henry comes\nto the house, his daughter is standing without; he asks food for a poor\npilgrim. She replies that she has never heard of a pilgrim taking a lion\nabout with him. But they give him drink, and the bride, _pro more_,\ndrinks out of the same bowl, and finds the half ring in the bottom. The\nbride feels in her pocket and finds her half,[166] and the two, when\nthrown upon a table, run together and make one ring.\n\n(2.) The Danish ballad[167] (Grundtvig, No 114, #B#, from a 17th century\nmanuscript), relates that Duke Henry, in consequence of a dream, took\nleave of his wife, enjoining her to wait to the eighth year, and, if\nthen he did not return, marry whom she liked. In the course of his\nfights with the heathen, Henry was made captive, and had to draw the\nharrow and plough, like a beast. One day (during his lord's absence, as\nwe learn from #A#) the heathen lady whom he served set him free. He had\nmany adventures, and in one of them killed a panther who was pressing a\nlion hard, for which service the lion followed him like a dog. The duke\nthen happened upon a hermit, who told him that his wife was to be\nmarried the next day, but he was to go to sleep, and not be concerned.\nHe laid his head on a stone in the heathen land, and woke in a trice to\nhear German speech from a herdsman's mouth. The herdsman confirmed what\nthe hermit had said: the duchess was to be married on the morrow. The\nduke went to the kitchen as a pilgrim, and sent word to the lady that he\nwished to drink to her. The duchess, surprised at this freedom, summoned\nhim into her presence. The verses are lost in which the cup should be\ngiven the pilgrim and returned to the lady. When she drank off the wine\nthat was left, a half ring lay in the glass.\n\nDanish #A#, though of the 16th century, does not mention the ring.\n\n(3.) A Flemish broadside, which may originally have been of the 15th\ncentury, relates the adventures of the Duke of Brunswick in sixty-five\nstanzas of four long lines: reprinted in von der Hagen's Germania, VIII,\n359, and Hoffmann's Niederl\u00e4ndische Volkslieder, No 2, p. 6;\nCoussemaker, No 47, p. 152; abridged and made over, in Willems, O. v.\nL., p. 251, No 107. The duke, going to war, tells his wife to marry\nagain if he stays away seven years. She gives him half of her ring.\nSeven years pass, and the duke, being then in desperate plight in a\nwilderness, is taken off by a ship; by providential direction, no doubt,\nthough at first it does not so appear. For the fiend is aboard, who\ntells him that his wife is to be married to-morrow, and offers, for his\nsoul, to carry him to his palace in his sleep before day. The duke,\nrelying on heaven and his lion, professes to accept the terms: he is to\nbe taken to his palace _in his sleep_. The lion rouses his master at the\nright time, and the fiend is baffled. The duke goes to the marriage\nfeast, and sends a message to the bride that he desires a drink from her\nin memory of her lord. They take him for a beggar, but the lady orders\nhim wine in a gold cup. The cup goes back to her with the duke's half\nring in it. She cries, \"It is my husband!\" joins her half to the one in\nthe cup, and the two adhere firmly.\n\n(4.) A German poem of the 15th century, by Michel Wyssenhere, in\nninety-eight stanzas of seven lines, first printed by Massmann,\nDenkm\u00e6ler deutscher Sprache und Literatur, p. 122, and afterwards by\nErlach, II, 290, and elsewhere. The Lord of Brunswick receives an\nimpression in a dream that he ought to go to the Holy Sepulchre. He cuts\na ring in two, and gives his wife one half for a souvenir, but fixes no\ntime for his absence, and so naturally says nothing about her taking\nanother husband. He has the adventures which are usual in other versions\nof the story, and at last finds himself among the Wild Hunt (das w\u00f6den\nher), and obliges one of the company, by conjurations, to tell him how\nit is with his wife and children. The spirit informs him that his wife\nis about to marry another man. He then constrains the spirit to\ntransport him and his lion to his castle. This is done on the same terms\nas in the Flemish poem, and the lion wakes his master. His wife offers\nhim drink; he lets his half ring drop in the glass, and, upon the glass\nbeing returned to the lady, she takes out the token, finds it like her\nhalf, and cries out that she has recovered her dear husband and lord.\n\n(5.) Henry the Lion, a chap-book printed in the 16th century, in one\nhundred and four stanzas of eight short verses; reprinted in B\u00fcsching's\nVolkssagen, M\u00e4rchen und Legenden, p. 213 ff, and (modernized) by\nSimrock in the first volume of Die deutschen Volksb\u00fccher. The hero goes\nout simply in quest of adventures, and, having lost his ship and all his\ncompanions, is floating on a raft with his lion, when the devil comes to\nhim and tells him that his wife is to remarry. A compact is made, and\nthe devil balked, as before. Though we were not so informed at the\nbeginning, it now turns out that the duke had given a half ring to the\nduchess seven years before, and had bidden her take a second husband if\nhe did not come back in that time. The duke sends a servant to beg a\ndrink of wine of his wife, and returns the cup, as in (3), (4).\n\n(6.) A ballad in nine seven-line stanzas, supposed to be by a\nMeistersinger, preserved in broadsides of about 1550 and 1603, B\u00f6hme, No\n5, p. 30, Erk's Wunderhorn, IV, 111. (7.) Hans Sachs's 'Historia,' 1562,\nin two hundred and four verses, Works, ed. 1578, Buch iv, Theil ii,\nBlatt lvii^b-lviii^b.[168] (8.) A Meistersingerlied of the end of the\n16th century, in three twenty-line stanzas, printed in Idunna u. Hermode\nfor March 27, 1813 (appended to p. 64), and after this, with changes, in\nKretzschmer, II, 17, No 5.--These three agree with the foregoing as to\nthe ring.\n\n(9.) Reinfrid von Braunschweig, c. 1300, ed. Bartsch, 1871. Reinfrid is\npromised by the Virgin, who appears to him thrice in vision, that he\nshall have issue if he will go over sea to fight the heathen. He breaks\na ring which his wife had given him, and gives her one half, vv.\n14,906-11. If he dies, she is to marry, for public reasons, vv.\n14,398-407; but she is not to believe a report of his death unless she\nreceives his half of the ring back, vv. 14,782-816, 15,040-049. The\nlatter part of the romance not being extant, we do not know the\nconclusion, but a variation as to the use made of the ring is\nprobable.[169]\n\nThe story of Reinfrit is also preserved in a Bohemian prose chap-book\nprinted before 1565. This prose is clearly a poem broken up, and it is\nbelieved that the original should be placed in the first half of the\n14th century, or possibly at the end of the 13th. The hero returns, in\npilgrim's garb, after seven years' absence, to find his wife about to be\nhanded over by her father to another prince. He lets his ring fall into\na cup, and goes away; his wife recognizes the ring, and is reunited to\nhim. The story has passed from the Bohemian into Russian and Magyar.\nFeifalik, Sitzungsberichte der phil.-hist. Classe der Wiener Akademie,\nXXIX, 83 ff, the ring at p. 92; XXXII, 322 ff.\n\nSimilar use is made of the ring in other German romances. (1.) 'Der edle\nMoringer' (MS. of 14th century) asks his wife to wait seven years for\nhim, while he visits the land of St Thomas. He is warned by an angel, at\nthe expiration of that period, that he will lose her if he does not go\nback, bewails himself to his patron, and is conveyed home in a sleep. He\nbegs an alms at his castle-gate in the name of God, St Thomas, and the\nnoble Moringer; is admitted to his wife's presence; sings a lay\ndescribing his own case, which moves the lady much; throws into a beaker\nof wine, which she sets before him, the ring by which she was married to\nhim, sends the cup back to her, and is recognized. B\u00f6hme, No 6, p. 32;\nUhland, No 298, p. 773. (2.) In the older Hildebrandslied, which is of\nthe 14th century, or earlier, the hero, returning after an absence of\nthirty-two years, drops his ring into a cup of wine presented to him by\nhis wife. B\u00f6hme, No 1, p. 1; Uhland, No 132, p. 330. (3.) Wolfdietrich\ndrops Ortnit's ring into a cup of wine sent him by Liebgart, who has\nbeen adjudged to the Graf von Biterne in consideration of his having, as\nhe pretended, slain the dragon. The cup is returned to the empress, the\nring identified, the pretension refuted, and Liebgart given to Ortnit's\navenger. Wolfdietrich B, ed. J\u00e4nicke, I, 280 ff, stanzas 767-785. (4.)\nKing Rother (whose history has passages of the strongest resemblance to\nHorn's), coming to retrieve his wife, who has been kidnapped and carried\nback to her father, lands below Constantinople, at a woody and hilly\nplace, and assumes a pilgrim's disguise. On his way to the city he meets\na man who tells him that Ymelot of Babylon has invaded Greece, and taken\nConstantin, his wife's father, prisoner; and that Constantin, to save\nhis life, has consented to give his daughter to the heathen king's son.\nRother steals into the hall, and even under the table at which the royal\nparty are sitting, and contrives to slip his ring into the hand of his\ndistressed young queen, who, thus assured of his presence, immediately\nrecovers her spirits. Massmann, Deutsche Gedichte des zw\u0153lften\nJahrhunderts, Theil ii, p. 213, vv. 3687-3878.\n\nOne of the best and oldest stories of the kind we are engaged with is\ntransmitted by C\u00e6sarius of Heisterbach in his Dialogus Miraculorum, of\nthe first quarter of the 13th century. Gerard, a soldier living in\nHolenbach (\"his grandchildren are still alive, and there is hardly a man\nin the town who does not know about this\"), being, like Moringer,\ndevoted to St Thomas of India, was impelled to visit his shrine. He\nbroke a ring and gave one half to his wife, saying, Expect me back in\nfive years, and marry whom you wish if I do not come then. The journey,\nwhich would be long enough any way, was providentially protracted. He\nreached the shrine at last, and said his prayers, and then remembered\nthat that was the last day of his fifth year. Alas, my wife will marry\nagain, he thought; and quite right he was, for the wedding was even then\npreparing. A devil, acting under the orders of St Thomas, set Gerard\ndown at his own door. He found his wife supping with her second partner,\nand dropped his half ring into her cup. She took it out, fitted it to\nthe half which had been given her, rushed into his arms, and bade\ngood-by to the new bridegroom. Ed. Strange, II, 131.\n\nA tradition closely resembling this has been found in Switzerland,\nGerard and St Thomas being exchanged for Wernhart von Str\u00e4ttlingen and\nSt Michael. Menzel's Odin, p. 96.\n\nAnother of the most remarkable tales of this class is exquisitely told\nby Boccaccio in the Decamerone, G. x, N. ix. Messer Torello, going to\nthe crusade, begs his wife to wait a year, a month, and a day before she\nmarries again. The lady assures him that she will never be another man's\nwife; but he replies that a woman young, beautiful, and of high family,\nas she is, will not be allowed to have her way. With her parting embrace\nshe gives him a ring from her finger, saying, If I die before I see you\nagain, remember me when you look on this. The Christians were wasted by\nan excessive mortality, and those who escaped the ravages of disease\nfell into the hands of Saladin, and were imprisoned by him in various\ncities, Torello in Alexandria. Here he was recognized by Saladin, whom\nhe had entertained with the most delicate and splendid hospitality a few\nmonths before, when the soldan was travelling through Italy in disguise.\nSaladin's return for this courtesy was so magnificent as almost to put\nLombardy out of Torello's head,[170] and besides he trusted that his\nwife had been informed of his safety by a letter which he had sent. This\nwas not so, however, and the death of another Torello was reported in\nItaly as his, in consequence of which his supposed widow was solicited\nin marriage, and was obliged to consent to take another husband after\nthe time should have expired which she had promised to wait. A week\nbefore the last day, Torello learned that the ship which carried his\nletter had been wrecked, and the thought that his wife would now marry\nagain drove him almost mad. Saladin extracted from him the cause of his\ndistress, and promised that he should yet be at home before the time was\nout, which Torello, who had heard that such things had often been done,\nwas ready to believe. And in fact, by means of one of his necromancers,\nSaladin caused Torello to be transported to Pavia in one night--the\nnight before the new nuptials. Torello appeared at the banquet the next\nday in the guise of a Saracen, under the escort of an uncle of his, a\nchurchman, and at the right moment sent word to the lady that it was a\ncustom in his country for a bride to send her cup filled with wine to\nany stranger who might be present, and for him to drink half and cover\nthe cup, and for her to drink the rest. To this the lady graciously\nassented. Torello drank out most of the wine, dropped in the ring which\nhis wife had given him when they parted, and covered the cup. The lady,\nupon lifting the cover, saw the ring, knew her husband, and, upsetting\nthe table in her ecstasy, threw herself into Torello's arms.\n\nTales of this description still maintain themselves in popular\ntradition. 'Der Ring ehelicher Treue,' Gottschalk, Deutsche\nVolksm\u00e4rchen, II, 135, relates how Kuno von Falkenstein, going on a\ncrusade, breaks his ring and gives one half to his wife, begging her to\nwait seven years before she marries again. He has the adventures of\nHenry of Brunswick, with differences, and, like Moringer, sings a lay\ndescribing his own case. The new bridegroom hands him a cup; he drops in\nhis half ring, and passes the cup to the bride. The two halves join of\nthemselves.[171] Other examples, not without variations and\ndeficiencies, in details, are afforded by 'Der getheilte Trauring,'\nSchmitz, Sagen u. Legenden des Eifler Volkes, p. 82; 'Bodman,' Uhland,\nin Pfeiffer's Germania, IV, 73-76; 'Graf Hubert von Kalw,' Meier,\nDeutsche Sagen, u.s.w., aus Schwaben, p. 332, No 369, Grimms, Deutsche\nSagen, No 524; 'Der B\u00e4renh\u00e4uter,' Grimms, K.u.H. m\u00e4rchen, No 101;\n'Berthold von Neuhaus,' in Kern's Schlesische Sagen-Chronik, p. 93.\n\nA story of the same kind is interwoven with an exceedingly impressive\nadventure related of Richard Sans-Peur in Les Chroniques de Normandie,\nRouen, 1487, chap. lvii, cited in Michel, Chronique des Ducs de\nNormandie par Benoit, II, 336 ff. A second is told of Guillaume Martel,\nseigneur de Bacqueville; still others of a seigneur Gilbert de Lomblon,\na comrade of St. Louis in his first crusade. Am\u00e9lie de Bosquet, La\nNormandie romanesque et merveilleuse, pp. 465-68, 470.\n\nA Picard ballad, existing in two versions, partly cited by Rathery in\nthe Moniteur Universel for August 26, 1853, tells of a Sire de Cr\u00e9qui,\nwho, going beyond seas with, his sovereign, breaks his ring and gives\nhalf to his young wife; is gone ten years, and made captive by the\nTurks, who condemn him to death on account of his adhesion to Christ;\nand is transported to his ch\u00e2teau on the eve of the day of his doom.\nThis very day his wife is to take another husband, sorely against her\nwill. Cr\u00e9qui appears in the rags of a beggar, and legitimates himself by\nproducing his half of the ring (which, in a way not explained by\nRathery, has been brought back by a swan).\n\n'Le Retour du Mari,' Puymaigre, Chants populaires messins, p. 20, has\nalso some traits of ballads of this class. A bridegroom has to go on a\ncampaign the very day of his nuptials. The campaign lasts seven years,\nand the day of his return his wife is about to remarry. He is invited to\nthe wedding supper, and towards the close of it proposes to play cards\nto see who shall have the bride. The guests are surprised. The soldier\nsays he will have the bride without winning her at cards or dice, and,\nturning to the lady, asks, Where are the rings I gave you at your\nwedding seven years ago? She will go for them; and here the story breaks\noff.[172]\n\nThe same hard fortune is that of Costantino, a young Albanian, who is\ncalled to the service of his king three days after his marriage. He\ngives back her ring to his wife, and tells her he must go to the wars\nfor nine years. Should he not return in nine years and nine days, he\nbids her marry. The young wife says nothing, waits her nine years and\nnine days, and then, since she is much sought for, her father wishes her\nto marry. She says nothing, again, and they prepare for the bridal.\nCostantino, sleeping in the king's palace, has a bad dream, which makes\nhim heave a sigh that comes to his sovereign's ear. The king summons all\nhis soldiers, and inquires who heaved that sigh. Costantino confesses it\nwas he, and says it was because his wife was marrying. The king orders\nhim to take the swiftest horse and make for his home. Costantino meets\nhis father, and learns that his dream is true, presses on to the church,\narrives at the door at the same time as the bridal procession, and\noffers himself for a bride's-man. When they come to the exchange of\nrings, Costantino contrives that his ring shall remain on the bride's\nfinger. She knows the ring; her tears burst forth. Costantino declares\nhimself as having been already crowned with the lady.[173] Camarda,\nAppendice al Saggio di Grammatologia, etc., 90-97, a Calabrian-Albanese\ncopy. There is a Sicilian, but incomplete, in Vigo, Canti popolari\nsiciliani, p. 342 ff, ed. 1857, p. 695 ff, ed. 1870-74.\n\nWith this belongs a ballad, very common in Greece, which, however, has\nfor the most part lost even more of what was in all probability the\noriginal catastrophe. '\u0391\u03bd\u03b1\u03b3\u03bd\u03c9\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2,' Chasiotis, Popular Songs of\nEpirus, p. 88, No 27, comes nearer the common story than other\nversions.[174] A man who had been twelve years a slave after being a\nbridegroom of three days, dreams that his wife is marrying, runs to the\ncellar, and begins to sing dirges. The king hears, and is moved. \"If it\nis one of the servants, increase his pay; if a slave, set him free.\" The\nslave tells his story (in three lines); the king bids him take a swift\ngray. The slave asks the horses, which is a swift gray. Only one\nanswers, an old steed with forty wounds. \"I am a swift gray; tie two or\nthree handkerchiefs around your head, and tie yourself to my back!\"[175]\nHe comes upon his father pruning the vineyard. \"Whose sheep are those\nfeeding in the meadows?\" \"My lost son's.\" He comes to his mother. \"What\nbride are they marrying?\" \"My lost son's.\" \"Shall I get to them in\nchurch while they are crowning?\" \"If you have a fast horse, you will\nfind them crowning; if you have a bad horse, you will find them at\ntable.\" He finds them at church, and calls out, A bad way ye have: why\ndo ye not bring out the bride, so that strangers may give her the cup? A\ngood way we have, they answer, we who bring out the bride, and strangers\ngive her the cup. Then he takes out his ring, while he is about to\npresent the cup to the bride. The bride can read; she stands and reads\n(his name), and bids the company begone, for her mate has come, the\nfirst crowned.\n\nIn other cases we find the hero in prison. He was put in for thirty\ndays; the keys are lost, and he stays thirty years. Legrand, p. 326, No\n145; \u039d\u03b5\u03bf\u03b5\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1 \u0391\u03bd\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u03ba\u03c4\u03b1, I, 85, No 19. More frequently he is a\ngalley slave: Zambelios, p. 678, No 103==Passow, No 448; Tommaseo, III,\n152==Passow, No 449; Sakellarios, \u039a\u03c5\u03c0\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1\u03ba\u03b1, III, 37, No 13:\n\u039d\u03b5\u03bf\u03b5\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1 \u0391\u03bd\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u03ba\u03c4\u03b1, I, 86, No 20; Jeannaraki, \u0391\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1,\np. 203, No 265. His bad dream [a letter from home] makes him heave a\nsigh which shakes the prison, or stops [splits] the galley.[176] In\nTommaseo, III, 152, on reaching the church, he cries, \"Stand aside,\ngentlemen, stand aside, my masters; let the bride pour for me.\" She\npours him one cup and two, and exclaims (the ring which was dropped into\nthe cup having dropped out of the story), My John has come back! Then\nthey both \"go out like candles.\" In Sakellarios they embrace and fall\ndead, and when laid in the grave come up as a cypress and a citron tree.\nIn the Cretan ballad John does not dismount, but takes the bride on to\nthe horse and is off with her; so in the beautiful ballad in Fauriel,\nII, 140, No 11, '\u1f29 \u1f09\u03c1\u03c0\u03b1\u03b3\u03b7,' \"peut-\u00eatre la plus distingu\u00e9e de ce\nrecueil,\" which belongs with this group, but seems to be later at the\nbeginning and the end. Even here the bride takes a cup to pour a draught\nfor the horseman.\n\nIn Russia the ring story is told of Dobrynya and Nastasya. Dobrynya,\nsent out shortly after his marriage to collect tribute for Vladimir,\nrequests Nastasya to wait for him twelve years: then she may wed again,\nso it be not with Alesha. Twelve years pass. Alesha avows that he has\nseen Dobrynya's corpse lying on the steppe, and sues for her hand.\nVladimir supports the suit, and Nastasya is constrained to accept this\nprohibited husband. Dobrynya's horse [two doves, a pilgrim] reveals to\nhis master what is going on, and carries him home with marvellous speed.\nDobrynya gains admittance to the wedding-feast in the guise of a\nmerry-maker, and so pleases Vladimir with his singing that he is allowed\nto sit where he likes. He places himself opposite Nastasya, drops his\nring in a cup, and asks her to drink to him. She finds the ring in the\nbottom, falls at his feet and implores pardon.[177] Wollner, Volksepik\nder Grossrussen, p. 122 f; Rambaud, La Russie \u00c9pique, p. 86 f.\n\nWe have the ring employed somewhat after the fashion of these western\ntales in Somadeva's story of Vid\u00fashaka. The Vidy\u00fadh\u00e1r\u00ed Bhadr\u00e1, having to\npart for a while with Vid\u00fashaka, for whom she had conceived a passion,\ngives him her ring. Subsequently, Vid\u00fashaka obliges a rakshas whom he\nhas subdued to convey him to the foot of a mountain on which Bhadr\u00e1 had\ntaken refuge. Many beautiful girls come to fetch water in golden\npitchers from a lake, and, on inquiring, Vid\u00fashaka finds that the water\nis for Bhadr\u00e1. One of the girls asks him to lift her pitcher on to her\nshoulder, and while doing this he drops into the pitcher Bhadr\u00e1's ring.\nWhen the water is poured on Bhadr\u00e1's hands, the ring falls out. Bhadr\u00e1\nasks her maids if they have seen a stranger. They say they have seen a\nmortal, and that he had helped one of them with her pitcher. They are\nordered to go for the youth at once, for he is Bhadr\u00e1's consort.[178]\n\nAccording to the letter of the ballads, should the ring given Horn by\nhis lady turn wan or blue, this would signify that she loved another\nman: but though accuracy would be very desirable in such a case, these\nwords are rather loose, since she never faltered in her love, and\nsubmitted to marry another, so far as she submitted, only under\nconstraint. 'Horn Child,' sts 48, 71, agrees with the ballads as to this\npoint. We meet a ring of similar virtue in 'Bonny Bee-Hom,' Jamieson's\nPopular Ballads, I, 187, and Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland,\nI, 169.\n\n 'But gin this ring should fade or fail,\n Or the stone should change its hue,\n Be sure your love is dead and gone,\n Or she has proved untrue.'\n\n Jamieson, p. 191.\n\nIn the Roumanian ballad, 'Ring and Handkerchief,' a prince going to war\ngives his wife a ring: if it should rust, he is dead. She gives him a\ngold-embroidered handkerchief: if the gold melts, she is dead.\nAlecsandri, Poesi\u012d pop. ale Rom\u00e2nilor, p. 20, No 7; Stanley, Rouman\nAnthology, p. 16, p. 193. In Gonzenbach's Sicilianische M\u00e4rchen, I, 39,\nNo 7, a prince, on parting with his sister, gives her a ring, saying, So\nlong as the stone is clear, I am well: if it is dimmed, that is a sign\nthat I am dead. So No 5, at p. 23. A young man, in a Silesian story,\nreceives a ring from his sweetheart, with the assurance that he can\ncount upon her faith as long as the ring holds; and after twenty years'\ndetention in the mines of Siberia, is warned of trouble by the ring's\nbreaking: Goedsche, Schlesischer Sagen- Historien- u. Legendenschatz, I,\n37, No 16. So in some copies of 'Lamkin,' the lord has a foreboding that\nsome ill has happened to his lady from the rings on his fingers bursting\nin twain: Motherwell, p. 291, st. 23; Finlay, II, 47, st. 30.[179]\n\n * * * * *\n\nHind Horn is translated by Grundtvig, Eng. og sk. Folkeviser, p. 274, No\n42, mainly after the copy in Motherwell's Minstrelsy; by Rosa Warrens,\nSchottische V. l. der Vorzeit, p. 161, No 37, after Buchan (#H#); by\nKnortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 184, No 52, after Allingham.\n\n\nA\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 106. From Mrs King, Kilbarchan.\n\n 1\n In Scotland there was a babie born,\n Lill lal, etc.\n And his name it was called young Hind Horn.\n With a fal lal, etc.\n\n 2\n He sent a letter to our king\n That he was in love with his daughter Jean.\n\n 3\n He's gien to her a silver wand,\n With seven living lavrocks sitting thereon.\n\n 4\n She's gien to him a diamond ring,\n With seven bright diamonds set therein.\n\n 5\n 'When this ring grows pale and wan,\n You may know by it my love is gane.'\n\n 6\n One day as he looked his ring upon,\n He saw the diamonds pale and wan.\n\n 7\n He left the sea and came to land,\n And the first that he met was an old beggar man.\n\n 8\n 'What news, what news?' said young Hind Horn;\n 'No news, no news,' said the old beggar man.\n\n 9\n 'No news,' said the beggar, 'no news at a',\n But there is a wedding in the king's ha.\n\n 10\n 'But there is a wedding in the king's ha,\n That has halden these forty days and twa.'\n\n 11\n 'Will ye lend me your begging coat?\n And I'll lend you my scarlet cloak.\n\n 12\n 'Will you lend me your beggar's rung?\n And I'll gie you my steed to ride upon.\n\n 13\n 'Will you lend me your wig o hair,\n To cover mine, because it is fair?'\n\n 14\n The auld beggar man was bound for the mill,\n But young Hind Horn for the king's hall.\n\n 15\n The auld beggar man was bound for to ride,\n But young Hind Horn was bound for the bride.\n\n 16\n When he came to the king's gate,\n He sought a drink for Hind Horn's sake.\n\n 17\n The bride came down with a glass of wine,\n When he drank out the glass, and dropt in the ring.\n\n 18\n 'O got ye this by sea or land?\n Or got ye it off a dead man's hand?'\n\n 19\n 'I got not it by sea, I got it by land,\n And I got it, madam, out of your own hand.'\n\n 20\n 'O I'll cast off my gowns of brown,\n And beg wi you frae town to town.\n\n 21\n 'O I'll cast off my gowns of red,\n And I'll beg wi you to win my bread.'\n\n 22\n 'Ye needna cast off your gowns of brown,\n For I'll make you lady o many a town.\n\n 23\n 'Ye needna cast off your gowns of red,\n It's only a sham, the begging o my bread.'\n\n 24\n The bridegroom he had wedded the bride,\n But young Hind Horn he took her to bed.\n\n\nB\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 418. From the singing of a\n servant-girl at Halkhead.\n\n 1\n I never saw my love before,\n With a hey lillelu and a ho lo lan\n Till I saw her thro an oger bore.\n With a hey down and a hey diddle downie\n\n 2\n She gave to me a gay gold ring,\n With three shining diamonds set therein.\n\n 3\n And I gave to her a silver wand,\n With three singing lavrocks set thereon.\n\n 4\n 'What if these diamonds lose their hue,\n Just when your love begins for to rew?'\n\n 5\n He's left the land, and he's gone to sea,\n And he's stayd there seven years and a day.\n\n 6\n But when he looked this ring upon,\n The shining diamonds were both pale and wan.\n\n 7\n He's left the seas and he's come to the land,\n And there he met with an auld beggar man.\n\n 8\n 'What news, what news, thou auld beggar man\n For it is seven years sin I've seen lan.'\n\n 9\n 'No news,' said the old beggar man, 'at all,\n But there is a wedding in the king's hall.'\n\n 10\n 'Wilt thou give to me thy begging coat?\n And I'll give to thee my scarlet cloak.\n\n 11\n 'Wilt thou give to me thy begging staff?\n And I'll give to thee my good gray steed.'\n\n 12\n The old beggar man was bound for to ride,\n But Young Hynd Horn was bound for the bride.\n\n 13\n When he came to the king's gate,\n He asked a drink for Young Hynd Horn's sake.\n\n 14\n The news unto the bonnie bride came\n That at the yett there stands an auld man.\n\n 15\n 'There stands an auld man at the king's gate;\n He asketh a drink for young Hyn Horn's sake.'\n\n 16\n 'I'll go thro nine fires so hot,\n But I'll give him a drink for Young Hyn Horn's sake.'\n\n 17\n She gave him a drink out of her own hand;\n He drank out the drink and he dropt in the ring.\n\n 18\n 'Got thou't by sea, or got thou't by land?\n Or got thou't out of any dead man's hand?'\n\n 19\n 'I got it not by sea, but I got it by land,\n For I got it out of thine own hand.'\n\n 20\n 'I'll cast off my gowns of brown,\n And I'll follow thee from town to town.\n\n 21\n 'I'll cast off my gowns of red,\n And along with thee I'll beg my bread.'\n\n 22\n 'Thou need not cast off thy gowns of brown,\n For I can make thee lady of many a town.\n\n 23\n 'Thou need not cast off thy gowns of red,\n For I can maintain thee with both wine and bread.'\n\n 24\n The bridegroom thought he had the bonnie bride wed,\n But Young Hyn Horn took the bride to bed.\n\n\nC\n\n #a.# Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 42: from Agnes Lyle. #b.#\n Motherwell's MS., p. 413: from the singing of Agnes Lyle,\n Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.\n\n 1\n Young Hyn Horn's to the king's court gone,\n Hoch hey and an ney O\n He's fallen in love with his little daughter Jean.\n Let my love alone, I pray you\n\n 2\n He's bocht to her a little gown,\n With seven broad flowers spread it along.\n\n 3\n She's given to him a gay gold ring.\n The posie upon it was richt plain.\n\n 4\n 'When you see it losing its comely hue,\n So will I my love to you.'\n\n 5\n Then within a little wee,\n Hyn Horn left land and went to sea.\n\n 6\n When he lookt his ring upon,\n He saw it growing pale and wan.\n\n 7\n Then within a little [wee] again,\n Hyn Horn left sea and came to the land.\n\n 8\n As he was riding along the way,\n There he met with a jovial beggar.\n\n 9\n 'What news, what news, old man?' he did say:\n 'This is the king's young dochter's wedding day.'\n\n 10\n 'If this be true you tell to me,\n You must niffer clothes with me.\n\n 11\n 'You'll gie me your cloutit coat,\n I'll gie you my fine velvet coat.\n\n 12\n 'You'll gie me your cloutit pock,\n I'll gie you my purse; it'll be no joke.'\n\n 13\n 'Perhaps there['s] nothing in it, not one bawbee;'\n 'Yes, there's gold and silver both,' said he.\n\n 14\n 'You'll gie me your bags of bread,\n And I'll gie you my milk-white steed.'\n\n 15\n When they had niffered all, he said,\n 'You maun learn me how I'll beg.'\n\n 16\n 'When you come before the gate,\n You'll ask for a drink for the highman's sake.'\n\n 17\n When that he came before the gate,\n He calld for a drink for the highman's sake.\n\n 18\n The bride cam tripping down the stair,\n To see whaten a bold beggar was there.\n\n 19\n She gave him a drink with her own hand;\n He loot the ring drop in the can.\n\n 20\n 'Got ye this by sea or land?\n Or took ye't aff a dead man's hand?'\n\n 21\n 'I got na it by sea nor land,\n But I got it aff your own hand.'\n\n 22\n The bridegroom cam tripping down the stair,\n But there was neither bride nor beggar there.\n\n 23\n Her ain bridegroom had her first wed,\n But Young Hyn Horn had her first to bed.\n\n\nD\n\n Cromek's Select Scotish Songs, II, 204.\n\n 1\n Near Edinburgh was a young son born,\n Hey lilelu an a how low lan\n An his name it was called young Hyn Horn.\n An it's hey down down deedle airo\n\n 2\n Seven long years he served the king,\n An it's a' for the sake of his daughter Jean.\n\n 3\n The king an angry man was he;\n He send young Hyn Horn to the sea.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 4\n An on his finger she put a ring.\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 5\n 'When your ring turns pale and wan,\n Then I'm in love wi another man.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 6\n Upon a day he lookd at his ring,\n It was as pale as anything.\n\n 7\n He's left the sea, an he's come to the lan,\n An there he met an auld beggar man.\n\n 8\n 'What news, what news, my auld beggar man?\n What news, what news, by sea or by lan?'\n\n 9\n 'Nae news, nae news,' the auld beggar said,\n 'But the king's dochter Jean is going to be wed.'\n\n 10\n 'Cast off, cast off thy auld beggar-weed,\n An I'll gie thee my gude gray steed.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 11\n When he cam to our guid king's yet,\n He sought a glass o wine for young Hyn Horn's sake.\n\n 12\n He drank out the wine, an he put in the ring,\n An he bade them carry't to the king's dochter Jean.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 13\n 'O gat ye't by sea, or gat ye't by lan?\n Or gat ye't aff a dead man's han?'\n\n 14\n 'I gat na't by sea, I gat na't by lan,\n But I gat it out of your own han.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 15\n 'Go take away my bridal gown,\n For I'll follow him frae town to town.'\n\n 16\n 'Ye need na leave your bridal gown,\n For I'll make ye ladie o' mony a town.'\n\n\nE\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 91. From the recitation of Mrs\n Wilson.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n Hynd Horn he has lookt on his ring,\n Hey ninny ninny, how ninny nanny\n And it was baith black and blue,\n And she is either dead or she's married.\n And the barck and the broom blooms bonnie\n\n 2\n Hynd Horn he has shuped to land,\n And the first he met was an auld beggar man.\n\n 3\n 'What news, what news, my silly auld man?\n For it is seven years syne I have seen land.\n\n 4\n 'What news, what news, my auld beggar man?\n What news, what news, by sea or by land?'\n\n 5\n 'There is a king's dochter in the east,\n And she has been marryed these nine nights past.\n\n 6\n 'Intil the bride's bed she winna gang\n Till she hears tell of her Hynd Horn.'\n\n 7\n 'Cast aff, cast aff thy auld beggar weed,\n And I will gie thee my gude gray steed.'\n\n\nF\n\n Lowran Castle, or the Wild Boar of Curridoo: with other\n Tales. By Robert Trotter, Dumfries, 1822, p. 6. From the\n recitation of a young friend.\n\n 1\n In Newport town this knight was born,\n Hey lily loo, hey loo lan\n And they've called him Young Hynd Horn.\n Fal lal la, fal the dal the dady\n\n 2\n Seven long years he served the king,\n For the love of his daughter Jean.\n\n 3\n He courted her through a wimble bore,\n The way never woman was courted before.\n\n 4\n He gave her through a silver wand,\n With three singing laverocks there upon.\n\n 5\n She gave him back a gay gold ring,\n With three bright diamonds glittering.\n\n 6\n 'When this ring grows pale and blue,\n Fair Jeanie's love is lost to you.'\n\n 7\n Young Hynd Horn is gone to sea,\n And there seven long years staid he.\n\n 8\n When he lookd his ring upon,\n It grew pale and it grew wan.\n\n 9\n Young Hynd Horn is come to land,\n When he met an old beggar man.\n\n 10\n 'What news, what news doth thee betide?'\n 'No news, but Princess Jeanie's a bride.'\n\n 11\n 'Will ye give me your old brown cap?\n And I'll give you my gold-laced hat.\n\n 12\n 'Will ye give me your begging weed?\n And I'll give you my good grey steed.'\n\n 13\n The beggar has got on to ride,\n But Young Hynd Horn's bound for the bride.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\nG\n\n Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 135. \"From the\n recitation of my niece, M. Kinnear, 23 Aug^t, 1826:\" the\n north of Scotland.\n\n 1\n 'Hynde Horn's bound love, and Hynde Horn's free,\n Whare was ye born, or in what countrie?'\n\n 2\n 'In gude greenwud whare I was born,\n And all my friends left me forlorn.\n\n 3\n 'I gave my love a silver wand;\n That was to rule oure all Scotland.\n\n 4\n 'My love gave me a gay gowd ring;\n That was to rule abune a' thing.'\n\n 5\n 'As lang as that ring keeps new in hue,\n Ye may ken that your love loves you.\n\n 6\n 'But whan that ring turns pale and wan,\n Ye may ken that your love loves anither man.'\n\n 7\n He hoisted up his sails, and away sailed he,\n Till that he cam to a foreign countrie.\n\n 8\n He looked at his ring; it was turnd pale and wan;\n He said, 'I wish I war at hame again.'\n\n 9\n He hoisted up his sails, and hame sailed he,\n Until that he came to his ain countrie.\n\n 10\n The first ane that he met wi\n Was wi a puir auld beggar man.\n\n 11\n 'What news, what news, my silly old man?\n What news hae ye got to tell to me?'\n\n 12\n 'Na news, na news,' the puir man did say,\n 'But this is our queen's wedding day.'\n\n 13\n 'Ye'll lend me your begging weed,\n And I'll gie you my riding steed.'\n\n 14\n 'My begging weed is na for thee,\n Your riding steed is na for me.'\n\n 15\n But he has changed wi the beggar man,\n . . . . . . .\n\n 16\n 'Which is the gate that ye used to gae?\n And what are the words ye beg wi?'\n\n 17\n 'Whan ye come to yon high hill,\n Ye'll draw your bent bow nigh until.\n\n 18\n 'Whan ye come to yonder town,\n Ye'll let your bent bow low fall down.\n\n 19\n 'Ye'll seek meat for St Peter, ask for St Paul,\n And seek for the sake of Hynde Horn all.\n\n 20\n 'But tak ye frae nane of them a',\n Till ye get frae the bonnie bride hersel O.'\n\n 21\n Whan he cam to yon high hill,\n He drew his bent bow nigh until.\n\n 22\n And whan he cam to yonder town,\n He lute his bent bow low fall down.\n\n 23\n He saught meat for St Peter, he askd for St Paul,\n And he sought for the sake of Hynde Horn all.\n\n 24\n But he would tak frae nane o them a',\n Till he got frae the bonnie bride hersel O.\n\n 25\n The bride cam tripping doun the stair,\n Wi the scales o red gowd on her hair.\n\n 26\n Wi a glass of red wine in her hand,\n To gie to the puir auld beggar man.\n\n 27\n It's out he drank the glass o wine,\n And into the glass he dropt the ring.\n\n 28\n 'Got ye't by sea, or got ye't by land,\n Or got ye't aff a drownd man's hand?'\n\n 29\n 'I got na't by sea, I got na't by land,\n Nor got I it aff a drownd man's hand.\n\n 30\n 'But I got it at my wooing,\n And I'll gie it at your wedding.'\n\n 31\n 'I'll tak the scales o gowd frae my head,\n I'll follow you, and beg my bread.\n\n 32\n 'I'll tak the scales of gowd frae my hair,\n I'll follow you for evermair.'\n\n 33\n She has tane the scales o gowd frae her head,\n She has followed him to beg her bread.\n\n 34\n She has tane the scales o gowd frae her hair,\n And she has followed him for evermair.\n\n 35\n But atween the kitchen and the ha,\n There he lute his cloutie cloak fa.\n\n 36\n And the red gowd shined oure him a',\n And the bride frae the bridegroom was stown awa.\n\n\nH\n\n Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 268.\n\n 1\n 'Hynd Horn fair, and Hynd Horn free,\n O where were you born, in what countrie?'\n\n 2\n 'In gude greenwood, there I was born,\n And all my forbears me beforn.\n\n 3\n 'O seven years I served the king,\n And as for wages, I never gat nane;\n\n 4\n 'But ae sight o his ae daughter,\n And that was thro an augre bore.\n\n 5\n 'My love gae me a siller wand,\n 'Twas to rule ower a' Scotland.\n\n 6\n 'And she gae me a gay gowd ring,\n The virtue o't was above a' thing.'\n\n 7\n 'As lang's this ring it keeps the hue,\n Ye'll know I am a lover true:\n\n 8\n 'But when the ring turns pale and wan,\n Ye'll know I love another man.'\n\n 9\n He hoist up sails, and awa saild he,\n And saild into a far countrie.\n\n 10\n And when he lookd upon his ring,\n He knew she loved another man.\n\n 11\n He hoist up sails and home came he,\n Home unto his ain countrie.\n\n 12\n The first he met on his own land,\n It chancd to be a beggar man.\n\n 13\n 'What news, what news, my gude auld man?\n What news, what news, hae ye to me?'\n\n 14\n 'Nae news, nae news,' said the auld man,\n 'The morn's our queen's wedding day.'\n\n 15\n 'Will ye lend me your begging weed?\n And I'll lend you my riding steed.'\n\n 16\n 'My begging weed will ill suit thee,\n And your riding steed will ill suit me.'\n\n 17\n But part be right, and part be wrang,\n Frae the beggar man the cloak he wan.\n\n 18\n 'Auld man, come tell to me your leed;\n What news ye gie when ye beg your bread.'\n\n 19\n 'As ye walk up unto the hill,\n Your pike staff ye lend ye till.\n\n 20\n 'But whan ye come near by the yett,\n Straight to them ye will upstep.\n\n 21\n 'Take nane frae Peter, nor frae Paul,\n None frae high or low o them all.\n\n 22\n 'And frae them all ye will take nane,\n Until it comes frae the bride's ain hand.'\n\n 23\n He took nane frae Peter nor frae Paul,\n Nane frae the high nor low o them all.\n\n 24\n And frae them all he would take nane,\n Until it came frae the bride's ain hand.\n\n 25\n The bride came tripping down the stair,\n The combs o red gowd in her hair.\n\n 26\n A cup o red wine in her hand,\n And that she gae to the beggar man.\n\n 27\n Out o the cup he drank the wine,\n And into the cup he dropt the ring.\n\n 28\n 'O got ye't by sea, or got ye't by land,\n Or got ye't on a drownd man's hand?'\n\n 29\n 'I got it not by sea, nor got it by land,\n Nor got I it on a drownd man's hand.\n\n 30\n 'But I got it at my wooing gay,\n And I'll gie't you on your wedding day.'\n\n 31\n 'I'll take the red gowd frae my head,\n And follow you, and beg my bread.\n\n 32\n 'I'll take the red gowd frae my hair,\n And follow you for evermair.'\n\n 33\n Atween the kitchen and the ha,\n He loot his cloutie cloak down fa.\n\n 34\n And wi red gowd shone ower them a',\n And frae the bridegroom the bride he sta.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 1^2, 8^1, 14^2, 15^2, 16^2, 24^2. Hindhorn.\n\n#B.#\n\n _The burden is given in Motherwell, Appendix, p. xviii,\n thus:_\n\n With a hey lilloo and a how lo lan\n And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie.\n\n 12^2, 13^2. Hyndhorn.\n\n 15^2, 16^2, 24^2. Hynhorn.\n\n#C. a.#\n\n 5^2. to see.\n\n 5^2, 7^2. Hynhorn.\n\n 23^2. H. horn.\n\n 11^1. clouted.\n\n 11^1, 14^1. give.\n\n 14^2. white milk. #b.# milk-white.\n\n 16^2. hymen's. #b.# highman's.\n\n 22^1. can.\n\n #b.#\n\n 5^2, 7^2, 23^2. Hynhorn.\n\n 7^1. little wee.\n\n 13^1. there's.\n\n#D.#\n\n 1^2, 3^2, 11^2. Hynhorn.\n\n#E.#\n\n _The second line of the burden stands after st. 2 in MS._\n\n 2^1. _The MS reading may be ~sheeped~._\n\n 2^1, 6^2. Hyndhorn.\n\n#G.#\n\n _After ~my niece, M. Kinnear, etc.~, stands in pencil\n ~Christy Smith~._\n\n 15. _On the opposite page, over against this stanza, is\n written_:\n\n But part by richt, or part be wrang,\n The auldman's duddie cloak he's on.\n\n _#G# and #H# are printed by Kinloch and by Buchan in\n four-line stanzas._\n\n _The stanzas printed by Motherwell, which have not been\n found in his manuscripts, are_:\n\n 10\n Seven lang years he has been on the sea,\n And Hynd Horn has looked how his ring may be.\n\n 21\n The auld beggar man cast off his coat,\n And he's taen up the scarlet cloak.\n\n 22\n The auld beggar man threw down his staff,\n And he has mounted the good gray steed.\n\n 29\n She went to the gate where the auld man did stand,\n And she gave him a drink out of her own hand.\n\n\n[159] This I should have missed but for the kindness of Mr W. Macmath.\n\n[160] Motherwell's printed copy, Minstrelsy, p. 36, is thus made up:\nstanzas 1, 2, 3, 8, 15, from Cromek (#D#); 4-7, 9, 11, 13, 14, 16, 19,\n20, 24-28, 30-37, from #B#; 12, 17, 18 from #E#. 23 # #A# 14. 10, 21,\n22, 29, have not been found in his manuscripts. The first line of the\nburden is from #B#, the second from #E#. Motherwell alters his texts\nslightly, now and then.\n\n[161] #C# 16, 17 are corrupted, and also #F# 19, 23, #G# 21; all three\nin a way which allows of easy emendation. Hymon [high, man] in #C#\nshould of course be Hyn Horn. The injunction in #G#, #H# should be to\nask nothing for Peter or Paul's sake, but all for Horn's.\n\n[162] When Horn was near the city, he stopped to see how things would\ngo. King Modun passed, with Wikel, in gay discourse of the charms of\nRimild. Horn called out to them insultingly, and Modun asked who he was.\nHorn said he had formerly served a man of consequence as his fisherman:\nhe had thrown a net almost seven years ago, and had now come to give it\na look. If it had taken any fish, he would love it no more; if it should\nstill be as he left it, he would carry it away. Modun thinks him a fool.\n(3984-4057, and nearly the same in 'Horn Childe and Maiden Rimild,'\n77-79). This is part of a story in the Gesta Romanorum, of a soldier who\nloved the emperor's daughter, and went to the holy land for seven years,\nafter a mutual exchange of fidelity for that time. A king comes to woo\nthe princess, but is put off for seven years, upon her alleging that she\nhas made a vow of virginity for so long. At the expiration of this term,\nthe king and the soldier meet as they are on the way to the princess.\nThe king, from certain passages between them, thinks the soldier a fool.\nThe soldier takes leave of the king under pretence of looking after a\nnet which he had laid in a certain place seven years before, rides on\nahead, and slips away with the princess. Gest. Rom., Oesterley, p. 597,\nNo 193; Gr\u00e4sse, II, 159; Madden, p. 32; Swan, I, p. lxv. A similar story\nin Campbell's Tales of the West Highlands, I, 281, 'Baillie Lunnain.'\n(Simrock, Deutsche M\u00e4rchen, No 47, is apparently a translation from the\nGesta.) The riddle of the hawk, slightly varied, is met with in the\nromance of Blonde of Oxford and Jehan of Dammartin, v. 2811 ff, 3143 ff,\n3288 ff (ed. Le Roux de Lincy, pp. 98, 109, 114), and, still further\nmodified, in Le Romant de Jehan de Paris, ed. Montaiglon, pp. 55, 63,\n111. (Le Roux de Lincy, K\u00f6hler, Mussafia, G. Paris). 'Horn et\nRimenhild,' it will be observed, has both riddles, and that of the net\nis introduced under circumstances entirely like those in the Gesta\nRomanorum. The French romance is certainly independent of the English in\nthis passage.\n\n[163] See the excellent studies of King Horn by Wissmann, in Quellen und\nForschungen, No 16, and Anglia, IV, 342 ff.\n\n[164] #A#, #B#, and #E#, which had not been printed at the time of his\nwriting, will convince Professor Stimming, whose valuable review in\nEnglische Studien, I, 351 ff, supplements, and in the matter of\n_derivation_, I think, rectifies, Wissmann's Untersuchungen, that the\nking's daughter in the ballads was faithful to Horn, and that they were\nmarrying her against her will, as in the romances. This contingency\nseems not to have been foreseen when the ring was given: but it must be\nadmitted that it was better for the ring to change, to the temporary\nclouding of the lady's character, than to have Horn stay away and the\nforced marriage go on.\n\n[165] See the ample introduction to 'Henrik af Brunsvig,' in Grundtvig,\nNo 114, II, 608 ff.\n\n[166] It appears that these half rings are often dug up. \"Neuere\nAusgrabungen haben vielfach auf solche Ringst\u00fccke gef\u00fchrt, die, als\nZeichen unverbr\u00fcchlicher Treue, einst mit dem Geliebten gebrochen, ja\nwie der Augenschein beweist, entzwei geschnitten, und so ins Grab\nmitgenommen wurden, zum Zeichen dass die Liebe \u00fcber den Tod hinaus\ndaure.\" Rochholz, Schweizersagen aus dem Aargau, II, 116.\n\n[167] Translated, with introduction of verses from #A#, by Prior,\nAncient Danish Ballads, II, 71.\n\n[168] I have not seen this, and depend upon others here.\n\n[169] G\u00f6deke, 'Reinfr\u00eet von Braunschweig,' p. 89, conjectures that the\nhalf ring was, or would have been, employed in the sequel by some\nimpostor (the story may never have been finished) as evidence of\nBrunswick's death. A ring is so used in a Silesian tradition, of the\ngeneral character of that of Henry the Lion, with the difference that\nthe knight is awakened by a cock's crowing: 'Die Hahnkr\u00e4he bei Breslau,'\nin Kern's Schlesische Sagen-Chronik, p. 151. There is a variation of\nthis last, without the deception by means of the ring, in Goedsche's\nSchlesischer Sagenschatz, p. 37, No 16.\n\n[170] There are marked correspondences between Boccaccio's story and the\nveritable history of Henry the Lion as given by Bartsch, Herzog Ernst,\ncxxvi f: e. g., the presents of clothes by the empress (transferred to\nTorello's wife), and the handsome behavior of two soldens, here\nattributed to Saladin.\n\n[171] Without the conclusion, also in Binder's Schw\u00e4bische Volkssagen,\nII, 173. These Volksm\u00e4rchen, by the way, are \"erz\u00e4hlt\" by Gottschalk. It\nis not made quite so clear as could be wished, whether they are merely\nre-told.\n\n[172] Germaine's husband, after an absence of seven years, overcomes his\nwife's doubts of his identity by exhibiting half of her ring, which\n_happened_ to break the day of their wedding, or the day after:\nPuymaigre, p. 11, Champfleury, Chansons des Provinces, p. 77. The\nconclusion to Sir Tristrem, which Scott supplied, \"abridged from the\nFrench metrical romance, in the style of Tomas of Erceldoune,\" makes\nGanhardin lay a ring in a cup which Brengwain hands Ysonde, who\nrecognizes the ring as Tristrem's token. The cup was one of the presents\nmade to King Mark by Tristrem's envoy, and is transferred to Ysonde by\nScott. The passage has been cited as ancient and genuine.\n\n[173] In the Greek rite, rings are used in the betrothal, which as a\nrule immediately precedes the marriage. The rings are exchanged by the\npriest and sponsors (Camarda says three times). Crowns, of vine twigs,\netc., are the emblems in the nuptial ceremony, and these are also\nchanged from one head to the other.\n\n[174] I was guided to nearly all these Greek ballads by Professor\nLiebrecht's notes, Zur Volkskunde, p. 207.\n\n[175] This high-mettled horse is a capital figure in most of the\nversions. In one of them the caution is given, \"Do not feel safe in\nspurring him: he will scatter thy brains ten ells below the ground.\" The\ngray (otherwise the black) is of the same breed as the Russian\nDobrynya's, a little way on; or the foal that took Charles the Great,\nunder similar circumstances, from Passau to Aachen between morn and eve,\n('Karl der Grosse,' from Enenkels Weltbuch, c. 1250, in von der Hagen's\nGesammtabenteuer, II, 619 ff); or the black in the poem and tale of\nThedel von Walmoden.\n\n[176] In Jeannaraki the bey says, \"My slave, give us a song, and I will\nfree you.\" John sings of his love, whom he was to lose that day. So\nZambelios, as above, Tommaseo, p. 152, and \u039d\u03b5\u03bf. \u0391\u03bd\u03b1\u03bb. No. 20.\nCompare Brunswick, in Wyssenhere, and Moringer.\n\n[177] Otherwise: Nastasya waits _six_ years, as desired; is told that\nDobrynya is dead and is urged to marry Alesha; will not hear of marriage\nfor six years more; Vladimir then interposes. Dobrynya is furious, as\nthese absentees are sometimes pleased to be. He complains that women\nhave long hair and short wits, and so does Brunswick in Wyssenhere's\npoem, st. 89. Numerous as are the instances of these long absences, the\nwoman is rarely, if ever, represented as in the least to blame. The\nbehavior of the man, on the other hand, is in some cases trying. Thus,\nthe Conde Dirlos tells his young wife to wait for him seven years, and\nif he does not come in eight to marry the ninth. He accomplishes the\nobject of his expedition in three years, but stays fifteen, never\nwrites,--he had taken an unnecessary oath not to do that before he\nstarted,--and forbids anybody else to write, on pain of death. Such is\nhis humor; but he is very much provoked at being reported dead. Wolf and\nHofmann, Primavera y Flor de Romances, II, 129, No 164.\n\n[178] Kath\u00e1 Sarit S\u00e1gara (of the early part of the 12th century),\nTawney's translation, I, 136 ff. The story is cited by Rajna, in\nRomania, VI, 359. Herr v. Bodman leaves his marriage ring in a\nwash-bowl! Meier, Deutsche V. m. aus Schwaben, 214 f.\n\n[179] The ring given Horn by Rymenbild, in 'King Horn,' 579 ff\n(Wissmann), and in the French romance, 2056 ff, protects him against\nmaterial harm or mishap, or assures him superiority in fight, as long as\nhe is faithful. So in Buchan's version of 'Bonny Bee-Ho'm,' st. 8:\n\n 'As lang's this ring's your body on,\n Your blood shall neer be drawn.'\n\n\"The king's daughter of Linne\" gives her champion two rings, one of\nwhich renders him invulnerable, and the other will staunch the blood of\nany of his men who may be wounded: Motherwell's Minstrelsy,\nIntroduction, p. lvii. Eglamore's ring, Percy MS., II, 363, st. 51, will\npreserve his life on water or land. A ring given Wolfdietrich by the\nempress, #D# VIII, st. 42, ed. J\u00e4nicke, doubles his strength and makes\nhim fire-proof in his fight with the dragon. The ring lent Ywaine by his\nlady will keep him from prison, sickness, loss of blood, or being made\ncaptive in battle, and give him superiority to all antagonists, so long\nas he is true in love: Ritson, Met. Rom. I, 65, vv 1533 ff. But an\nIndian ring which Reinfr\u00eet receives from his wife before he departs for\nthe crusade, 15,066 ff, has no equal, after all; for, besides doing as\nmuch as the best of these, it imparts perpetual good spirits. It is\ninteresting to know that this matchless jewel had once been the property\nof a Scottish king, and was given by him to his daughter when she was\nsent to Norway to be married: under convoy of Sir Patrick Spens?\n\n\n\n\n18\n\nSIR LIONEL.\n\n #A.# 'Sir Lionell,' Percy MS., p. 32, Hales and Furnivall,\n I, 75.\n\n #B.# 'Isaac-a-Bell and Hugh the Gr\u00e6me,' Christie,\n Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 110.\n\n #C. a.# 'The Jovial Hunter of Bromsgrove,' Allies, The\n British, Roman and Saxon Antiquities and Folk-Lore of\n Worcestershire, 2d ed., p. 116. #b.# Bell's Ancient Poems,\n Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 124.\n\n #D.# Allies, as above, p. 118.\n\n #E. a.# 'The Old Man and his Three Sons,' Bell, as above,\n p. 250. #b.# Mr Robert White's papers.\n\n #F.# Allies, as above, p. 120.\n\n\n#B# can be traced in Banffshire, according to Christie, for more than a\nhundred years, through the old woman that sang it, and her forbears. #C\na#, #D# were originally published by Allies in the year 1845, in a\npamphlet bearing the title The Jovial Hunter of Bromsgrove, Horne the\nHunter, and Robin Hood. No intimation as to the source of his copy, #C\nb#, is given by Bell, i. e., Dixon. Apparently all the variations from\nAllies, #C a#, are of the nature of editorial improvements. #E a# is\nsaid (1857) to be current in the north of England as a nursery song.\n\nOne half of #A#, the oldest and fullest copy of this ballad (the second\nand fourth quarters), is wanting in the Percy MS. What we can gather of\nthe story is this. A knight finds a lady sitting in a tree, #A#, #C#,\n#D# [under a tree, #E#], who tells him that a wild boar has slain Sir\nBroning, #A# [killed her lord and thirty of his men, #C#; worried her\nlord and wounded thirty, #E#]. The knight kills the boar, #B-D#, and\nseems to have received bad wounds in the process, #A#, #B#; the boar\nbelonged to a giant, #B#; or a wild woman, #C#, #D#. The knight is\nrequired to forfeit his hawks and leash, and the little finger of his\nright hand, #A# [his horse, his hound, and his lady, #C#]. He refuses to\nsubmit to such disgrace, though in no condition to resist, #A#; the\ngiant allows him time to heal his wounds, forty days, #A#; thirty-three,\n#B#; and he is to leave his lady as security for his return, #A#. At the\nend of this time the knight comes back sound and well, #A#, #B#, and\nkills the giant as he had killed the boar, #B#. #C# and #D# say nothing\nof the knight having been wounded. The wild woman, to revenge her\n\"pretty spotted pig,\" flies fiercely at him, and he cleaves her in two.\nThe last quarter of the Percy copy would, no doubt, reveal what became\nof the lady who was sitting in the tree, as to which the traditional\ncopies give no light.\n\nOur ballad has much in common with the romance of 'Sir Eglamour of\nArtois,' Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, II, 338; Thornton Romances,\nCamden Society, ed. Halliwell, p. 121; Ellis, Metrical Romances, from an\nearly printed copy, Bohn's ed., p. 527. Eglamour, simple knight, loving\nChristabel, an earl's daughter, is required by the father, who does not\nwish him well, to do three deeds of arms, the second being to kill a\nboar in the kingdom of Sattin or Sydon, which had been known to slay\nforty armed knights in one day (Percy, st. 37). This Eglamour does,\nafter a very severe fight. The boar belonged to a giant, who had kept\nhim fifteen years to slay Christian men (Thornton, st. 42, Percy, 40).\nThis giant had demanded the king of Sydon's daughter's hand, and comes\nto carry her off, by force, if necessary, the day following the\nboar-fight. Eglamour, who had been found by the king in the forest, in a\nstate of exhaustion, after a contest which had lasted to the third or\nfourth day, and had been taken home by him and kindly cared for, is now\nready for action again. He goes to the castle walls with a squire, who\ncarries the boar's head on a spear. The giant, seeing the head,\nexclaims,\n\n 'Alas, art thou dead!\n My trust was all in thee!\n Now by the law that I lieve in,\n My little speckled hoglin,\n Dear bought shall thy death be.'\n\n Percy, st. 44.\n\nEglamour kills the giant, and returns to Artois with both heads. The\nearl has another adventure ready for him, and hopes the third chance may\nquit all. Eglamour asks for twelve weeks to rest his weary body.\n\n#B# comes nearest the romance, and possibly even the wood of Tore is a\nreminiscence of Artois. The colloquy with the giant in #B# is also,\nperhaps, suggested by one which had previously taken place between\nEglamour and another giant, brother of this, after the knight had killed\none of his harts (Percy, st. 25). #C# 11, #D# 9 strikingly resemble the\npassage of the romance cited above (Percy, 44, Thornton, 47).\n\nThe ballad has also taken up something from the romance of 'Eger and\nGrime,' Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, I, 341; Laing, Early Metrical\nTales, p. 1; 'Sir Eger, Sir Grahame, and Sir Gray-Steel,' Ellis's\nSpecimens, p. 546. Sir Egrabell (Rackabello, Isaac-a-Bell), Lionel's\nfather, recalls Sir Eger, and Hugh the Gr\u00e6me in #B# is of course the\nGrahame or Grime of the romance, the Hugh being derived from a later\nballad. Gray-Steel, a man of proof, although not quite a giant, cuts off\nthe little finger of Eger's right hand, as the giant proposes to do to\nLionel in #A# 21.\n\nThe friar in #E# 1^3, 4^1, may be a corruption of Ryalas, or some like\nname, as the first line of the burden of #E#, 'Wind well, _Lion_, good\nhunter,' seems to be a perversion of 'Wind well _thy horn_, good\nhunter,' in #C#, #D#.[180] This part of the burden, especially as it\noccurs in #A#, is found, nearly, in a fragment of a song of the time of\nHenry VIII, given by Mr Chappell in his Popular Music of the Olden Time,\nI, 58, as copied from \"MSS Reg., Append. 58.\"\n\n 'Blow thy horne, hunter,\n Cum, blow thy horne on hye!\n In yonder wode there lyeth a doo,\n In fayth she woll not dye.\n Cum, blow thy horne, hunter,\n Cum, blow thy horne, joly hunter!'\n\nA terrible swine is a somewhat favorite figure in romantic tales. A\nworthy peer of the boar of Sydon is killed by King Arthur in 'The\nAvowynge of King Arthur,' etc., Robson, Three Early English Metrical\nRomances (see st. xii). But both of these, and even the Erymanthian,\nmust lower their bristles before the boar in 'Kilhwch and Olwen,'\nMabinogion, Part iv, pp. 309-16. Compared with any of these, the \"felon\nsow\" presented by Ralph Rokeby to the friars of Richmond (Evans, Old\nBallads, II, 270, ed. 1810, Scott, Appendix to Rokeby, note M) is a tame\nvillatic pig: the old mettle is bred out.\n\nProfessor Grundtvig has communicated to me a curious Danish ballad of\nthis class, 'Limgrises Vise,' from a manuscript of the latter part of\nthe 16th century. A very intractable damsel, after rejecting a multitude\nof aspirants, at last marries, with the boast that her progeny shall be\nfairer than Christ in heaven. She has a litter of nine pups, a pig, and\na boy. The pig grows to be a monster, and a scourge to the whole region.\n\n He drank up the water from dike and from dam,\n And ate up, besides, both goose, gris and lamb.\n\nThe beast is at last disposed of by baiting him with the nine\ncongenerate dogs, who jump down his throat, rend liver and lights, and\nfind their death there, too. This ballad smacks of the broadside, and is\nassigned to the 16th century. A fragment of a Swedish swine-ballad, in\nthe popular tone, is given by Dybeck, Runa, 1845, p. 23; another, very\nsimilar, in Axelson's Vesterdalarne, p. 179, 'Koloregris,' and Professor\nSophus Bugge has recovered some Norwegian verses. The Danish story of\nthe monstrous birth of the pig has become localized: the Liimfiord is\nrelated to have been made by the grubbing of the Limgris: Thiele,\nDanmarks Folkesagn, II. 19, two forms.\n\nThere can hardly be anything but the name in common between the Lionel\nof this ballad and Lancelot's cousin-german.\n\n\nA\n\n Percy MS., p. 32, Hales and Furnivall, I, 75.\n\n 1\n Sir Egrabell had sonnes three,\n Blow thy horne, good hunter\n Sir Lyonell was one of these.\n As I am a gentle hunter\n\n 2\n S_ir_ Lyonell wold on hunting ryde,\n Vntill the forrest him beside.\n\n 3\n And as he rode thorrow the wood,\n Where trees and harts and all were good,\n\n 4\n And as he rode over the plaine,\n There he saw a knight lay slaine.\n\n 5\n And as he rode still on the plaine,\n He saw a lady sitt in a graine.\n\n 6\n 'Say thou, lady, and tell thou me,\n What blood shedd heere has bee.'\n\n 7\n 'Of this blood shedd we may all rew,\n Both wife and childe and man alsoe.\n\n 8\n 'For it is not past 3 days right\n Since S_ir_ Broninge was mad a k_nigh_t.\n\n 9\n 'Nor it is not more than 3 dayes agoe\n Since the wild bore did him sloe.'\n\n 10\n 'Say thou, lady, and tell thou mee,\n How long thou wilt sitt in _tha_t tree.'\n\n 11\n She said, 'I will sitt in this tree\n Till my friends doe feitch me.'\n\n 12\n 'Tell me, lady, and doe not misse,\n Where that y_ou_r friends dwellings is.'\n\n 13\n 'Downe,' shee said, 'in yonder towne,\n There dwells my freinds of great renowne.'\n\n 14\n Says, 'Lady, Ile ryde into yonder towne\n And see wether y_ou_r friends beene bowne.\n\n 15\n 'I my self wilbe the formost man\n That shall come, lady, to feitch you home.'\n\n 16\n But as he rode then by the way,\n He thought it shame to goe away;\n\n 17\n And vmbethought him of a wile,\n How he might that wilde bore beguile.\n\n 18\n 'S_i_r Egrabell,' he said, 'my father was;\n He neuer left lady in such a case;\n\n 19\n 'Noe more will I' ...\n . . . . . . .\n\n 20\n 'And a[fter] that thou shalt doe mee\n Thy hawkes and thy lease alsoe.\n\n 21\n 'Soe shalt thou doe at my com_m_and\n The litle fingar on thy right hand.'\n\n 22\n 'Ere I wold leaue all this with thee,\n Vpoon this ground I rather dyee.'\n\n 23\n The gyant gaue S_i_r Lyon_el_l such a blow,\n The fyer out of his eyen did throw.\n\n 24\n He said then, 'if I were saffe and sound,\n As with-in this hower I was in this ground,\n\n 25\n 'It shold be in the next towne told\n How deare thy buffett it was sold;\n\n 26\n 'And it shold haue beene in the next towne _sai_d\n How well thy buffett it were paid.'\n\n 27\n 'Take 40 daies into spite,\n To heale thy wounds that beene soe wide.\n\n 28\n 'When 40 dayes beene at an end,\n Heere meete thou me both safe and sound.\n\n 29\n 'And till thou come to me againe,\n With me thoust leaue thy lady alone.\n\n 30\n When 40 dayes was at an end,\n Sir Lyon_el_l of his wounds was healed sound.\n\n 31\n He tooke with him a litle page,\n He gaue to him good yeomans wage.\n\n 32\n And as he rode by one hawthorne,\n Even there did hang his hunting horne.\n\n 33\n He sett his bugle to his mouth,\n And blew his bugle still full south.\n\n 34\n He blew his bugle lowde and shrill;\n The lady heard, and came him till.\n\n 35\n Sayes, 'the gyant lyes vnder yond low,\n And well he heares yo_u_r bugle blow.\n\n 36\n 'And bidds me of good cheere be,\n This night heele supp with you and me.'\n\n 37\n Hee sett that lady vppon a steede,\n And a litle boy before her yeede.\n\n 38\n And said, 'lady, if you see that I must dye,\n As euer you loued me, from me flye.\n\n 39\n 'But, lady, if you see _tha_t I must liue,'\n . . . . . . .\n\n\nB\n\n Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 110. From the\n singing of an old woman in Buckie, Enzie, Banffshire.\n\n 1\n A knicht had two sons o sma fame,\n Hey nien nanny\n Isaac-a-Bell and Hugh the Graeme.\n And the norlan flowers spring bonny\n\n 2\n And to the youngest he did say,\n 'What occupation will you hae?\n When the, etc.\n\n 3\n 'Will you gae fee to pick a mill?\n Or will you keep hogs on yon hill?'\n While the, etc.\n\n 4\n 'I winna fee to pick a mill,\n Nor will I keep hogs on yon hill.\n While the, etc.\n\n 5\n 'But it is said, as I do hear,\n That war will last for seven year,\n And the, etc.\n\n 6\n 'With a giant and a boar\n That range into the wood o Tore.\n And the, etc.\n\n 7\n 'You'll horse and armour to me provide,\n That through Tore wood I may safely ride.'\n When the, etc.\n\n 8\n The knicht did horse and armour provide,\n That through Tore wood Graeme micht safely ride.\n When the, etc.\n\n 9\n Then he rode through the wood o Tore,\n And up it started the grisly boar.\n When the, etc.\n\n 10\n The firsten bout that he did ride,\n The boar he wounded in the left side.\n When the, etc.\n\n 11\n The nexten bout at the boar he gaed,\n He from the boar took aff his head.\n And the, etc.\n\n 12\n As he rode back through the wood o Tore,\n Up started the giant him before.\n And the, etc.\n\n 13\n 'O cam you through the wood o Tore,\n Or did you see my good wild boar?'\n And the, etc.\n\n 14\n 'I cam now through the wood o Tore,\n But woe be to your grisly boar.\n And the, etc.\n\n 15\n 'The firsten bout that I did ride,\n I wounded your wild boar in the side.\n And the, etc.\n\n 16\n 'The nexten bout at him I gaed,\n From your wild boar I took aff his head.'\n And the, etc.\n\n 17\n 'Gin you have cut aff the head o my boar,\n It's your head shall be taen therfore.\n And the, etc.\n\n 18\n 'I'll gie you thirty days and three,\n To heal your wounds, then come to me.'\n While the, etc.\n\n 19\n 'It's after thirty days and three,\n When my wounds heal, I'll come to thee.'\n When the, etc.\n\n 20\n So Graeme is back to the wood o Tore,\n And he's killd the giant, as he killd the boar.\n And the, etc.\n\n\nC\n\n #a.# Allies, The British, Roman, and Saxon Antiquities and\n Folk-Lore of Worcestershire, 2d ed., p. 116. From the\n recitation of Benjamin Brown, of Upper Wick, about 1845.\n #b.# Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of\n England, edited by Robert Bell, p. 124.\n\n 1\n Sir Robert Bolton had three sons,\n Wind well thy horn, good hunter\n And one of them was called Sir Ryalas.\n For he was a jovial hunter\n\n 2\n He rang'd all round down by the woodside,\n Till up in the top of a tree a gay lady he spy'd.\n For he was, etc.\n\n 3\n 'O what dost thou mean, fair lady?' said he;\n 'O the wild boar has killed my lord and his men thirty.'\n As thou beest, etc.\n\n 4\n 'O what shall I do this wild boar to see?'\n 'O thee blow a blast, and he'll come unto thee.'\n As thou beest, etc.\n\n 5\n [Then he put his horn unto his mouth],\n Then he blowd a blast full north, east, west and south.\n As he was, etc.\n\n 6\n And the wild boar heard him full into his den;\n Then he made the best of his speed unto him.\n To Sir Ryalas, etc.\n\n 7\n Then the wild boar, being so stout and so strong,\n He thrashd down the trees as he came along.\n To Sir Ryalas, etc.\n\n 8\n 'O what dost thou want of me?' the wild boar said he;\n 'O I think in my heart I can do enough for thee.'\n For I am, etc.\n\n 9\n Then they fought four hours in a long summer's day,\n Till the wild boar fain would have gotten away.\n From Sir Ryalas, etc.\n\n 10\n Then Sir Ryalas drawd his broad sword with might,\n And he fairly cut his head off quite.\n For he was, etc.\n\n 11\n Then out of the wood the wild woman flew:\n 'Oh thou hast killed my pretty spotted pig!\n As thou beest, etc.\n\n 12\n 'There are three things I do demand of thee,\n It's thy horn, and thy hound, and thy gay lady.'\n As thou beest, etc.\n\n 13\n 'If these three things thou dost demand of me,\n It's just as my sword and thy neck can agree.'\n For I am, etc.\n\n 14\n Then into his locks the wild woman flew,\n Till she thought in her heart she had torn him through.\n As he was, etc.\n\n 15\n Then Sir Ryalas drawd his broad sword again,\n And he fairly split her head in twain.\n For he was, etc.\n\n 16\n In Bromsgrove church they both do lie;\n There the wild boar's head is picturd by\n Sir Ryalas, etc.\n\n\nD\n\n Allies, Antiquities and Folk-Lore of Worcestershire, p.\n 118. From the recitation of ---- Oseman, Hartlebury.\n\n 1\n As I went up one brook, one brook,\n Well wind the horn, good hunter\n I saw a fair maiden sit on a tree top.\n As thou art the jovial hunter\n\n 2\n I said, 'Fair maiden, what brings you here?'\n 'It is the wild boar that has drove me here.'\n As thou art, etc.\n\n 3\n 'I wish I could that wild boar see;'\n Well wind the horn, good hunter,\n And the wild boar soon will come to thee.'\n As thou art, etc.\n\n 4\n Then he put his horn unto his mouth,\n And he blowd both east, west, north and south.\n As he was, etc.\n\n 5\n The wild boar hearing it into his den,\n [Then he made the best of his speed unto\n him].\n\n 6\n He whetted his tusks for to make them strong,\n And he cut down the oak and the ash as he came along.\n For to meet with, etc.\n\n 7\n They fought five hours one long summer's day,\n Till the wild boar he yelld, and he'd fain run away.\n And away from, etc.\n\n 8\n O then he cut his head clean off,\n . . . . . . .\n\n 9\n Then there came an old lady running out of the wood,\n Saying, 'You have killed my pretty, my pretty spotted pig.'\n As thou art, etc.\n\n 10\n Then at him this old lady she did go,\n And he clove her from the top of her head to her toe.\n As he was, etc.\n\n 11\n In Bromsgrove churchyard this old lady lies,\n And the face of the boar's head there is drawn by,\n That was killed by, etc.\n\n\nE\n\n #a.# Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of\n England, edited by Robert Bell, p. 250. #b.# Mr Robert\n White's papers.\n\n 1\n There was an old man and sons he had three;\n Wind well, Lion, good hunter\n A friar he being one of the three,\n With pleasure he ranged the north country.\n For he was a jovial hunter\n\n 2\n As he went to the woods some pastime to see,\n He spied a fair lady under a tree,\n Sighing and moaning mournfully.\n He was, etc.\n\n 3\n 'What are you doing, my fair lady?'\n 'I'm frightened the wild boar he will kill me;\n He has worried my lord and wounded thirty.'\n As thou art, etc.\n\n 4\n Then the friar he put his horn to his mouth,\n And he blew a blast, east, west, north and south,\n And the wild boar from his den he came forth.\n Unto the, etc.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\nF\n\n Allies, Antiquities of Worcestershire, p. 120.\n\n 1\n Sir Rackabello had three sons,\n Wind well your horn, brave hunter\n Sir Ryalash was one of these.\n And he was a jovial hunter\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 3^1. _MS._ And as th\u00e9.\n\n 6^2. _MS._ had bee.\n\n 11^1. _MS._ I wilt.\n\n 12^1. _MS._ miste.\n\n 16^2. _MS._ awaw.\n\n 17^1. _MS._ vnbethought ... while.\n\n 19. _Between 19 and 20 half a page of the MS. is wanting._\n\n 20^1. a[fter]: _MS. blotted._\n\n 36^1. _MS._ bidds eue.\n\n 39. _Half a page of the MS. is wanting._\n\n#B.#\n\n _The stanzas are doubled in Christie, to suit the air._\n\n#C#.\n\n #a.# 3^1, 4^2, 7^2. #D.# 2^1, 3^2, 6. _John Cole, who had\n heard an old man sing the ballad fifty years before\n (Allies, p. 115), could recollect only so much:_\n\n 'Oh! lady, Oh! lady, what bringst thou here?'\n Wind went his horn, as a hunter\n 'Thee blow another blast, and he'll soon come to thee.'\n As thou art a jovial hunter\n\n He whetted his tusks as he came along,\n Wind went his horn, as a hunter\n\n #a# 5, 6 _stand thus in Allies_:\n\n V\n Then he blowd a blast full north, east, west and south,\n For he was, etc.\n And the wild boar heard him full into his den,\n As he was, etc.\n\n VI\n Then he made the best of his speed unto him.\n _(Two lines wrongly supplied from another source.)_\n To Sir Ryalas, etc.\n\n _5 has been completed from the corresponding stanza in\n #D#, and the two verses of 6, separated above, are put\n together._\n\n #b.#\n\n 1^1. Old Sir Robert.\n\n 1^2. was Sir Ryalas.\n\n 2^2. Till in a tree-top.\n\n 3^1. dost thee.\n\n 3^2. The wild boar's killed my lord and has thirty men\n gored.\n\n _Burden_^2. And thou beest.\n\n 4^1. for to see.\n\n 5^1. _As in Allies (see above), except ~full~ in his den._\n\n 5^2. then heard him full in his den.\n\n 6^1. _As in Allies (see above), but 6^2 supplied by Bell._\n\n 7^2. Thrashed down the trees as he ramped him along.\n\n 8^1. 'Oh, what dost thee want of me, wild boar.'\n\n _Burden_^2. the jovial.\n\n 9^1. summer.\n\n 9^2. have got him.\n\n 10^2. cut the boar's head off quite.\n\n 11^2. Oh, my pretty spotted pig thou hast slew.\n\n _Burden_^2. for thou beest.\n\n 12^1. I demand them of thee.\n\n 13^1. dost ask.\n\n 14^1. long locks.\n\n 14^2. to tear him through.\n\n _Burden_^2. Though he was.\n\n 15^2. into twain.\n\n 16^1. the knight he doth lie.\n\n 16^2. And the wild boar's head is pictured thereby.\n\n#D#.\n\n 5, 6. _In Allies thus:_\n\n V\n The wild boar hearing it into his den,\n Well wind, etc.\n He whetted his tusks, for to make them strong,\n And he cut down the oak and the ash as he came along.\n For to meet with, etc.\n\n _Stanza 5 has been completed from stanza vi of Allies'\n other ballad, and 6 duly separated from the first line of\n 5._\n\n 8^2, 9. _In Allies' copy thus_:\n\n VII\n Oh! then he cut his head clean off!\n Well wind, etc.\n Then there came an old lady running out of the wood\n Saying, 'You have killed my pretty, my pretty spotted pig.'\n As thou art, etc.\n\n _What stanza 8 should be is easily seen from #C# 10._\n\n #C# 16, #D# 11. _As imperfectly remembered by Allies (p.\n 114):_\n\n In Bromsgrove church his corpse doth lie,\n Why winded his horn the hunter?\n Because there was a wild boar nigh,\n And as he was a jovial hunter.\n\n#E.#\n\n #b.# \"Fragment found on the fly-leaf of an old book.\" _Mr\n R. White's papers._\n\n 1^2, one of these three.\n\n 1^3. wide countrie.\n\n _Burden_^2. He was.\n\n 2^1. was in woods.\n\n 2^3. With a bloody river running near she.\n\n 3^1. He said, 'Fair lady what are you doing there?'\n\n 3^3. killed my lord.\n\n 4. _wanting._\n\n\n[180] The friar might also be borrowed from 'The Felon Sow and the\nFriars of Richmond,' but this piece does not appear to have been\nextensively known.\n\n\n\n\n19\n\nKING ORFEO\n\n The Leisure Hour, February 14, 1880, No 1468: Folk-Lore\n from Unst, Shetland, by Mrs Saxby, p. 109.\n\n\nMr Edmondston, from whose memory this ballad was derived, notes that\nthough stanzas are probably lost after the first which would give some\naccount of the king in the east wooing the lady in the west, no such\nverses were sung to him. He had forgotten some stanzas after the fourth,\nof which the substance was that the lady was carried off by fairies;\nthat the king went in quest of her, and one day saw a company passing\nalong a hill-side, among whom he recognized his lost wife. The troop\nwent to what seemed a great \"ha-house,\" or castle, on the hillside.\nStanzas after the eighth were also forgotten, the purport being that a\nmessenger from behind the grey stane appeared and invited the king in.\n\nWe have here in traditional song the story of the justly admired\nmedi\u00e6val romance of Orpheus, in which fairy-land supplants Tartarus,\nfaithful love is rewarded, and Eurydice (Heurodis, Erodys, Eroudys) is\nretrieved. This tale has come down to us in three versions: #A#, in the\nAuchinleck MS., dating from the beginning of the fourteenth century,\nAdvocates Library, Edinburgh, printed in Laing's Select Remains of the\nAncient Popular Poetry of Scotland, 'Orfeo and Heurodis,' No 3; #B#,\nAshmole MS., 61, Bodleian Library, of the first half of the fifteenth\ncentury, printed in Halliwell's Illustrations of Fairy Mythology, 'Kyng\nOrfew,' p. 37; #C#, Harleian MS., 3810, British Museum, printed by\nRitson, Metrical Romanc\u00ebes, II, 248, 'Sir Orpheo.' At the end of the\nAuchinleck copy we are told that harpers in Britain heard this marvel,\nand made a lay thereof, which they called, after the king, 'Lay Orfeo.'\nThe other two copies also, but in verses which are a repetition of the\nintroduction to 'Lay le Freine,' call this a Breton lay.\n\nThe story is this (#A#). Orfeo was a king [and so good a harper never\nnone was, #B#]. One day in May his queen went out to a garden with two\nmaidens, and fell asleep under an \"ympe\" tree. When she waked she\nshrieked, tore her clothes, and acted very wildly. Her maidens ran to\nthe palace and called for help, for the queen would go mad. Knights and\nladies went to the queen, took her away, and put her to bed; but still\nthe excitement continued. The king, in great affliction, besought her to\ntell him what was the matter, and what he could do. Alas! she said, I\nhave loved thee as my life, and thou me, but now we must part. As she\nslept knights had come to her and had bidden her come speak with their\nking. Upon her refusal, the king himself came, with a company of knights\nand damsels, all on snow-white steeds, and made her ride on a palfrey by\nhis side, and, after he had shown her his palace, brought her back and\nsaid: Look thou be under this ympe tree tomorrow, to go with us; and if\nthou makest us any let, we will take thee by force, wherever thou be.\nThe next day Orfeo took the queen to the tree under guard of a thousand\nknights, all resolved to die before they would give her up: but she was\nspirited away right from the midst of them, no one knew whither.\n\nThe king all but died of grief, but it was no boot. He gave his kingdom\nin charge to his high steward, told his barons to choose a new king when\nthey should learn that he was dead, put on a sclavin and nothing else,\ntook his harp, and went barefoot out at the gate. Ten years he lived in\nthe woods and on the heath; his body wasted away, his beard grew to his\ngirdle. His only solace was in his harp, and, when the weather was\nbright, he would play, and all the beasts and birds would flock to him.\nOften at hot noon-day he would see the king of fairy hunting with his\nrout, or an armed host would go by him with banners displayed, or\nknights and ladies would come dancing; but whither they went he could\nnot tell. One day he descried sixty ladies who were hawking. He went\ntowards them and saw that one of them was Heurodis. He looked at her\nwistfully, and she at him; neither spoke a word, but tears fell from her\neyes, and the ladies hurried her away. He followed, and spared neither\nstub nor stem. They went in at a rock, and he after. They alighted at a\nsuperb castle; he knocked at the gate, told the porter he was a\nminstrel, and was let in. There he saw Heurodis, sleeping under an ympe\ntree.\n\nOrfeo went into the hall, and saw a king and queen, sitting in a\ntabernacle. He kneeled down before the king. What man art thou? said the\nking. I never sent for thee, and never found I man so bold as to come\nhere unbidden. Lord, quoth Orfeo, I am but a poor minstrel, and it is a\nway of ours to seek many a lord's house, though we be not welcome.\nWithout more words he took his harp and began to play. All the palace\ncame to listen, and lay down at his feet. The king sat still and was\nglad to hear, and, when the harping was done, said, Minstrel, ask of me\nwhatever it be; I will pay thee largely. \"Sir,\" said Orfeo, \"I beseech\nthee give me the lady that sleepeth under the ympe tree.\" \"Nay,\" quoth\nthe king, \"ye were a sorry couple; for thou art lean and rough and\nblack, and she is lovely and has no lack. A lothly thing were it to see\nher in thy company.\" \"Gentle king,\" replied the harper, it were a fouler\nthing to hear a lie from thy mouth.\" \"Take her, then, and be blithe of\nher,\" said the king.\n\nOrfeo now turned homewards, but first presented himself to the steward\nalone, and in beggar's clothes, as a harper from heathendom, to see if\nhe were a true man. The loyal steward was ready to welcome every good\nharper for love of his lord. King Orfeo made himself known; the steward\nthrew over the table, and fell down at his feet, and so did all the\nlords. They brought the queen to the town. Orfeo and Heurodis were\ncrowned anew, and lived long afterward.\n\nThe Scandinavian burden was, perhaps, no more intelligible to the singer\nthan \"Hey non nonny\" is to us. The first line seems to be Unst for\nDanish\n\n Skoven \u00e5rle gr\u00f6n (Early green's the wood).\n\nThe sense of the other line is not so obvious. Professor Grundtvig has\nsuggested to me,\n\n Hvor hjorten han g\u00e5r \u00e5rlig (Where the hart goes yearly).\n\n\nA\n\n The Leisure Hour, February 14, 1880, No 1468, p. 109.\n Obtained from the singing of Andrew Coutts, an old man in\n Unst, Shetland, by Mr Biot Edmondston.\n\n 1\n Der lived a king inta da aste,\n Scowan \u00fcrla gr\u00fcn\n Der lived a lady in da wast.\n Whar giorten han gr\u00fcn oarlac\n\n 2\n Dis king he has a huntin gaen,\n He's left his Lady Isabel alane.\n\n 3\n 'Oh I wis ye'd never gaen away,\n For at your hame is d\u00f6l an wae.\n\n 4\n 'For da king o Ferrie we his daert,\n Has pierced your lady to da hert.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 5\n And aifter dem da king has gaen,\n But whan he cam it was a grey stane.\n\n 6\n Dan he took oot his pipes ta play,\n Bit sair his hert wi d\u00f6l an wae.\n\n 7\n And first he played da notes o noy,\n An dan he played da notes o joy.\n\n 8\n An dan he played da g\u00f6d gabber reel,\n Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 9\n 'Noo come ye in inta wir ha,\n An come ye in among wis a'.'\n\n 10\n Now he's gaen in inta der ha,\n An he's gaen in among dem a'.\n\n 11\n Dan he took out his pipes to play,\n Bit sair his hert wi d\u00f6l an wae.\n\n 12\n An first he played da notes o noy,\n An dan he played da notes o joy.\n\n 13\n An dan he played da g\u00f6d gabber reel,\n Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.\n\n 14\n 'Noo tell to us what ye will hae:\n What sall we gie you for your play?\n\n 15\n 'What I will hae I will you tell,\n An dat's me Lady Isabel.'\n\n 16\n 'Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame,\n An yees be king ower a' your ain.'\n\n 17\n He's taen his lady, an he's gaen hame,\n An noo he's king ower a' his ain.\n\n\n\n\n20\n\nTHE CRUEL MOTHER.\n\n #A.# Herd's MSS, I, 132, II, 191. Herd's Ancient and\n Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 237.\n\n #B. a.# 'Fine Flowers in the Valley,' Johnson's Museum, p.\n 331. #b.# Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 259 (1803).\n\n #C#. 'The Cruel Mother,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161.\n\n #D. a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 103. #b.# 'The Cruel Mother,'\n Kinloch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 46.\n\n #E.# 'The Cruel Mother.' #a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 390.\n #b.# Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 33.\n\n #F.# 'The Cruel Mother.' #a.# Buchan's MSS, II, 98. #b.#\n Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 222.\n\n #G.# Notes and Queries, 1st S., VIII, 358.\n\n #H.# 'The Cruel Mother,' Motherwell's MS., p. 402.\n\n #I.# 'The Minister's Daughter of New York.' #a.# Buchan's\n MSS, II, 111. #b.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, II, 217. #c.# 'Hey wi the rose and the lindie\n O,' Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 106.\n\n #J. a.# 'The Rose o Malindie O,' Harris MS., f. 10. #b.#\n Fragment communicated by Dr T. Davidson.\n\n #K.# Motherwell's MS., p. 186.\n\n #L.# 'Fine Flowers in the Valley,' Smith's Scottish\n Minstrel, IV, 33.\n\n #M.# From Miss M. Reburn, as learned in County Meath,\n Ireland, one stanza.\n\n\nTwo fragments of this ballad, #A#, #B#, were printed in the last quarter\nof the eighteenth century; #C-L# were committed to writing after 1800;\nand, of these, #E#, #H#, #J#, #K# are now printed for the first time.\n\n#A-H# differ only slightly, but several of these versions are very\nimperfect. A young woman, who passes for a leal maiden, gives birth to\ntwo babes [#A#, #B#, one, #H#, three], puts them to death with a\npenknife, #B-F#, and buries them, or, #H#, ties them hand and feet and\nburies them alive. She afterwards sees two pretty boys, and exclaims\nthat if they were hers she would treat them most tenderly. They make\nanswer that when they were hers they were very differently treated,\nrehearse what she had done, and inform or threaten her that hell shall\nbe her portion, #C#, #D#, #E#, #F#, #H#. In #I# the children are buried\nalive, as in #H#, in #J a# strangled, in #J b# and #L# killed with the\npenknife, but the story is the same down to the termination, where,\ninstead of simple hell-fire, there are various seven-year penances,\nproperly belonging to the ballad of 'The Maid and the Palmer,' which\nfollows this.\n\nAll the English ballads are in two-line stanzas.[181]\n\nUntil 1870 no corresponding ballad had been found in Denmark, though\nnone was more likely to occur in #Danish#. That year Kristensen, in the\ncourse of his very remarkable ballad-quest in Jutland, recovered two\nversions which approach surprisingly near to Scottish tradition, and\nespecially to #E#: Jydske Folkeviser, I, 329, No 121 #A#, #B#,\n'Barnemordersken.' Two other Danish versions have been obtained since\nthen, but have not been published. #A# and #B# are much the same, and a\nclose translation of #A# will not take much more space than would be\nrequired for a sufficient abstract.\n\n Little Kirsten took with her the bower-women five,\n And with them she went to the wood belive.\n\n She spread her cloak down on the earth,\n And on it to two little twins gave birth.\n\n She laid them under a turf so green,\n Nor suffered for them a sorrow unseen.\n\n She laid them under so broad a stone,\n Suffered sorrow nor harm for what she had done.\n\n Eight years it was, and the children twain\n Would fain go home to their mother again.\n\n They went and before Our Lord they stood:\n 'Might we go home to our mother, we would.'\n\n 'Ye may go to your mother, if ye will,\n But ye may not contrive any ill.'\n\n They knocked at the door, they made no din:\n 'Rise up, our mother, and let us in.'\n\n By life and by death hath she cursed and sworn,\n That never a child in the world had she borne.\n\n 'Stop, stop, dear mother, and swear not so fast,\n We shall recount to you what has passed.\n\n 'You took with you the bower-women five,\n And with them went to the wood belive.\n\n 'You spread your cloak down on the earth,\n And on it to two little twins gave birth.\n\n 'You laid us under a turf so green,\n Nor suffered for us a sorrow unseen.\n\n 'You laid us under so broad a stone,\n Suffered sorrow nor harm for what you had done.'\n\n 'Nay my dear bairns, but stay with me;\n And four barrels of gold shall be your fee.'\n\n 'You may give us four, or five, if you choose,\n But not for all that, heaven will we lose.\n\n 'You may give us eight, you may give us nine,\n But not for all these, heaven will we tine.\n\n 'Our seat is made ready in heavenly light,\n But for you a seat in hell is dight.'\n\nA ballad is spread all over #Germany# which is probably a variation of\n'The Cruel Mother,' though the resemblance is rather in the general\ncharacter than in the details. #A#, 'H\u00f6llisches Recht,' Wunderhorn, II,\n202, ed. of 1808, II, 205, ed. 1857. Mittler, No 489, p. 383, seems to\nbe this regulated and filled out. #B#, Erlach, 'Die Rabenmutter,' IV,\n148; repeated, with the addition of one stanza, by Zuccalmaglio, p. 203,\nNo 97. #C#, 'Die Kindsm\u00f6rderinn,' Meinert, p. 164, from the Kuhl\u00e4ndchen;\nturned into current German, Erk's Liederhort, p. 144, No 41^c. #D#,\nSimrock, p. 87, No 37^a, from the Aargau. #E#, 'Das falsche Mutterherz,'\nErk u. Irmer, Heft 5, No 7, and 'Die Kindesm\u00f6rderin,' Erk's Liederhort,\np. 140, No 41, Brandenburg. #F#, Liederhort, p. 142, No 41^a, Silesia.\n#G#, Liederhort, p. 143, 41^b, from the Rhein, very near to #B#. #H#,\nHoffmann u. Richter, No 31, p. 54, and #I#, No 32, p. 57, Silesia. #J#,\nDitfurth, Fr\u00e4nkische V. 1., II, 12, No 13. #K#, 'Die Rabenmutter,'\nPeter, Volksth\u00fcmliches aus \u00d6sterreichisch-Schlesien, I, 210, No 21. #L#,\n'Der Teufel u. die M\u00fcllerstochter,' Pr\u00f6hle, Weltliche u. geistliche V.\n1., p. 15, No 9, Hanoverian Harz. Repetitions and compounded copies are\nnot noticed.\n\nThe story is nearly this in all. A herdsman, passing through a wood,\nhears the cry of a child, but cannot make out whence the sound comes.\nThe child announces that it is hidden in a hollow tree, and asks to be\ntaken to the house where its mother is to be married that day. There\narrived, the child proclaims before all the company that the bride is\nits mother. The bride, or some one of the party, calls attention to the\nfact that she is still wearing her maiden-wreath. Nevertheless, says the\nchild, she has had three children: one she drowned, one she buried in a\ndung-heap [the sand], and one she hid in a hollow tree. The bride wishes\nthat the devil may come for her if this is true, and, upon the word,\nSatan appears and takes her off; in #B#, #G#, #J#, with words like\nthese:\n\n 'Komm her, komm her, meine sch\u00f6nste Braut,\n Dein Sessel ist dir in der H\u00f6lle gebaut.' #J# 9.\n\nA #Wendish# version, 'Der H\u00f6llentanz,' in Haupt and Schmaler, I, 290, No\n292, differs from the German ballads only in this, that the bride has\nalready borne nine children, and is going with the tenth.\n\nA combination of #B#, #C#, #D#, #F# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske\nog skotske Folkeviser, No 43, p. 279, and #I#, from the eighth stanza\non, p. 282. #C# is translated by Wolff, Halle der V\u00f6lker, I, 11, and\nHauschatz, p. 223; Allingham's version (nearly #B a#) by Knortz, L. u.\nR. Alt-Englands, p. 178, No 48.\n\n\nA\n\n Herd's MSS, I, 132, II, 191: Ancient and Modern Scottish\n Songs, 1776, II, 237.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n And there she's leand her back to a thorn,\n Oh and alelladay, oh and alelladay\n And there she has her baby born.\n Ten thousand times good night and be wi thee\n\n 2\n She has houked a grave ayont the sun,\n And there she has buried the sweet babe in.\n\n 3\n And she's gane back to her father's ha,\n She's counted the leelest maid o them a'.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 4\n 'O look not sae sweet, my bonie babe,\n Gin ye smyle sae, ye'll smyle me dead.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\nB\n\n #a.# Johnson's Museum, p. 331. #b.# Scott's Minstrelsy,\n 1803, III, 259, preface.\n\n 1\n She sat down below a thorn,\n Fine flowers in the valley\n And there she has her sweet babe born.\n And the green leaves they grow rarely\n\n 2\n 'Smile na sae sweet, my bonie babe,\n And ye smile sae sweet, ye'll smile me dead.'\n\n 3\n She's taen out her little pen-knife,\n And twinnd the sweet babe o its life.\n\n 4\n She's howket a grave by the light o the moon,\n And there she's buried her sweet babe in.\n\n 5\n As she was going to the church,\n She saw a sweet babe in the porch.\n\n 6\n 'O sweet babe, and thou were mine,\n I wad cleed thee in the silk so fine.'\n\n 7\n 'O mother dear, when I was thine,\n You did na prove to me sae kind.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\nC\n\n Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161.\n\n 1\n She leaned her back unto a thorn,\n Three, three, and three by three\n And there she has her two babes born.\n Three, three, and thirty-three\n\n 2\n She took frae 'bout her ribbon-belt,\n And there she bound them hand and foot.\n\n 3\n She has taen out her wee pen-knife,\n And there she ended baith their life.\n\n 4\n She has howked a hole baith deep and wide,\n She has put them in baith side by side.\n\n 5\n She has covered them oer wi a marble stane,\n Thinking she would gang maiden hame.\n\n 6\n As she was walking by her father's castle wa,\n She saw twa pretty babes playing at the ba.\n\n 7\n 'O bonnie babes, gin ye were mine,\n I would dress you up in satin fine.\n\n 8\n 'O I would dress you in the silk,\n And wash you ay in morning milk.'\n\n 9\n 'O cruel mother, we were thine,\n And thou made us to wear the twine.\n\n 10\n 'O cursed mother, heaven's high,\n And that's where thou will neer win nigh.\n\n 11\n 'O cursed mother, hell is deep,\n And there thou'll enter step by step.'\n\n\nD\n\n #a.# Kinloch's MSS, V, 103, in the handwriting of James\n Beattie. #b.# Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 46:\n from the recitation of Miss C. Beattie.\n\n 1\n There lives a lady in London,\n All alone and alone ee\n She's gane wi bairn to the clerk's son.\n Down by the green wood sae bonnie\n\n 2\n She's taen her mantle her about,\n She's gane aff to the gude green wood.\n\n 3\n She's set her back untill an oak,\n First it bowed and then it broke.\n\n 4\n She's set her back untill a tree,\n Bonny were the twa boys she did bear.\n\n 5\n But she took out a little pen-knife,\n And she parted them and their sweet life.\n\n 6\n She's aff untill her father's ha;\n She was the lealest maiden that was amang them a'.\n\n 7\n As she lookit oure the castle wa,\n She spied twa bonnie boys playing at the ba.\n\n 8\n 'O if these two babes were mine,\n They should wear the silk and the sabelline!'\n\n 9\n 'O mother dear, when we were thine,\n We neither wore the silks nor the sabelline.\n\n 10\n 'But out ye took a little pen-knife,\n And ye parted us and our sweet life.\n\n 11\n 'But now we're in the heavens hie,\n And ye've the pains o hell to drie.'\n\n\nE\n\n #a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 390. #b.# Motherwell's\n Note-Book, p. 33. From the recitation of Agnes Lyle,\n Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.\n\n 1\n There was a lady, she lived in Lurk,\n Sing hey alone and alonie O\n She fell in love with her father's clerk.\n Down by yon greenwood sidie O\n\n 2\n She loved him seven years and a day,\n Till her big belly did her betray.\n\n 3\n She leaned her back unto a tree,\n And there began her sad misery.\n\n 4\n She set her foot unto a thorn,\n And there she got her two babes born.\n\n 5\n She took out her wee pen-knife,\n She twind them both of their sweet life.\n\n 6\n She took the sattins was on her head,\n She rolled them in both when they were dead.\n\n 7\n She howkit a grave forenent the sun,\n And there she buried her twa babes in.\n\n 8\n As she was walking thro her father's ha,\n She spied twa boys playing at the ba.\n\n 9\n 'O pretty boys, if ye were mine,\n I would dress ye both in the silks so fine.'\n\n 10\n 'O mother dear, when we were thine,\n Thou neer dressed us in silks so fine.\n\n 11\n 'For thou was a lady, thou livd in Lurk,\n And thou fell in love with thy father's clerk.\n\n 12\n 'Thou loved him seven years and a day,\n Till thy big belly did thee betray.\n\n 13\n 'Thou leaned thy back unto a tree,\n And there began thy sad misery.\n\n 14\n 'Thou set thy foot unto a thorn,\n And there thou got thy two babes born.\n\n 15\n 'Thou took out thy wee pen-knife,\n And twind us both of our sweet life.\n\n 16\n 'Thou took the sattins was on thy head,\n Thou rolled us both in when we were dead.\n\n 17\n 'Thou howkit a grave forenent the sun,\n And there thou buried thy twa babes in.\n\n 18\n 'But now we're both in [the] heavens hie,\n There is pardon for us, but none for thee.'\n\n 19\n 'My pretty boys, beg pardon for me!'\n 'There is pardon for us, but none for thee.'\n\n\nF\n\n #a.# Buchan's MSS, II, 98. #b.# Buchan's Ballads of the\n North of Scotland, II, 222.\n\n 1\n It fell ance upon a day,\n Edinburgh, Edinburgh\n It fell ance upon a day,\n Stirling for aye\n It fell ance upon a day\n The clerk and lady went to play.\n So proper Saint Johnston stands fair upon Tay\n\n 2\n 'If my baby be a son,\n I'll make him a lord of high renown.'\n\n 3\n She's leand her back to the wa,\n Prayd that her pains might fa.\n\n 4\n She's leand her back to the thorn,\n There was her baby born.\n\n 5\n 'O bonny baby, if ye suck sair,\n You'll never suck by my side mair.'\n\n 6\n She's riven the muslin frae her head,\n Tied the baby hand and feet.\n\n 7\n Out she took her little pen-knife,\n Twind the young thing o its sweet life.\n\n 8\n She's howked a hole anent the meen,\n There laid her sweet baby in.\n\n 9\n She had her to her father's ha,\n She was the meekest maid amang them a'.\n\n 10\n It fell ance upon a day,\n She saw twa babies at their play.\n\n 11\n 'O bonny babies, gin ye were mine,\n I'd cleathe you in the silks sae fine.'\n\n 12\n 'O wild mother, when we were thine,\n You cleathd us not in silks so fine.\n\n 13\n 'But now we're in the heavens high,\n And you've the pains o hell to try.'\n\n 14\n She threw hersell oer the castle-wa,\n There I wat she got a fa.\n\n\nG\n\n Notes and Queries, 1st S., VIII, 358. From Warwickshire,\n communicated by C. Clifton Barry.\n\n 1\n There was a lady lived on [a] lea,\n All alone, alone O\n Down by the greenwood side went she.\n Down the greenwood side O\n\n 2\n She set her foot all on a thorn,\n There she had two babies born.\n\n 3\n O she had nothing to lap them in,\n But a white appurn, and that was thin.\n\n\nH\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 402. From Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan,\n August 24, 1825.\n\n 1\n There was a lady brisk and smart,\n All in a lone and a lonie O\n And she goes with child to her father's clark.\n Down by the greenwood sidie O\n\n 2\n Big, big oh she went away,\n And then she set her foot to a tree.\n\n 3\n Big she set her foot to a stone,\n Till her three bonnie babes were borne.\n\n 4\n She took the ribbons off her head,\n She tied the little babes hand and feet.\n\n 5\n She howkit a hole before the sun,\n She's laid these three bonnie babes in.\n\n 6\n She covered them over with marble stone,\n For dukes and lords to walk upon.\n\n 7\n She lookit over her father's castle wa,\n She saw three bonnie boys playing at the ba.\n\n 8\n The first o them was clad in red,\n To shew the innocence of their blood.\n\n 9\n The neist o them was clad in green,\n To shew that death they had been in.\n\n 10\n The next was naked to the skin,\n To shew they were murderd when they were born.\n\n 11\n 'O bonnie babes, an ye were mine,\n I wad dress you in the satins so fine.'\n\n 12\n 'O mother dear, when we were thine,\n Thou did not use us half so kind.'\n\n 13\n 'O bonnie babes, an ye be mine,\n Whare hae ye been a' this time?'\n\n 14\n 'We were at our father's house,\n Preparing a place for thee and us.'\n\n 15\n 'Whaten a place hae ye prepar'd for me?'\n 'Heaven's for us, but hell's for thee.\n\n 16\n 'O mother dear, but heaven's high;\n That is the place thou'll ne'er come nigh.\n\n 17\n 'O mother dear, but hell is deep;\n 'T will cause thee bitterlie to weep.'\n\n\nI\n\n #a.# Buchan's MS., II, 111. #b.# Buchan's Ballads of the\n North of Scotland, II, 217. #c.# Christie, Traditional\n Ballad Airs, I, 106.\n\n 1\n The minister's daughter of New York,\n Hey wi the rose and the lindie, O\n Has faen in love wi her father's clerk.\n Alone by the green burn sidie, O\n\n 2\n She courted him six years and a day,\n At length her belly did her betray.\n\n 3\n She did her down to the greenwood gang,\n To spend awa a while o her time.\n\n 4\n She lent her back unto a thorn,\n And she's got her twa bonny boys born.\n\n 5\n She 's taen the ribbons frae her hair,\n Bound their bodyes fast and sair.\n\n 6\n She 's put them aneath a marble stane,\n Thinking a maiden to gae hame.\n\n 7\n Looking oer her castle wa,\n She spied her bonny boys at the ba.\n\n 8\n 'O bonny babies, if ye were mine,\n I woud feed you with the white bread and wine.\n\n 9\n 'I woud feed you wi the ferra cow's milk,\n And dress you in the finest silk.'\n\n 10\n 'O cruel mother, when we were thine,\n We saw none of your bread and wine.\n\n 11\n 'We saw none of your ferra cow's milk,\n Nor wore we of your finest silk.'\n\n 12\n 'O bonny babies, can ye tell me,\n What sort of death for you I must die?'\n\n 13\n 'Yes, cruel mother, we'll tell to thee,\n What sort of death for us you must die.\n\n 14\n 'Seven years a fowl in the woods,\n Seven years a fish in the floods.\n\n 15\n 'Seven years to be a church bell,\n Seven years a porter in hell.'\n\n 16\n 'Welcome, welcome, fowl in the wood[s],\n Welcome, welcome, fish in the flood[s].\n\n 17\n 'Welcome, welcome, to be a church bell,\n But heavens keep me out of hell.'\n\n\nJ\n\n #a.# Harris MS., fol. 10, \"Mrs Harris and others.\" #b.#\n Fragment communicated by Dr T. Davidson.\n\n 1\n She leant her back against a thorn,\n Hey for the Rose o' Malindie O\n And there she has twa bonnie babes born.\n Adoon by the green wood sidie O\n\n 2\n She's taen the ribbon frae her head,\n An hankit their necks till they waur dead.\n\n 3\n She luikit outowre her castle wa,\n An saw twa nakit boys, playin at the ba.\n\n 4\n 'O bonnie boys, waur ye but mine,\n I wald feed ye wi flour-bread an wine.'\n\n 5\n 'O fause mother, whan we waur thine,\n Ye didna feed us wi flour-bread an wine.'\n\n 6\n 'O bonnie boys, gif ye waur mine,\n I wald clied ye wi silk sae fine.'\n\n 7\n 'O fause mother, whan we waur thine,\n You didna clied us in silk sae fine.\n\n 8\n 'Ye tuik the ribbon aff your head,\n An' hankit our necks till we waur dead.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 9\n 'Ye sall be seven years bird on the tree,\n Ye sall be seven years fish i the sea.\n\n 10\n 'Ye sall be seven years eel i the pule,\n An ye sail be seven years doon into hell.'\n\n 11\n 'Welcome, welcome, bird on the tree,\n Welcome, welcome, fish i the sea.\n\n 12\n 'Welcome, welcome, eel i the pule,\n But oh for gudesake, keep me frae hell!'\n\n\nK\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 186.\n\n 1\n Lady Margaret looked oer the castle wa,\n Hey and a lo and a lilly O\n And she saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba.\n Down by the green wood sidy O\n\n 2\n 'O pretty babes, an ye were mine,\n I would dress you in the silks so fine.'\n\n 3\n 'O false mother, when we were thine,\n Ye did not dress us in silks so fine.'\n\n 4\n 'O bonnie babes, an ye were mine,\n I would feed you on the bread and wine.'\n\n 5\n 'O false mother, when we were thine,\n Ye did not feed us on the bread and the wine.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 6\n 'Seven years a fish in the sea,\n And seven years a bird in the tree.\n\n 7\n 'Seven years to ring a bell,\n And seven years porter in hell.'\n\n\nL\n\n Smith's Scottish Minstrel, IV, 33, 2d ed.\n\n 1\n A lady lookd out at a castle wa,\n Fine flowers in the valley\n She saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba.\n And the green leaves they grow rarely\n\n 2\n 'O my bonnie babes, an ye were mine,\n I would cleed ye i the scarlet sae fine.\n\n 3\n 'I 'd lay ye saft in beds o down,\n And watch ye morning, night and noon.'\n\n 4\n 'O mither dear, when we were thine,\n Ye didna cleed us i the scarlet sae fine.\n\n 5\n 'But ye took out yere little pen-knife,\n And parted us frae our sweet life.\n\n 6\n 'Ye howkit a hole aneath the moon,\n And there ye laid our bodies down.\n\n 7\n 'Ye happit the hole wi mossy stanes,\n And there ye left our wee bit banes.\n\n 8\n 'But ye ken weel, O mither dear,\n Ye never cam that gate for fear.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 9\n 'Seven lang years ye'll ring the bell,\n And see sic sights as ye darna tell.'\n\n\nM\n\n Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as learned in County\n Meath, Ireland, about 1860.\n\n 'O mother dear, when we were thine,\n All a lee and aloney O\n You neither dressed us in coarse or fine.'\n Down by the greenwood sidy O\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _Superscribed_, \"Fragment to its own tune. Melancholy.\"\n _Against the first line of the burden is written in the\n margin, \"~perhaps alas-a-day~,\" and this change is adopted\n in Herd's printed copy. Scott suggested ~well-a-day~._\n\n 4^2. _MSS and ed. 1776 have ~ze ... ze'll~._\n\n#B. b.#\n\n \"A fragment [_of 5 stanzas_] containing the following\n verses, which I have often heard sung in my childhood.\"\n _Scott, III. 259. No burden is given._\n\n 1^1. She set her back against.\n\n 1^2. young son born.\n\n 2^1. O smile nae sae.\n\n 3, 4, _wanting_.\n\n 5^1. An when that lady went.\n\n 5^2. She spied a naked boy.\n\n 6^1. O bonnie boy, an ye.\n\n 6^2. I'd cleed ye in the silks.\n\n 7^2. To me ye were na half.\n\n _Cunningham, Songs of Scotland, I, 340, says:_ \"I remember\n a verse, and but a verse, of an old ballad which records a\n horrible instance of barbarity,\" _and quotes the first two\n stanzas of Scott's fragment literally; from which we may\n infer that it was Scott's fragment that he partly\n remembered. But he goes on:_ \"At this moment a hunter\n came--one whose suit the lady had long rejected with\n scorn--the brother of her lover:\n\n He took the babe on his spear point,\n And threw it upon a thorn:\n 'Let the wind blow east, the wind blow west,\n The cradle will rock alone.'\"\n\n _Cunningham's recollection was evidently much confused.\n This last stanza, which is not in the metre of the others,\n is perhaps from some copy of '~Edom o Gordon~.'_\n\n#D. a.#\n\n 6^2. I was.\n\n #b.#\n\n _Kinloch makes slight changes in his printed copy, as\n usual._\n\n 4^1. until a brier.\n\n 5^1. out she 's tane.\n\n 6^2. She seemd the lealest maiden amang.\n\n 8^1. O an thae.\n\n#E.#\n\n 1^1, 11^1. Lurk _may be a corruption of ~York~, which\n is written in pencil (by way of suggestion?) in the MSS._\n\n #a.#\n\n 16^1. on your.\n\n #b.#\n\n 4^1, 14^1. upon a thorn.\n\n 5^2. twind _wanting_.\n\n 6^1. sattins _wanting_.\n\n _13, 14, 15, 16, 17 are not written out in the note-book_.\n\n 18^1. the heavens.\n\n 19^2. but there is none.\n\n#F. a.#\n\n _9 stands last but one in the MS._\n\n 14^2. Here.\n\n #b.#\n\n 4^2. has her.\n\n 7^2. sweet _is omitted_.\n\n _Printed as from the MS. in Dixon's Scottish Traditional\n Versions, etc., p. 46. Dixon has changed ~baby~ to\n ~babies~ in 4, 5, 6, 8, and indulges in other variations._\n\n#H.#\n\n _The ballad had been heard with two different burdens;\n besides the one given in the text, this:_\n\n Three and three, and three by three\n Ah me, some forty three\n\n 7 'Lady Mary Ann,' _Johnson's Museum, No 377, begins_:\n\n O Lady Mary Ann looks oer the castle wa,\n She saw three bonie boys playing at the ba.\n\n#I. a, b.#\n\n 14^1, 16^1. _~fool~, i.e. ~fowl~ spelt phonetically._\n\n#a.#\n\n 3^1. greenwoods\n\n#b.#\n\n 2^2. it did.\n\n 8^2. with white.\n\n 11^2. wear'd.\n\n 13^2. maun die.\n\n#c.#\n\n \"Epitomized\" _from Buchan, II, 217_, \"and somewhat changed\n for this work, some of the changes being made according to\n the way the Editor has heard it sung.\" _Note by Christie,\n p. 106._\n\n _Burden_, It 's hey with the rose, etc.\n\n 7^1. As a lady was looking.\n\n 7^2. She spied twa.\n\n 11^2. Nor wore we a.\n\n 12^2. What sort of pain for you I must drie.\n\n 13^2. What sort of pain for us you must drie.\n\n 14^2. And seven.\n\n _Printed as from the MS. in Dixon's Scottish Traditional\n Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 50, '~The Minister's\n Dochter o Newarke~,' with a few arbitrary changes._\n\n#J. a.#\n\n 9^1. You.\n\n #b.# _has stanzas corresponding to a 1, 3, 4, 6, and, in\n place of 2_,\n\n She 's taen oot a little pen-knife,\n And she 's robbit them o their sweet life.\n\n _Burden_^1. Hey i the rose o Mylindsay O.\n\n 1^1, until a thorn.\n\n 1^2. An syne her twa bonnie boys was born.\n\n 3^1. As she leukit oer her father's.\n\n 3^2. bonnie boys.\n\n 4^1. an ye were mine.\n\n 4^2. bread.\n\n 6^2. claithe ye in.\n\n#L.#\n\n _8 looks like an interpolation, and very probably the\n ballad was docked at the beginning in order to suit the\n parlor better._\n\n\n[181] All the genuine ones. 'Lady Anne,' in Scott's Minstrelsy, III,\n259, 1803, is on the face of it a modern composition, with extensive\nvariations, on the theme of the popular ballad. It is here given in an\nAppendix, with a companion piece from Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and\nGalloway Song.\n\n\nAPPENDIX\n\nLADY ANNE\n\n\"This ballad was communicated to me by Mr Kirkpatrick Sharpe of Hoddom,\nwho mentions having copied it from an old magazine. Although it has\nprobably received some modern corrections, the general turn seems to be\nancient, and corresponds with that of a fragment [#B b#], which I have\noften heard sung in my childhood.\" Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,\nIII, 259, ed. 1803.\n\nBuchan, Gleanings, p. 90, has an additional stanza between 8 and 9 of\nScott's, whether from the old magazine or not, it would not be worth the\nwhile to ascertain.\n\nCunningham, Songs of Scotland, I, 339, has rewritten even 'Lady Anne.'\n\nTranslated by Schubart, p. 170, and by Gerhard, p. 92.\n\n 1\n Fair Lady Anne sate in her bower,\n Down by the greenwood side,\n And the flowers did spring, and the birds did sing,\n 'Twas the pleasant May-day tide.\n\n 2\n But fair Lady Anne on Sir William calld,\n With the tear grit in her ee,\n 'O though them be fause, may Heaven thee guard,\n In the wars ayont the sea!'\n\n 3\n Out of the wood came three bonnie boys,\n Upon the simmer's morn,\n And they did sing and play at the ba',\n As naked as they were born.\n\n 4\n 'O seven lang years wad I sit here,\n Amang the frost and snaw,\n A' to hae but ane o these bonnie boys,\n A playing at the ba.'\n\n 5\n Then up and spake the eldest boy,\n 'Now listen, thou fair ladie,\n And ponder well the rede that I tell,\n Then make ye a choice of the three.\n\n 6\n ''Tis I am Peter, and this is Paul,\n And that ane, sae fair to see,\n But a twelve-month sinsyne to paradise came,\n To join with our companie.'\n\n 7\n 'O I will hae the snaw-white boy,\n The bonniest of the three:'\n 'And if I were thine, and in thy propine,\n O what wad ye do to me?'\n\n 8\n ''Tis I wad clead thee in silk and gowd,\n And nourice thee on my knee:'\n 'O mither, mither, when I was thine,\n Sic kindness I couldna see.\n\n 9\n 'Beneath the turf, where now I stand,\n The fause nurse buried me;\n The cruel pen-knife sticks still in my heart,\n And I come not back to thee.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n\"There are many variations of this affecting tale. One of them appears\nin the Musical Museum, and is there called 'Fine Flowers of the Valley,'\nof which the present is either the original or a parallel song. I am\ninclined to think it is the original.\" Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and\nGalloway Song, p. 267.\n\nThis is translated by Talvj, Versuch, p. 571.\n\n 1\n There sat 'mang the flowers a fair ladie,\n Sing ohon, ohon, and ohon O\n And there she has born a sweet babie.\n Adown by the greenwode side O\n\n 2\n An strait she rowed its swaddling band,\n An O! nae mother grips took her hand.\n\n 3\n O twice it lifted its bonnie wee ee:\n 'Thae looks gae through the saul o me!'\n\n 4\n She buried the bonnie babe neath the brier,\n And washed her hands wi mony a tear.\n\n 5\n And as she kneelt to her God in prayer,\n The sweet wee babe was smiling there.\n\n 6\n 'O ay, my God, as I look to thee,\n My babe 's atween my God and me.\n\n 7\n 'Ay, ay, it lifts its bonnie wee ee:\n '\"Sic kindness get as ye shawed me.\"'\n\n 8\n 'An O its smiles wad win me in,\n But I'm borne down by deadly sin.\n\n\n\n\n21\n\nTHE MAID AND THE PALMER\n\n #A.# Percy MS., p. 461. 'Lillumwham,' Hales and Furnivall,\n IV, 96.\n\n #B.# Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. Laing, p. 157.\n\n\nThe only English copy of this ballad that approaches completeness is\nfurnished by the Percy manuscript, #A#. Sir Walter Scott remembered, and\ncommunicated to Kirkpatrick Sharpe, three stanzas, and half of the\nburden, of another version, #B#.\n\nThere are three versions in #Danish#, no one of them very well\npreserved. #A#,'Maria Magdalena,' is a broadside of about 1700, existing\nin two identical editions: Grundtvig, No 98, II, 530; #B#, _ib._, was\nwritten down in the F\u00e4r\u00f6e isles in 1848, by Hammershaimb; #C# was\nobtained from recitation by Kristensen in Jutland in 1869, Jydske\nFolkeviser, I, 197, No 72, 'Synderinden.'\n\nA #F\u00e4r\u00f6e# version, from the end of the last century or the beginning of\nthis, is given in Grundtvig's notes, p. 533 ff.\n\nVersions recently obtained from recitation in #Norway# are: 'Maria,'\nBugge's Gamle Norske Folkeviser, No 18; #A#, p. 88; #B#, p. 90, a\nfragment, which has since been completed, but only two more stanzas\nprinted, Grundtvig, III, 889; #C#, Bugge, p. 91. #D#, #E# are reported,\nbut only a stanza or two printed, Grundtvig, III, 889f; #F#, printed 890\nf, and #G#, as obtained by Lindeman, 891: all these, #D-G#, communicated\nby Bugge. #C#, and one or two others, are rather Danish than Norwegian.\n\nThis is, according to Afzelius, one of the commonest of #Swedish#\nballads. These versions are known: #A#, \"a broadside of 1798 and 1802,\"\nGrundtvig, II, 531, Bergstr\u00f6m's Afzelius, I, 335; #B#, 'Magdalena,'\nAtterbom's Poetisk Kalender for 1816, p. 20; #C#, Afzelius, II, 229;\n#D#, Arwidsson, I, 377, No 60; #E#, Dybeck's Svenska Visor, H\u00e4fte 2, No\n6, only two stanzas; #F#, #G#, \"in Wiede's collection, in the Swedish\nHistorical and Antiquarian Academy;\" #H#, \"in Cavallius and Stephens'\ncollection, where also #A#, #F#, #G# are found;\" #I#, Maximilian\nAxelson's Vesterdalarne, p. 171; #J#, 'Jungfru Adelin,' E. Wigstr\u00f6m's\nFolkdiktning, No 38, p. 76; #K#, 'Jungfru Maja,' Album utgifvet af\nNyl\u00e4ndingar, VI, 227. #A-F# are printed in Grundtvig's notes, II, 533\nff, and also some verses of #G#, #H#.\n\nThe ballad is known to have existed in #Icelandic# from a minute of Arne\nMagnusson, who cites the line, \"Swear not, swear not, wretched woman,\"\nbut it has not been recovered (Grundtvig, III, 891, note d).\n\n#Finnish#, 'Mataleenan vesimatka,' Kanteletar, ed. 1864, p. 240.\n\nThe story of the woman of Samaria, John, iv, is in all these blended\nwith medi\u00e6val traditions concerning Mary Magdalen, who is assumed to be\nthe same with the woman \"which was a sinner,\" in Luke, vii, 37, and also\nwith Mary, sister of Lazarus. This is the view of the larger part of the\nLatin ecclesiastical writers, while most of the Greeks distinguish the\nthree (Butler, 'Lives of the Saints,' VII, 290, note). It was reserved\nfor ballads, as Grundtvig remarks, to confound the Magdalen with the\nSamaritan woman.\n\nThe traditional Mary Magdalen was a beautiful woman of royal descent,\nwho derived her surname from Magdalum, her portion of the great family\nestate. For some of her earlier years entirely given over to carnal\ndelights, \"unde jam, proprio nomine perdito, peccatrix consueverat\nappellari,\" she was, by the preaching of Jesus, converted to a\npassionate repentance and devotedness. In the course of the persecution\nof the church at Jerusalem, when Stephen was slain and the Christians\nwidely dispersed, Mary, with Lazarus, her brother, Martha, and many\nmore, were set afloat on the Mediterranean in a rudderless ship, with\nthe expectation that they would find a watery grave. But the malice of\nthe unbelieving was overruled, and the vessel came safe into port at\nMarseilles. Having labored some time for the christianizing of the\npeople, and founded churches and bishoprics, Mary retired to a solitude\nwhere there was neither water, tree, nor plant, and passed the last\nthirty years of her life in heavenly contemplation. The cave in which\nshe secluded herself is still shown at La Sainte Baume. The absence of\nmaterial comforts was, in her case, not so great a deprivation, since\nevery day at the canonical hours she was carried by angels to the skies,\nand heard, with ears of the flesh, the performances of the heavenly\nchoirs, whereby she was so thoroughly refected that when the angels\nrestored her to her cave she was in need of no bodily aliment. (Golden\nLegend, Gr\u00e6sse, c. 96.) It is the practical Martha that performs real\nausterities, and those which are ascribed to her correspond too closely\nwith the penance in the Scandinavian ballads not to be the original of\nit: \"Nam in primis _septem_ annis, glandibus et radicibus herbisque\ncrudis et _pomis_[182] silvestribus corpusculum sustentans potius quam\nreficiens, victitavit.... Extensis solo ramis arboreis aut viteis,\nlapide pro cervicali capiti superposito subjecto, ... incumbebat.\"\n(Vincent of Beauvais, Spec. Hist., ix, 100.)\n\nThe best-preserved Scandinavian ballads concur nearly in this account. A\nwoman at a well, or a stream, is approached by Jesus, who asks for\ndrink. She says she has no vessel to serve him with. He replies that if\nshe were pure, he would drink from her hands. She protests innocence\nwith oaths, but is silenced by his telling her that she has had three\nchildren, one with her father, one with her brother, one with her parish\npriest: Danish #A#, #B#, #C#; F\u00e4r\u00f6e; Swedish #C#, #D#, #F#, #I#, #J#,\n#K#; Norwegian #A#, #C#, #F#, #G#. She falls at his feet, and begs him\nto shrive her. Jesus appoints her a seven years' penance in the wood.\nHer food shall be the buds or the leaves of the tree [grass, worts,\nberries, bark], her drink the dew [brook, juice of plants], her bed the\nhard ground [linden-roots, thorns and prickles, rocks, straw and\nsticks]; all the while she shall be harassed by bears and lions\n[wolves], or snakes and drakes (this last in Swedish #B#, #C#, #D#, #I#,\n#K#, Norwegian #A#). The time expired, Jesus returns and asks how she\nhas liked her penance. She answers, as if she had eaten daintily, drunk\nwine, slept on silk or swan's-down, and had angelic company [had been\nlistening to music].[183] Jesus then tells her that a place is ready for\nher in heaven.\n\nThe penance lasts eight years in Swedish #C#, #F#, #J#, Norwegian #A#;\nnine in the F\u00e4r\u00f6e ballad; fifteen in Danish #B#; and six weeks in Danish\n#C#. It is to range the field in Danish #A#, Swedish #F#; to walk the\nsnows barefoot in the F\u00e4r\u00f6e ballad and Norwegian #B#; in Norwegian #D#\nto stand nine years in a rough stream and eight years naked in the\nchurch-paths.\n\nThe names Maria, or Magdalena, Jesus, or Christ, are found in most of\nthe Scandinavian ballads. Swedish #E# has 'Lena (Lilla Lena); Swedish\n#H# He-lena; #J#, Adelin; #K#, Maja. Norwegian #A# gives no name to the\nwoman, and Danish #A# a name only in the burden; Norwegian #B# has,\ncorruptly, Margjit. In Danish #C#, Norwegian #B#, #G#, Jesus is called\nan _old_ man, correspondingly with the \"old palmer\" of English #A#, but\nthe old man is afterwards called Jesus in Norwegian #G# (#B# is not\nprinted in full), and in the burden of Danish #C#. The Son is exchanged\nfor the Father in Swedish #D#.\n\nStanzas 4, 5 of Swedish #A#, #G#, approach singularly near to English\n#A# 6, 7:\n\nSwedish #A#:\n\n 4\n 'Would thy leman now but come,\n Thou wouldst give him to drink out of thy hand.'\n\n 5\n By all the worlds Magdalen swore,\n That leman she never had.\n\nSwedish #G#:\n\n 4\n 'Yes, but if I thy leman were,\n I should get drink from thy snow-white hand.'\n\n 5\n Maria swore by the Holy Ghost,\n She neer had to do with any man.\n\nThe woman is said to have taken the lives of her three children in\nDanish #A#, #B#, #C#, and of two in Swedish #C#, #D#, #F#, #I#, #J#, #K#\n(#B# also, where there are but two in all), a trait probably borrowed\nfrom 'The Cruel Mother.'\n\nThe seven years' penance of the Scandinavian ballads is multiplied three\ntimes in English #A#, and four times in #B# and in those versions of\n'The Cruel Mother' which have been affected by the present ballad (20,\n#I#, #J#, #K#; #L# is defective). What is more important, the penance in\nthe English ballads is completely different in kind, consisting not in\nexaggerated austerities, but partly, at least, in transmigration or\nmetensomatosis: seven years to be a fish, 20, #I#, #J#, #K#; seven years\na bird, 20, #I#, #J#, #K#; seven years a stone, 21, #A#, #B#; seven\nyears an eel, 20, #J#; seven years a bell, or bell-clapper, 20, #I#, 21,\n#A# (to ring a bell, 20, #K#, #L#). Seven years in hell seems to have\nbeen part of the penance or penalty in every case: seven years a porter\nin hell, 21, #B#, 20, #I#, #K#; seven years down in hell, 20, #J#; seven\nyears to \"ring the bell and see sic sights as ye darna tell, 20, #L#;\"\n\"other seven to lead an ape in hell,\" #A#, a burlesque variation of the\nportership.\n\nThe Finnish Mataleena, going to the well for water, sees the reflection\nof her face, and bewails her lost charms. Jesus begs a drink: she says\nshe has no can, no glass. He bids her confess. \"Where are your three\nboys? One you threw into the fire, one into the water, and one you\nburied in the wilderness.\" She fills a pail with her tears, washes his\nfeet, and wipes them with her hair: then asks for penance. \"Put me, Lord\nJesus, where you will. Make me a ladder-bridge over the sea, a brand in\nthe fire, a coal in the furnace.\"\n\nThere are several Slavic ballads which blend the story of the Samaritan\nwoman and that of 'The Cruel Mother,' without admixture of the Magdalen.\n#Wendish# #A,# 'Aria' (M-aria?), Haupt and Schmaler, I, 287, No 290, has\na maid Who goes for water on Sunday morning, and is joined by an old man\nwho asks for a drink. She says the water is not clean; it is dusty and\ncovered with leaves. He says, The water is clean, but you are unclean.\nShe demands proof, and he bids her go to church in her maiden wreath.\nThis she does. The grass withers before her, a track of blood follows\nher, and in the churchyard there come to her nine headless boys, who\nsay, Nine sons hast thou killed, chopt off their heads, and meanest to\ndo the same for a tenth. She entreats their forgiveness, enters the\nchurch, sprinkles herself with holy water, kneels at the altar and\ncrosses herself, then suddenly sinks into the ground, so that nothing is\nto be seen but her yellow hair. #B#, 'Die Kindesm\u00f6rderin,' _ib._, II,\n149, No 197, begins like #A#. As the maid proceeds to the church, nine\ngraves open before her, and nine souls follow her into the church. The\noldest of her children springs upon her and breaks her neck, saying,\n\"Mother, here is thy reward. Nine of us didst thou kill.\"\n\nThere are two #Moravian# ballads of the same tenor: #A#, Deutsches\nMuseum, 1855, I, 282, translated by M. Klapp: #B#, communicated to the\nZeitschrift des b\u00f6hmischen Museums, 1842, p. 401, by A.W. \u0160embera, as\nsung by the \"m\u00e4hrisch sprechenden Slawen\" in Prussian Silesia; the first\nseven stanzas translated in Haupt u. Schmaler, II, 314, note to No 197.\nThe Lord God goes out one Sunday morning, and meets a maid, whom he asks\nfor water. She says the water is not clean. He replies that it is\ncleaner than she; for (#A#) she has seduced fifteen men and had\nchildren with all of them, has filled hell with the men and the sea with\nthe children. He sends her to church; but, as she enters the\nchurch-yard, the bells begin to ring (of themselves), and when she\nenters the church, all the images turn their backs. As she falls on her\nknees, she is changed into a pillar of salt.\n\nThe popular ballads of some of the southern nations give us the legend\nof the Magdalen without mixture.\n\n#French.# #A#, Po\u00e9sies populaires de la France, I (not paged), from\nSermoyer, Ain, thirty lines, made stanzas by repetition. Mary goes from\ndoor to door seeking Jesus. He asks what she wants: she answers, To be\nshriven. Her sins have been such, she says, that the earth ought not to\nbear her up, the trees that see her can but tremble. For penance she is\nto stay seven years in the woods of Baume, eat the roots of the trees,\ndrink the dew, and sleep under a juniper. Jesus comes to inquire about\nher when this space has expired. She says she is well, but her hands,\nonce white as flower-de-luce, are now black as leather. For this Jesus\nrequires her to stay seven years longer, and then, being thoroughly\ncured of her old vanities, she is told,\n\n 'Marie Magdeleine, allez au paradis;\n La porte en est ouverte depuis hier \u00e0 midi.'\n\n#B# is nearly the same legend in Proven\u00e7al: Damase Arbaud, I, 64. The\npenance is seven years in a cave, at the end of which Jesus passes, and\nasks Mary what she has had to eat and drink. \"Wild roots, and not always\nthem; muddy water, and not always that.\" The conclusion is peculiar.\nMary expresses a wish to wash her hands. Jesus pricks the rock, and\nwater gushes out. She bewails the lost beauty of her hands, and is\nremanded to the cavern for another seven years. Upon her exclaiming at\nthe hardship, Jesus tells her that Martha shall come to console her, the\nwood-dove fetch her food, the birds drink. But Mary is not reconciled:\n\n 'Lord God, my good father,\n Make me not go back again!\n With the tears from my eyes\n I will wash my hands clean.\n\n 'With the tears from my eyes\n I will wash your feet,\n And then I will dry them\n With the hair of my head.'\n\n#C#, Po\u00e9sies populaires de la Gascogne, Blad\u00e9, 1881, p. 339; 'La pauvre\nMadeleine,' seventeen stanzas of four short lines, resembles #B# till\nthe close. When Jesus comes back after the second penance, and Mary\nsays, as she had before, that she has lived like the beasts, only she\nhas lacked water, Jesus again causes water to spring from the rock. But\nMary says, I want no water. I should have to go back to the cave for\nanother seven years. She is conducted straightway to paradise.\n\n#D#, Blad\u00e9, as before, p. 183, 'Marie-Madeleine,' six stanzas of five\nshort lines. Mary is sent to the mountains for seven years' penance; at\nthe end of that time washes her hands in a brook, and is guilty of\nadmiring them; is sent back to the mountains for seven years, and is\nthen taken to heaven.\n\nA #Catalan# ballad combines the legend of the Magdalen's penance with\nthat of her conversion: Mil\u00e1, Observaciones, p. 128, No 27, 'Santa\nMagdalena,' and Briz y Salt\u00f3, Cansons de la Terra, II, 99. Martha,\nreturning from church, asks Magdalen, who is combing her hair with a\ngold comb, if she has been at mass. Magdalen says no, nor had she\nthought of going. Martha advises her to go, for she certainly will fall\nin love with the preacher, a young man; pity that he ever was a friar.\nMagdalen attires herself with the utmost splendor, and, to hear the\nsermon better, takes a place immediately under the pulpit. The first\nword of the sermon touched her; at the middle she fainted. She stripped\noff all her ornaments, and laid them at the preacher's feet. At the door\nof the church she inquired of a penitent where Jesus was to be found.\nShe sought him out at the house of Simon, washed his feet with her\ntears, and wiped them with her hair, picked up from the floor the bones\nwhich he had thrown away. Jesus at last noticed her, and asked what she\nwished. She wished to confess. He imposed the penance of seven years on\na mountain, \"eating herbs and fennels, eating bitter herbs.\" Magdalen\nturned homewards after the seven years, and found on the way a spring,\nwhere she washed her hands, with a sigh over their disfigurement. She\nheard a voice that said, Magdalen, thou hast sinned. She asked for new\npenance, and was sent back to the mountain for seven years more. At the\nend of this second term she died, and was borne to the skies with every\nhonor from the Virgin, saints, and angels.\n\n * * * * *\n\nDanish #A# is translated by Prior, II, 25, No 44: Swedish #C# by William\nand Mary Howitt, Literature and Romance of Northern Europe, I, 282.\n\n\nA\n\n Percy MS., p. 461. Furnivall, IV, 96.\n\n 1\n The maid shee went to the well to washe,\n Lillumwham, lillumwham!\n The mayd shee went to the well to washe,\n Whatt then? what then?\n The maid shee went to the well to washe,\n Dew ffell of her lilly white fleshe.\n Grandam boy, grandam boy, heye!\n Leg a derry, leg a merry, mett, mer, whoope, whir!\n Driuance, larumben, grandam boy, heye!\n\n 2\n While shee washte and while shee ronge,\n While shee hangd o the hazle wand.\n\n 3\n There came an old palmer by the way,\n Sais, 'God speed thee well, thou faire maid!'\n\n 4\n 'Hast either cupp or can,\n To giue an old palmer drinke therin?'\n\n 5\n Sayes, 'I have neither cupp nor cann,\n To giue an old palmer drinke therin.'\n\n 6\n 'But an thy lem_m_an came from Roome,\n Cupps and canns thou wold ffind soone.'\n\n 7\n Shee sware by God & good St. John,\n Lemman had shee neuer none.\n\n 8\n Saies, 'Peace, ffaire mayd, you are fforsworne!\n Nine children you haue borne.\n\n 9\n 'Three were buryed vnder thy bed's head,\n Other three vnder thy brewing leade.\n\n 10\n 'Other three on yon play greene;\n Count, maid, and there be 9.'\n\n 11\n 'But I hope you are the good old man\n That all the world beleeues vpon.\n\n 12\n 'Old palmer, I pray thee,\n Pennaunce _tha_t thou wilt giue to me.'\n\n 13\n 'Penance I can giue thee none,\n But 7 yeere to be a stepping-stone.\n\n 14\n 'Other seaven a clapper in a bell,\n Other 7 to lead an ape in hell.\n\n 15\n 'When thou hast thy penance done,\n Then thoust come a mayden home.'\n\n\nB\n\n A Ballad Book, by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, edited by\n David Laing, p. 157 f, VII; from Sir W. Scott's\n recollection.\n\n 1\n 'Seven years ye shall be a stone,\n . . . . . . .\n For many a poor palmer to rest him upon.\n And you the fair maiden of Gowden-gane\n\n 2\n 'Seven years ye'll be porter of hell,\n And then I'll take you to mysell.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n 'Weel may I be a' the other three,\n But porter of hell I never will be.'\n And I, etc.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 2^1. White shee washee & white.\n\n 2^2. White.\n\n 9^1. They were.\n\n 10^1. on won.\n\n 10^2. maids\n\n#B.#\n\n _Note by Scott_: \"There is or was a curious song with this\n burthen to the verse,\n\n 'And I the fair maiden of Gowden-gane.'\n\n Said maiden is, I think, courted by the devil in human\n shape, but I only recollect imperfectly the concluding\n stanzas [1, 2]:\n\n 'Seven years ye shall be a stone,'\n\n (here a chorus line which I have forgot), etc. The lady\n answers, in allusion to a former word which I have\n forgotten,\n\n \"Weel may I be [etc., st. 3].\"\n\n\n[182] The Magdalen's food is to be dry apple in Danish #B# 9.\n\n[183] Swedish #F#:\n\n 14\n 'And tell me how has it been with thy meat?'\n 'O I have eaten of almonds sweet.'\n\n 15\n 'And tell me how it has been with thy drink?'\n 'I have drunk both mead and wine, I think.'\n\n 16\n 'And tell me how was that bed of thine?'\n 'Oh I have rested on ermeline.'\n\nNorwegian #G#:\n\n 13\n 'I have fed as well on herbage wild\n As others have fed on roast and broiled.\n\n 14\n 'I have rested as well on the hard, hard stone\n As others have rested on beds of down.\n\n 15\n 'I have drunk as well from the rippling rill\n As others that drank both wine and ale.'\n\n\n\n\n\n\n22\n\nST STEPHEN AND HEROD\n\n Sloane MS., 2593, fol. 22 b; British Museum.\n\n\nThe manuscript which preserves this delightful little legend has been\njudged by the handwriting to be of the age of Henry VI. It was printed\nentire by Mr T. Wright, in 1856, for the Warton Club, under the title,\nSongs and Carols, from a manuscript in the British Museum of the\nfifteenth century, the ballad at p. 63. Ritson gave the piece as 'A\nCarol for St Stephen's Day,' in Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 83, and it has\noften been repeated; e. g., in Sandys' Christmas Carols, p. 4,\nSylvester's, p. 1.\n\nThe story, with the Wise Men replacing Stephen, is also found in the\ncarol, still current, of 'The Carnal and the Crane,' Sandys, p. 152, in\nconjunction with other legends and in this order: the Nativity, the Wise\nMen's passage with Herod, the Massacre of the Innocents, the Flight into\nEgypt, Herod and the Sower.\n\nThe legend of Stephen and Herod occurs, and is even still living, in\nScandinavian tradition, combined, as in English, with others relating to\nthe infancy of Jesus.\n\n#Danish.# 'Jesusbarnet, Stefan og Herodes:' #A#, Grundtvig, No 96, II,\n525. First printed in Erik Pontoppidan's little book on the reliques of\nPaganism and Papistry among the Danish People, 1736, p. 70, as taken\ndown from the singing of an old beggar-woman before the author's\ndoor.[184] Syv alludes to the ballad in 1695, and cites one stanza. The\nfirst five of eleven stanzas are devoted to the beauty of the Virgin,\nthe Annunciation, and the birth of the Saviour. The song then goes on\nthus:\n\n 6\n Saint Stephen leads the foals to water,\n All by the star so gleaming:\n 'Of a truth the prophet now is born\n That all the world shall ransom.'\n\n 7\n King Herod answered thus to him:\n 'I'll not believe this story,\n Till the roasted cock that is on the board\n Claps his wings and crows before me.'\n\n 8\n The cock he clapped his wings and crew,\n 'Our Lord, this is his birthday!'\n Herod fell off from his kingly seat,\n For grief he fell a swooning.\n\n 9\n King Herod bade saddle his courser gray,\n He listed to ride to Bethlem;\n Fain would he slay the little child\n That to cope with him pretended.\n\n 10\n Mary took the child in her arms,\n And Joseph the ass took also,\n So they traversed the Jewish land,\n To Egypt, as God them guided.\n\n 11\n The little children whose blood was shed,\n They were full fourteen thousand,\n But Jesus was thirty miles away\n Before the sun was setting.\n\n#B.# A broadside of fourteen four-line stanzas, in two copies, #a# of\nthe middle, #b# from the latter part, of the last century. #b# was\nprinted \"in the Dansk Kirketidende for 1862, No 43,\" by Professor George\nStephens: #a# is given by Grundtvig, III, 881. The first three stanzas\ncorrespond to #A# 1-5, the next three to #A# 6-8: the visit of the Wise\nMen to Herod is then intercalated, 7-10, and the story concludes as in\n#A# 9-11.\n\n#C.# 'Sankt Steffan,' Kristensen, II, 123, No 36, from recitation about\n1870, eight four-line stanzas, 1-3 agreeing with #A# 3-6, 4-6 with #A#\n6-9, 7, 8 with #A# 9, 11. The verbal resemblance with the copy sung by\nthe old beggar-woman more than a hundred and thirty years before is\noften close.\n\nA #F\u00e4r\u00f6e# version, 'Rudisar v\u00edsa,' was communicated to the Dansk\nKirketidende for 1852, p. 293, by Hammershaimb, twenty-six two-line\nstanzas (Grundtvig, II, 519). Stephen is in Herod's service. He goes out\nand sees the star in the east, whereby he knows that the Saviour of the\nworld, \"the great king,\" is born. He comes in and makes this\nannouncement. Herod orders his eyes to be put out: so, he says, it will\nappear whether this \"king\" will help him. They put out Stephen's eyes,\nbut now he sees as well by night as before by day. At this moment a\ncock, roast and carved, is put on the board before Herod, who cries out:\n\n 'If this cock would stand up and crow,\n Then in Stephen's tale should I trow.'\n\n Herod he stood, and Herod did wait,\n The cock came together that lay in the plate.\n\n The cock flew up on the red gold chair,\n He clapped his wings, and he crew so fair.\n\nHerod orders his horse and rides to Bethlehem, to find the new-born\nking. As he comes in, Mary greets him, and tells him there is still mead\nand wine. He answers that she need not be so mild with him: he will have\nher son and nail him on the cross. \"Then you must go to heaven for him,\"\nsays Mary. Herod makes an attempt on Jesus, but is seized by twelve\nangels and thrown into the Jordan, where the Evil One takes charge of\nhim.\n\n#Swedish.# A single stanza, corresponding to Danish #A# 6, #B# 4, #C# 4,\nis preserved in a carol, 'Staffans Visa,' which was wont to be sung all\nover Sweden on St Stephen's day, in the Christmas sport, not yet given\nup, called Staffansskede; which consisted in young fellows riding about\nfrom house to house early in the morning of the second day of Yule, and\nlevying refreshments.[185] One of the party carried at the end of a pole\na lighted lantern, made of hoops and oiled paper, which was sometimes in\nthe shape of a six-cornered star. Much of the chant was improvised, and\nboth the good wishes and the suggestions as to the expected treat would\nnaturally be suited to particular cases; but the first stanza, with but\nslight variations, was (Afzelius, III, 208, 210):\n\n Stephen was a stable-groom,\n We thank you now so kindly!\n He watered the five foals all and some,\n Ere the morning star was shining.\n No daylight's to be seen,\n The stars in the sky\n Are gleaming.\n\nor,\n\n Stephen was a stable-groom,\n Bear thee well my foal!\n He watered the five foals all and some,\n God help us and Saint Stephen!\n The sun is not a-shining,\n But the stars in the sky\n Are gleaming.\n\nThere is also a Swedish ballad which has the substance of the story of\nDanish #A# 6-8, but without any allusion to Stephen. It occurs as a\nbroadside, in two copies, dated 1848, 1851, and was communicated by\nProfessor Stephens to the Dansk Kirketidende, 1861, Nos 3, 4, and is\nreprinted by Grundtvig, III, 882 f, and in Bergstr\u00f6m's Afzelius, II, 360\nf. There are eleven four-line stanzas, of which the last six relate how\nMary was saved from Herod by the miracle of the Sower (see 'The Carnal\nand the Crane,' stanzas 18-28). The first five cover the matter of our\nballad. The first runs:\n\n In Bethlem of Judah a star there rose,\n At the time of the birth of Christ Jesus:\n 'Now a child is born into the world\n That shall suffer for us death and torment.'\n\nHerod then calls his court and council, and says to them, as he says to\nStephen in the Danish ballad, \"I cannot believe your story unless the\ncock on this table claps his wings and crows.\" This comes to pass, and\nHerod exclaims that he can never thrive till he has made that child feel\nthe effects of his wrath. He then steeps his hands in the blood of the\nInnocents, and falls off his throne in a marvellous swoon. Mary is\nwarned to fly to Egypt. It is altogether likely that the person who\nspeaks in the first stanza was originally the same as the one who says\nnearly the same thing in the three Danish ballads, that is, Stephen, and\naltogether unlikely that Herod's words, which are addressed to Stephen\nin the Danish ballads, were addressed to his court and council rather\nthan to Stephen here.\n\n#Norwegian.# Two stanzas, much corrupted, of what may have been a ballad\nlike the foregoing, have been recovered by Professor Bugge, and are\ngiven by Grundtvig, III, 883.\n\nSt Stephen's appearance as a stable-groom, expressly in the Swedish\ncarol and by implication in the Danish ballads, is to be explained by\nhis being the patron of horses among the northern nations.[186] On his\nday, December 26, which is even called in Germany the great Horse Day,\nit was the custom for horses to be let blood to keep them well during\nthe year following, or raced to protect them from witches. In Sweden\nthey were watered \"ad alienos fontes\" (which, perhaps, is what Stephen\nis engaged in in the carol), and treated to the ale which had been left\nin the cups on St Stephen's eve; etc., etc.[187] This way of observing\nSt Stephen's day is presumed to be confined to the north of Europe, or\nat least to be derived from that quarter. Other saints are patrons of\nhorses in the south, as St Eloi, St Antony, and we must seek the\nexplanation of St Stephen's having that office in Scandinavia, Germany,\nand England in the earlier history of these regions. It was suggested as\nlong ago as the middle of the sixteenth century by the Archbishop Olaus\nMagnus, that the horseracing, which was universal in Sweden on December\n26, was a remnant of heathen customs. The horse was sacred to Frey, and\nYule was Frey's festival. There can hardly be a doubt that the customs\nconnected with St Stephen's day are a continuation, under Christian\nauspices, of old rites and habits which, as in so many other cases, the\nchurch found it easier to consecrate than to abolish.[188]\n\nThe miracle of the cock is met with in other ballads, which, for the\nmost part, relate the wide-spread legend of the Pilgrims of St James.\n\n#French.# In three versions, Chants de Pauvres en Forez et en Velay,\ncollected by M. Victor Smith, Romania, II, 473 ff. Three pilgrims,\nfather, mother, and son, on their way to St James, stop at an inn, at St\nDominic. A maid-servant, enamored of the youth (qui ressemble une image,\nque semblavo-z-un ange) is repelled by him, and in revenge puts a silver\ncup [cups] belonging to the house into his knapsack. The party is\npursued and brought back, and the young pilgrim is hanged. He exhorts\nhis father to accomplish his vow, and to come that way when he returns.\nWhen the father returns, after three [six] months, the boy is found to\nbe alive; his feet have been supported, and he has been nourished, by\nGod and the saints. The father tells the judge that his son is alive;\nthe judge replies, I will believe that when this roast fowl crows. The\nbird crows: #A#, le poulet se mit a chanter sur la table; #B#, le poulet\nvole au ciel, trois fois n'a battu l'aile; #C#, trois fois il a chant\u00e9,\ntrois fois l'a battu l'aile. The boy is taken down and the maid hanged.\n\n#Spanish.# #A#, Mil\u00e1, Observaciones sobre la Poesia Popular, p. 106, No\n7, 'El Romero;' #B#, Briz, Cansons de la Terra, I, 71, 'S. Jaume de\nGalicia,' two copies essentially agreeing. The course of the story is\nnearly as in the French. The son does not ask his father to come back.\nIt is a touch of nature that the mother cannot be prevented from going\nback by all that her husband can say. The boy is more than well. St\nJames has been sustaining his feet, the Virgin his head. He directs his\nmother to go to the alcalde (Mil\u00e1), who will be dining on a cock and a\nhen, and to request him politely to release her son, who is still alive.\nThe alcalde replies: \"Off with you! Your son is as much alive as this\ncock and hen.\" The cock began to crow, the hen laid an egg in the dish!\n\n#Dutch.# 'Een liedeken van sint Jacob,' Antwerpener Liederbuch, 1544, No\n20, Hoffmann, p. 26; Uhland, p. 803, No 303; Willems, p. 318, No 133.\nThe pilgrims here are only father and son. The host's daughter avows her\nlove to her father, and desires to detain the young pilgrim. The older\npilgrim, hearing of this, says, My son with me and I with him. We will\nseek St James, as pilgrims good and true. The girl puts the cup in the\nfather's sack. The son offers himself in his father's place, and is\nhanged. The father finds that St James and the Virgin have not been\nunmindful of the pious, and tells the host that his son is alive. The\nhost, in a rage, exclaims, \"That's as true as that these roast fowls\nshall fly out at the door!\"\n\n But ere the host could utter the words,\n One by one from the spit brake the birds,\n And into the street went flitting;\n They flew on the roof of St Dominic's house,\n Where all the brothers were sitting.\n\nThe brothers resolve unanimously to go to the judicial authority in\nprocession; the innocent youth is taken down, the host hanged, and his\ndaughter buried alive.\n\n#Wendish.# Haupt und Schmaler, I, 285, No 289, 'Der gehenkte\nSchenkwirth.' There are two pilgrims, father and son. The host himself\nputs his gold key into the boy's basket. The boy is hanged: the father\nbids him hang a year and a day, till he returns. The Virgin has put a\nstool under the boy's feet, and the angels have fed him. The father\nannounces to the host that his son is living. The host will not believe\nthis till three dry staves which he has in the house shall put out green\nshoots. This comes to pass. The host will not believe till three fowls\nthat are roasting shall recover their feathers and fly out of the\nwindow. This also comes to pass. The host is hanged.\n\nA #Breton# ballad, 'Marguerite Laurent,' Luzel, I, #A#, p. 211, #B#, p.\n215, inverts a principal circumstance in the story of the pilgrims: a\nmaid is hanged on a false accusation of having stolen a piece of plate.\nThis may be an independent tradition or a corrupt form of the other.\nMarguerite has, by the grace of St Anne and of the Virgin, suffered no\nharm. A young clerk, her lover, having ascertained this, reports the\ncase to the seneschal, who will not believe till the roasted capon on\nthe dish crows. The capon crows. Marguerite goes on her bare knees to St\nAnne and to Notre-Dame du Folgoat, and dies in the church of the latter\n(first version).\n\n'Notre-Dame du Folgoat,' Villemarqu\u00e9, Barzaz Breiz, p. 272, No 38, 6th\ned., is of a different tenor. Marie Fanchonik, wrongly condemned to be\nexecuted for child murder, though hanged, does not die. The executioner\nreports to the seneschal. \"Burn her,\" says the seneschal. \"Though in\nfire up to her breast,\" says the executioner, \"she is laughing\nheartily.\" \"Sooner shall this capon crow than I will believe you.\" The\ncapon crows: a roast capon on the dish, all eaten but the feet.\n\nReligious writers of the 13th century have their version of the story of\nthe pilgrims, but without the prodigy of the cock. Vincent of Beauvais,\nSpeculum Historiale, 1. 26, c. 33, who bases his narrative on a\ncollection of the miracles of St James incorrectly attributed to Pope\nCallixtus II,[189] has but two pilgrims, Germans, father and son. On\ntheir way to Compostella they pass a night in an inn at Toulouse. The\nhost, having an eye to the forfeiture of their effects, makes them drunk\nand hides a silver cup in their wallet. Son wishes to die for father,\nand father for son. The son is hanged, and St James interposes to\npreserve his life.[190] With Vincent agree the author of the Golden\nLegend, following Callixtus, Graesse, 2d ed., p. 426, c. 99 (94), \u00a7\n5,[191] and C\u00e6sarius Heisterbacensis, Dialogus Miraculorum, c. 58, II,\n130, ed. Strange, who, however, does not profess to remember every\nparticular, and omits to specify Toulouse as the place. Nicolas\nBertrand, who published in 1515 a history of Toulouse, places the\nmiracle there.[192] He has three pilgrims, like the French and Spanish\nballads, and the roast fowl flying from the spit to convince a doubting\nofficial, like the Dutch and Wendish ballads.\n\nBut, much earlier than the last date, this miracle of St James had\nbecome connected with the town of San Domingo de la Calzada, one of the\nstations on the way to Compostella,[193] some hours east of Burgos.\nRoig, the Valencian poet, on arriving there in the course of his\npilgrimage, tells the tale briefly, with two roasted fowls, cock and\nhen: Lo Libre de les Dones e de Con\u00e7ells, 1460, as printed by Briz from\nthe edition of 1735, p. 42, Book 2, vv. 135-183. Lucio Marineo, whose\nwork, De las cosas memorables de Espa\u00f1a, appeared in 1530, had been at\nSan Domingo, and is able to make some addition to the miracle of the\ncock. Up to the revivification, his account agrees very well with the\nSpanish ballad. A roast cock and hen are lying before the mayor, and\nwhen he expresses his incredulity, they jump from the dish on to the\ntable, in feathers whiter than snow. After the pilgrims had set out a\nsecond time on their way to Compostella, to return thanks to St James,\nthe mayor returned to his house with the priests and all the people, and\ntook the cock and hen to the church, where they lived seven years, and\nthen died, leaving behind them a pair of the same snowy whiteness, who\nin turn, after seven years, left their successors, and so on to\nMarineo's day; and though of the infinite number of pilgrims who\nresorted to the tomb each took away a feather, the plumage was always\nfull, and Marineo speaks as an eye-witness. (Edition of 1539, fol.\nxliii.) Dr Andrew Borde gives nearly the same account as Marineo, in the\nFirst Book of the Introduction of Knowledge, 1544, p. 202 ff, ed.\nFurnivall.[194]\n\nEarly in the sixteenth century the subject was treated in at least two\nmiracle-plays, for which it is very well adapted: Un miracolo di tre\nPellegrini, printed at Florence early in the sixteenth century,\nD'Ancona, Sacre Rappresentazioni, III, 465; Ludus Sancti Jacobi,\nfragment de myst\u00e8re proven\u00e7ale, Camille Arnaud, 1858.[195]\n\nNicolas Bertrand, before referred to, speaks of the miracle as depicted\nin churches and chapels of St James. It was, for example, painted by\nPietro Antonio of Foligno, in the fifteenth century, in SS. Antonio e\nJacopo at Assisi, and by Pisanello in the old church of the Tempio at\nFlorence, and, in the next century, by Palmezzano in S. Biagio di S.\nGirolamo at Forl\u00ec, and by Lo Spagna in a small chapel or tribune\ndedicated to St James, about four miles from Spoleto, on the way to\nFoligno. The same legend is painted on one of the lower windows of St\nOuen, and again on a window of St Vincent, at Rouen. Many more cases\nmight, no doubt, be easily collected.[196]\n\nIt is not at all surprising that a miracle performed at San Domingo de\nla Calzada should, in the course of time, be at that place attributed to\nthe patron of the locality; and we actually find Luis de la Vega, in a\nlife of this San Domingo published at Burgos in 1606, repeating\nMarineo's story, very nearly, with a substitution of Dominic for\nJames.[197] More than this, this author claims for this saint, who,\nsaving reverence, is decidedly _minorum gentium_, the merit and glory of\ndelivering a captive from the Moors, wherein he, or tradition, makes\nfree again with St James's rightful honors. The Moor, when told that the\ncaptive will some day be missing, rejoins, If you keep him as close as\nwhen I last saw him, he will as soon escape as this roast cock will fly\nand crow. It is obvious that this anecdote is a simple jumble of two\nmiracles of St James, the freeing of the captives, recounted in Acta\nSanctorum, VI Julii, p. 47, \u00a7 190f, and the saving the life of the young\npilgrim.[198]\n\nThe restoration of a roasted fowl to life is also narrated in Acta\nSanctorum, I Septembris, p. 529, \u00a7 289, as occurring early in the\neleventh century (the date assigned to the story of the pilgrims), at\nthe table of St Stephen, the first king of Hungary. St Gunther was\nsitting with the king while he was dining. The king pressed Gunther to\npartake of a roast peacock, but Gunther, as he was bound by his rule to\ndo, declined. The king then ordered him to eat. Gunther bent his head\nand implored the divine mercy; the bird flew up from the dish; the king\nno longer persisted. The author of the article, without questioning the\nreality of the miracle, well remarks that there seems to be something\nwrong in the story, since it is impossible that the holy king should\nhave commanded the saint to break his vow.\n\nBut the prime circumstances in the legend, the resuscitation of the\ncock, does not belong in the eleventh century, where Vincent and others\nhave put it, but in the first, where it is put by the English and\nScandinavian ballads. A French romance somewhat older than Vincent,\nOgier le Danois, agrees with the later English ballad in making the\noccasion to be the visit of the Wise Men to Herod. Herod will not\nbelieve what they say,\n\n 'Se cis capon que ci m'est en pr\u00e9sant\n N'en est plumeus com il estoit devant,\n Et se redrece \u00e0 la perche en cantant.'\n\n vv 11621-23.\n\nAnd what he exacts is performed for his conviction.[199] Nevertheless,\nas we shall now see, the true epoch of the event is not the Nativity,\nbut the Passion.\n\nThe ultimate source of the miracle of the reanimated cock is an\ninterpolation in two late Greek manuscripts of the so-called Gospel of\nNicodemus: Thilo, Codex Apocryphus Novi Testamenti, p. cxxix f;\nTischendorf, Evangelia Apocrypha, p. 269, note 3. After Judas had tried\nto induce the Jews to take back the thirty pieces, he went to his house\nto hang himself, and found his wife sitting there, and a cock roasting\non a spit before the coals. He said to his wife, Get me a rope, for I\nmean to hang myself, as I deserve. His wife said to him, Why do you say\nsuch things? And Judas said to her, Know in truth that I have betrayed\nmy master Jesus to evil-doers, who will put him to death. But he will\nrise on the third day, and woe to us. His wife said, Do not talk so nor\nbelieve it; for this cock that is roasting before the coals will as soon\ncrow as Jesus rise again as you say. And even while she was speaking the\nwords, the cock flapped his wings and crew thrice. Then Judas was still\nmore persuaded, and straightway made a noose of the rope and hanged\nhimself.[200]\n\nThe Cursor Mundi gives its own turn to this relation, with the intent to\nblacken Judas a little more.[201] When Judas had betrayed Jesus, he went\nto his mother with his pence, boasting of the act. \"Hast thou sold thy\nmaster?\" said she. \"Shame shall be thy lot, for they will put him to\ndeath; but he shall rise again.\" \"Rise, mother?\" said Judas, \"sooner\nshall this cock rise up that was scalded yesternight.\"\n\n Hardly had he said the word,\n The cock leapt up and flew,\n Feathered fairer than before,\n And by God's grace he crew;\n The traitor false began to fear,\n His peril well he knew.\n This cock it was the self-same cock\n Which Peter made to rue,\n When he had thrice denied his lord\n And proved to him untrue.\n\nA still different version existed among the Copts, who had their copies\nof the apocryphal writings, and among them the gospel of Nicodemus.\n\nThe Copts say, according to Th\u00e9venot, \"that on the day of the Supper a\nroasted cock was served to our Lord, and that when Judas went out to\nsell Jesus to the Jews, the Saviour commanded the cock to get up and\nfollow him; which the cock did, and brought back his report to our Lord\nthat Judas had sold him, for which service this cock shall be admitted\nto paradise.\"[202]\n\nThe herald of the morn is described in other carols as making known the\nbirth of the Saviour to the animal creation, or the more familiar\nmembers of it.\n\n\"There is a sheet of carols headed thus: 'CHRISTUS NATUS EST, Christ is\nborn,' with a wood-cut ten inches high by eight and one half inches\nwide, representing the stable at Bethlehem; Christ in the crib, watched\nby the Virgin and Joseph; shepherds kneeling; angels attending; a man\nplaying on the bagpipes; a woman with a basket of fruit on her head; a\nsheep bleating and an ox lowing on the ground; a raven croaking and a\ncrow cawing on the hay-rack; a cock crowing above them; and angels\nsinging in the sky. The animals have labels from their mouths, bearing\nLatin inscriptions. Down the side of the wood-cut is the following\naccount and explanation: 'A religious man, inventing the conceits of\nboth birds and beasts, drawn in the picture of our Saviour's birth, doth\nthus express them. The cock croweth _Christus natus est_, Christ is\nborn. The raven asked _Quando_, When? The crow replied, _Hac nocte_,\nThis night. The ox cryeth out, _Ubi, ubi?_ Where, where? The sheep\nbleated out, _Bethlehem_, Bethlehem. A voice from heaven sounded,\n_Gloria in excelsis_, Glory be on high!'\" London, 1701. Hone's Every-Day\nBook, I, col. 1600 f.\n\nSo in Vieux No\u00ebls fran\u00e7ais, in Les No\u00ebls Bressans, etc., par Philibert\nLe Duc, p. 145.\n\n Joie des Bestes\n\n \u00e0 la nouvelle de la naissance du Sauveur.\n\n Comme les Bestes autrefois\n Parloient mieux latin que fran\u00e7ois,\n Le Coq, de loin voyant le faict,\n S'\u00e9cria: _Christus natus est_;\n Le B\u0153uf, d'un air tout \u00e9baubi,\n Demande: _Ubi, ubi, ubi_?\n La Ch\u00e8vre, se torchant le groin,\n Respond que c'est \u00e0 _Bethleem_;\n Maistre Baudet, _curiosus_\n De l'aller voir, dit: _Eamus_;\n Et, droit sur ses pattes, le Veau\n Beugle deux fois: _Volo, volo_.[203]\n\nAnd again, in Italian, Bolza, Canzoni popolari comasche, p. 654, No 30:\n\n Il Gallo. \u00c8 nato Ges\u00f9!\n Il Bue. In d\u00f4va?\n La Pecora. Betl\u00e8m! Betl\u00e8m!\n L'Asino. And\u00e8m! And\u00e8m! And\u00e8m!\n\nA little Greek ballad, 'The Taking of Constantinople,' only seven lines\nlong, relates a miracle entirely like that of the cock, which was\noperated for the conviction of incredulity. A nun, frying fish, hears a\nvoice from above, saying, Cease your frying, the city will fall into the\nhands of the Turks. \"When the fish fly out of the pan alive,\" she says,\n\"then shall the Turks take the city.\" The fish fly out of the pan alive,\nand the Turkish admiraud comes riding into the city. Zambelios, p. 600,\nNo 2; Passow, p. 147, No 197. (Liebrecht, Volkskunde, p. 179.)\n\nWith Herod's questions and Stephen's answers in stanzas 5-8, we may\ncompare a passage in some of the Greek ballads cited under No 17, p.\n199.\n\n \u03a3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5, \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2\u00b7 \u03c3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5, \u03b4\u03b9\u03c8\u03b1\u03c2\u00b7 \u03bc\u03b7 \u03c4\u03bf \u03c8\u03c9\u03bc\u03b9 \u03c3\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u00b7\n \u03a3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5, \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2\u00b7 \u03c3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5, \u03b4\u03b9\u03c8\u03b1\u03c2\u00b7 \u03c3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5, \u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03c3\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u00b7\n Lakkyt \u00fee ey\u00feer mete or drynk?\n \u039c\u03b7\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9, \u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b5 \u03b4\u03b9\u03c8\u03c9, \u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c8\u03c9\u03bc\u03b9 [\u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd] \u03bc\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9.\n Lakit me ney\u00feer mete ne drynk.\n\n Jeannaraki, p. 203, No 265:\n Sakellarios, p. 37, No 13.\n\n \u03a3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5, \u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2\u00b7 \u03c3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5, \u03b4\u03b9\u03c8\u03b1\u03c2\u00b7 \u03c3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5, \u1fe5\u03bf\u03b3\u03b1 \u03c3\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u00b7\n \u03a3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5, \u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2\u00b7 \u03c3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5, \u03b4\u03b9\u03c8\u03b1\u03c2\u00b7 \u03c3\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5 \u03bc\u03bf\u03c5 \u1fe5\u03bf\u03c5\u03c7\u03b1 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2\u00b7\n Lakkyt \u00fee ey\u00feer gold or fe,\n Or ony ryche wede?\n \u039f\u03c5\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9, \u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03b5 \u03b4\u03b9\u03c8\u03c9, \u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03b5 \u1fe5\u03bf\u03b3\u03b1 \u03bc\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9.\n \u039c\u03b7\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9, \u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b5 \u03b4\u03b9\u03c8\u03c9, \u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u1fe5\u03bf\u03c5\u03c7\u03b1 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bb\u03c9.\n Lakyt me ney\u00feer gold ne fe,\n Ne non ryche wede.\n\n Tommaseo, III, 154; Passow, p. 330, No 449:\n Tommaseo, III, 152; Zambelios, p. 678, No 103; Passow, No 448.\n\nA Danish translation of the English ballad is printed in Dansk\nKirketidende for 1852, p. 254 (Grundtvig). Danish #A# is translated by\nDr Prior, I, 398.\n\n * * * * *\n\n Sloane MS., 2593, fol. 22 b, British Museum.\n\n 1\n Sey_n_t Steuene was a clerk i_n_ ky_n_g Herowd_e_s halle,\n _And_ seruyd hi_m_ of bred _and_ clo\u00fe, as euery ky_n_g befalle.\n\n 2\n Steuy_n_ out of kechon_e_ ca_m_, w_y_t_h_ boris hed o_n_ honde;\n He saw a sterr_e_ was fayr _and_ bry\u021dt ou_er_ Bedle_m_ sto_n_de.\n\n 3\n He kyst adoun \u00fee boris hed _and_ went in to \u00fee halle:\n 'I forsak \u00fee, ky_n_g Herowd_e_s, _and_ \u00fei werk_e_s alle.\n\n 4\n 'I forsak \u00fee, ky_n_g Herowd_es_, _and_ \u00fei werk_e_s alle;\n \u00de_er_ is a chyld in Bedle_m_ born is bet_er_ \u00fea_n_ we alle.'\n\n 5\n 'Q_uat_ eylyt \u00fee, Steuene? q_uat_ is \u00fee befalle?\n Lakkyt \u00fee ey\u00fe_er_ mete or drynk in kyng Herowd_es_ h_alle_?'\n\n 6\n 'Lakit me ney\u00fe_er_ mete ne drynk i_n_ ky_n_g Herowd_es_ halle;\n \u00de_er_ is a chyld in Bedle_m_ born is bet_er_ \u00fea_n_ we alle.'\n\n 7\n Q_uat_ eylyt \u00fee, Steuyn? art \u00feu wod, or \u00feu gy_n_nyst to brede?\n Lakkyt \u00fee ey\u00fe_er_ gold or fe, or ony ryche wede?'\n\n 8\n 'Lakyt me ney\u00fe_er_ gold ne fe, ne no_n_ ryche wede;\n \u00de_er_ is a chyld in Bedle_m_ born xal helpy_n_ vs at _our_ nede.'\n\n 9\n '\u00de_a_t is al so so\u00fe, Steuy_n_, al so so\u00fe, iwys,\n As \u00feis capou_n_ crowe xal \u00fe_a_t lyp her_e_ in my_n_ dysh.'\n\n 10\n \u00de_a_t word was not so sone seyd, \u00fe_a_t word i_n_ \u00fe_a_t halle,\n \u00dee capou_n_ crew C_ristus_ nat_us_ est! among \u00fee lord_es_ alle.\n\n 11\n Rysyt vp, my_n_ turme_n_towr_es_, be to _and_ al be on,\n _And_ led_y_t Steuy_n_ out of \u00feis town, _and_ sto_n_yt hy_m_ w_y_t_h_\n ston!'\n\n 12\n Toky_n_ he Steuene, _and_ stonyd hy_m_ in the way,\n _And_ \u00fe_e_rfor_e_ is his euy_n_ on Cryst_es_ owy_n_ day.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1^2, 5^1. be falle.\n\n 3^1. a dou_n_.\n\n 3^2, 4^1. for sak.\n\n 5^2. _There is room only for the ~h~ at the end of the\n line._\n\n 9^1. also ... also ... I wys.\n\n 9^2. dych.\n\n 10^2. a mong.\n\n\n[184] Everriculum fermenti veteris, seu residu\u00e6 in Danico orbe cum\npaganismi tum papismi reliqui\u00e6 in apricum prolat\u00e6. \"Rogata anus num vera\nesse crederet qu\u00e6 canebat, respondit: Me illa in dubium vocaturam\naverruncet Deus!\" Grundtvig, II, 518.\n\n[185] \"Staffans-skede, lusus, vel, ut rectius dicam, licentia puerorum\nagrestium, qui in Festo S. Stephani, equis vecti per villas discurrunt,\net cerevisiam in lagenis, ad hoc ipsum pr\u00e6paratis, mendicando ostiatim\ncolligunt:\" a dissertation, Upsala, 1734, cited by Bergstr\u00f6m in his\nedition of Afzelius, II, 358, note 28. Skede is gallop, or run,\nIcelandic skei\u00f0 (Bergstr\u00f6m), Norwegian skeid, skjei. Many copies of the\nStaffansvisa have been collected: see Bergstr\u00f6m's Afzelius, II, 356: and\nfor a description of the custom as practised among Swedes in Finland,\nwith links and lanterns, but no foals, Fagerlund, Anteckningar om Korpo\noch Houtsk\u00e4rs Socknar, p. 39 ff. Something very similar was known in\nHolstein: see Sch\u00fctze, Holsteinsches Idioticon, III, 200, as quoted by\nGrundtvig, II, 521, note **. From Chambers' Book of Days, II, 763 f, it\nappears that a custom, called a Stephening, was still existing at the\nbeginning of this century, of the inhabitants of the parish of Drayton\nBeauchamp, Bucks, paying a visit to the rector on December 26, and\nlightening his stores of all the bread, cheese and ale they wanted.\nChambers, again, in his Popular Rhymes of Scotland, p. 168 f, gives a\nsong closely resembling the Staffansvisa, which was sung before every\nhouse on New Year's eve, in Deerness, Orkney, with the same object of\nstimulating hospitality. Similar practices are known in the Scottish\nHighlands: see Campbell, Tales of the West Highlands, III, 19, and\nChambers, at p. 167 of the Popular Rhymes.\n\n[186] Stephen in all the ballads can be none other than the first\nmartyr, though Ihre, and other Swedes since his day, choose, for their\npart, to understand a \"Stephanum primum Helsingorum apostolum,\" who\ncertainly did not see the star in the east. The peasantry in\nHelsingland, we are told, make their saints' day December 26, too, and\ntheir St Stephen is a great patron of horses. The misappropriation of\nthe glories of the protomartyr is somewhat transparent.\n\n[187] Grundtvig, whom I chiefly follow here, II, 521-24. In a note on\npage 521, supplemented at III, 883 e, Grundtvig has collected much\ninteresting evidence of December 26 being the great Horse Day. J. W.\nWolf, cited by Grundtvig, II, 524, had said previously: \"Nichts im leben\ndes ersten christlichen blutzeugen erinnert auch nur fern an pferde;\ntrotzdem machte das volk ihn zum patron der pferde, und setzte ihn also\nan die stelle des Fro, dem im Norden, und nicht weniger bei uns, die\npferde heilig waren.\" Beitr\u00e4ge zur deutschen Mythologie, I, 124.\n\n[188] Jean Baptiste Thiers, Trait\u00e9 des Superstitions, etc., 2d ed.,\nParis, 1697, as cited by Liebrecht, Gervasius von Tilbury, Otia\nImperialia, p. 233, No 169, condemns the belief, \"qu'il vaut bien mieux\n...saigner des chevaux le jour de la f\u00eate de S. Estienne qu'\u00e0 tout autre\njour.\" This may be one of the practices which Thiers had learned of from\nhis reading (see Liebrecht's preface, p. xvii f), but might also have\nmigrated from the east or north into France. Superstitions, like new\nfashions, are always sure of a hospitable reception, even though they\nimpose a servitude.\n\n[189] From a copy of this collection the story is given in Acta\nSanctorum, VI Julii, p. 50, \u00a7 202 ff.\n\n[190] Vincent, as pointed out by Professor George Stephens, knew of the\nmiracle of the cock, and tells it at l. 25, c. 64, on the authority of\nPietro Damiani. Two Bolognese dining together, one of them carved a cock\nand dressed it with pepper and sauce. \"Gossip,\" says the other, \"you\nhave 'fixed' that cock so that Peter himself could not put him on his\nlegs again.\" \"Peter? No, not Christ himself.\" At this the cock jumped\nup, in all his feathers, clapped his wings, crow, and threw the sauce\nall over the blasphemous pair, whereby they were smitten with leprosy.\n\n[191] So, naturally, the Fornsvenskt Legendarium, I, 170, and the\nCatalan Recull de Eximplis e Miracles, etc., Barcelona, 1880, I, 298.\n\n[192] Opus de Tholosanorum gestis, fol. 49 verso, according to Acta S.,\np. 46, of the volume last cited. Toulouse rivalled with Compostella in\nthe possession of relics of St James, and was amply entitled to the\nhonor of the miracle. Dr Andrew Borde, in his First Book of the\nIntroduction of Knowledge, says that an ancient doctor of divinity at\nCompostella told him, \"We have not one hair nor bone of St. James; for\nSt James the More and St James the Less, St Bartholomew and St Philip,\nSt Simon and Jude, St Bernard and St George, with divers other saints,\nCarolus Magnus brought them to Toulouse.\" Ed. Furnivall, p. 204 f. I do\nnot know where the splenetic old divine got his information, but\ncertainly from no source so trustworthy as the chronicle of Turpin.\nBesides other places in France, the body, or at least the head, of St\nJames was claimed by churches in Italy, Germany, and the Low Countries.\nBut the author of an old Itinerary of the Pilgrims to Compostella\nasserts that James the Greater is one of four saints who never changed\nhis burial-place. See Victor Le Clerc in Hist. Litt. de la France, xxi,\n283.\n\n[193] See 'La grande Chanson des P\u00e9lerins de Saint-Jacques,' in Socard,\nNo\u00ebls et Cantiques, etc., p. 76, last stanza, p. 80, third stanza, p.\n89, fifth stanza; the last==Romancero de Champagne, I, 165, stanza 5.\n\n[194] Southey follows Marineo in his Christmas Tale of \"The Pilgrim to\nCompostella.\"\n\n[195] \"Auch eine deutsche Jesuitenkom\u00f6die, Peregrinus Compostellanus,\nInnsbruck, 1624, behandelt diesen Stoff. F. Liebrecht, in Serapeum,\n1864, S. 235.\"\n\n[196] Vasari, V, 184, Milan, 1809; Crowe and Cavalcaselle, III, 124, II,\n566 ff, ed. 1866; Mrs Jameson's Sacred and Legendary Art, I, 241, ed.\n1857. Professor N. H\u00f8yen indicated to Grundtvig the picture of Pietro\nAntonio, and d'Ancona refers to Pisanello's.\n\n[197] He denies the perpetual multiplication of the feathers, and adds\nthat the very gallows on which the pilgrim was hanged is erected in the\nupper part of the church, where everybody can see it. It is diverting to\nfind Grossenhain, in Saxony, claiming the miracle on the ground of a big\ncock in an altar picture in a chapel of St James: Gr\u00e4sse, Sagenschatz\ndes K\u00f6nigreichs Sachsen, 2d ed., I, 80, No 82, from Chladenius,\nMaterialien zu Grossenhayner Stadtchronik, I, 2, Pirna, 1788; in verse\nby Ziehnert, Volkssagen, p. 99, No 14, ed. 1851.\n\n[198] For Luis de la Vega, see Acta Sanctorum, III Maii, p. 171 f, \u00a7\u00a7 6,\n7, 8, VI Julii, p. 46, \u00a7 187. The Spanish and the Dutch ballad give due\nglory to St James and the Virgin; French #C# to God and St James. The\nWendish ballad can hardly be expected to celebrate St James, and refers\nthe justification and saving of the boy to the Virgin and the saints.\nFrench #A# has St Michas; #B#, God and the Virgin.\n\nLuis de la Vega, with what seems an excess of caution, says, p. 172, as\nabove, \u00a7 8: appositique erant ad comedendum gallus et gallina, _assati\nnescio an elixi_. Of boiled fowl we have not heard so far. But we find\nin a song in Fletcher's play of 'The Spanish Curate,' this stanza:\n\n The stewd cock shall crow, cock-a-loodle-loo,\n A loud cock-a-loodle shall he crow;\n The duck and the drake shall swim in a lake\n Of onions and claret below.\n\n Act III, Sc. 2; Dyce, viii, 436.\n\nIn Father Merolla's Voyage to Congo, 1682, a reference to which I owe to\nLiebrecht, there is a story of a stewed cock, which, on the whole,\njustifies Luis de la Vega's scruple. This must have been introduced into\nAfrica by some missioner, and, when so introduced, the miracle must have\nhad an object, which it had lost before the tale came to Father Merolla.\n\nOne of two parties at feud having marched upon the chief city of his\nantagonist, and found all the inhabitants fled, the soldiers fell to\nrifling the houses and killing all the living creatures they met, to\nsatisfy their hunger. \"Amongst the rest they found a cock of a larger\nsize than ordinary, with a great ring of iron about one of his legs,\nwhich occasioned one of the wisest among them to cry out, Surely this\ncock must be bewitched, and it is not at all proper for us to meddle\nwith. To which the rest answered, Be it what it will, we are resolved to\neat it. For this end they immediately killed and tore it to pieces after\nthe manner of the negroes, and afterwards put it into a pot to boil.\nWhen it was enough, they took it out into a platter, and two, according\nto the custom, having said grace, five of them sat down to it with great\ngreediness. But before they had touched a bit, to their great wonder and\namazement, the boiled pieces of the cock, though sodden, and near\ndissolved, began to move about and unite into the form they were in\nbefore, and, being so united, the restored cock immediately raised\nhimself up, and jumped out of the platter upon the ground, where he\nwalked about as well as when he was first taken. Afterwards he leaped\nupon an adjoining wall, where he became new feathered all of a sudden,\nand then took his flight to a tree hard by, where fixing himself, he,\nafter three claps of his wings, made a most hideous noise, and then\ndisappeared. Every one may easily imagine what a terrible fright the\nspectators were in at this sight, who, leaping with a thousand Ave\nMarias in their mouths from the place where this had happened, were\ncontented to observe most of the particulars at a distance.\" It appears\nthat the brother of one of the two contending parties was said to have\nhad a very large cock, from whose crowing he took auguries, but whether\nthis was the same as the one restored to life is not known. Churchill's\nCollection of Voyages and Travels, 1704, I, 682, Pinkerton's Collection,\nXVI, 229.\n\n[199] La Chevalerie Ogier de Danemarche, par Raimbert de Paris, Po\u00ebme du\nxii si\u00e8cle, etc., II, 485, vv 11606-627.\n\n[200] The gospel of Nicodemus was introduced into the French and the\nItalian romance of Perceforest, but unfortunately this \"narratio ab\ninepto Gr\u00e6culo pessime interpolata\" (Thilo) seems to be lacking.\n\n[201] Cursor Mundi, a Northumbrian poem of the 14th century, in four\nversions, ed. by R. Morris, p. 912 f, vv 15961-998. This passage was\nkindly pointed out to me by Professor George Stephens.\n\n[202] R\u00e9lation d'un Voyage fait au Levant par Monsieur De Th\u00e9venot,\nParis, 1665, I, 502. Cited by Thilo, p. xxxvii, and by Victor Smith,\nRomania, II, 474, who adds: \"Parmi les manuscrits rapport\u00e9s d'\u00c9thiopie\npar M. d'Abbadie, il se trouve un volume dont le titre a pour\n\u00e9quivalent, Actes de la passion. Un chapitre de ce volume, intitul\u00e9 Le\nlivre du coq, d\u00e9veloppe la l\u00e9gende indiqu\u00e9e par Th\u00e9venot. Catalogue\nraisonn\u00e9 des manuscrits \u00e9thiopiens, appartenant \u00e0 M. A. T. d'Abbadie, in\n4^o, imp. imp\u00e9riale, Paris, 1859.\"\n\n[203] \"Ce couplet se d\u00e9bite en imitant successivement le chant du coq,\nle mugissement du b\u0153uf, le cri de la ch\u00e8vre, le braiment de l'\u00e2ne, et\nle beuglement du veau.\" Bolza makes a similar explanation with regard to\nthe Italian colloquy.\n\n\n\n\n23\n\nJUDAS\n\n MS. B. 14, 39, of the thirteenth century, library of\n Trinity College, Cambridge, as printed in Wright &\n Halliwell's Reliqui\u00e6 Antiqu\u00e6, I, 144.\n\n\nThis legend, which has not been heretofore recognized as a ballad, is,\nso far as is known, unique in several particulars. The common tradition\ngives Judas an extraordinary domestic history,[204] but does not endow\nhim with a sister as perfidious as himself. Neither is his selling his\nMaster for thirty pieces accounted for elsewhere as it is here, if it\nmay be strictly said to be accounted for here.\n\nA popular explanation, founded upon John xii, 3-6, and current for six\ncenturies and more, is that Judas, bearing the bag, was accustomed to\ntake tithes of all moneys that came into his hands, and that he\nconsidered he had lost thirty pence on the precious ointment which had\nnot been sold for three hundred pence, and took this way of indemnifying\nhimself.\n\nA Wendish ballad, Haupt und Schmaler, I, 276, No 284, has the following\nstory. Jesus besought hospitality for himself and his disciples of a\npoor widow. She could give a lodging, but had no bread. Jesus said he\nwould care for that, and asked which of his disciples would go and buy\nbread for thirty pieces of silver. Judas offered himself eagerly, and\nwent to the Jews' street to do his errand. Jews were gaming, under a\ntub, and they challenged Judas to play. The first time he won the stake,\nand the second. The third time he lost everything. \"Why so sad, Judas?\"\nthey say: \"go sell your Master for thirty pieces.\" We are to suppose\nJudas to have rejoined his company. Jesus then asks who has sold him.\nJohn says, Is it I? and Peter, and then Judas, to whom Jesus replies,\nThou knowest best. Judas, in remorse, runs to hang himself. The Lord\nbids him turn, for his sin is forgiven. But Judas keeps on till he comes\nto a fir: \"Soft wood, thou fir, thou wilt not bear me.\" Further on, till\nhe comes to an aspen. \"Hard wood, thou aspen, thou wilt bear me.\" So he\nhanged himself on the aspen; and still the aspen shakes and trembles for\nfear of the judgment day.\n\nAccording to the ballads, then, Judas lost the thirty pieces at play, or\nwas robbed of them, with collusion of his sister. But his passionate\nbehavior in the English ballad, st. 9, goes beyond all apparent\noccasion. Surely it was not for his tithe of the thirty pieces.\n\nAnd why does he insist to Pilate on the very thirty pieces he had lost,\nrejecting every other form of payment? The ballad-singer might answer,\nSo it was, and rest contented. Or perhaps he might have heard, and might\ntell us by way of comment, that these pieces had for long ages been\ndestined to be \"the price of him that was valued, whom they of the\nchildren of Israel did value;\" had been coined by Abraham's father for\nNinus, and been given by Terah to his son; had passed through various\nhands to the Ishmaelites, had been paid by them as the price of Joseph,\nand been repaid to Joseph by his brethren for corn in Egypt; thence were\ntransferred to Sheba, and in the course of events were brought by the\nQueen of the South as an offering to Solomon's temple; when the temple\nwas despoiled by Nebuchadnezzar, were given by him to the king of\nGodolia, and after the kingdom of Godolia had been fused in that of\nNubia, were brought as his tribute to the infant Jesus by Melchior, king\nof the same, etc.[205]\n\nIt is much to be regretted that the manuscript from which this piece was\ntaken has been for some years lost from Trinity College Library, so that\na collation of Wright's text has not been possible.\n\n\n 1\n Hit wes upon a Scere-thorsday that ure loverd aros;\n Ful milde were the wordes he spec to Judas.\n\n 2\n 'Judas, thou most to Jurselem, oure mete for to bugge;\n Thritti platen of selver thou bere up othi rugge.\n\n 3\n 'Thou comest fer ithe brode stret, fer ithe brode strete;\n Summe of thine tunesmen ther thou meiht imete.'\n\n 4\n . . . . . . .\n Imette wid is soster, the swikele wimon.\n\n 5\n 'Judas, thou were wrthe me stende the wid ston,\n For the false prophete that tou bilevest upon.'\n\n 6\n 'Be stille, leve soster, thin herte the tobreke!\n Wiste min loverd Crist, ful wel he wolde be wreke.'\n\n 7\n 'Judas, go thou on the roc, heie upon the ston;\n Lei thin heved imy barm, slep thou the anon.'\n\n 8\n Sone so Judas of slepe was awake,\n Thritti platen of selver from hym weren itake.\n\n 9\n He drou hymselve bi the cop, that al it lavede a blode;\n The Jewes out of Jurselem awenden he were wode.\n\n 10\n Foret hym com the riche Jeu that heihte Pilatus:\n 'Wolte sulle thi loverd, that hette Jesus?'\n\n 11\n 'I nul sulle my loverd [for] nones cunnes eihte,\n Bote hit be for the thritti platen that he me bitaihte.'\n\n 12\n 'Wolte sulle thi lord Crist for enes cunnes golde?'\n 'Nay, bote hit be for the platen that he habben wolde.'\n\n 13\n In him com ur lord Crist gon, as is postles seten at mete:\n 'Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete?\n\n 14\n ['Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete?]\n Ic am ibouht ant isold today for oure mete.'\n\n 15\n Up stod him Judas: 'Lord, am I that ...?\n 'I nas never othe stude ther me the evel spec.'\n\n 16\n Up him stod Peter, and spec wid al is mihte,\n . . . . . . .\n\n 17\n 'Thau Pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnihtes,\n Yet ic wolde, loverd, for thi love fihte.'\n\n 18\n 'Still thou be, Peter, wel I the icnowe;\n Thou wolt fursake me thrien ar the coc him crowe.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n _Not divided into stanzas in Reliqui\u00e6 Antiqu\u00e6._\n\n 3^2. meist.\n\n 10^1. heiste.\n\n 11^1. eiste.\n\n 11^2. bitaiste.\n\n 14^2. i-boust.\n\n 16^1. miste.\n\n 17^1. cnistes.\n\n 17^2. fiste.\n\n _In the absence of the original manuscript, I have thought\n it better to change Wright's ~s~ in the above instances\n (3-17) to ~h~. In this substitution I follow M\u00e4tzner's\n Altenglische Sprachproben, I, 114._\n\n\n[204] Legenda Aurea, Gr\u00e4sse, 2d ed., p. 184 ff; Mone's Anzeiger, VII,\ncol. 532 f, and du M\u00e9ril, Po\u00e9sies populaires latines du Moyen Age, p.\n326 ff; Furnivall, Early English Poems and Lives of Saints, p. 107 ff;\nDouhet, Dictionnaire des L\u00e9gendes, col. 714 ff; Das alte Passional, ed.\nK.A. Hahn, p. 312 ff; B\u00e4ckstr\u00f6m, Svenska Folkb\u00f6cker, II, 198 ff; etc.\n\n[205] See Fabricius, Codex Pseudepigraphus Veteris Testamenti, II, 79;\nGodfrey of Viterbo (who derives his information from a lost writing of\nthe apostle Bartholomew) in his Pantheon, Pistorius, German. Script.,\ned. Struve, II, 243, or E. du M\u00e9ril, Po\u00e9sies pop. latines du Moyen Age,\np. 321; Genesi de Scriptura, Biblioteca Catalana, p. 20, etc.\n\n\n\n\n24\n\nBONNIE ANNIE\n\n #A.# 'Bonnie Annie,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads,\n p. 123.\n\n #B.# 'The High Banks o Yarrow,' Motherwell's MS., p. 652.\n\n\nHad an old copy of this still pretty and touching, but much disordered,\nballad been saved, we should perhaps have had a story like this. Bonnie\nAnnie, having stolen her father's gold and her mother's fee, and fled\nwith her paramour (like the maid in No 4), the ship in which she is\nsailing encounters a storm and cannot get on. Annie is seized with the\npangs of travail, and deplores the absence of women (#B# 6, 7, #A# 9,\n10; compare No 15, 21-26). The sailors say there is somebody on board\nwho is marked for death, or flying from a just doom. They cast lots, and\nthe lot falls on Annie,--a result which strikes us as having more\nsemblance of the \"corrupted currents of this world\" than of a pure\njudgment of God. Annie, conscious only of her own guilt, asks to be\nthrown overboard. Her paramour offers great sums to the crew to save\nher, but their efforts prove useless, and Annie again begs, or they now\ninsist, that she shall be cast into the sea with her babe. This done,\nthe ship is able to sail on; Annie floats to shore and is buried there.\n\nThe captain of the ship is the guilty man in #A#, in #B# a rich squire.\n#A# may exhibit the original plot, but it is just as likely that the\ncaptain was substituted for a passenger, under the influence of another\nballad, in which there is no Annie, but a ship-master stained with many\ncrimes, whom the lot points out as endangering or obstructing the\nvessel. See 'Brown Robyn's Confession,' further on.\n\nIf the narrative in Jonah, i, is the ultimate source of this and similar\nstories, it must be owned that the tradition has maintained its\nprincipal traits in this ballad remarkably well. Jonah flies from the\npresence of the Lord in a ship; the ship is overtaken by a tempest;[206]\nthe sailors cast lots to know who is the guilty cause, and the lot falls\non Jonah; he bids the sailors take him up and cast him into the sea;\nnevertheless the men row hard to bring the ship to land, but cannot\nsucceed; they throw Jonah into the water, and the storm ceases.[207]\n\nTranslated in Grundtvig's Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 199, No 31.\n\n\n#A#\n\n Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 123.\n\n 1\n There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar,\n He had a fair lady, and one only dochter.\n\n 2\n O she was fair, O dear, she was bonnie!\n A ship's captain courted her to be his honey.\n\n 3\n There cam a ship's captain out owre the sea sailing,\n He courted this young thing till he got her wi bairn.\n\n 4\n 'Ye'll steal your father's gowd, and your mother's money,\n And I'll mak ye a lady in Ireland bonnie.'\n\n 5\n She's stown her father's gowd, and her mother's money,\n But she was never a lady in Ireland bonnie.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 6\n 'There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me,\n There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me.'\n\n 7\n They've casten black bullets twice six and forty,\n And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie Annie.\n\n 8\n 'Ye'll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me cannie,\n Throw me out owre board, your ain dear Annie.'\n\n 9\n He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,\n He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie.\n\n 10\n 'What can a woman do, love, I'll do for ye;'\n 'Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.'\n\n 11\n 'Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie,\n Do all ye can to save my dear Annie.'\n\n 12\n 'I've laid about, steerd about, laid about cannie,\n But all I can do, she winna sail for me.\n\n 13\n 'Ye'll tak her in your arms twa, lo, lift her cannie,\n And throw her out owre board, your ain dear Annie.'\n\n 14\n He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,\n He has thrown her out owre board, his ain dear Annie.\n\n 15\n As the ship sailed, bonnie Annie she swam,\n And she was at Ireland as soon as them.\n\n 16\n He made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow,\n And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.\n\n\nB\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 652. From the singing of a boy, Henry\n French, Ayr.\n\n 1\n Down in Dumbarton there wonnd a rich merchant,\n Down in Dumbarton there wond a rich merchant,\n And he had nae family but ae only dochter.\n Sing fal lal de deedle, fal lal de deedle lair, O a day\n\n 2\n There cam a rich squire, intending to woo her,\n He wooed her until he had got her wi babie.\n\n 3\n 'Oh what shall I do! oh what shall come o me!\n Baith father and mither will think naething o me.'\n\n 4\n 'Gae up to your father, bring down gowd and money,\n And I'll take ye ower to a braw Irish ladie.'\n\n 5\n She gade to her father, brought down gowd and money,\n And she's awa ower to a braw Irish ladie.\n\n 6\n She hadna sailed far till the young thing cried 'Women!'\n 'What women can do, my dear, I'll do for you.'\n\n 7\n 'O haud your tongue, foolish man, dinna talk vainly,\n For ye never kent what a woman driet for you.\n\n 8\n 'Gae wash your hands in the cauld spring water,\n And dry them on a towel a' giltit wi silver.\n\n 9\n 'And tak me by the middle, and lift me up saftlie,\n And throw me ower shipboard, baith me and my babie.'\n\n 10\n He took her by the middle, and lifted her saftly,\n And threw her ower shipboard, baith her and her babie.\n\n 11\n Sometimes she did sink, sometimes she did float it,\n Until that she cam to the high banks o Yarrow.\n\n 12\n 'O captain tak gowd, O sailors tak money,\n And launch out your sma boat till I sail for my honey.'\n\n 13\n 'How can I tak gowd, how can I tak money?\n My ship's on a sand bank, she winna sail for me.'\n\n 14\n The captain took gowd, the sailors took money,\n And they launchd out their sma boat till he sailed for his honey.\n\n 15\n 'Mak my love a coffin o the gowd sae yellow,\n Whar the wood it is dear, and the planks they are narrow,\n And bury my love on the high banks o Yarrow.'\n\n 16\n They made her a coffin o the gowd sae yellow,\n And buried her deep on the high banks o Yarrow.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _Printed by Kinloch in four-line stanzas._\n\n 16^1. coffin off the Goats of Yerrow.\n\n#B.#\n\n 16. _Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. xcix_, 146, _gives the\n stanza thus_:\n\n They made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow,\n They made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow,\n And they buried her deep on the high banks of Yarrow.\n Sing fal lal, de deedle, fal lal, de deedle lair, Oh a Day!\n\n\n[206] Jonah is asleep below. This trait we find in several Norse\nballads: see 'Brown Robyn's Confession.'\n\n[207] A singular episode in the life of Saint Mary Magdalen in the\nGolden Legend, Gr\u00e4sse, c. xcvi, 2, p. 409 ff, indicates a belief that\neven a dead body might prejudice the safety of a ship. The princess of\nMarseilles, in the course of a storm, has given birth to a boy and\nexpired. The sailors demand that the body shall be thrown into the sea\n(and apparently the boy, too), for, they say, as long as it shall be\nwith us, this thumping will not cease. They presently see a hill, and\nthink it better to put off the corpse, _and the boy_, there, than that\nthese should be devoured by sea-monsters. Fear will fasten upon anything\nin such a case.\n\nThe Digby Mystery of Mary Magdalene has this scene, at p. 122 of the New\nShakspere Society edition, ed. Furnivall.\n\n\n\n\n25\n\nWILLIE'S LYKE-WAKE\n\n #A.# 'Willie, Willie,' Kinloch's MSS, I, 53.\n\n #B. a.# 'Blue Flowers and Yellow,' Buchan's Ballads of the\n North of Scotland, I, 185. #b.# 'The Blue Flowers and the\n Yellow,' Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 120.\n\n #C.# Motherwell's MS., p. 187.\n\n #D.# 'Amang the blue flowers and yellow,' Motherwell's\n Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xix, No XVII, one stanza.\n\n\nThis piece was first printed by Buchan, in 1828, and all the copies\nwhich have been recovered are of about that date. The device of a\nlover's feigning death as a means of winning a shy mistress enjoys a\nconsiderable popularity in European ballads. Even more favorite is a\nballad in which the _woman_ adopts this expedient, in order to escape\nfrom the control of her relations: see 'The Gay Goshawk,' with which\nwill be given another form of the present story.\n\nA #Danish# ballad answering to our Feigned Lyke-Wake is preserved, as I\nam informed by Professor Grundtvig, in no less than fourteen\nmanuscripts, some of them of the 16th century, and is still living in\ntradition. Five versions, as yet unprinted, #A-E#, have been furnished\nme by the editor of the Ballads of Denmark.\n\n#A#, from a manuscript of the sixteenth century. Young Herre Karl asks\nhis mother's rede how he may get the maid his heart is set upon. She\nadvises him to feign sickness, and be laid on his bier, no one to know\nhis counsel but the page who is to do his errands. The page bids the\nlady to the wake that night. Little Kirstin asks her mother's leave to\nkeep wake over Karl. The wake is to be in the upper room of Karl's\nhouse. The mother says, Be on your guard; he means to cheat you; but\nKirstin, neither listening to her mother nor asking her father, goes to\nkeep wake in the upper room. When she went in she could not see the\nlights for her tears. She begged all the good people to pray for Karl's\nsoul, sat down by his head and made her own prayer, and murmured, While\nthou livedst I loved thee. She lifted the cloths, and there lay Karl\nwide awake and laughing. \"All the devils in hell receive thy soul!\" she\ncried. \"If thou livedst a hundred years, thou shouldst never have my\ngood will! \"Karl proposed that she should pass the night with him. \"Why\nwould you deceive me!\" Kirstin exclaimed. \"Why did you not go to my\nfather and betroth me honorably?\" Karl immediately rode to her father's\nto do this, and they were married.\n\n#B. a#, from MSS of 1610 and later, almost identical with #b#, 'Den\nforstilte Vaagestue,' Levninger, Part II, 1784, p. 34, No 7.[208] This\nversion gives us some rather unnecessary previous history. Karl has sued\nfor Ingerlille three years, and had an ill answer. He follows her to\nchurch one fine day, and, after mass, squeezes her fingers and asks,\nWill you take pity on me? She replies, You must ask my father and\nfriends; and he, I have, and can get no good answer. If you will give me\nyour troth, we can see to that best ourselves. \"Never,\" she says.\n\"Farewell, then; but Christ may change your mind.\" Karl meets his mother\non his way from church, who asks why he is so pale. He tells her his\nplight, and is advised, as before, to use craft. The wake is held on\nKarl's premises.[209] Ingerlille, in scarlet mantle, goes with her\nmaids. She avows her love, but adds that it was a fixed idea in her mind\nthat he would deceive her. She lifts up the white cloth that covers the\nface. Karl laughs, and says, We were good friends before, so are we\nstill. Bear out the bier, and follow me to bed with the fair maid. She\nhopes he will have respect for her honor. Karl reassures her, leaves her\nwith his mother, rides to Ingerlille's house, obtains her parents'\napprobation, and buys wine for his wedding.\n\n#C#, from manuscripts of the sixteenth century. Karl is given out for\ndead, and his pages ride to the convent to ask that his body may be laid\nin the cloister. The bier is borne in; the prioress comes to meet it,\nwith much respect. The pages go about bidding maids to the wake. Ellin\nasks her mother if she may go. (This looks as if there had originally\nbeen no convent in the ballad.) Her mother tells her to put on red gold\nand be wary of Karl, he is so very tricky. When Ellin owns her\nattachment, Karl whispers softly, Do not weep, but follow me. Horses\nwere ready at the portal--_black_ horses all!\n\nKarl sprang from the bier, took Ellin, and made for the door. The nuns,\nwho stood reading in the choir, thought it was an angel that had\ntranslated her, and wished one would come for them. Karl, with fifteen\nmen who were in waiting, carried Ellin home, and drank his bridal with\nher.\n\n#D#, from recent oral tradition. As Karl lay in his bed, he said, How\nshall I get the fair maid out of the convent? His foster-mother heard\nhim, and recommended him to feign death and bid the fair maid to his\nwake. The maid asked her father's leave to go, but he said, Nay, the\nmoment you are inside the door he will seize you by the foot. But when\nthe page, who had first come in blue, comes back in scarlet, she goes.\nShe stands at Karl's head and says, I never shall forget thee; at his\nfeet, \"I wished thee well;\" at his side, \"Thou wast my dearest.\" Then\nshe turns and bids everybody good-night, but Karl seizes her, and calls\nto his friends to come drink his bridal. We hear nothing of the convent\nafter the first stanza.\n\n#E#, from oral tradition of another quarter. Karl consults his mother\nhow he shall get little Kirstin out of the convent, and receives the\nsame counsel. A page is sent to the convent, and asks who will come to\nthe wake now Herr Karl is dead? Little Kirstin, without application to\nthe prioress, goes to her mother, who does not forbid her, but warns her\nthat Karl will capture her as sure as she goes into the room.\n\n The maid has the door by the handle,\n And is wishing them all good-night;\n Young Karl, that lay a corpse on the bier,\n Sprang up and held her tight.\n\n 'Why here's a board and benches,\n And there's no dead body here;\n This eve I'll drink my mead and wine,\n All with my Kirstin dear.\n\n 'Why here's a board and beds too,\n And here there's nobody dead;\n To-morrow will I go to the priest,\n All with my plighted maid.'\n\n#F#, another copy from recent tradition, was published in 1875, in\nKristensen's Jyske Folkeviser, II, 213, No 62, 'Vaagestuen.' There is no\nword of a convent here. The story is made very short. Kirsten's mother\nsays she will be fooled if she goes to the wake. The last stanza,\ndeparting from all other copies, says that when Kirsten woke in the\nmorning Karl was off.\n\n#G.# 'Klosterranet,' Levninger, I, 23, No 4 (1780), Danske Viser, IV,\n261, No 212, a very second-rate ballad, may have the praise of\npreserving consistency and conventual discipline. The young lady does\nnot slip out to see her mother without leave asked and had. It is my\npersuasion that the convent, with its little jest about the poor nuns,\nis a later invention, and that #C# is a blending of two different\nstories. In #G#, Herr Morten betroths Proud Adeluds, who is more\nvirtuous than rich. His friends object; her friends do not want spirit,\nand swear that she shall never be his. Morten's father sends him out of\nthe country, and Adeluds is put into a convent. After nine years Morten\nreturns, and, having rejected an advantageous match proposed by his\nfather, advises with his brother, Herr Nilaus, how to get his true love\nout of the cloister. The brother's plan is that of the mother and\nfoster-mother in the other versions. Herr Nilaus promises a rich gift if\nMorten's body may be buried within the cloister. From this point the\nstory is materially the same as in #C#.\n\n#H.# A copy, which I have not yet seen, in Rahbek's L\u00e6sning i blandede\n\u00c6mner (or Hesperus), III, 151, 1822 (Bergstr\u00f6m).\n\n * * * * *\n\n'Hertugen af Skage,' Danske Viser, II, 191, No 88, has this slight\nagreement with the foregoing ballads. Voldemar, the king's youngest son,\nhearing that the duke has a daughter, Hildegerd, that surpasses all\nmaids, seeks her out in a convent in which she has taken refuge, and\ngets a cold reception. He feigns death, desiring that his bones may\nrepose in the cloister. His bier is carried into the convent church.\nHildegerd lights nine candles for him, and expresses compassion for his\nearly death. While she is standing before the altar of the Virgin,\nVoldemar carries her out of the church by force.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis, says Afzelius, 1814, is one of the commonest ballads in #Sweden#,\nand is often represented as a drama by young people in country places.\n#A a#, 'Herr Carl, eller Klosterrofvet,' Afzelius, I, 179, No 26, new\ned. No 24; #b#, Afzelius, Sago-H\u00e4fder, ed. 1851, IV, 106. #B#, Atterbom,\nPoetisk Kalender for 1816, p. 63, 'Det Iefvande Liket.' #C#. Rancken,\nN\u00e5gra Prof af Folks\u00e5ng, o. s. v., p. 13, No 4. These differ but slightly\nfrom Danish #D#, #E#. All three conclude with the humorous verses about\nthe nuns, which in Rancken's copy take this rollicking turn:\n\n And all the nuns in the convent they all danced in a ring;\n 'Christ send another such angel, to take us all under his wing!'\n\n And all the nuns in the convent, they all danced each her lone;\n 'Christ send another such angel, to take us off every one!'\n\nBergstr\u00f6m, new Afzelius, II, 131, refers to another version in\nGyllenm\u00e4rs' visbok, p. 191, and to a good copy obtained by himself.\n\nAn Icelandic version for the 17th century, which is after the fashion of\nDanish #C#, #G#, is given in \u00cdslenzk Fornkv\u00e6\u00f0i, II, 59, No 40, 'Marteins\nkvi\u00f0a.' The lover has in all three a troop of armed men in waiting\noutside of the convent.\n\nProfessor Bugge has obtained a version in Norway, which, however, is as\nto language essentially Danish. (Bergstr\u00f6m, as above.)\n\nThere is a very gay and pretty south-European ballad, in which the\nartifice of feigning death is successfully tried by a lover after the\nfailure of other measures.\n\n#A.# #Magyar.# Arany and Gyulai, I, 172, No 18, 'P\u00e1lbeli Sz\u00e9p Antal;'\ntranslated by Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, p. 80, 'Sch\u00f6n Anton.'\nHandsome Tony tells his mother that he shall die for Helen. The mother\nsays, Not yet. I will build a marvellous mill. The first wheel shall\ngrind out pearls, the middle stone discharge kisses, the third wheel\ndistribute small change. The pretty maids will come to see, and Helen\namong them. Helen asks her mother's leave to see the mill. \"Go not,\" the\nmother replies. \"They are throwing the net, and a fox will be caught.\"\nTony again says he must die. His mother says, not yet; for she will\nbuild an iron bridge; the girls will come to see it, and Helen among\nthem. Helen asks to see the bridge; her mother answers as before. Tony\nsays once more that he shall die for Helen. His mother again rejoins,\nNot yet. Make believe to be dead; the girls will come to see you, and\nHelen among them. Helen entreats to be allowed to go to see the handsome\nyoung man that has died. Her mother tells her she will never come back.\nTony's mother calls to him to get up; the girl he was dying for is even\nnow before the gate, in the court, standing at his feet. \"Never,\" says\nHelen, \"saw I so handsome a dead man,--eyes smiling, mouth tempting\nkisses, and his feet all ready for a spring.\" Up he jumped and embraced\nher.\n\n#B.# #Italian.# Ferraro, Canti popolari monferrini, p. 59, No 40, 'Il\nGenovese.' The Genoese, not obtaining the beautiful daughter of a rich\nmerchant on demand, plants a garden. All the girls come for flowers,\nexcept the one desired. He then gives a ball, with thirty-two musicians.\nAll the girls are there, but not the merchant's daughter. He then builds\na church, very richly adorned. All the girls come to mass, all but one.\nNext he sets the bells a ringing, in token of his death. The fair one\ngoes to the window to ask who is dead. The good people (\"ra bun-ha\ngent,\" in the Danish ballad \"det gode folk\") tell her that it is her\nfirst love, and suggest that she should attend the funeral. She asks her\nfather, who consents if she will not cry. As she was leaving the church,\nthe lover came to life, and called to the priests and friars to stop\nsinging. They went to the high altar to be married.\n\n#C.# #Slovenian.# Vraz, Narodne pe\u015bni ilirske, p. 93, '\u010cudna\nbolezen' ('Strange Sickness'); translated by Anastasius Gr\u00fcn,\nVolkslieder aus Krain, p. 36, 'Der Scheintodte.' \"Build a church,\nmother,\" cries the love-sick youth, \"that all who will may hear mass;\nperhaps my love among them.\" The mother built a church, one and another\ncame, but not his love. \"Dig a well, mother, that those who will may\nfetch water; perhaps my love among them.\" The well was dug, one and\nanother came for water, but not his love. \"Say I am dead, mother, that\nthose who will may come to pray.\" Those who wished came, his love first\nof all. The youth was peeping through the window. \"What kind of dead man\nis this, that stretches his arms for an embrace, and puts out his mouth\nfor a kiss?\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nDanish #G# translated by the Rev. J. Johnstone, 'The Robbery of the\nNunnery, or, The Abbess Outwitted,' Copenhagen, 1786 (Danske Viser, IV,\n366); by Prior, III, 400. Swedish #A#, by G. Stephens, For. Quar. Rev.,\n1841, XXVI, 49, and by the Howitts, Lit. and Rom. of Northern Europe, I,\n292. English #C#, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. 1., p. 144, No 33.\n\n\nA\n\n Kinloch's MSS, I, 53, from the recitation of Mary Barr,\n Lesmahagow, aged upwards of seventy. May, 1827.\n\n 1\n 'Willie, Willie, I'll learn you a wile,'\n And the sun shines over the valleys and a'\n 'How this pretty fair maid ye may beguile.'\n Amang the blue flowrs and the yellow and a'\n\n 2\n 'Ye maun lie doun just as ye were dead,\n And tak your winding-sheet around your head.\n\n 3\n 'Ye maun gie the bellman his bell-groat,\n To ring your dead-bell at your lover's yett.'\n\n 4\n He lay doun just as he war dead,\n And took his winding-sheet round his head.\n\n 5\n He gied the bellman his bell-groat,\n To ring his dead-bell at his lover's yett.\n\n 6\n 'O wha is this that is dead, I hear?'\n 'O wha but Willie that loed ye sae dear.'\n\n 7\n She is to her father's chamber gone,\n And on her knees she's fallen down.\n\n 8\n 'O father, O father, ye maun grant me this;\n I hope that ye will na tak it amiss.\n\n 9\n 'That I to Willie's burial should go;\n For he is dead, full well I do know.'\n\n 10\n 'Ye'll tak your seven bauld brethren wi thee,\n And to Willie's burial straucht go ye.'\n\n 11\n It's whan she cam to the outmost yett,\n She made the silver fly round for his sake.\n\n 12\n It's whan she cam to the inmost yett,\n She made the red gowd fly round for his sake.\n\n 13\n As she walked frae the court to the parlour there,\n The pretty corpse syne began for to steer.\n\n 14\n He took her by the waist sae neat and sae sma,\n And threw her atween him and the wa.\n\n 15\n 'O Willie, O Willie, let me alane this nicht,\n O let me alane till we're wedded richt.'\n\n 16\n 'Ye cam unto me baith sae meek and mild,\n But I'll mak ye gae hame a wedded wife wi child.'\n\n\nB\n\n #a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 185.\n #b.# Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 120.\n\n 1\n 'O Willie my son, what makes you sae sad?'\n As the sun shines over the valley\n 'I lye sarely sick for the love of a maid.'\n Amang the blue flowers and the yellow\n\n 2\n 'Were she an heiress or lady sae free,\n That she will take no pity on thee?\n\n 3\n 'O Willie, my son, I'll learn you a wile,\n How this fair maid ye may beguile.\n\n 4\n 'Ye'll gie the principal bellman a groat,\n And ye'll gar him cry your dead lyke-wake.'\n\n 5\n Then he gae the principal bellman a groat,\n He bade him cry his dead lyke-wake.\n\n 6\n This maiden she stood till she heard it a',\n And down frae her cheeks the tears did fa.\n\n 7\n She is hame to her father's ain bower:\n 'I'll gang to yon lyke-wake ae single hour.'\n\n 8\n 'Ye must take with you your ain brither John;\n It's not meet for maidens to venture alone.'\n\n 9\n 'I'll not take with me my brither John,\n But I'll gang along, myself all alone.'\n\n 10\n When she came to young Willie's yate,\n His seven brithers were standing thereat.\n\n 11\n Then they did conduct her into the ha,\n Amang the weepers and merry mourners a'.\n\n 12\n When she lifted up the covering sae red,\n With melancholy countenance to look on the dead,\n\n 13\n He's taen her in his arms, laid her gainst the wa,\n Says, 'Lye ye here, fair maid, till day.'\n\n 14\n 'O spare me, O spare me, but this single night,\n And let me gang hame a maiden sae bright.'\n\n 15\n 'Tho all your kin were about your bower,\n Ye shall not be a maiden ae single hour.\n\n 16\n 'Fair maid, ye came here without a convoy,\n But ye shall return wi a horse and a boy.\n\n 17\n 'Ye came here a maiden sae mild,\n But ye shall gae hame a wedded wife with child.'\n\n\nC\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 187.\n\n 1\n 'O Willie, Willie, what makes thee so sad?'\n And the sun shines over the valley\n 'I have loved a lady these seven years and mair.'\n Down amang the blue flowers and the yellow\n\n 2\n 'O Willie, lie down as thou were dead,\n And lay thy winding-sheet down at thy head.\n\n 3\n 'And gie to the bellman a belling-great,\n To ring the dead-bell at thy love's bower-yett.'\n\n 4\n He laid him down as he were dead,\n And he drew the winding-sheet oer his head.\n\n 5 He gied to the bellman a belling-great,\n To ring the dead-bell at his love's bower-yett.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 6\n When that she came to her true lover's gate,\n She dealt the red gold and all for his sake.\n\n 7\n And when that she came to her true lover's bower,\n She had not been there for the space of half an hour,\n\n 8\n Till that she cam to her true lover's bed,\n And she lifted the winding-sheet to look at the dead.\n\n 9\n He took her by the hand so meek and sma,\n And he cast her over between him and the wa.\n\n 10\n 'Tho all your friends were in the bower,\n I would not let you go for the space of half an hour.\n\n 11\n 'You came to me without either horse or boy,\n But I will send you home with a merry convoy.'\n\n\nD\n\n Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xix, No XVII.\n\n 'O Johnie, dear Johnie, what makes ye sae sad?'\n As the sun shines ower the valley\n 'I think nae music will mak ye glad.'\n Amang the blue flowers and the yellow\n\n * * * * *\n\n#B.#\n\n #b# _is #a# with stanzas 3, 12-15 omitted, and_ \"a few\n alterations, _some_ of them given from the recitation of\n an old woman.\" \"Buchan's version differs little from the\n way the old woman sang the ballad.\" _The old woman's\n variations, so far as adopted, are certainly of the most\n trifling._\n\n 1^2. I am.\n\n 2^1. Is she.\n\n 7^1. And she.\n\n 16^1. Ye've come.\n\n 16^4. And ye.\n\n 17. _Evidently by Christie_:\n\n 'Fair maid, I love thee as my life,\n But ye shall gae hame a lovd wedded wife.'\n\n#C.#\n\n _Burden. The lines are transposed in the second stanza,\n but are given in the third in the order of the first._\n\n 3^1, 5^1. _MS._ belling great.\n\n 11^2. you come.\n\n\n[208] But #a# has two stanzas more: the first a stev-stamme, or lyrical\nintroduction (see p. 7), the other, 31, nearly a repetition of Sandvig's\n29.\n\n[209] After the page has bidden Ingerlille to the wake, we are told, #a#\n27, 28, #b# 26, 27: all the convent bells were going, and the tidings\nspreading that the knight was dead; all the ladies of the convent sat\nsewing, except Ingerlille, who wept. But Ingerlille, in the next stanza,\nputs on her scarlet cloak and goes to the h\u00f6jeloft to see her father and\nmother. The two stanzas quoted signify nothing in this version.\n\n\n\n\n26\n\nTHE THREE RAVENS\n\n #a.# Melismata. Musicall Phansies. Fitting the Court,\n Cittie, and Countrey Humours. London, 1611, No 20.[210]\n [T. Ravenscroft.]\n\n #b.# 'The Three Ravens,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy,\n Appendix, p. xviii, No XII.\n\n\n#a# was printed from Melismata, by Ritson, in his Ancient Songs, 1790,\np. 155. Mr. Chappell remarked, about 1855, Popular Music of the Olden\nTime, I, 59, that this ballad was still so popular in some parts of the\ncountry that he had \"been favored with a variety of copies of it,\nwritten down from memory, and all differing in some respects, both as to\nwords and tune, but with sufficient resemblance to prove a similar\norigin.\" Motherwell, Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. lxxvii, note 49, says\nhe had met with several copies almost the same as #a.# #b# is the first\nstanza of one of these (traditional) versions, \"very popular in\nScotland.\"\n\nThe following verses, first printed in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish\nBorder, and known in several versions in Scotland, are treated by\nMotherwell and others as a traditionary form of 'The Three Ravens.' They\nare, however, as Scott says, \"rather a counterpart than a copy of the\nother,\" and sound something like a cynical variation of the tender\nlittle English ballad. Dr Rimbault (Notes and Queries, Ser. V, III, 518)\nspeaks of unprinted copies taken down by Mr Blaikie and by Mr Thomas\nLyle of Airth.\n\n\nTHE TWA CORBIES.\n\n #a.# Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 239, ed.\n 1803, communicated by C. K. Sharpe, as written down from\n tradition by a lady. #b.# Albyn's Anthology, II, 27, 1818,\n \"from the singing of Mr Thomas Shortreed, of Jedburgh, as\n sung and recited by his mother.\" #c.# Chambers's Scottish\n Ballads, p. 283, partly from recitation and partly from\n the Border Minstrelsy. #d.# Fraser-Tytler MS., p. 70.\n\n 1\n As I was walking all alane,\n I heard twa corbies making a mane;\n The tane unto the t'other say,\n 'Where sall we gang and dine to-day?'\n\n 2\n 'In behint yon auld fail dyke,\n I wot there lies a new slain knight;\n And naebody kens that he lies there,\n But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.\n\n 3\n 'His hound is to the hunting gane,\n His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,\n His lady's ta'en another mate,\n So we may mak our dinner sweet.\n\n 4\n 'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,\n And I'll pike out his bonny blue een;\n Wi ae lock o his gowden hair\n We' theek our nest when it grows bare.\n\n 5\n 'Mony a one for him makes mane,\n But nane sall ken where he is gane;\n Oer his white banes, when they are bare,\n The wind sall blaw for evermair.'\n\n'The Three Ravens' is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske\nFolkeviser, p. 145, No 23; by Henrietta Schubart, p. 155; Gerhard, p.\n95; Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. l. der Vorzeit, p. 198; Wolff, Halle\nder V\u00f6lker, I, 12, Hausschatz, p. 205.\n\n'The Twa Corbies' (Scott), by Grundtvig, p. 143, No 22; Arndt, p. 224;\nGerhard, p. 94; Schubart, p. 157; Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 194;\nRosa Warrens, p. 89. The three first stanzas, a little freely rendered\ninto four, pass for Pushkin's: Works, 1855, II, 462, xxiv.\n\n 1\n There were three rauens sat on a tree,\n Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe\n There were three rauens sat on a tree,\n With a downe\n There were three rauens sat on a tree,\n They were as blacke as they might be.\n With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe\n\n 2\n The one of them said to his mate,\n 'Where shall we our breakefast take?'\n\n 3\n 'Downe in yonder greene field,\n There lies a knight slain vnder his shield.\n\n 4\n 'His hounds they lie downe at his feete,\n So well they can their master keepe.\n\n 5\n 'His haukes they flie so eagerly,\n There's no fowle dare him come nie.'\n\n 6\n Downe there comes a fallow doe,\n As great with yong as she might goe.\n\n 7\n She lift vp his bloudy hed,\n And kist his wounds that were so red.\n\n 8\n She got him vp vpon her backe,\n And carried him to earthen lake.\n\n 9\n She buried him before the prime,\n She was dead herselfe ere euen-song time.\n\n 10\n God send euery gentleman,\n Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#b.#\n\n Three ravens sat upon a tree,\n Hey down, hey derry day\n Three ravens sat upon a tree,\n Hey down\n Three ravens sat upon a tree,\n And they were black as black could be.\n And sing lay doo and la doo and day\n\n\n_Variations of The Twa Corbies._\n\n#b.#\n\n 1.\n As I cam by yon auld house end,\n I saw twa corbies sittin thereon.\n\n 2^1. Whare but by yon new fa'en birk.\n\n 3.\n We'll sit upon his bonny breast-bane,\n And we'll pick out his bonny gray een;\n We'll set our claws intil his yallow hair,\n And big our bowr, it's a' blawn bare.\n\n 4.\n My mother clekit me o an egg,\n And brought me up i the feathers gray,\n And bade me flee whereer I wad,\n For winter wad be my dying day.\n\n 5.\n Now winter it is come and past,\n And a' the birds are biggin their nests,\n But I'll flee high aboon them a',\n And sing a sang for summer's sake.\n\n#c.#\n\n 1.\n As I gaed doun by yon hous-en,\n Twa corbies there were sittand their lane.\n\n 2^1. O down beside yon new-faun birk.\n\n 3^1. His horse.\n\n 3^2. His hounds to bring the wild deer hame.\n\n 4.\n O we'll sit on his bonnie breist-bane,\n And we'll pyke out his bonnie grey een.\n\n#d.#\n\n 1^1. walking forth.\n\n 1^2. the ither.\n\n 1^3. we twa dine.\n\n 3^2. wild bird.\n\n 5^2. naebody kens.\n\n 5^3. when we've laid them bare.\n\n 5^4. win may blaw.\n\n\n[210] Misprinted 22.\n\n\n\n\n27\n\nTHE WHUMMIL BORE\n\n #a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 191. #b.# Motherwell's\n Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvi, No III.\n\n\nThis ballad, if it ever were one, seems not to have been met with, or at\nleast to have been thought worth notice, by anybody but Motherwell. As\nalready observed in the preface to 'Hind Horn,' stanza 2 seems to have\nslipped into that ballad, in consequence of the resemblance of stanza 1\nto #F# 2, #H# 3 of 'Hind Horn.' This first stanza is, however, a\ncommonplace in English and elsewhere: e. g., 'The Squire of Low Degree:'\n\n He served the kyng, her father dere,\n Fully the tyme of seven yere. vv 5, 6.\n\n He loved her more then seven yere,\n Yet was he of her love never the nere. vv 17, 18.\n\n Ritson, Met. Rom. III, 145 f.\n\n\n 1\n Seven lang years I hae served the king,\n Fa fa fa fa lilly\n And I never got a sight of his daughter but ane.\n With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle,\n Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally\n\n 2\n I saw her thro a whummil bore,\n And I neer got a sight of her no more.\n\n 3\n Twa was putting on her gown,\n And ten was putting pins therein.\n\n 4\n Twa was putting on her shoon,\n And twa was buckling them again.\n\n 5\n Five was combing down her hair,\n And I never got a sight of her nae mair.\n\n 6\n Her neck and breast was like the snow,\n Then from the bore I was forced to go.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n 2^2. _Variation_: And she was washing in a pond.\n\n 6^2. _Variation_: Ye might have tied me with a strae.\n\n#b.#\n\n _Burden_:\n\n Fa, fa, falilly\n With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle,\n Lillum too a tee too a tally.\n\n\n\n\n28\n\nBURD ELLEN AND YOUNG TAMLANE\n\n Maidment's North Countrie Garland, 1824, p. 21.\n Communicated by R. Pitcairn, \"from the recitation of a\n female relative, who had heard it frequently sung in her\n childhood,\" about sixty years before the above date.\n\n\nMotherwell informs us, Minstrelsy, p. xciv of Introduction, note to 141,\nthat 'Burd Helen and Young Tamlene' is very popular, and that various\nsets of it are to be found traditionally current (1827). Still I have\nnot found it, out of Maidment's little book; not even in Motherwell's\nlarge folio.\n\nI cannot connect this fragment with what is elsewhere handed down\nconcerning Tamlane, or with the story of any other ballad.\n\n\n 1\n Burd Ellen sits in her bower windowe,\n With a double laddy double, and for the double dow\n Twisting the red silk and the blue.\n With the double rose and the May-hay\n\n 2\n And whiles she twisted, and whiles she twan,\n And whiles the tears fell down amang.\n\n 3\n Till once there by cam Young Tamlane:\n 'Come light, oh light, and rock your young son.'\n\n 4\n 'If you winna rock him, you may let him rair,\n For I hae rockit my share and mair.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 5\n Young Tamlane to the seas he's gane,\n And a' women's curse in his company's gane.\n\n\n\n\n29\n\nTHE BOY AND THE MANTLE\n\n Percy MS., p. 284. Hales & Furnivall, II, 304.\n\n\nThis ballad and the two which follow it are clearly not of the same\nrise, and not meant for the same ears, as those which go before. They\nwould come down by professional rather than by domestic tradition,\nthrough minstrels rather than knitters and weavers. They suit the hall\nbetter than the bower, the tavern or public square better than the\ncottage, and would not go to the spinning-wheel at all. An exceedingly\ngood piece of minstrelsy 'The Boy and the Mantle' is, too; much livelier\nthan most of the numerous variations on the somewhat overhandled\ntheme.[211]\n\nOf these, as nearest related, the fabliau or \"romance\" of Le Mantel\nMautailli\u00e9, 'Cort Mantel,' must be put first: Montaiglon et Raynaud,\nRecueil G\u00e9n\u00e9ral des Fabliaux, III, 1, from four manuscripts, three of\nthe thirteenth century, one of the fourteenth; and previously by Michel,\nfrom the three older manuscripts, in Wolf, Ueber die Lais, p. 324. A\nrendering of the fabliau in prose, existing in a single manuscript, was\nseveral times printed in the sixteenth century: given in Legrand, ed.\nRenouard, I, 126, and before, somewhat modernized, by Caylus, 'Les\nManteaux,' \u0152uvres Badines, VI, 435.[212]\n\nThe story in 'Cort Mantel' goes thus. Arthur was holding full court at\nPentecost, never more splendidly. Not only kings, dukes, and counts were\nthere, but the attendance of all young bachelors had been commanded, and\nhe that had a _bele amie_ was to bring her. The court assembled on\nSaturday, and on Sunday all the world went to church. After service the\nqueen took the ladies to her apartments, till dinner should be ready.\nBut it was Arthur's wont not to dine that day until he had had or heard\nof some adventure;[213] dinner was kept waiting; and it was therefore\nwith great satisfaction that the knights saw a handsome and courteous\nvarlet arrive, who must certainly bring news; news that was not to be\ngood to all, though some would be pleased (cf. stanza 5 of the ballad).\nA maid had sent him from a very distant country to ask a boon of the\nking. He was not to name the boon or the lady till he had the king's\npromise; but what he asked was no harm. The king having said that he\nwould grant what was asked, the varlet took from a bag a beautiful\nmantle, of fairy workmanship. This mantle would fit no dame or damsel\nwho had in any way misbehaved towards husband or lover; it would be too\nshort or too long; and the boon was that the king should require all the\nladies of the court to put it on.\n\nThe ladies were still waiting dinner, unconscious of what was coming.\nGawain was sent to require their presence, and he simply told them that\nthe magnificent mantle was to be given to the one it best fitted. The\nking repeated the assurance, and the queen, who wished much to win the\nmantle, was the first to try it on. It proved too short. Ywain suggested\nthat a young lady who stood near the queen should try. This she readily\ndid, and what was short before was shorter still. Kay, who had been\nmaking his comments unguardedly, now divulged the secret, and after that\nnobody cared to have to do with the mantle. The king said, We may as\nwell give it back; but the varlet insisted on having the king's promise.\nThere was general consternation and bad humor.\n\nKay called his mistress, and very confidently urged her to put on the\nmantle. She demurred, on the ground that she might give offence by\nforwardness; but this roused suspicion in Kay, and she had no resource\nbut to go on. The mantle was again lamentably short. Bruns and Ydier let\nloose some gibes. Kay bade them wait; he had hopes for them. Gawain's\n_amie_ next underwent the test, then Ywain's, then Perceval's. Still a\nsad disappointment. Many were the curses on the mantle that would fit\nnobody, and on him that brought it. Kay takes the unlucky ladies, one\nafter the other, to sit with his mistress.\n\nAt this juncture Kay proposes that they shall have dinner, and continue\nthe experiment by and by. The varlet is relentless; but Kay has the\npleasure of seeing Ydier discomfited. And so they go on through the\nwhole court, till the varlet says that he fears he shall be obliged to\ncarry his mantle away with him. But first let the chambers be searched;\nsome one may be in hiding who may save the credit of the court. The king\norders a search, and they find one lady, not in hiding, but in her bed,\nbecause she is not well. Being told that she must come, she presents\nherself as soon as she can dress, greatly to the vexation of her lover,\nwhose name is Carados Briebras. The varlet explains to her the quality\nof the mantle, and Carados, in verses very honorable to his heart, begs\nthat she will not put it on if she has any misgivings.[214] The lady\nsays very meekly that she dare not boast being better than other people,\nbut, if it so please her lord, she will willingly don the mantle. This\nshe does, and in sight of all the barons it is neither too short nor too\nlong. \"It was well we sent for her,\" says the varlet. \"Lady, your lover\nought to be delighted. I have carried this mantle to many courts, and of\nmore than a thousand who have put it on you are the only one that has\nescaped disgrace. I give it to you, and well you deserve it.\" The king\nconfirms the gift, and no one can gainsay.\n\nA Norse prose translation of the French fabliau was executed by order of\nthe Norwegian king, H\u00e1kon H\u00e1konarson, whose reign covers the years\n1217-63. Of this translation, 'M\u00f6ttuls Saga,' a fragment has come down\nwhich is as old as 1300; there are also portions of a manuscript which\nis assigned to about 1400, and two transcripts of this latter, made when\nit was complete, besides other less important copies. This translation,\nwhich is reasonably close and was made from a good exemplar, has been\nmost excellently edited by Messrs Cederschi\u00f6ld and Wulff, Versions\nnordiques du Fabliau Le Mantel Mautailli\u00e9, Lund, 1877, p. 1.[215] It\npresents no divergences from the story as just given which are material\nhere.\n\nNot so with the 'Skikkju R\u00edmur,' or Mantle Rhymes, an Icelandic\ncomposition of the fifteenth century, in three parts, embracing in all\none hundred and eighty-five four-line stanzas: Cederschi\u00f6ld and Wulff,\np. 51. In these the story is told with additions, which occur partially\nin our ballad. The mantle is of white velvet. Three elf-women had been\nnot less than fifteen years in weaving it, and it seemed both yellow and\ngray, green and black, red and blue: II, 22, 23, 26. Our English\nminstrel describes these variations of color as occurring after Guenever\nhad put the mantle on: stanzas 11, 12. Again, there are among the\nPentecostal guests a king and queen of Dwarf Land; a beardless king of\nSmall-Maids Land, with a queen eight years old; and a King Felix, three\nhundred years old, with a beard to the crotch, and a wife, tall and fat,\nto whom he has been two centuries married,--all these severally attended\nby generous retinues of pigmies, juveniles, and seniors: I, 28-35; III,\n41. Felix is of course the prototype of the old knight pattering over a\ncreed in stanzas 21-24 of the ballad, and he will have his\nrepresentative in several other pieces presently to be spoken of. In the\nend Arthur sends all the ladies from his court in disgrace, and his\nknights to the wars; we will get better wives, he says: III, 74, 75.\n\nThe land of Small-Maids and the long-lived race are mentioned in a brief\ngeographical chapter (the thirteenth) of that singular gallimaufry the\nsaga of Samson the Fair, but not in connection with a probation by the\nmantle, though this saga has appropriated portions of the story. Here\nthe mantle is one which four fairies have worked at for eighteen years,\nas a penalty for stealing from the fleece of a very remarkable ram; and\nit is of this same fleece, described as being of all hues, gold, silk,\n_ok kolors_, that the mantle is woven. It would hold off from an\nunchaste woman and fall off from a thief. Quintalin, to ransom his life,\nundertakes to get the mantle for Samson. Its virtue is tried at two\nweddings, the second being Samson's; and on this last occasion\nValentina, Samson's bride, is the only woman who can put it on. The\nmantle is given to Valentina, as in the fabliau to Carados's wife, but\nnevertheless we hear later of its being presented by Samson to another\nlady, who, a good while after, was robbed of the same by a pirate, and\nthe mantle carried to Africa. From Africa it was sent to our Arthur by a\nlady named Elida, \"and hence the saga of the mantle.\"[216] Bj\u00f6rner,\nNordiska K\u00e4mpa Dater, cc 12, 14, 15, 21, 22, 24.\n\nThere is also an incomplete German version of the fabliau, now credibly\nshown to be the work of Heinrich von dem T\u00fcrlin, dating from the\nearliest years of the thirteenth century.[217] Though the author has\ndealt freely with his original, there are indications that this, like\nthe M\u00f6ttulssaga, was founded upon some version of the fabliau which is\nnot now extant. One of these is an agreement between vv 574-6 and the\nsixth stanza of our ballad. The mantle, in English, is enclosed between\ntwo nut-shells;[218] in German, the bag from which it is taken is hardly\na span wide. In the M\u00f6ttulssaga, p. 9, l. 6, the mantle comes from a\np\u00fass, a small bag hanging on the belt; in Ulrich von Zatzikhoven's\nLanzelet, from ein m\u00e6zigez teschel\u00een, and in the latter case the mantle\ninstantaneously expands to full size (Warnatsch); it is also of all\ncolors known to man, vv 5807-19. Again, when Guenever had put on the\nmantle, st. 10 of our ballad, \"it was from the top to the toe as sheeres\nhad itt shread.\" So in 'Der Mantel,' vv 732, 733:\n\n Unde [==unten] het man in zerizzen,\n Oder mit mezzern zesnitten.[219]\n\nThe Lanzelet of Ulrich von Zatzikhoven, dating from the first years of\nthe thirteenth century, with peculiarities of detail and a partially new\nset of names, presents the outline of the same story. A sea-fairy sends\na maid to Arthur with a magnificent gift, which is, however, conditioned\nupon his granting a boon. Arthur assents, and the maid takes, from a\nsmall bag which she wears at her girdle, a mantle, which is of all\ncolors that man ever saw or heard of, and is worked with every manner of\nbeast, fowl, and strange fish. The king's promise obliges him to make\nall the court ladies don the mantle, she to have it whom it perfectly\nfits. More than two hundred try, and there is no absolute fit.[220] But\nIblis, Lanzelet's wife, is not present: she is languishing on account of\nhis absence on a dangerous adventure. She is sent for, and by general\nagreement the mantle is, on her, the best-fitting garment woman ever\nwore. Ed. Hahn, vv 5746-6135.\n\nThe adventure of the Mantle is very briefly reported to Gawain, when on\nhis way with Ydain to Arthur, by a youth who had just come from the\ncourt, in terms entirely according with the French fabliau, in Messire\nGauvain, ou La Vengeance de Raguidel, by the trouv\u00e8re Raoul, ed.\nHippeau, p. 135 ff, vv 3906-55, and in the Dutch Lancelot, ed.\nJonckbloet, Part II, p. 85, vv 12,500-527, poems of the thirteenth\ncentury. The one lady whom the mantle fits is in the latter Carados\nvrindinne, in the other l'amie Caraduel Briefbras.\n\nThe Scalachronica, by Sir Thomas Gray of Heton, a chronicle of England\nand Scotland, 1066-1362, begun in 1355, gives the analysis of many\nromances, and that of the adventure of the Mantle in this form. There\nwas sent to Arthur's court the mantle of Karodes, which was of such\nvirtue that it would fit no woman who was not willing that her husband\nshould know both her act and her thought.[221] This was the occasion of\nmuch mirth, for the mantle was either too short, or too long, or too\ntight, for all the ladies except Karodes' wife. And it was said that\nthis mantle was sent by the father of Karodes, a magician, to prove the\ngoodness of his son's wife.[222]\n\nTwo fifteenth-century German versions of the Mantle story give it a\nshape of their own. In Fastnachtspiele aus dem f\u00fcnfzehnten Jahrhundert,\nII, 665, No 81, 'Der Luneten Mantel,' the amiable Lunet, so well and\nfavorably known in romances, takes the place of the English boy and\nFrench varlet. The story has the usual course. The mantle is\nunsuccessfully tried by Arthur's queen, by the wife of the Greek\nemperor, and by the queen of Lorraine. The king of Spain, who announces\nhimself as _the oldest man_ present, is willing to excuse his wife, who\nis the youngest of the royal ladies. She says, If we lack lands and\ngold, \"so sei wir doch an eren reich,\" offers herself to the test with\nthe fearlessness of innocence, and comes off clear, to the delight of\nher aged spouse. A meistergesang, Bruns, Beitr\u00e4ge zur kritischen\nBearbeitung alter Handschriften, p. 143,[223] 'Lanethen Mantel,' again\nawards the prize to the young wife of a very old knight. Laneth, a clean\nmaid, who is Arthur's niece, having made herself poor by her bounty, is\ncast off by her uncle's wife and accused of loose behavior. She makes\nher trouble known to a dwarf, a good friend of her father's, and\nreceives from him a mantle to take to Arthur's court: if anybody huffs\nher, she is to put it to use. The queen opens upon Laneth, as soon as\nshe appears, with language not unlike that which she employs of\nCradock's wife in stanzas 33, 34 of the ballad. The mantle is offered to\nany lady that it will fit. In front it comes to the queen's knee, and it\ndrags on the ground behind. Three hundred and fifty knights' ladies fare\nas ill as the sovereign.[224]\n\nThe Dean of Lismore's collection of Gaelic poetry, made in the early\npart of the sixteenth century, contains a ballad, obscure in places, but\nclearly presenting the outlines of the English ballad or French\nfabliau.[225] Finn, Diarmaid, and four other heroes are drinking, with\ntheir six wives. The women take too much, and fall to boasting of their\nchastity. While they are so engaged, a maid approaches who is clad in a\nseamless robe of pure white. She sits down by Finn, and he asks her what\nis the virtue of the garment. She replies that her seamless robe will\ncompletely cover none but the spotless wife. Conan, a sort of Kay, says,\nGive it to my wife at once, that we may learn the truth of what they\nhave been saying. The robe shrinks into folds, and Conan is so angry\nthat he seizes his spear and kills his wife.[226] Diarmaid's wife tries,\nand the robe clings about her hair; Oscar's, and it does not reach to\nher middle; Maighinis, Finn's wife, and it folds around her ears.\nMacRea's wife only is completely covered. The 'daughter of Deirg,'\ncertainly a wife of Finn, and here seemingly to be identified with\nMaighinis, claims the robe: she has done nothing to be ashamed of; she\nhas erred only with Finn. Finn curses her and womankind, \"because of her\nwho came that day.\"\n\nThe probation by the Horn runs parallel with that by the Mantle, with\nwhich it is combined in the English ballad. Whether this or that is the\nanterior creation it is not possible to say, though the 'Lai du Corn'\nis, beyond question, as Ferdinand Wolf held, of a more original stamp,\nfresher and more in the popular vein than the fabliau of the Mantle, as\nwe have it.[227] The 'Lai du Corn,' preserved in a single not very early\nmanuscript (Digby 86, Bodleian Library, \"of the second half of the\nthirteenth or beginning of the fourteenth century\"), may well belong,\nwhere Wolf puts it, in the middle of the twelfth. Robert Bikez, the\njongleur who composed it, attributes the first authorship to \"Garadue,\"\nthe hero, and says that he himself derived the story from the oral\ncommunication of an abb\u00e9. Arthur has assembled thirty thousand knights\nat a feast at Pentecost, and each of them is paired with a lady. Before\ndinner there arrives a donzel, with an ivory horn adorned with four gold\nbands and rich jewels. This horn has been sent Arthur by Mangounz, king\nof Moraine. The youth is told to take his place before the king, who\npromises to knight him after dinner and give him a handsome present the\nnext day; but he laughingly excuses himself, on the ground that it is\nnot proper for a squire to eat at a knight's table, and retires. Arthur\nsees that there is an inscription on the horn, and desires that his\n\"chapelein\" may read it. Everybody is eager to hear, but some repent\nafterwards. The horn was made by a fairy, who endued it with this\nquality, that no man should drink of it without spilling, if his wife\nhad not been true in act and thought. Even the queen hung her head, and\nso did all the barons that had wives. The maids jested, and looked at\ntheir lovers with \"Now we shall see.\" Arthur was offended, but ordered\nKay to fill. The king drank and spilled; seized a knife, and was about\nto strike the queen, but was withheld by his knights. Gawain gallantly\ncame to the queen's vindication. \"Be not such a churl,\" he said, \"for\nthere is no married woman but has her foolish thought.\" The queen\ndemanded an ordeal by fire: if a hair of her were burned, she would be\ntorn by horses. She confessed that the horn was in so far right that she\nhad once given a ring to a youth who had killed a giant that had accused\nGawain of treason, etc. She thought this youth would be a desirable\naddition to the court. Arthur was not convinced: he would make everybody\ntry the horn now, king, duke, and count, for he would not be the only\none to be shamed. Eleven kings, thirty counts, all who essay, spill:\nthey are very angry, and bid the devil take him who brought and him who\nsent the horn. When Arthur saw this, he began to laugh: he regarded the\nhorn as a great present, he said, and he would part with it to nobody\nexcept the man that could drink out of it. The queen blushed so prettily\nthat he kissed her three times, and asked her pardon for his bad humor.\nThe queen said, Let everybody take the horn, small and great. There was\na knight who was the happiest man in all the court, the least a\nbraggart, the most mannerly, and the most redoubtable after Gawain. His\nname was Garadue, and he had a wife, _mout leal_, who was a fairy for\nbeauty, and surpassed by none but the queen. Garadue looked at her. She\ndid not change color. \"Drink,\" she said; \"indeed, you are at fault to\nhesitate.\" She would never have husband but him: for a woman should be a\ndove, and accept no second mate. Garadue was naturally very much\npleased: he sprang to his feet, took the horn, and, crying Wassail! to\nthe king, drank out every drop. Arthur presented him with Cirencester,\nand, for his wife's sake, with the horn, which was exhibited there on\ngreat days.\n\nThe romance of Perceval le Gallois, by Chrestien de Troyes and others\n(second half of the twelfth century), describes Arthur, like the\nfabliau, as putting off dinner till he should hear of some strange news\nor adventure. A knight rides into the hall, with an ivory horn,\ngold-banded and richly jewelled, hanging from his neck, and presents it\nto the king. Have it filled with pure water, says the bearer, and the\nwater will turn to the best wine in the world, enough for all who are\npresent. \"A rich present!\" exclaims Kay. But no knight whose wife or\nlove has betrayed him shall drink without spilling. \"Or empire vostre\npr\u00e9sens,\" says Kay. The king has the horn filled, and does not heed\nGuenever, who begs him not to drink, for it is some enchantment, to\nshame honest folk. \"Then I pray God,\" says the queen, \"that if you try\nto drink you may be wet.\" The king essays to drink, and Guenever has her\nprayer. Kay has the same luck, and all the knights,[228] till the horn\ncomes to Carados (Brisi\u00e9-Bras). Carados, as in the lai, hesitates; his\nwife (Guinon, Guimer) looks at him, and says, Drink! He spills not a\ndrop. Guenever and many a dame hate nothing so much as her. Perceval le\nGallois, ed. Potvin, II, 216 ff, vv 15,640-767.[229]\n\nThe story of 'Le Livre de Carados,' in Perceval, is given in abridgment\nby the author of Le Roman du Renard contrefait, writing in the second\nhalf of the fourteenth century: Tarb\u00e9, Po\u00e8tes de Champagne ant\u00e9rieurs au\nsi\u00e8cle de Fran\u00e7ois I^{er}, Histoire de Quarados Brun-Bras, p. 79 ff. The\nhorn here becomes a cup.\n\nA meistergesang, entitled 'Dis ist Frauw Tristerat Horn von Saphoien,'\nand found in the same fifteenth-century manuscript as Der Lanethen\nMantel, Bruns, as before, p. 139, preserves many features of the lai.\nWhile Arthur is at table with seven other kings and their wives, a\ndamsel comes, bringing an ivory horn, with gold letters about the rim, a\npresent from Frau Tristerat of Savoy. The king sends for a clerk to read\nthe inscription, and declares he will begin the experiment. The damsel\nprudently retires. Arthur is thoroughly wet, and on the point of\nstriking the queen, but is prevented by a knight. The seven kings then\ntake the horn, one after the other. Six of them fare like Arthur. The\nking of Spain looks at his wife, fearing shame. She encourages him to\ndrink, saying, as in the other meistergesang, If we are poor in goods,\nwe are rich in honor. Arthur presents him with the horn, and adds cities\nand lands. Another copy of this piece was printed by Zingerle, in\nGermania, V, 101, 'Das goldene Horn.' The queen is aus der Syrenen\nlant.[230]\n\nA fastnachtspiel gives substantially the same form to the story: Keller,\nNachlese, No 127, p. 183. Arthur invites seven kings and queens to his\ncourt. His wife wishes him to ask his sister, the Queen of Cyprus, also;\nbut she has offended him, and he cannot be prevailed upon to do it. The\nQueen of Cyprus sends the horn to Arthur by her maid as a gift from a\nqueen who is to be nameless, and in fulfilling her charge the messenger\ndescribes her lady simply as a sea princess. The inscription is read\naloud by one of Arthur's knights. The King of Spain carries off the\nhonors, and receives in gift, besides the horn, a ducal crown, and gold\nto boot. Arthur resolves that the horn shall be forgotten, and no grudge\nborne against the women, and proposes a dance, which he leads off with\nhis wife.[231]\n\nWe have Arthur joining in a dance under nearly the same circumstances in\nan English \"bowrd\" found in a MS. of about the middle of the fifteenth\ncentury (Ashmolean Museum, No 61). The king has a bugle horn, which\nalways stands before him, and often amuses himself by experimenting with\nit. Those who cannot drink without spilling are set at a table by\nthemselves, with willow garlands on their heads, and served with the\nbest. Upon the occasion of a visit from the Duke of Gloucester, the\nking, wishing to entertain his guest with an exhibition of the property\nof the horn, says he will try all who are present. He begins himself, as\nhe was wont to do, but this time spills. He takes the mishap merrily,\nand says he may now join in a dance which the \"freyry\" were to have\nafter meat. 'The Cokwolds Daunce,' Hartshorne's Ancient Metrical Tales,\np. 209; Karajan, Fr\u00fchlingsgabe [Schatzgr\u00e4ber], p. 17; Hazlitt, Remains\nof Early Popular Poetry, I, 38.[232]\n\nHeinrich von dem T\u00fcrl\u00een narrates the episode of the probation by the\nHorn with many variations of his own, among them the important one of\nsubjecting the women to the test as well as the men.[233] In his Cr\u00f4ne,\nput at 1200-10, a misshapen, dwarfish knight, whose skin is overgrown\nwith scales, riding on a monster who is fish before and dolphin behind,\nwith wings on its legs, presents himself to Arthur on Christmas Day as\nan envoy from a sea king, who offers the British monarch a gift on\ncondition of his first granting a boon. The gift is a cup, made by a\nnecromancer of Toledo, of which no man or woman can drink who has been\nfalse to love, and it is to be the king's if there shall be anybody at\nthe court who can stand the test. The ladies are sent for, and the\nmessenger gives the cup first to them. They all spill. The knights\nfollow, Arthur first; and he, to the general astonishment, bears the\nproof, which no one else does except the sea king's messenger.\nCaraduz[234] von Caz fails with the rest. Diu Cr\u00f4ne, ed. Scholl, vv\n466-3189.\n\nThe prose Tristan confines the proof to the women, and transfers the\nscene to King Mark's court. Morgan the Fay having sent the enchanted\nhorn to Arthur's court by the hands of a damsel, to avenge herself on\nGuenever, two knights who had a spite against Mark and Tristan intercept\nit, and cause the horn to be taken to King Mark, who is informed that no\nlady that has been false to her lord can drink of it without spilling.\nYseult spills, and the king says she deserves to die. But, fortunately\nor unfortunately, all the rest of the ladies save four are found to be\nin the same plight as the queen. The courtiers, resolved to make the\nbest of a bad matter, declare that they have no confidence in the\nprobation, and the king consents to treat the horn as a deception, and\nacquits his wife.[235]\n\nAriosto has introduced the magical vessel made by Morgan the Fay for\nArthur's behoof[236] into Orlando Furioso. A gentleman tries it on his\nguests for ten years, and they all spill but Rinaldo, who declines il\nperiglioso saggio: canto XLII, 70-73, 97-104; XLIII, 6-44. Upon\nAriosto's narrative La Fontaine founded the tale and the comedy of 'La\nCoupe Enchant\u00e9e,' Works ed. Moland, IV, 37, V, 361.\n\nIn a piece in the Wunderhorn, I, 389, ed. 1819, called 'Die\nAusgleichung,' and purporting to be from oral tradition, but reading\nlike an imitation, or at most a reconstruction, of a meistergesang, the\ncup and mantle are made to operate conjointly: the former to convict a\nking and his knights, the other a queen and her ladies, of\nunfaithfulness in love. Only the youngest of the ladies can wear the\nmantle, and only the oldest of the knights, to whom she is espoused, can\ndrink from the cup. This knight, on being presented with the cup, turns\ninto a dwarf; the lady, on receiving the gift of the mantle, into a fay.\nThey pour a drop of wine from the cup upon the mantle, and give the\nmantle to the queen, and the cup, empty, to the king. After this, the\nking and all the world can drink without inconvenience, and the mantle\nfits every woman. But the stain on the mantle grows bigger every year,\nand the cup gives out a hollow sound like tin! An allegory, we may\nsuppose, and, so far as it is intelligible, of the weakest sort.\n\nTegau Eurvron is spoken of in Welsh triads as one of the three chaste\nladies, and again as one of the three fair ladies, of Arthur's\ncourt.[237] She is called the wife of Caradawe Vreichvras by various\nWelsh writers, and by her surname of \"Gold-breasted\" she should be\nso.[238] If we may trust the author of The Welsh Bards, Tegau was the\npossessor of three treasures or rarities \"which befitted none but\nherself,\" a mantle, a goblet, and a knife. The mantle is mentioned in a\ntriad,[239] and is referred to as having the variable hue attributed to\nit in our ballad and elsewhere. There are three things, says the triad,\nof which no man knows the color; the peacock's expanded tail, the mantle\nof Tegau Eurvron, and the miser's pence. Of this mantle, Jones, in whose\nlist of \"Thirteen Rarities of Kingly Regalia\" of the Island of Britain\nit stands eleventh, says, No one could put it on who had dishonored\nmarriage, nor a young damsel who had committed incontinence; but it\nwould cover a chaste woman from top to toe: Welsh Bards, II, 49. The\nmantle certainly seems to be identified by what is said of its color in\nthe (not very ancient) triad, and so must have the property attributed\nto it by Jones, but one would be glad to have had Jones cite chapter and\nverse for his description.\n\nThere is a drinking-horn among the Thirteen Precious Things of the\nIsland of Britain, which, like the conjurer's bottle of our day, will\nfurnish any liquor that is called for, and a knife which will serve\nfour-and-twenty men at meat \"all at once.\" How this horn and this knife\nshould befit none but the chaste and lovely Tegau, it is not easy to\ncomprehend. Meanwhile the horn and the knife are not the property of\nCradock's wife, in the English ballad: the horn falls to Cradock of\nright, and the knife was his from the beginning. Instead of Tegau's\nmantle we have in another account a mantle of Arthur, which is the\nfamiliar cloak that allows the wearer to see everything without himself\nbeing seen. Not much light, therefore, but rather considerable mist,\ncomes from these Welsh traditions, of very uncertain date and\nsignificance. It may be that somebody who had heard of the three Welsh\nrarities, and of the mantle and horn as being two of them, supposed that\nthe knife must have similar virtues with the horn and mantle, whence its\nappearance in our ballad; but no proof has yet been given that the Welsh\nhorn and knife had ever a power of testing chastity.[240]\n\nHeinrich von dem T\u00fcrlin, not satisfied with testing Arthur's court first\nwith the mantle, and again with the horn, renews the experiment with a\nGlove, in a couple of thousand lines more of tedious imitation of 'Cort\nMantel,'[241] Cr\u00f4ne, 22,990-24,719. This glove renders the right side of\nthe body invisible, when put on by man or woman free of blame, but\nleaves in the other case some portion of that side visible and bare. A\ngreat many ladies and knights don the glove, and all have reason to\nregret the trial except Arthur and Gawain.[242]\n\nThere is another German imitation of the fabliau of the mantle, in the\nform (1) of a farce of the fifteenth century and (2) of a meistergesang\nprinted in the sixteenth. In these there is substituted for the mantle a\nCrown that exposes the infidelity of husbands.\n\n1. \"Das Vasnachtspil mit der Kron.\"[243] A \"master\" has been sent to\nArthur's court with a rich crown, which the King of Abian wishes to\npresent to whichever king or lord it shall fit, and it will fit only\nthose who have not \"lost their honor.\" The King of Orient begins the\ntrial, very much against his will: the crown turns to ram's horns. The\nKing of Cyprus is obliged to follow, though he says the devil is in the\ncrown: the crown hangs about his neck. Appeals are made to Arthur that\nthe trial may now stop, so that the knights may devote themselves to the\nobject for which they had come together, the service and honor of the\nladies. But here Lanet, Arthur's sister (so she is styled), interposes,\nand expresses a hope that no honors are intended the queen, for she is\nnot worthy of them, having broken her faith. Arthur is very angry, and\nsays that Lanet has by her injurious language forfeited all her lands,\nand shall be expelled from court. (Cf. Der Lanethen Mantel, p. 261.) A\nknight begs the king to desist, for he who heeds every tale that is told\nof his wife shall never be easy.\n\n2. The meistergesang 'Die Krone der K\u00f6nigin von Afion.'[244] While his\nmajesty of Afion is holding a great feast, a youth enters the hall\nbearing a splendid crown, which has such chaste things in it that no\nking can wear it who haunts false love. The crown had been secretly made\nby order of the queen. The king wishes to buy the crown at any price,\nbut the youth informs him that it is to be given free to the man who can\nwear it. The king asks the favor of being the first to try the crown:\nwhen put on his head it falls down to his back. The King of Portugal is\neager to be next: the crown falls upon his shoulder. The King of Holland\nat first refuses to put on the crown, for there was magic in it, and it\nwas only meant to shame them: but he is obliged to yield, and the crown\ngoes to his girdle. The King of Cyprus offers himself to the adventure:\nthe crown falls to his loins. And so with eleven. But there was a \"Young\nPhilips,\" King of England, who thought he might carry off the prize. His\nwife was gray and old and ugly, and quite willing, on this account, to\noverlook e bisserle Falschheit, and told him that he might spare\nhimself. But he would not be prevented; so they put the crown on him,\nand it fitted to a hair. This makes an edifying pendant to 'Der Luneten\nMantel,' p. 261.\n\nStill another imitation is the Magical Bridge in the younger Titurel\nwhich Klingsor throws over the Sibra. Knights and ladies assembled at\nArthur's court, if less than perfect[245], on attempting to ride over it\nare thrown off into the water, or stumble and fall on the bridge: ed.\nHahn, p. 232 ff, st. 2337 ff. Hans Sachs has told this story twice, with\nVirgil for the magician: ed. Keller, Historia, K\u00f6nig Artus mit der\nehbrecher-brugk, II, 262; Goedeke, Dichtungen von Hans Sachs, I, 175.\nKirchhof follows Hans Sachs in a story in Wendunmuth, ed. \u00d6sterley, II,\n38.\n\nFlorimel's Girdle, in the fourth book of the 'Fairy Queen,' canto v,\nonce more, is formed on the same pattern.[246]\n\nThere might be further included in imitations of the horn or mantle test\nseveral other inventions which are clearly, as to form, modelled on this\noriginal, but which have a different object: the valley from which no\nfalse lover could escape till it had been entered by one \"qui de nulle\nchose auroit vers s'amie faus\u00e9 ne mespris, n\u00e8 d'euvre n\u00e8 de pens\u00e9e n\u00e8 de\ntalent,\" the prose Lancelot in Jonckbloet, II, lxix (Warnatsch),\nFerrario, Storia ed Analisi, Lancilotto del Lago, III, 372, Legrand,\nFabliaux, I, 156; the arch in Amadis, which no man or woman can pass who\nhas been unfaithful to a first love, and again, the sword which only the\nknight who loves his lady best can draw, and the partly withered garland\nwhich becomes completely fresh on the head of the lady who best loves\nher husband or lover, Amad\u00eds de Gaula, l. ii, introduccion, c. 1, c. 14,\nand ballad 1890 in Duran, II, 665; the cup of congealed tears in\nPalmerin of England, which liquefies in the hand of the best knight and\nfaithfulest lover, chapters 87-89, II, 322 ff, ed. of London, 1807.\n\nBesides those which have been spoken of, not a few other criterions of\nchastity occur in romantic tales.\n\n#Bed clothes and bed.# 'Gil Brenton,' #A#, #B#; the corresponding\nSwedish ballad, #A#, #B#, #E#; Danish, Grundtvig, No 275:[247] see pp\n64, 65, of this volume.\n\n#A stepping-stone# by the bed-side. 'Vesle Aase Gaasepige,' Asbj\u00f8rnsen\nog Moe, No 29: see p. 66.\n\nA chair in which no leal maiden can sit, or will sit till bidden (?).\n'Gil Brenton,' #D#, #C#.\n\n#Flowers# [foliage]. 1. In the Sanskrit story of Guhasena, the\nmerchant's son, and Devasmit\u00e1, this married pair, who are to be\nseparated for a time, receive from Sh\u00edva each a red lotus: if either\nshould be unfaithful, the lotus in the hand of the other would fade, but\nnot otherwise: Kath\u00e1 Sarit S\u00e1gara, ch. 13, Tawney, I, 86, Brockhaus, I,\n137. 2. In the Tales of a Parrot, a soldier, going into service,\nreceives from his wife a rose [flower, nosegay], which will keep fresh\nas long as she remains true: Rosen, Tuti-nameh, from the Turkish\nversion, I, 109; Wickerhauser, also from the Turkish, p. 57; Iken, p.\n30,[248] from the Persian of Kadiri. 3. So the knight Margon in the\nFrench romance of Perceforest, vol. IV, ch. 16 and 17. 4. In a Turkish\ntale found in a manuscript collection called 'Joy after Sorrow,' an\narchitect or housewright, having to leave home for want of employment,\nis presented by his wife with a bunch of evergreen of the same property.\n5. An English story of a wright reverts to the rose. A widow, having\nnothing else to give with her daughter, presents the bridegroom with a\nrose-garland, which will hold its hue while his wife is \"stable:\" 'The\nWright's Chaste Wife,' by Adam of Cobsam, from a manuscript of about\n1462, ed. Furnivall.[249]\n\n#A shirt# [mantle]. 1. In connection with the same incidents there is\nsubstituted for the unfading flower, in Gesta Romanorum, 69, a shirt.\nThis a knight's wife gives to a carpenter or housewright who has married\nher daughter, and it will not need washing, will not tear, wear, or\nchange color, as long as both husband and wife are faithful, but will\nlose all its virtues if either is untrue. The shirt is given by a wife\nto a husband in several versions of an otherwise different story. 2. In\nthe German meistergesang and the Flemish tale Alexander of Metz: K\u00f6rner,\nHistorische Volkslieder, p. 49, No 8; Goedeke, Deutsche Dichtung im\nMittelalter, 2d ed., p. 569 ff; 'De Historia van Florentina,' etc., Van\nden Bergh, De nederlandsche Volksromaus, p. 52 f. 3. In the story 'Von\ndem K\u00f6nig von Spanien[250] und seiner Frau,' M\u00fcllenhoff, Sagen, u. s.\nw., p. 586, No 607, a wife gives the shirt to her husband the morning\nafter the wedding: it will always be white until she dies, when it will\nturn black, or unless she misbehaves, in which case it will be spotted.\n4. 'Die getreue Frau,' Pl\u00f6nnies, in Wolf's Zeitschrift f\u00fcr deutsche\nMythologie,' II, 377. An English princess gives her consort, a Spanish\nprince, at parting, a white shirt which will not spot as long as she is\nfaithful. 5. 'Die treue Frau,' Curtze, Volks\u00fcberlieferungen aus Waldeck,\np. 146. A merchant's son, married to a princess, goes away for a voyage;\nthey change rings and shirts, and neither shirt will soil until one of\nthe two shall be untrue. 6. 'Die getreue Frau,' J. W. Wolf, Deutsche\nHausm\u00e4rchen, at p. 102. A prince, going on a voyage, gives his sword to\nhis wife; as long as the blade is not spotted, he is faithful. He\nreceives from the princess a mantle; as long as it is white, her faith\nis inviolate.\n\n#A picture.# For the rose, as in Perceforest, there is substituted, in\na story otherwise essentially the same, a picture. A knight, compelled\nto leave his wife, receives from a magician a picture of her, small\nenough to carry in a box about his person, which will turn yellow if she\nis tempted, pale if she wavers, black if she yields, but will otherwise\npreserve its fresh hues: Bandello, Part I, nov. 21. This tale,\ntranslated in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, 1567 (ed. Haslewood, II,\n471, nov. 28), furnished the plot for Massinger's 'Picture,' 1630. The\nminiature will keep its color as long as the woman is innocent and\nunattempted, will grow yellow if she is solicited but unconquered, and\nblack if she surrenders: Act I, Scene 1. Bandello's story is also the\nfoundation of S\u00e9nec\u00e9's tale, 'Filer le parfait amour,' with a wax image\ntaking the place of the picture: \u0152uvres Choisies, ed. Charles et Cap,\np. 95.[251]\n\n#A ring.# The picture is exchanged for a ring in a French tale derived,\nand in parts almost translated, from Bandello's: the sixth in 'Les\nFaveurs et les Disgraces de l'Amour,' etc., said to have appeared in\n1696.[252] A white stone set in the ring may become yellow or black\nunder circumstances. Such a ring Rimnild gave Horn Child: when the stone\nshould grow wan, her thoughts would have changed; should it grow red,\nshe is no more a maid: see p. 192. A father, being required to leave\nthree daughters, gives them each such a ring in Basile, Pentamerone,\nIII, 4. The rings are changed into glass distaffs in 'L'Adroite\nPrincesse,' an imitation of this story by Mlle. Lh\u00e9ritier de Villaudon,\nwhich has sometimes been printed with Perrault's tales: Perrault, Contes\ndes F\u00e9es, ed. Giraud, p. 239; Dunlop, ch. 13.\n\n#A mirror#, in the History of Prince Zeyn Alasnam, reflecting the image\nof a chaste maid, will remain unblurred: Arabian Nights, Scott, IV, 120,\n124; 1001 Nacht, Habicht, VI, 146, 150; etc. Virgil made a mirror of\nlike property; it exposed the woman that was \"new-fangle,\" wandelm\u00fcetic,\nby the ignition of a \"worm\" in the glass: Meisterlieder der Kolmarer\nHandschrift, Bartsch, p. 605 (Warnatsch). There is also one of these\nmirrors in Primaleon, l. ii, cap. 27; Rajna, Le Fonti dell' Orlando\nFurioso, p. 504, note 3. Alfred de Musset, in 'Barberine,' substitutes a\npocket-mirror for the picture in Bandello, Part I, nov. 21: \u0152uvres\nCompl\u00e8tes, III, 378 ff.\n\n#A harp#, in the hands of an image, upon the approach of a\n_despucell\u00e9e_, plays out of tune and breaks a string: Perceval le\nGallois, II, 149, vv 13, 365-72 (Rajna, as above).\n\nA crystal #brook#, in the amiral's garden in Flor and Blancheflor, when\ncrossed by a virgin remains pellucid, but in the other case becomes red,\nor turbid: ed. Du M\u00e9ril, p. 75, vv 1811-14; Bekker, Berlin Academy,\nXLIV, 26, vv 2069-72; Fleck, ed. Sommer, p. 148, vv 4472-82; Swedish,\ned. Klemming, p. 38, 1122-25; Lower Rhine, Haupt's Zeitschrift, XXI,\n321, vv 57-62; Middle Greek, Bekker, Berlin Academy, 1845, p. 165,\nWagner, Medi\u00e6val Greek Texts, p. 40 f, vv 1339-48; etc. In the English\npoem, Hartshorne's Ancient Metrical Tales, p. 93, if a clean maid wash\nher hands in the water, it remains quiet and clear; but if one who has\nlost her purity do this, the water will yell like mad and become red as\nblood.\n\nThe #stone# Aptor, in Wigamur, vv 1100-21, is red to the sight of clean\nman or woman, but misty to others: Von der Hagen und B\u00fcsching, Deutsche\nGedichte des Mittelalters, p. 12 (Warnatsch).[253]\n\nA #statue#, in an Italian ballad, moved its eyes when young women who\nhad sacrificed their honor were presented to it: Ferraro, Canti\npopolari di Ferrara, Cento e Pontelagoscuro, p. 84, 'Il Conte\nCagnolino.' There was said to be a statue of Venus in Constantinople\nwhich could not be approached by an incontinent woman without a very\nshameful exposure; and again, a pillar surmounted by four horns, which\nturned round three times if any \u03ba\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 came up to it.[254]\nVirgil, 'Filius,' made a brass statue which no misbehaving woman might\ntouch, and a vicious one received violent blows from it: Meisterlieder\nder Kolmarer Handschrift, Bartsch, p. 604, 14th century. This statue\nwould bite off the fingers of an adulteress if they were put in its\nmouth, according to a poem of the same century published by Bartsch in\nGermania, IV, 237; and a third version makes the statue do this to _all_\nperjurers, agreeing in other respects with the second: Kolmarer\nMeisterlieder, as before, p. 338. In the two last the offence of the\nwife causes a horn to grow out of the husband's forehead. Much of the\nstory in these poems is derived from the fifteenth tale of the\nShukasaptati, where a woman offers to pass between the legs of a statue\nof a Yaksha, which only an innocent one can do: Benfey, Pantschatantra,\nI, 457.[255]\n\nAccording to a popular belief in Austria, says J. Grimm, you may know a\nclean maid by her being able to blow out a candle with one puff and to\nlight it again with another. The phrase was known in Spain: \"Matar un\ncandil con un soplo y encenderlo con otro.\" Grimm adds that it is an\narticle of popular faith in India that a virgin can make a ball of\nwater, or carry water in a sieve: Rechtsalterth\u00fcmer, p. 932.[256]\n\nAn ordeal for chastity is a feature in several of the Greek romances. In\nHeliodorus's \u00c6thiopica, X, 8, 9, victims to be offered to the sun and\nmoon, who must be pure, are obliged to mount a #brazier# covered with a\ngolden grating. The soles of those who are less than perfect are burned.\nTheagenes and Chariclea experience no inconvenience. The Clitophon and\nLeucippe of Achilles Tatius, VIII, 6, 13, 14, has a #cave# in the grove\nof Diana of Ephesus, in which they shut up a woman. If it is a virgin, a\ndelicious melody is presently heard from a syrinx, the doors open of\nthemselves, and the woman comes out crowned with pine leaves; if not a\nvirgin, a wail is heard, and the woman is never seen again. There is\nalso a not perfectly convincing trial, by the Stygian #water#, in \u00a7 12,\nwhich seems to be imitated in the Hysmine and Hysminias of Eustathius\n[Eumathius], VIII, 7, XI, 17. In the temple of Diana, at Artycomis,\nstands a statue of the goddess, with bow in hand, and from about her\nfeet flows water like a roaring river. A woman, crowned with laurel,\nbeing put in, she will float quietly, if all is right; but should she\nnot have kept her allegiance to Dian, the goddess bends her bow as if to\nshoot at her head, which causes the culprit to duck, and the water\ncarries off her wreath.[257]\n\nIt is prescribed in Numbers v, 11-31, that any man jealous of his wife\nmay bring her to the priest, who shall, with and after various\nceremonies, give her a bitter drink of holy water in which dust from the\nfloor of the tabernacle has been infused. If she have trespassed, her\nbody shall swell and rot. In the Pseudo-Matthew's Gospel, ch. xii,\nJoseph and Mary successively take this aquam potationis domini. No\npretender to innocence could taste this and then make seven turns round\nthe altar, without some sign of sin appearing in the face. The\nexperiment shows both to be faultless. So, with some variation, the\nsixteenth chapter of the Protevangelium of James. This trial is the\nsubject of one of the Coventry Mysteries, No 14, p. 137 ff, ed.\nHalliwell, and no doubt of other scripture plays. It is naturally\nintroduced into Wernher's Maria, Hoffmann, Fundgruben, II, 188, line 26\nff, and probably into other lives of the Virgin.\n\nHerodotus relates, II, 111, that Pheron, son of Sesostris, after a\nblindness of ten years' duration, received an intimation from an oracle\nthat he would recover his sight upon following a certain prescription,\nsuch as we are assured is still thought well of in Egypt in cases of\nophthalmia. For this the co\u00f6peration of a chaste woman was\nindispensable. Repeatedly balked, the king finally regained his vision,\nand collecting in a town many women of whom he had vainly hoped aid, in\nwhich number his queen was included, he set fire to the place and burned\nboth it and them, and then married the woman to whom he was so much\nindebted. (First cited in the Gentleman's Magazine, 1795, vol. 65, I,\n114.) The coincidence with foregoing tales is certainly curious, but to\nall appearance accidental.[258]\n\nThe 'Boy and the Mantle' was printed \"verbatim\" from his manuscript by\nPercy in the Reliques, III, 3, ed. 1765. The copy at p. 314 is of course\nthe same \"revised and altered\" by Percy, but has been sometimes mistaken\nfor an independent one.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTranslated by Herder, I, 219; Bodmer, I, 18; Bothe, p. 59.\n\n\n Percy MS., p. 284: Hales and Furnivall, II, 304.\n\n 1\n In the third day of May\n to Carleile did come\n A kind curteous child,\n that cold much of wisdome.\n\n 2\n A kirtle and a mantle\n this child had vppon,\n With brauches and ringes\n full richelye bedone.\n\n 3\n He had a sute of silke,\n about his middle drawne;\n Without he cold of curtesye,\n he thought itt much shame.\n\n 4\n 'God speed thee, K_ing_ Arthur,\n sitting att thy meate!\n And the goodly Queene Gueneuer!\n I canott her fforgett.\n\n 5\n 'I tell you lords in this hall,\n I hett you all heede,\n Except you be the more surer,\n is you for to dread.'\n\n 6\n He plucked out of his potewer,\n and longer wold not dwell,\n He pulled forth a pretty mantle,\n betweene two nut-shells.\n\n 7\n 'Haue thou here,' K_ing_ Arthure,\n haue thou heere of mee;\n Giue itt to thy comely queene,\n shapen as itt is alreadye.\n\n 8\n 'Itt shall neu_er_ become _tha_t wiffe\n _tha_t hath once done amisse:'\n Then euery k_nigh_t in the k_ing_s court\n began to care for his.\n\n 9\n Forth came dame Gueneuer,\n to the mantle shee her bed;\n The ladye shee was new-fangle,\n but yett shee was affrayd.\n\n 10\n When shee had taken the mantle,\n shee stoode as she had beene madd;\n It was from the top to the toe\n as sheeres had itt shread.\n\n 11\n One while was itt gaule,\n another while was itt greene;\n Another while was itt wadded;\n ill itt did her beseeme.\n\n 12\n Another while was it blacke,\n and bore the worst hue;\n 'By my troth,' q_uo_th K_ing_ Arthur,\n 'I thinke thou be not true.'\n\n 13\n Shee threw downe the mantle,\n _tha_t bright was of blee,\n Fast with a rudd redd\n to her chamber can shee flee.\n\n 14\n Shee curst the weauer and the walker\n that clothe _tha_t had wrought,\n And bade a vengeance on his crowne\n _tha_t hither hath itt brought.\n\n 15\n 'I had rather be in a wood,\n vnder a greene tree,\n Then in K_ing_ Arthurs court\n shamed for to bee.'\n\n 16\n Kay called forth his ladye,\n and bade her come neere;\n Saies, 'Madam, and thou be guiltye,\n I pray thee hold thee there.'\n\n 17\n Forth came his ladye\n shortlye and anon,\n Boldlye to the mantle\n then is shee gone.\n\n 18\n When she had tane the mantle,\n and cast it her about,\n Then was shee bare\n all aboue the buttocckes.\n\n 19\n Then euery knight\n _tha_t was in the kings court\n Talked, laughed, and showted,\n full oft att _tha_t sport.\n\n 20\n Shee threw downe the mantle,\n _tha_t bright was of blee,\n Ffast with a red rudd\n to her chamber can shee flee.\n\n 21\n Forth came an old k_night_,\n pattering ore a creede,\n And he _pro_ferred to this little boy\n twenty markes to his meede,\n\n 22\n And all the time of the Christmasse\n willinglye to ffeede;\n For why, this mantle might\n doe his wiffe some need.\n\n 23\n When shee had tane the mantle,\n of cloth _tha_t was made,\n Shee had no more left on her\n but a tassell and a threed:\n Then euery k_night_ in the k_ing_s court\n bade euill might shee speed.\n\n 24\n Shee threw downe the mantle,\n _tha_t bright was of blee,\n And fast w_i_th a redd rudd\n to her chamber can shee flee.\n\n 25\n Craddocke called forth his ladye,\n and bade her come in;\n Saith, 'Winne this mantle, ladye,\n with a litle dinne.\n\n 26\n 'Winne this mantle, ladye,\n and it shalbe thine\n If thou neuer did amisse\n since thou wast mine.'\n\n 27\n Forth came Craddockes ladye\n shortlye and anon,\n But boldlye to the mantle\n then is shee gone.\n\n 28\n When shee had tane the mantle,\n and cast itt her about,\n Vpp att her great toe\n itt began to crinkle and crowt;\n Shee said, 'Bowe downe, mantle,\n and shame me not for nought.\n\n 29\n 'Once I did amisse,\n I tell you certainlye,\n When I kist Craddockes mouth\n vnder a greene tree,\n When I kist Craddockes mouth\n before he marryed mee.'\n\n 30\n When shee had her shreeuen,\n and her sines shee had tolde,\n The mantle stoode about her\n right as shee wold;\n\n 31\n Seemelye of coulour,\n glittering like gold;\n Then euery k_nigh_t in Arthurs court\n did her behold.\n\n 32\n Then spake dame Gueneuer\n to Arthur our king:\n 'She hath tane yonder mantle,\n not with wright but w_i_th wronge!\n\n 33\n 'See you not yonder woman\n _tha_t maketh her selfe soe clene?\n I haue seene tane out of her bedd\n of men fiueteene;\n\n 34\n 'Preists, clarkes, and wedded men,\n from her by-deene;\n Yett shee taketh the mantle,\n and maketh her-selfe cleane!'\n\n 35\n Then spake the litle boy\n _tha_t kept the mantle in hold;\n Sayes 'K_ing_, chasten thy wiffe;\n of her words shee is to bold.\n\n 36\n 'Shee is a bitch and a witch,\n and a whore bold;\n King, in thine owne hall\n thou art a cuchold.'\n\n 37\n The litle boy stoode\n looking ou_e_r a dore;\n He was ware of a wyld bore,\n wold haue werryed a man.\n\n 38\n He pulld forth a wood kniffe,\n fast thither _tha_t he ran;\n He brought in the bores head,\n and quitted him like a man.\n\n 39\n He brought in the bores head,\n and was wonderous bold;\n He said there was neu_e_r a cucholds kniffe\n carue itt that cold.\n\n 40\n Some rubbed their kniues\n vppon a whetstone;\n Some threw them vnder the table,\n and said they had none.\n\n 41\n K_ing_ Arthur and the child\n stood looking them vpon;\n All their kniues edges\n turned backe againe.\n\n 42\n Craddoccke had a litle kniue\n of iron and of steele;\n He birtled the bores head\n wonderous weele,\n _Tha_t euery k_nigh_t in the k_ing_s court\n had a morssell.\n\n 43\n The litle boy had a horne,\n of red gold _tha_t ronge;\n He said, 'there was noe cuckolde\n shall drinke of my horne,\n But he shold itt sheede,\n either behind or beforne.'\n\n 44\n Some shedd on their shoulder,\n and some on their knee;\n He _tha_t cold not hitt his mouth\n put it in his eye;\n And he _tha_t was a cuckold,\n euery man might him see.\n\n 45\n Craddoccke wan the horne\n and the bores head;\n His ladye wan the mantle\n vnto her meede;\n Euerye such a lonely ladye,\n God send her well to speede!\n\n * * * * *\n\n _& is printed ~and~, wherever it occurs._\n\n 2^3. _MS. might be read ~branches~._\n\n 5^2. all heate.\n\n 6^4. 2 nut-shells.\n\n 8^4. his wiffe.\n\n 9^2. biled. \"_Query the ~le~ in the MS._\" Furnivall.\n\n 18^4. _Perhaps the last word was originally ~tout~, as Mr\n T. Wright has suggested._\n\n 19^2. lauged.\n\n 21^4. 20 markes.\n\n 22^2. willignglye.\n\n 33^2. _MS. perhaps has ~cleare~ altered to ~clene~._\n\n 33^4. fiueteeene.\n\n 37^1. A litle.\n\n 37^2. _Perhaps, as Percy suggested, two lines have dropped\n out after this, and the two which follow belong with the\n next stanza._\n\n 40^1, 41^3. kiues.\n\n 41^1. Arthus.\n\n 44^2. sone on.\n\n\n[211] After I had finished what I had to say in the way of introduction\nto this ballad, there appeared the study of the Trinkhorn and\nMantelsage, by Otto Warnatsch: Der Mantel, Bruchst\u00fcck eines\nLanzeletromans, etc., Breslau, 1883. To this very thorough piece of\nwork, in which the relations of the multiform versions of the\ndouble-branched story are investigated with a care that had never before\nbeen attempted, I naturally have frequent occasion to refer, and by its\nhelp I have supplied some of my deficiencies, indicating always the\nplace by the author's name.\n\n[212] The Biblioth\u00e8que des Romans, 1777, F\u00e9vrier, pp. 112-115, gives an\nabstract of a small printed piece in prose, there assigned to the\nbeginning of the sixteenth century, which, as Warnatsch observes, p. 72,\nmust have been a different thing from the tale given by Legrand,\ninasmuch as it brings in Lancelot and Gawain as suppressing the jests of\nKay and Dinadam.\n\n[213] The custom of Arthur not to eat till he had heard of some\nadventure or strange news was confined to those days when he held full\ncourt, according to Perceval le Gallois, II, 217, 15,664-71, and the\nRoman de Perceval, fol. lxxviii. It is mentioned, with the same\nlimitations, I suppose, in the Roman de Lancelot, III, fol. lxxxii, and\nwe learn from this last romance, I, fol. xxxvi, that Arthur was\naccustomed to hold a court and wear his crown five times in the year, at\nEaster, Ascension-day, Pentecost, All Saints, and Christmas. The Roman\nde Merlin, II, lvi^b, or, as cited by Southey, II, 48, 49, says that\n\"King Arthur, after his first dinner at Logres, when he brought home his\nbride, made a vow that while he wore a crown he never would seat himself\nat table till some adventure had occurred.\" In Malory's King Arthur, Kay\nreminds the king that this had been the old custom of his court at\nPentecost. Arthur is said to observe this custom on Christmas, \"vpon\nsuch a dere day,\" in Sir Gawayn and the Green Knight, Madden, p. 6, vv\n90-99. Messire Gauvain says \"\u00e0 feste ne mangast, devant,\" etc., p. 2, vv\n18-21. Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival does not limit the custom to\nhigh holidays, ed. Bartsch, I, 331, vv 875-79; and see Riddaras\u00f6gur,\nParcevals Saga, etc., ed. K\u00f6lbing, p. 26. Neither does Wigalois, vv\n247-51, or a fragment of Daniel von Bl\u00fchenthal, Symbol\u00e6 ad literaturam\nTeutonicam, p. 465, cited by Benecke, Wigalois, p. 436 f, or the F\u00e4r\u00f6e\nGalians kv\u00e6\u00f0i, K\u00f6lbing, in Germania, XX, 397. See Madden's Syr Gawayne,\nwhich has furnished much of this note, pp 310-12; Southey's King Arthur,\nII, 203, 462. Robin Hood imitates Arthur: see the beginning of the\nLittle Gest.\n\n[214]\n\n 'Quar je vous aim tant bonement,\n Que je ne voudroie savoir\n Vostre mesfet por nul avoir.\n Miex en veuil je estre en doutance.\n\n Por tot le royaume de France,\n N'en voudroie je estre cert;\n Quar qui sa bone amie pert\n Molt a perdu, ce m'est avis.' 818-25.\n\n[215] See also Brynj\u00falfsson, Saga af Tristram ok \u00cds\u00f6nd, samt M\u00f6ttuls\nSaga, Udtog, pp 318-26, Copenhagen, 1878. There is a general presumption\nthat the larger part of the works translated for King H\u00e1kon were derived\nfrom England. C. & W., p. 47.\n\n[216] That is, the current one. The Samson saga professes to supply the\nearlier history. Samson's father is another Arthur, king of England. An\nabstract of so much of the saga as pertains to the Mantle is given by\nCederschi\u00f6ld and Wulff, p. 90f. Warnatsch, p. 73 f, shows that the R\u00edmur\nand Samson had probably a common source, independent of the M\u00f6ttulssaga.\n\n[217] By Warnatsch, who gives the text with the corresponding passages\nof the fabliau in a parallel column, pp 8-54: the argument for\nHeinrich's authorship, pp 85-105. 'Der Mantel' had been previously\nprinted in Haupt and Hoffmann's Altdeutsche Bl\u00e4tter, II, 217, and by\nM\u00fcllenhoff in his Altdeutsche Sprachproben, p. 125. Of this poem, which\nWarnatsch, pp 105-110, holds to be a fragment of a lost romance of\nLanzelet, written before the 'Cr\u00f4ne,' only 994 verses are left.\nDeducting about a hundred of introduction, there are some 782 German\nagainst some 314 French verses, an excess which is owing, no doubt,\nlargely to insertions and expansions on the part of Heinrich, but in\nsome measure to the existing texts of the fabliau having suffered\nabridgment. The whole matter of the church service, with the going and\ncoming, is dispatched in less than a dozen verses in the French, but\noccupies more than seventy in German, and just here we read in the\nFrench:\n\n Ci ne vueil je plus demorer,\n Ni de noient fere lone conte,\n Si con l'estoire le raconte.\n\nBut possibly the last verse should be taken with what follows.\n\n[218] In Hahn, Griechische M\u00e4rchen, No 70, II, 60 f, a walnut contains a\ndress with the earth and its flowers displayed on it, an almond one with\nthe heaven and its stars, a hazel-nut one with the sea and its fishes.\nNo 7, I, 99, a walnut contains a complete costume exhibiting heaven with\nits stars, a hazel-nut another with the sea and its waves. No 67, II,\n33, an almond encloses a woman's dress with heaven and its stars on it,\na hazel-nut a suit for her husband. In the Grimms' No 113, three walnuts\ncontain successively each a finer dress than the other, II, 142 f, ed.\n1857. There are three similar nuts in Haltrich, No 43, and in\nVolksm\u00e4rchen aus Venetien, Jahrbuch f\u00fcr r. u. e. Lit., VII, 249, No 12.\nUlrich's mantle is worked with all manner of beasts, birds, and sea\nmonsters, on earth or under, and betwixt earth and heaven: Lanzelet,\n5820-27.\n\n[219] I cite the text according to Warnatsch. Warnatsch thinks it worth\nnoticing that it is the queen only, in Mantel 771 f, as in our ballad,\nst. 14, that curses the maker of the mantle; not, as in the fabliau, the\ngentlemen whose feelings were so much tried. These, like the queen in\nthe ballad, ont maudit le mantel, et celui qui li aporta.\n\n[220] Not even for Ginovere h\u00fcbsch unde guot, or En\u00eete diu reine. The\nqueen has always been heedful of her acts, and has never done anything\nwrong: doch ist siu an den gedenken missevarn, Heaven knows how. Ulrich\nis very feeble here.\n\nA remark is here in place which will be still more applicable to some of\nthe tests that are to be spoken of further on. Both the French fabliau\nand the English ballad give to the mantle the power of detecting the\nwoman that has once done amiss, a de rien messerr\u00e9. We naturally suppose\nthat we understand what is meant. The trial in the fabliau is so\nconducted as to confirm our original conception of the nature of the\ninquest, and so it is, in the case of Arthur's queen, Kay's lady, and\nthe old knight's wife, in the ballad. But when we come to the charmingly\npretty passage about Cradock's wife, what are we to think? Is the mantle\nin a teasing mood, or is it exhibiting its real quality? If once to have\nkissed Cradock's mouth before marriage is once to have done amiss,\nHeaven keep our Mirandas and our Perditas, and Heaven forgive our\nJuliets and our Rosalinds! (\"Les dames et demoiselles, pour \u00eatre bais\u00e9es\ndevant leur noces, il n'est pas la coutume de France,\" we know, but this\nnice custom could hardly have had sway in England. Is then this passage\nrendered from something in French that is lost?) But the mantle, in the\nballad, after indulging its humor or its captiousness for a moment, does\nCradock's wife full justice. The mantle, if uncompromising as to acts,\nat least does not assume to bring thoughts under its jurisdiction. Many\nof the probations allow themselves this range, and as no definite idea\nis given of what is charged, no one need be shocked, or perhaps\ndisturbed, by the number of convictions. The satire loses zest, and the\nmoral effect is not improved.\n\n[221] Nul femme que [ne] vouloit lesser sauoir \u00e0 soun marry soun fet et\npens\u00e9. T. Wright, in Arch\u00e6ologia Cambrensis, January, 1863, p. 10. Mr\nWright gives one of the texts of Cort Mantel, with an English\ntranslation. We are further told, in Scalachronica, that this mantle was\nafterwards made into a chasuble, and that it is \"to this day\" preserved\nat Glastonbury. Three versions of the fabliau testify that Carados and\nhis _amie_ deposited the mantle in a Welsh abbey. The Skikkju R\u00edmur say\nthat the lady presented it to the cloister of Cologne; the M\u00f6ttulssaga\nhas simply a monastery (and, indeed, the mantle, as described by some,\nmust have had a vocation that way from the beginning). \"Item, in the\ncastel of Douer ye may see Gauwayn's skull and Cradok's mantel:\" Caxton,\nin his preface to Kyng Arthur, 1485, I, ii, in Southey's ed.; cited by\nMichel, Tristan, II, 181, and from him by Warnatsch.\n\n[222] For this enchanter see _Le Livre de Karados_ in Perceval le\nGallois, ed. Potvin, II, 118 ff. It is not said in the printed copy that\nhe sent the mantle [horn].\n\n[223] Another copy, assigned to the end of the 14th century, from the\nKolmar MS., Barisch, p. 373, No LXIX (Warnatsch).\n\n[224] Warnatsch shows, p. 75 f, that the fastnachtspiel must have been\nmade up in part from some version of the Mantle story which was also the\nsource of the meisterlied, and in part from a meisterlied of the Horn,\nwhich will be mentioned further on.\n\n[225] The Dean of Lismore's Book, edited by Rev. Thomas M'Lauchlan, p.\n72 of the translation, 50/51 of the original. Repeated in Campbell's\nHeroic Gaelic Ballads, p. 138 f, 'The Maid of the White Mantle.' Mr\nCampbell remarks: \"This ballad, or the story of it, is known in Irish\nwritings. It is not remembered in Scotland now.\" Mr Wright cites this\npoem, Arch\u00e6ologia Cambrensis, p. 14 f, 39 f.\n\n[226] Cf. Arthur in the Lai du Corn and Fraw Tristerat Horn, a little\nfurther on.\n\n[227] Wolf at first speaks of the lai as being made over into the\nfabliau, in regular court style, ganz nach h\u00f6fischer Weise, about the\nmiddle of the 13th century; then goes on to say that even if the author\nof the fabliau followed another version of the story, he must have known\nthe jongleur's poem, because he has repeated some of the introductory\nlines of the lai. This excellent scholar happened, for once, not to\nobserve that the first fourteen lines of the lai, excepting the fourth,\nwhich is questionable, are in a longer metre than the rest of the poem,\nin eights and sevens, not sixes, and the first three of the lai, which\nagree with the first three of the fabliau, in the eight-syllable verse\nof the latter; so that it was not the author of the fabliau that\nborrowed. Warnatsch (who has also made this last remark) has noted other\nagreements between lai and fabliau, p. 61. Both of these acknowledge\ntheir derivation from an earlier _dit, estoire_, not having which we\nshall find it hard to determine by which and from what the borrowing was\ndone.\n\n[228] Montpellier MS.\n\n[229] Perceval exhibits agreements, both as to phrase and matter, now\nwith the lai, now with the fabliau, and this phenomenon will occur again\nand again. This suggests the likelihood of a source which combined\ntraits of both lai and fabliau: Warnatsch, pp 62-64.\n\n[230] So amended by Zingerle from Syrneyer lant. A third copy is cited\nas in the Kolmar MS., No 806, Bartsch, Meisterlieder der Kolmarer\nHandschrift, p. 74 (Warnatsch). A remarkable agreement between the\nFrench lai, 94, 97, 99-102, and Wigamur 2623-30 convinces Warnatsch that\nthe source of this meisterlied must have been a Middle High German\nrendering of some form of the Drinking-horn Test closely resembling the\nlai. See Warnatsch, p. 66.\n\n[231] The king of _Spain_, who is again the poorest of all the kings, p.\n206, line 32, p. 214, line 22, is addressed by Arthur as his nephew, p.\n207, line 11, and p. 193, line 30. Carados is called Arthur's nephew in\nPerceval (he is son of Arthur's niece), e.g. 15,782, and Carados, his\nfather, is Carados de _Vaigne_, II, 117. It is said of Kalegras's _amie_\nin the 'Mantle Rhymes,' III, 59, that many a lady looked down upon her.\nThis may be a chance expression, or possibly point to the poverty which\nis attributed to the royal pair of Spain in Fastnachtspiele, Nos 81,\n127, and in Frau Tristerat Horn. In Der Lanethen Mantel, Laneth is\nArthur's niece, and poor: see p. 261.\n\nThe fastnachtspiel has points in common with the fabliau, and the\nassumption of a source which combined features of both lai and fabliau\nis warrantable: Warnatsch, pp 66-68.\n\n[232] This is a thoroughly dissolute piece, but not ambiguous. It is\nalso the most humorous of the whole series.\n\n[233] Warnatsch shows that Heinrich cannot have derived any part of his\nTrinkhornprobe from the Perceval of Chrestien, characteristic agreements\nwith Perceval being entirely wanting. There are agreements with the lai,\nmany more with the fabliau; and Heinrich's poem, so far as it is not of\nhis own invention, he believes to be compounded from his own version of\nthe fabliau and some lost version of the Horn-test: pp 111-114.\n\n[234] The principal variations of this name, of which the Welsh Caradoc\nis assumed to be the original, are: Craddocke (English ballad); Carados,\nCaradox (Cort Mantel); Karodes (Scalachronica); Caraduz (Cr\u00f4ne, 2309,\nelsewhere) Karadas; Carigras, Kaligras (R\u00edmur); Karodeus, Caraduel\n(Perceval, 12,466, 12,457, 12,491, but generally), Carados, -ot, or;\nCaraduel (Messire Gauvain, 3943); Garadue (Lai du Corn); Karadin\n(M\u00f6ttuls Saga). Garadue probably==Caraduel, which, in Percival twice,\nand once in Messire Gauvain, is used for Carados, through confusion with\nArthur's residence, Carduel, Cardoil. So Karadas is twice put in the\nCr\u00f4ne, 16,726, 16,743, for Karidol==Cardoil. Might not Karadin have been\nwritten for Karadiu?\n\n[235] Tristan of H\u00e9lie de Borron, I, 73 verso, in Rajna, Fonti dell'\nOrlando Furioso, p. 498 ff. So in Malory's King Arthur, Southey, I, 297,\nWright, II, 64. The Italian Tristan, La Tavola Ritonda, ed. Polidori,\nXLIII, pp 157-160, makes 686 try, of whom only 13 prove to be innocent,\nand those in spite of themselves. Another account exempts 2 out of 365:\nNannucci, Manuale, II, 168-171.\n\n[236] Un vasello fatto da ber, qual gi\u00e0, per fare accorto il suo\nfratello del fallo di Ginevra, fe Morgana: XLIII, 28; un bel nappo d'or,\ndi fuor di gamme, XLII, 98. The Orlando concurs with the prose Tristan\nas to the malice of Morgan, but does not, with the Tristan, depart from\nprescription in making the women drink. Warnatsch observes that the\nOrlando agrees with the Horn Fastnachtspiel, and may with it follow some\nlost version of the story: p. 69.\n\nBefore leaving these drinking-tests, mention may be made of Oberon's\ngold cup, which, upon his passing his right hand three times round it\nand making the sign of the cross, fills with wine enough for all the\nliving and the dead; but no one can drink s'il n'est preudom, et nes et\npurs et sans peci\u00e9 mortel: Huon de Bordeaux, ed. Guessard et\nGrandmaison, p. 109 f, vv 3652-69.\n\n[237] The Myvyrian Arch\u00e6ology of Wales, II, 13, triad 54==triad 103, p.\n73; p. 17, triad 78==triad 108, p. 73.\n\n[238] See the story in Le Livre de Carados, Perceval le Gallois, Potvin,\nespecially II, 214-16, vv 15,577-638. \"The Rev. Evan Evans,\" says Percy,\nReliques, III, 349, ed. 1794, \"affirmed that the story of the Boy and\nthe Mantle is taken from what is related in some of the old Welsh MSS of\nTegan Earfron, _one of King Arthur's mistresses_.\" This aspersion, which\nis even absurd, must have arisen from a misunderstanding on the part of\nthe Bishop: no Welshman could so err.\n\n[239] Myvyrian Arch\u00e6ology, III, 247^a, No 10, pointed out to me by\nProfessor Evans. The story of the 'Boy and the Mantle,' says Warton, \"is\nrecorded in many manuscript Welsh chronicles, as I learn from original\nletters of Llwyd, in the Ashmolean Museum:\" History of English Poetry,\ned. 1871, I, 97, note 1.\n\n[240] The horn is No 4 in Jones's list, and No 3 in a manuscript of\nJustice Bosanquet; the knife is 13th in Jones and 6th in the other; the\nmantle of invisibility is 13th in the Bosanquet series, and, under the\ntitle of Arthur's veil or mask, 1st in Jones. The mantle of Tegau\nEurvron does not occur in the Bosanquet MS. Jones says, \"The original\nWelsh account of the above regalia was transcribed from a transcript of\nMr Edward Llwyd, the antiquary, who informs me that he copied it from an\nold parchment MS. I have collated this with two other MSS.\" Not a word\nof dates. Jones's Welsh Bards, II, 47-49; Lady Charlotte Guest's\nMabinogion, II, 353-55.\n\nLady Charlotte Guest remarks that a boar's head in some form appears as\nthe armorial bearing of all of Caradawc's name. Though most anxious to\nbelieve all that is said of Caradawc, I am compelled to doubt whether\nthis goes far to prove that he owned the knife celebrated in the ballad.\n\n[241] Heinrich seeks to put his wearisome invention off on Chrestien de\nTroyes. Warnatsch argues with force against any authorship but\nHeinrich's, pp 116 ff.\n\n[242] Gawain had failed in the earlier trial, though he had no fault in\nmind or body, except that he rated his favor with women too high:\n1996-2000.\n\nIn the first two probations a false heart is the corpus delicti;\nsomething is said of carnal offences, but not very distinctly.\n\nThe scope of the glove is of the widest. It takes cognizance of _rede\nund gedanc_ in maids, _werc und gedanc_ in wives, _tugent und manheit,\nunzuht und zageheit_, in men. One must have known as little what one was\nconvicted of as if one had been in the hands of the Holy Office.\n\n[243] Fastnachtspiele aus dem f\u00fcnfzehnten Jahrhundert, Zweiter Theil, p.\n654, No 80.\n\n[244] From Vulpius's Curiosit\u00e4ten, II, 463, in Erlach, I, 132, after a\nprinted copy of the beginning of the 16th century: Wolff, Halle der\nV\u00f6lker, II, 243, from a Fliegendes Blatt of the 16th century. Two copies\nare cited by title in Mone's Anzeiger, VIII, 354 b, No 1; 378, No 165.\nWolff prints Asion.\n\n[245] A man must be \"clear as beryl.\" One of the knights is tumbled into\nthe water for having kissed a lady; but this is according to the code,\nfor he had done it without leave. We learn from Perceval that kissing is\npermissible; marry, not without the lady be willing. 'Die bruck zu\nKaridol' is alluded to in 'Der Spiegel,' Meister Alswert, ed. Holland u.\nKeller, p. 179, vv 10-13. (Goedeke.) A man who has transferred his\ndevotion from an earlier love to the image of a lady shown him in a\nmirror says the bridge would have thrown him over.\n\n[246] Florimel's girdle is a poor contrivance every way, and most of all\nfor practical purposes; for we are told in stanza 3 that it _gives_ the\nvirtue of chaste love to all who wear it, and then that whosoever\ncontrary doth prove cannot keep it on. But what could one expect from a\ncast-off girdle of Venus?\n\n[247] Nightingales in Grundtvig, No 274, #A#, #B#: see p. 64. See, also,\nUhland, Zur Geschichte der Dichtung, III, 121 f.\n\n[248] Neither the Sanskrit Shukasaptati nor Nakshabi's Persian version,\nmade early in the fourteenth century, has been published. The Turkish\nversion is said to have been made in the second half of the next\ncentury, for Bajazet II. Kadiri's is probably of the seventeenth\ncentury. An English and Persian version (Kadiri's), 1801, has the tale\nat p. 43; Small's English, from a Hindustani version of Kadiri, 1875, at\np. 40.\n\n[249] In the Contes \u00e0 rire, p. 89, a sylph who loves a prince gives him\na flower and a vase which will blacken upon his wife's proving\nunfaithful: Legrand, 1779, I, 78. I have not seen this edition of the\nbook, but presume that this tale is entirely akin with the above.\n\n[250] Cf. the King of Spain, at pp. 261, 263. The agreement may, or may\nnot, be accidental.\n\n[251] All these examples of the probation by flowers, shirt, or picture\nare noticed in Loiseleur Deslongchamps, Essai sur les Fables Indiennes,\np. 107 ff; or in Von der Hagen's Gesammtabenteuer, III, lxxxiv ff; or in\nan article by Reinhold K\u00f6hler, of his usual excellence, in Jahrbuch f\u00fcr\nromanische und englische Literatur, VIII, 44 ff.\n\n[252] K\u00f6hler, as above, p. 60 f.\n\n[253] There is a stone in the Danish Vigoleis with the Gold Wheel which\nno one could approach \"who was not as clean as when he came from his\nmother's body.\" Gawain could touch it with his hand, Arthur often sat\nupon it, and Vigoleis was found sitting on it. Nyerup, Almindelig\nMorskabsl\u00e6sning i Danmark og Norge, p. 129, a chap-book of 1732. The\nstone is not quite so strict in the German Volksbuch, Marbach, No 18, p.\n13 f, Simrock, III, 432 f. In the German romance no man less than\nimmaculate in all respects can touch it: Wigalois, ed. Benecke, p. 57,\nvv 1485-88.\n\n[254] Georgii Codini Excerpta de antiquitatibus Constantinopolitanis, in\nCorpus Scriptorum Histori\u00e6 Byzantin\u00e6, XLV, 50 f, cited by Liebrecht,\nGermania, I, 264; De Originibus Constantinopolitanis, cited by L\u00fctcke,\nVon der Hagen's Germania, I, 252, referred to by Liebrecht: both\nanecdotes in Banduri, Imperium Orientale, Anonymus de Ant. Const. p. 35,\n96, p. 57, 162. The statue again in a note of Nic. Alemannus to\nProcopius, Arcana, 1623, p. 83: cited by Mr Wright, Arch\u00e6ologia\nCambrensis, as above, p. 17. Mr Wright also makes mention, p. 16, of the\nblind dog that quidam Andreas (evidently a merry one) was exhibiting in\nthe seventeenth year of Justinian, which, among other clever\nperformances, ostendebat in utero habentes et fornicarios et adulteros\net avaros et magnanimos--omnes cum veritate: Historia Miscella,\nEyssenhardt, p. 377 f, l. 18, c. 23; Cedrenus, in the Byzantine Corpus,\nXXXIII, 657, Theophanes, in XXXVIII, 347 f.\n\n[255] The Meisterlieder and the Indian tale are cited by Warnatsch.\nVirgil's statue was circumvented by an artifice which is employed in\nthis tale of the Shukasaptati, and in other oriental stories presumably\nderived from it; and so was the well-known Bocca della Verit\u00e0,\nKaiserchronik, Massmann, pp 448 f. The Bocca della Verit\u00e0 bit off the\nfingers of perjurers, but took no particular cognizance of the unchaste.\nA barley-corn [grain of wheat], again, which stood on end when _any_\nfalse oath was sworn over it, J\u00fclg, Mongolische M\u00e4rchensammlung, Die\nGeschichte des Ardschi-Bordschi Chan, pp 250-52, cited by Benfey,\nPantschatantra, I, 458, and referred to by Warnatsch, does not belong\nwith special tests of chastity.\n\n[256] The phrase looks more malicious than _na\u00eff_, whether Austrian or\nSpanish, and implies, I fear, an exsufflicate and blown surmise about\nfemale virtue; and so of the Indian 'Volksglaube.' The candle-test is\nsaid to be in use for men in Silesia: Warnatsch, citing Weinhold, p. 58.\n\n[257] These are all noted in Liebrecht's Dunlop, pp 11, 16, 33. The\nspring, says the author of Hysmine, served as good a purpose for\nArtycomis as the Rhine did for the Celts; referring to a test of the\nlegitimacy of children by swinging or dipping them in the Rhine, which\nthe \"Celts\" practiced, according to a poem in the Anthology: Jacobs, II,\n42 f, No 125; Grimm, Deutsche Rechtsalterth\u00fcmer, p. 935 (Warnatsch).\n\n[258] Besides sources specially referred to, there may be mentioned, as\nparticularly useful for the history of these tests. Legrand, Fabliaux,\n1779, I, 60, 76-78; Dunlop's History of Fiction, 1814, in many places,\nwith Liebrecht's notes, 1851; Gr\u00e4sse, Sagenkreise, 1842, pp 185-87; Von\nder Hagen's Gesammtabenteuer, 1850, III, lxxxiv-xc, cxxxv f.\n\n\n\n\n30\n\nKING ARTHUR AND KING CORNWALL\n\n Percy MS., p. 24. Hales & Furnivall, I, 61; Madden's Syr\n Gawayne, p. 275.\n\n\nThe mutilation of the earlier pages of the Percy manuscript leaves us in\npossession of only one half of this ballad, and that half in eight\nfragments, so that even the outline of the story cannot be fully made\nout.[259] We have, to be sure, the whole of a French poem which must be\nregarded as the probable source of the ballad, and, in view of the\nrecklessness of the destroyer Time, may take comfort; for there are few\nthings in this kind that the Middle Ages have bequeathed which we could\nnot better spare. But the losses from the English ballad are still very\nregrettable, since from what is in our hands we can see that the story\nwas treated in an original way, and so much so that comparison does not\nstead us materially.\n\n'King Arthur and King Cornwall' is apparently an imitation, or a\ntraditional variation, of Charlemagne's Journey to Jerusalem and\nConstantinople, a _chanson de geste_ of complete individuality and of\nremarkable interest. This all but incomparable relic exists in only a\nsingle manuscript,[260] and that ill written and not older than the end\nof the thirteenth century, while the poem itself may be assigned to the\nbeginning of the twelfth, if not to the latter part of the\neleventh.[261] Subsequently, the story, with modifications, was\nintroduced into the romance of Galien, and in this setting it occurs in\nthree forms, two manuscript of the fifteenth century, and the third a\nprinted edition of the date 1500. These are all in prose, but betray by\nmetrical remains imbedded in them their descent from a romance in verse,\nwhich there are reasons for putting at least as early as the beginning\nof the fourteenth century.[262]\n\nA very little of the story, and this little much changed, is found in\nItalian romances of Charles's Journey to Spain and of Ogier the Dane.\nThe derivation from Galien is patent.[263]\n\nThe Journey of Charlemagne achieved great popularity, as it needs must.\nIt forms a section of the Karlamagnus Saga, a prose translation into\nNorse of _gestes_ of Charles and his peers, made in the thirteenth\ncentury, and probably for King H\u00e1kon the Old, though this is not\nexpressly said, as in the case of the 'Mantle.' Through the Norwegian\nversion the story of Charles's journey passed into the other\nScandinavian dialects. There is a Swedish version, slightly defective,\nexisting in a manuscript earlier than 1450, and known to be older than\nthe manuscript, and a Danish abridgment, thought to have been made from\nthe Swedish version, is preserved in a manuscript dated 1480, which\nagain is probably derived from an elder. Like the 'Mantle,' the Journey\nof Charlemagne is treated in Icelandic R\u00edmur, the oldest manuscript\nbeing put at about 1500. These Rhymes (Geiplur, Gabs, Japes), though\ntheir basis is the Norwegian saga, present variations from the existing\nmanuscripts of this saga. There is also a F\u00e4r\u00f6e traditional ballad upon\nthis theme, 'Geipa-t\u00e1ttur.' This ballad has much that is peculiar to\nitself.[264]\n\nCharlemagne's Journey was also turned into Welsh in the thirteenth\ncentury. Three versions are known, of which the best is in the Red Book\nof Hergest.[265]\n\nLet us now see what is narrated in the French poem.\n\nOne day when Charlemagne was at St Denis he had put on his crown and\nsword, and his wife had on a most beautiful crown, too. Charles took her\nby the hand, under an olive-tree, and asked her if she had ever seen a\nking to whom crown and sword were so becoming. The empress was so unwise\nas to reply that possibly he thought too well of himself: she knew of a\nking who appeared to even better advantage when he wore his crown.\nCharles angrily demanded where this king was to be found: they would\nwear their crowns together, and if the French sided with her, well; but\nif she had not spoken truth, he would cut off her head. The empress\nendeavored to explain away what she had said: the other king was simply\nricher, but not so good a knight, etc. Charles bade her name him, on her\nhead. There being no escape, the empress said she had heard much of\nHugo, the emperor of Greece and Constantinople. \"By my faith,\" said\nCharles, \"you have made me angry and lost my love, and are in a fair way\nto lose your head, too. I will never rest till I have seen this king.\"\n\nThe emperor, having made his offering at St Denis, returned to Paris,\ntaking with him his twelve peers and some thousand of knights. To these\nhe announced that they were to accompany him to Jerusalem, to adore the\ncross and the sepulchre, and that he would incidentally look up a king\nthat he had heard of. They were to take with them seven hundred camels,\nladen with gold and silver, and be prepared for an absence of seven\nyears.\n\nCharlemagne gave his people a handsome equipment, but not of arms. They\nleft behind them their lances and swords, and took the pilgrim's staff\nand scrip. When they came to a great plain it appeared that the number\nwas not less than eighty thousand: but we do not have to drag this host\nthrough the story, which concerns itself only with Charles and his\npeers. They arrived at Jerusalem one fine day, selected their inns, and\nwent to the minster. Here Jesus and his apostles had sung mass, and the\nchairs which they had occupied were still there. Charles seated himself\nin the middle one, his peers on either side. A Jew came in, and, seeing\nCharles, fell to trembling; so fierce was the countenance of the emperor\nthat he dared not look at it, but fled from the church to the patriarch,\nand begged to be baptized, for God himself and the twelve apostles were\ncome. The patriarch went to the church, in procession, with his clergy.\nCharles rose and made a profound salutation, the priest and the monarch\nembraced, and the patriarch inquired who it was that had assumed to\nenter that church as he had done. \"Charles is my name,\" was the answer.\n\"Twelve kings have I conquered, and I am seeking a thirteenth whom I\nhave heard of. I have come to Jerusalem to adore the cross and the\nsepulchre.\" The patriarch proving gracious, Charles went on to ask for\nrelics to take home with him. \"A plentet en avrez,\" says the patriarch;\n\"St Simeon's arm, St Lazarus's head, St Stephen's--\" \"Thanks!\" \"The\nsudarium, one of the nails, the crown of thorns, the cup, the dish, the\nknife, some of St Peter's beard, some hairs from his head--\" \"Thanks!\"\n\"Some of Mary's milk, of the holy shift--\" And all these Charles\nreceived.[266] He stayed four months in Jerusalem, and began the church\nof St Mary. He presented the patriarch with a hundred mule-loads of gold\nand silver, and asked \"his leave and pardon\" to return to France: but\nfirst he would find out the king whom his wife had praised. They take\nthe way through Jericho to gather palms. The relics are so strong that\nevery stream they come to divides before them, every blind man receives\nsight, the crooked are made straight, and the dumb speak.[267] On\nreaching Constantinople they have ample reason to be impressed with the\nmagnificence of the place. Passing twenty thousand knights, who are\nplaying at chess and tables, dressed in pall and ermine, with fur cloaks\ntraining at their feet, and three thousand damsels in equally sumptuous\nattire, who are disporting with their lovers, they come to the king, who\nis at that moment taking his day at the plough, not on foot, goad in\nhand, but seated most splendidly in a chair drawn by mules, and holding\na gold wand, the plough all gold, too; none of this elegance, however,\nimpairing the straightness of his majesty's furrow. The kings exchange\ngreetings. Charles tells Hugo that he is last from Jerusalem, and should\nbe glad to see him and his knights. Hugo makes him free to stay a year,\nif he likes, unyokes the oxen, and conducts his guests to the palace.\n\nThe palace is gorgeous in the extreme, and, omitting other architectural\ndetails, it is circular, and so constructed as to turn like a wheel when\nthe wind strikes it from the west. Charles thinks his own wealth not\nworth a glove in comparison, and remembers how he had threatened his\nwife. \"Lordings,\" he says, \"many a palace have I seen, but none like\nthis had even Alexander, Constantine, or C\u00e6sar.\" At that moment a strong\nwind arose which set the palace in lively motion; the emperor was fain\nto sit down on the floor; the twelve peers were all upset, and as they\nlay on their backs, with faces covered, said one to the other, \"This is\na bad business: the doors are open, and yet we can't get out!\" But as\nevening approached the wind subsided; the Franks recovered their legs,\nand went to supper. At the table they saw the queen and the princess, a\nbeautiful blonde, of whom Oliver became at once enamored. After a most\nroyal repast, the king conducted Charles and the twelve to a\nbed-chamber, in which there were thirteen beds. It is doubtful whether\nmodern luxury can vie with the appointments in any respect, and certain\nthat we are hopelessly behind in one, for this room was lighted by a\ncarbuncle. But, again, there was one luxury which Hugo did not allow\nthem, and this was privacy, even so much privacy as thirteen can have.\nHe had put a man in a hollow place under a marble stair, to watch them\nthrough a little hole.\n\nThe Franks, as it appears later, had drunk heavily at supper, and this\nmust be their excuse for giving themselves over, when in a foreign\ncountry, to a usage or propensity which they had no doubt indulged in at\nhome, and which is familiar in northern poetry and saga, that of making\nbrags (gabs, Anglo-Saxon be\u00f3t, gilp[268]). Charles began: Let Hugo arm\nhis best man in two hauberks and two helms, and set him on a charger:\nthen, if he will lend me his sword, I will with a blow cut through\nhelms, hauberks, and saddle, and if I let it have its course, the blade\nshall never be recovered but by digging a spear's depth in the ground.\n\"Perdy,\" says the man in hiding, \"what a fool King Hugo was when he gave\nyou lodging!\"\n\nRoland followed: Tell Hugo to lend me his horn, and I will go into yon\nplain and blow such a blast that not a gate or a door in all the city\nshall be left standing, and a good man Hugo will be, if he faces me, not\nto have his beard burned from his face and his fur robe carried away.\nAgain said the man under the stair, \"What a fool was King Hugo!\"\n\nThe emperor next called upon Oliver, whose gab was:\n\n 'Prenget li reis sa fille qui tant at bloi le peil,\n En sa chambre nos metet en un lit en requeit;\n Se jo n'ai testimoigne de li anuit cent feiz,\n Demain perde la teste, par covent li otrei.'\n\n\"You will stop before that,\" said the spy; \"great shame have you\nspoken.\"\n\nArchbishop Turpin's brag was next in order: it would have been more in\nkeeping for Turpin of Hounslow Heath, and we have all seen it performed\nin the travelling circus. While three of the king's best horses are\nrunning at full speed on the plain, he will overtake and mount the\nforemost, passing the others, and will keep four big apples in constant\nmotion from one hand to the other; if he lets one fall, put out his\neyes.[269] \"A good brag this,\" is the comment of the simple scout\n(_l'escolte_), \"and no shame to my lord.\"\n\nWilliam of Orange will take in one hand a metal ball which thirty men\nhave never been able to stir, and will hurl it at the palace wall and\nbring down more than forty toises of it. \"The king is a knave if he does\nnot make you try,\" says _l'escolte_.\n\nThe other eight gabs may be passed over, save one. Bernard de Brusban\nsays, \"You see that roaring stream? To-morrow I will make it leave its\nbed, cover the fields, fill the cellars of the city, drench the people,\nand drive King Hugo into his highest tower, from which he shall never\ncome down without my leave.\" \"The man is mad,\" says the spy. \"What a\nfool King Hugo was! As soon as morning dawns they shall all pack.\"\n\nThe spy carries his report to his master without a moment's delay. Hugo\nswears that if the brags are not accomplished as made, his guests shall\nlose their heads, and orders out a hundred thousand men-at-arms to\nenforce his resolution.\n\nWhen the devout emperor of the west came from mass the next morning\n(Hugo was evidently not in a state of mind to go), he advanced to meet\nhis brother of Constantinople, olive branch in hand; but Hugo called out\nfrom far off, \"Charles, why did you make me the butt of your brags and\nyour scorns?\" and repeated that all must be done, or thirteen heads\nwould fall. Charles replied that they had drunk a good deal of wine the\nnight before, and that it was the custom for the French when they had\ngone to bed to allow themselves in jesting. He desired to speak with his\nknights. When they were together, the emperor said that they had drunk\ntoo much, and had uttered what they ought not. He caused the relics to\nbe brought, and they all fell to praying and beating their breasts, that\nthey might be saved from Hugo's wrath, when lo, an angel appeared, who\nbade them not be afraid; they had committed a great folly yesterday, and\nmust never brag again, but for this time, \"Go, begin, not one of them\nshall fail.\"[270]\n\nCharles returned to Hugo master of the situation. He repeated that they\nhad drunk too much wine the night before, and went on to say that it was\nan outrage on Hugo's part to set a spy in the room, and that they knew a\nland where such an act would be accounted villainy: \"but all shall be\ncarried out; choose who shall begin.\" Hugo said, Oliver; and let him not\nfall short of his boast, or I will cut off his head, and the other\ntwelve shall share his fate. The next morning, in pursuance of an\narrangement made between Oliver and the princess, the king was informed\nthat what had been undertaken had been precisely discharged. \"The first\nhas saved himself,\" says Hugo; \"by magic, I believe; now I wish to know\nabout the rest.\" \"What next?\" says Charlemagne. William of Orange was\ncalled for, threw off his furs, lifted the huge ball with one hand,\nhurled it at the wall, and threw down more than forty toises. \"They are\nenchanters,\" said the king to his men. \"Now I should like to see if the\nrest will do as much. If one of them fails, I will hang them all\nto-morrow.\" \"Do you want any more of the gabs?\" asked Charles. Hugo\ncalled upon Bernard to do what he had threatened. Bernard asked the\nprayers of the emperor, ran down to the water, and made the sign of the\ncross. All the water left its bed, spread over the fields, came into the\ncity, filled the cellars, drenched the people, and drove King Hugo into\nhis highest tower; Charles and the peers being the while ensconced in an\nold pine-tree, all praying for God's pity.\n\nCharles in the tree heard Hugo in the tower making his moan: he would\ngive the emperor all his treasure, would become his man and hold his\nkingdom of him. The emperor was moved, and prayed that the flood might\nstop, and at once the water began to ebb. Hugo was able to descend from\nhis tower, and he came to Charles, under an \"ympe tree,\" and repeated\nwhat he had uttered in the moment of extremity. \"Do you want the rest of\nthe gabs?\" asked Charles. \"Ne de ceste semaine,\" replied Hugo. \"Then,\nsince you are my man,\" said the emperor, \"we will make a holiday and\nwear our crowns together.\" When the French saw the two monarchs walking\ntogether, and Charles overtopping Hugo by fifteen inches, they said the\nqueen was a fool to compare anybody with him.\n\nAfter this promenade there was mass, at which Turpin officiated, and\nthen a grand dinner. Hugo once more proffered all his treasures to\nCharles, but Charles would not take a denier. \"We must be going,\" he\nsaid. The French mounted their mules, and went off in high spirits. Very\nhappy was Charles to have conquered such a king without a battle.\nCharles went directly to St Denis, and performed his devotions. The nail\nand the crown he deposited on the altar, distributed the other relics\nover the kingdom, and for the love of the sepulchre he gave up his anger\nagainst the queen.\n\nThe story in the English ballad, so far as it is to be collected from\nour eight fragments, is that Arthur, represented as King of Little\nBritain, while boasting to Gawain of his round table, is told by\nGuenever that she knows of one immeasurably finer; the very trestle is\nworth his halls and his gold, and the palace it stands in is worth all\nLittle Britain besides; but not a word will she say as to where this\ntable and this goodly building may be. Arthur makes a vow never to sleep\ntwo nights in one place till he sees that round table; and, taking for\ncompanions Gawain, Tristram, Sir Bredbeddle, and an otherwise unknown\nSir Marramiles, sets out on the quest.\n\nThe pilgrimage which, to save his dignity, Charles makes a cover for his\nvisit to the rival king forms no part of Arthur's programme.[271] The\nfive assume a palmer's weed simply for disguise, and travel east and\nwest, in many a strange country, only to arrive at Cornwall, so very\nlittle a way from home.\n\nThe proud porter of Cornwall's gate, a minion swain, befittingly clad in\na suit of gold, for his master is the richest king in Christendom, or\nyet in heathenness, is evidently impressed with Arthur's bearing, as is\nquite the rule in such cases:[272] he has been porter thirty years and\nthree, but [has never seen the like]. Cornwall would naturally ask the\npilgrims some questions. From their mentioning some shrine of Our Lady\nhe infers that they have been in Britain,--Little Britain we must\nsuppose to be meant. Cornwall asks if they ever knew King Arthur, and\nboasts that he had lived seven years in Little Britain, and had had a\ndaughter by Arthur's wife, now a lady of radiant beauty, and Arthur has\nnone such.[273] He then sends for his steed, which he can ride three\ntimes as far in a day as Arthur can any of his, and we may suppose that\nhe also exhibits to his guests a horn and a sword of remarkable\nproperties, and a Bur-low-Beanie, or Billy-Blin, a seven-headed,\nfire-breathing fiend whom he has in his service. Arthur is then\nconducted to bed, and the Billy-Blin, shut up, as far as we can make\nout, in some sort of barrel, or other vessel,[274] is set by Arthur's\nbed-side to hear and report the talk of the pilgrims. Now, it would\nseem, the knights make each their vow or brag. Arthur's is that he will\nbe the death of Cornwall King before he sees Little Britain. Gawain, who\nrepresents Oliver, will have Cornwall's daughter home with him. Here\nthere is an unlucky gap. Tristram should undertake to carry off the\nhorn, Marramiles the steed, and Sir Bredbeddle the sword. But first it\nwould be necessary to subdue the loathly fiend. Bredbeddle goes to work\nwithout dallying, bursts open the rub-chadler with his sword, and fights\nthe fire-breathing monster in a style that is a joy to see; but sword,\nknife, and axe all break, and he is left without a weapon. Yet he had\nsomething better to fall back on, and that was a little book which he\nhad found by the seaside, no doubt in the course of those long travels\nwhich conducted the pilgrims from Little Britain to Cornwall. It was\nprobably a book of Evangiles; our Lord had written it with his hands and\nsealed it with his blood. With this little book, which in a manner takes\nthe place of the relics in the French tale, for the safety of the\npilgrims and the accomplishment of their vows are secured through it,\nBredbeddle conjures the Burlow-beanie, and shuts him up till wanted in a\n\"wall of stone,\" which reminds us of the place in which Hugo's spy is\nconcealed. He then reports to Arthur, who has a great desire to see the\nfiend in all his terrors, and, upon the king's promising to stand firm,\nBredbeddle makes the fiend start out again, with his seven heads and the\nfire flying out of his mouth. The Billy-Blin is now entirely amenable to\ncommand: Bredbeddle has only to \"conjure\" him to do a thing, and it is\ndone. First he fetches down the steed. Marramiles, who perhaps had vowed\nto bring off the horse, considers that he is the man to ride him, but\nfinds he can do nothing with him, and has to call on Bredbeddle for\nhelp. The Billy-Blin is required to tell how the steed is to be ridden,\nand reveals that three strokes of a gold wand which stands in Cornwall's\nstudy-window will make him spring like spark from brand. And so it comes\nout that Cornwall is a magician. Next the horn has to be fetched, but,\nwhen brought, it cannot be sounded. For this a certain powder is\nrequired. This the fiend procures, and Tristram blows a blast which\nrends the horn up to the midst.[275] Finally the Billy-Blin is conjured\nto fetch the sword, and with this sword Arthur goes and strikes off\nCornwall's head. So Arthur keeps his vow, and, so far as we can see, all\nthe rest are in a condition to keep theirs.\n\nThe English ballad retains too little of the French story to enable us\nto say what form of it this little was derived from. The poem of Galien\nwould cover all that is borrowed as well as the Journey of Charlemagne.\nIt may be regarded as an indication of late origin that in this ballad\nArthur is king of _Little_ Britain, that Bredbeddle and Marramiles are\nmade the fellows of Gawain and Tristram, Bredbeddle carrying off all the\nhonors, and that Cornwall has had an intrigue with Arthur's queen. The\nname Bredbeddle is found elsewhere only in the late Percy version of the\nromance of the Green Knight, Hales and Furnivall, II, 56, which version\nalludes to a custom of the Knights of the Bath, an order said to have\nbeen instituted by Henry IV at his coronation, in 1399.\n\nThe F\u00e4r\u00f6e ballad, 'Geipa-t\u00e1ttur,' exists in four versions: #A#, Svabo's\nmanuscript collection, 1782, III, 1, 85 stanzas; #B#, Sand\u00f8bog, 1822, p.\n49, 140 stanzas; #C#, Fugl\u00f8bog, c. 1840, p. 9, 120 stanzas; #D#, Syder\u00f8\nversion, obtained by Hammershaimb, 1848, 103 stanzas.[276] It repeats\nthe story of the Norse saga, with a moderate number of traditional\naccretions and changes. The emperor, from his throne, asks his champions\nwhere is his superior [equal]. They all drop their heads; no one\nventures to answer but the queen, who better had been silent. \"The\nemperor of Constantinople\" (H\u00e1kin, #D#), she says, \"is thy superior.\"\n\"If he is not,\" answers Karl, \"thou shalt burn on bale.\" In #B#, when\nthey have already started for Constantinople, Turpin persuades them to\ngo rather to Jerusalem: in the other versions it must be assumed that\nthe holy city was on the route. As Karl enters the church the bells ring\nand the candles light of themselves, #C#, #D#. There are thirteen seats\nin the choir: Karl takes the one that Jesus had occupied, and the peers\nthose of the apostles. A heathen tells the patriarch[277] that the Lord\nis come down from heaven, #C#, #D#. The patriarch proceeds to the\nchurch, with no attendance but his altar-book [singing from his\naltar-book]; he asks Karl what he has come for, and Karl replies, to see\nthe halidoms, #A#, #C#, #D#. In #B# the patriarch presents himself to\nthe emperor at his lodging, and inquires his purpose; and, learning that\nhe is on his way to Constantinople, for glory, advises him first to go\nto the church, where the ways and means of success are to be found. The\npatriarch gives Karl some of the relics: the napkin on which Jesus had\nwiped his hands, cups from which he had drunk, etc. Karl, in #A#, #C#,\nnow announces that he is on his way to Constantinople; the patriarch\nbegs him not to go, for he will have much to suffer. At the exterior\ngate of the palace will be twelve white bears, ready to go at him; the\nsight of his sword [of the holy napkin, #B#] will cause them to fall\nstone-dead, or at least harmless, #B#. At the gate next within there\nwill be twelve wolf-dogs[278] [and further on twelve toads, #B#], which\nmust be disposed of in like wise: etc. The castle stands on a hundred\npillars, #A#, and is full of ingenious contrivances: the floor goes up\nto the sky, and the roof comes down to the ground, #B#. Karl now sets\nout, with the patriarch's blessing and escort. Before they reach the\npalace they come upon three hundred knights and ladies dancing, which\nalso had been foretold, and at the portals of the palace they find and\nvanquish the formidable beasts. The palace is to the full as splendid\nand as artfully constructed as they had been informed: the floor goes up\nand the roof comes down, #B#; there are monstrous figures (?), with\nhorns at their mouths, and upon a wind rising the horns all sound, the\nbuilding begins to revolve, and the Frenchmen jump up, each clinging to\nthe other, #B#, #C#, #D#. Karl remembers what his wife had said, #A#,\n#D#.\n\nOf the reception by the monarch of Constantinople nothing further is\nsaid. We are immediately taken to the bedroom, in which there are twelve\nbeds, with a thirteenth in the middle, and also a stone arch, or vault,\ninside of which is a man with a candle. Karl proposes that they shall\nchoose feats, make boasts, rouses [_skemtar_, jests, #C#]. These would\ninevitably be more or less deranged and corrupted in the course of\ntradition. #A# and #C# have lost many. Karl's boast, dropped in #B#,\n#C#, is that he will smite King H\u00e1kin, so that the sword's point shall\nstick in the ground, #D#; hit the emperor on the neck and knock him off\nhis horse, #A#. Roland, in all, will blow the emperor's hair off his\nhead with the blast of his horn. Oliver's remains as in the French poem.\nWilliam of Orange's ball is changed to a bolt. The exploit with the\nhorses and apples is assigned to Bernard in #D#, the only version which\npreserves it, as in the Norse saga; and, as in the saga again, it is\nTurpin, and not Bernard, who brings in the river upon the town, and\nforces the king to take refuge in the tower.\n\nEarly in the morning the spy reports in writing, and King H\u00e1kin, #D#,\nsays that Karl and his twelve peers shall burn on the bale, #A#, #C#,\n#D#, if they cannot make good their boasts, #B#. Karl's queen appears to\nhim in his sleep, #A#, and bids him think of last night's words. It is\nthe queen of Constantinople in #B#, #C#, #D# who rouses Karl to a sense\nof his plight; in #B# she tells him that the brags have been reported,\nand that burning will be the penalty unless they be achieved. Karl then\nsees that his wife knew what she was saying, and vows to give her\nHildarheim and a scarlet cloak if he gets home alive. He hastens to\nchurch; a dove descends from heaven and sits on his arm [in #B# a voice\ncomes from heaven]; he is assured that the boasts shall all be\nperformed, but never let such a thing be done again. In #A# three of the\nfeats are executed, in #D# four, in #C# seven, Oliver's in each case\nstrictly, and Turpin's, naturally, last. The king in #C# does the feat\nwhich is proposed by Eimer in the saga. #A# and #C# end abruptly with\nTurpin's exploit. In #D# Karl falls on his knees and prays, and the\nwater retires; Karl rides out of Constantinople, followed three days on\nthe road by Koronatus, as H\u00e1kin is now called, stanza 103: it is\nKarlamagn\u00fas that wears his crown higher. #B# takes a turn of its own.\nRoland, Olger and Oliver are called upon to do their brags. Roland blows\nso that nobody in Constantinople can keep his legs, and the emperor\nfalls into the mud, but he blows not a hair off the emperor's head;\nOlger slings the gold-bolt over the wall, but breaks off none; Oliver\ngives a hundred kisses, as in the saga. The emperor remarks each time, I\nhold him no champion that performs his rouse that way. But Turpin's brag\nis thoroughly done; the emperor is driven to the tower, and begs Karl to\nturn off the water; no more feats shall be exacted. Now the two kaisers\nwalk in the hall, conferring about tribute, which Karl takes and rides\naway. When he reaches home his queen welcomes him, and asks what\nhappened at Constantinople: \"Hvat gekk af?\" \"This,\" says Karl; \"I know\nthe truth now; you shall be queen as before, and shall have a voice in\nthe rule.\"\n\nIt is manifest that Charlemagne's pilgrimage to Jerusalem and the visit\nto the king of Constantinople, though somewhat intimately combined in\nthe old French _geste_, were originally distinct narratives. As far as\nwe can judge, nothing of the pilgrimage was retained by the English\nballad. We are not certain, even, that it is Charlemagne's visit to Hugo\nupon which the ballad was formed, though the great popularity of the\nFrench poem makes this altogether likely. As M. Gaston Paris has said\nand shown,[279] the visit to Hugo is one of a cycle of tales of which\nthe framework is this: that a king who regards himself as the richest or\nmost magnificent in the world is told that there is somebody that\noutstrips him, and undertakes a visit to his rival to determine which\nsurpasses the other, threatening death to the person who has disturbed\nhis self-complacency, in case the rival should turn out to be his\ninferior. A familiar example is afforded by the tale of Aboulcassem, the\nfirst of the Mille et un Jours. Haroun Alraschid was incessantly\nboasting that no prince in the world was so generous as he.[280] The\nvizier Giafar humbly exhorted the caliph not to praise himself, but to\nleave that to others. The caliph, much piqued, demanded, Do you then\nknow anybody who compares with me? Giafar felt compelled to reply that\nthere was a young man at Basra, who, though in a private station, was\nnot inferior even to the caliph in point of generosity. Haroun was very\nangry, and, on Giafar's persisting in what he had said, had the vizier\narrested, and finally resolved to go to Basra to see with his own eyes:\nif Giafar should have spoken the truth, he should be rewarded, but in\nthe other event he should forfeit his life.[281]\n\nThis story, it is true, shows no trace of the gabs which Charlemagne and\nthe peers make, and which Hugo requires to be accomplished on pain of\ndeath. The gabs are a well-known North-European custom, and need not be\nsought for further; but the requiring by one king of certain feats to be\nexecuted by another under a heavy penalty is a feature of a large class\nof Eastern tales of which there has already been occasion to speak: see\n'The Elfin Knight,' p. 11. The demand in these, however, is made not in\nperson, but through an ambassador. The combination of a personal visit\nwith a task to be performed under penalty of death is seen in the\nVaf\u00fer\u00fa\u00f0nism\u00e1l, where Odin, disguised as a traveller, seeks a contest in\nknowledge with the wisest of the giants.[282]\n\nThe story of the gabs has been retold in two modern imitations: very\nindifferently by Nivelle de la Chauss\u00e9e, 'Le Roi Hugon,' \u0152uvres, t.\nV, suppl\u00e9ment, p. 66, ed. 1778, and well by M. J. Ch\u00e9nier, 'Les\nMiracles,' III, 259, ed. 1824.[283] Uhland treated the subject\ndramatically in a composition which has not been published: Keller,\nAltfranz\u00f6sische Sagen, 1876, Inhalt (Koschwitz).\n\n\n Percy MS., p. 24. Hales and Furnivall, I, 61; Madden's Syr\n Gawayne, p. 275.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n [Saies, 'Come here, cuzen Gawaine so gay,]\n My sisters sonne be yee;\n Ffor you shall see one of the fairest round tables\n That euer you see with your eye.'\n\n 2\n Then bespake Lady Qu_een_ Gueneuer,\n And these were the words said shee:\n 'I know where a round table is, thou noble k_ing_,\n Is worth thy round table and other such three.\n\n 3\n 'The trestle that stands vnder this round table,' she said,\n 'Lowe downe to the mould,\n It is worth thy round table, thou worthy k_ing_,\n Thy halls, and all thy gold.\n\n 4\n 'The place where this round table stands in,\n . . . . . . .\n It is worth thy castle, thy gold, thy fee,\n And all good Litle Britaine.'\n\n 5\n 'Where may that table be, lady?' q_uo_th hee,\n 'Or where may all that goodly building be?'\n 'You shall it seeke,' shee says, 'till you it find,\n For you shall neuer gett more of me.'\n\n 6\n Then bespake him noble K_ing_ Arthur,\n These were the words said hee:\n 'He make mine avow to God,\n And alsoe to the Trinity,\n\n 7\n 'He never sleepe one night there as I doe another,\n Till _tha_t round table I see:\n S_ir_ Marramiles and S_ir_ Tristeram,\n Fellowes _tha_t ye shall bee.\n\n 8\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n 'Weele be clad in palmers weede,\n Fiue palmers we will bee;\n\n 9\n 'There is noe outlandish man will vs abide,\n Nor will vs come nye.'\n Then they riued east and th\u00e9 riued west,\n In many a strange country.\n\n 10\n Then they tranckled a litle further,\n They saw a battle new sett:\n 'Now, by my faith,' saies noble King Arthur,\n . . . . . . well .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 11\n But when he cam to this ... c ...\n And to the palace gate,\n Soe ready was ther a proud porter,\n And met him soone therat.\n\n 12\n Shooes of gold the porter had on,\n And all his other rayment was vnto the same:\n 'Now, by my faith,' saies noble K_ing_ Arthur,\n 'Yonder is a minion swaine.'\n\n 13\n Then bespake noble K_ing_ Arthur,\n These were the words says hee:\n 'Come hither, thou proud porter,\n I pray thee come hither to me.\n\n 14\n 'I haue two poore rings of my finger,\n The better of them Ile giue to thee;\n Tell who may be lord of this castle,' he sayes,\n 'Or who is lord in this cuntry?'\n\n 15\n 'Cornewall K_ing_,' the porter sayes,\n 'There is none soe rich as hee;\n Neither in christendome, nor yet in heathen-nest,\n None hath soe much gold as he.'\n\n 16\n And then bespake him noble K_ing_ Arthur,\n These were the words sayes hee:\n 'I haue two poore rings of my finger,\n The better of them Ile giue thee,\n If thou wilt greete him well, Cornewall K_ing_,\n And greete him well from me.\n\n 17\n 'Pray him for one nights lodging and two meales meate,\n For his love that dyed vppon a tree;\n Of one ghesting and two meales meate,\n For his loue that dyed vppon a tree.\n\n 18\n 'Of one ghesting, of two meales meate,\n For his love that was of virgin borne,\n And in the morning _tha_t we may scape away,\n Either w_i_thout scath or scorne.'\n\n 19\n Then forth is gone this proud porter,\n As fast as he cold hye,\n And when he came befor Cornewall K_ing_,\n He kneeled downe on his knee.\n\n 20\n Sayes, 'I haue beene porter-man, at thy gate,\n This thirty winter and three ...\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 21\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n Our Lady was borne; then thought Cornewall K_ing_\n These palmers had beene in Britt_aine_.\n\n 22\n Then bespake him Cornwall King,\n These were the words he said there:\n 'Did you euer know a comely k_ing_,\n His name was King Arthur?'\n\n 23\n And then bespake him noble K_ing_ Arthur,\n These were the words said hee:\n 'I doe not know that comly k_ing_,\n But once my selfe I did him see.'\n Then bespake Cornwall K_ing_ againe,\n These were the words said he:\n\n 24\n Sayes, 'Seuen yeere I was clad and fed,\n In Litle Brittaine, in a bower;\n I had a daughter by K_ing_ Arthurs wife,\n _Tha_t now is called my flower;\n For K_ing_ Arthur, that kindly cockward,\n Hath none such in his bower.\n\n 25\n 'For I durst sweare, and saue my othe,\n _Tha_t same lady soe bright,\n That a man _tha_t were laid on his death bed\n Wold open his eyes on her to haue sight.'\n 'Now, by my faith,' sayes noble K_ing_ Arthur,\n 'And that's a full faire wight!'\n\n 26\n And then bespake Cornewall [King] againe,\n And these were the words he said:\n 'Come hither, fiue or three of my knights,\n And feitch me downe my steed;\n King Arthur, that foule cockeward,\n Hath none such, if he had need.\n\n 27\n 'For I can ryde him as far on a day\n As King Arthur can doe any of his on three;\n And is it not a pleasure for a k_ing_\n When he shall ryde forth on his iourney?\n\n 28\n 'For the eyes that beene in his head,\n Th\u00e9 glister as doth the gleed.'\n 'Now, by my faith,' says noble King Arthur,\n '_Tha_t is a well faire steed.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 29\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n 'Nobody say . . . .\n But one _that_'s learned to speake.'\n\n 30\n Then K_ing_ Arthur to his bed was brought,\n A greeiued man was hee;\n And soe were all his fellowes with him,\n From him th\u00e9 thought neuer to flee.\n\n 31\n Then take they did that lodly groome,\n And under the rub-chadler closed was hee,\n And he was set by K_ing_ Arthurs bed-side,\n To heere theire talke and theire comu_n_ye;\n\n 32\n _Tha_t he might come forth, and make p_ro_clamation,\n Long before it was day;\n It was more for K_ing_ Cornwalls pleasure,\n Then it was for K_ing_ Arthurs pay.\n\n 33\n And when K_ing_ Arthur in his bed was laid,\n These were the words said hee:\n 'Ile make mine avow to God,\n And alsoe to the Trinity,\n That Ile be the bane of Cornwall Kinge,\n Litle Brittaine or euer I see!'\n\n 34\n 'It is an vnaduised vow,' saies Gawaine the gay,\n 'As ever k_ing_ hard make I;\n But wee _tha_t beene fiue Christian men,\n Of the christen faith are wee,\n And we shall fight against anoynted k_ing_\n And all his armorie.'\n\n 35\n And then bespake him noble Arthur,\n And these were the words said he:\n 'Why, if thou be afraid, S_ir_ Gawaine the gay,\n Goe home, and drinke wine in thine owne country.'\n\n 36\n And then bespake S_i_r Gawaine the gay,\n And these were the words said hee:\n 'Nay, seeing you have made such a hearty vow,\n Heere another vow make will I.\n\n 37\n 'Ile make mine avow to God,\n And alsoe to the Trinity,\n _Tha_t I will haue yonder faire lady\n To Litle Brittaine with mee.\n\n 38\n 'Ile hose her hourly to my heart,\n And with her Ile worke my will;'\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 39\n . . . . . . .\n These were the words sayd hee:\n 'Befor I wold wrestle with yonder feend,\n It is better be drowned in the sea.'\n\n 40\n And then, bespake S_i_r Bredbeddle,\n And these were the words said he:\n 'Why, I will wrestle w_i_th yon lodly feend,\n God, my gouernor thou wilt bee!'\n\n 41\n Then bespake him noble Arthur,\n And these were the words said he:\n 'What weapons wilt thou haue, thou gentle knight?\n I pray thee tell to me.'\n\n 42\n He sayes, 'Collen brand Ile haue in my hand,\n And a Millaine knife fast by me knee,\n And a Danish axe fast in my hands,\n _Tha_t a sure weapon I thinke wilbe.'\n\n 43\n Then with his Collen brand _tha_t he had in his hand\n The bunge of that rub-chandler he burst in three;\n W_i_th that start out a lodly feend,\n W_i_th seuen heads, and one body.\n\n 44\n The fyer towards the element flew,\n Out of his mouth, where was great plentie;\n The knight stoode in the middle and fought,\n _Tha_t it was great ioy to see.\n\n 45\n Till his Collaine brand brake in his hand,\n And his Millaine knife burst on his knee,\n And then the Danish axe burst in his hand first,\n That a sur weapon he thought shold be.\n\n 46\n But now is the knight left w_i_thout any weapons,\n And alacke! it was the more pitty;\n But a surer weapon then he had one,\n Had neuer l_ord_ in Christentye;\n And all was but one litle booke,\n He found it by the side of the sea.\n\n 47\n He found it at the sea-side,\n Wrucked upp in a floode;\n Our L_ord_ had written it w_i_th his hands,\n And sealed it w_i_th his bloode.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 48\n 'That thou doe not s ...\n But ly still in that wall of stone,\n Till I haue beene with noble K_ing_ Arthur,\n And told him what I haue done.'\n\n 49\n And when he came to the k_ing_s chamber,\n He cold of his curtesie:\n Says, 'Sleepe you, wake you, noble K_ing_ Arthur?\n And euer Iesus waken yee!'\n\n 50\n 'Nay, I am not sleeping, I am waking,'\n These were the words said hee;\n 'Ffor thee I haue card; how hast thou fared?\n O gentle knight, let me see.'\n\n 51\n The knight wrought the k_ing_ his booke,\n Bad him behold, reede and see;\n And euer he found it on the backside of the leafe\n As noble Arthur wold wish it to be.\n\n 52\n And then bespake him K_ing_ Arthur,\n 'Alas! thow gentle knight, how may this be,\n That I might see him in the same licknesse\n _Tha_t he stood vnto thee?'\n\n 53\n And then bespake him the Greene Knight,\n These were the words said hee:\n 'If youle stand stifly in the battell stronge,\n For I haue won all the victory.'\n\n 54\n Then bespake him the k_ing_ againe,\n And these were the words said hee:\n 'If wee stand not stifly in this battell strong,\n Wee are worthy to be hanged all on a tree.'\n\n 55\n Then bespake him the Greene Knight,\n These were the words said he:\n Saies, 'I doe coniure thee, thou fowle feend,\n In the same licknesse thou stood vnto me.'\n\n 56\n W_i_th that start out a lodly feend,\n W_i_th seuen heads, and one body;\n The fier towards the element flaugh,\n Out of his mouth, where was great plenty.\n\n 57\n The knight stood in the middle p ...\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 58\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n ... they stood the space of an houre,\n I know not what they did.\n\n 59\n And then bespake him the Greene Knight,\n And these were the words said he:\n Saith, 'I coniure thee, thou fowle feend,\n _Tha_t thou feitch downe the steed that we see.'\n\n 60\n And then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,\n As fast as he cold hie,\n And feitch he did _tha_t faire steed,\n And came againe by and by.\n\n 61\n Then bespake him S_ir_ Marramiles,\n And these were the words said hee:\n 'Riding of this steed, brother Bredbeddle,\n The mastery belongs to me.'\n\n 62\n Marramiles tooke the steed to his hand,\n To ryd him he was full bold;\n He cold noe more make him goe\n Then a child of three yeere old.\n\n 63\n He laid vppon him w_i_th heele and hand,\n W_i_th yard that was soe fell;\n 'Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,' says Marramile,\n 'For I thinke he be the devill of hell.\n\n 64\n 'Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,' says Marramile,\n 'Helpe! for Christs pittye;\n Ffor w_i_thout thy help, brother Bredbeddle,\n He will neuer be rydden for me.'\n\n 65\n Then bespake him S_ir_ Bredbeddle,\n These were the words said he:\n 'I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beane,\n Thou tell me how this steed was riddin in his country.'\n\n 66\n He saith, 'there is a gold wand\n Stands in K_ing_ Cornwalls study windowe;\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 67\n 'Let him take that wand in _tha_t window,\n And strike three strokes on that steed;\n And then he will spring forth of his hand\n As sparke doth out of gleede.'\n\n 68\n And then bespake him the Greene Knight,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 69\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n A lowd blast he may blow then.\n\n 70\n And then bespake S_ir_ Bredebeddle,\n To the ffeend these words said hee:\n Says, 'I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie,\n The powder-box thou feitch me.'\n\n 71\n Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,\n As fast as he cold hie,\n And feich he did the powder-box,\n And came againe by and by.\n\n 72\n Then S_ir_ Tristeram tooke powder forth of _tha_t box,\n And blent it w_i_th warme sweet milke,\n And there put it vnto that horne,\n And swilled it about in that ilke.\n\n 73\n Then he tooke the horne in his hand,\n And a lowd blast he blew;\n He rent the horne vp to the midst,\n All his ffellowes this th\u00e9 knew.\n\n 74\n Then bespake him the Greene Knight,\n These were the words said he:\n Saies, 'I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie,\n _Tha_t thou feitch me the sword _tha_t I see.'\n\n 75\n Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,\n As fast as he cold hie,\n And feitch he did that faire sword,\n And came againe by and by.\n\n 76\n Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle,\n To the k_ing_ these words said he:\n 'Take this sword in thy hand, thou noble K_ing_ A_rthur_,\n For the vowes sake _tha_t thou made Ile giue it th[ee,]\n And goe strike off K_ing_ Cornewalls head,\n In bed were he doth lye.'\n\n 77\n Then forth is gone noble K_ing_ Arthur,\n As fast as he cold hye,\n And strucken he hath off K_ing_ Cornwalls head,\n And came againe by and by.\n\n 78\n He put the head vpon a swords point,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1^1. _The tops of the letters of this line were cut off in\n binding. Percy thought it had stood previously_,\n\n come here Cuz_en_ Gawaine so gay.\n\n _Furnivall says \"~the bottoms of the letters left suit\n better those in the text~\" as given. 4 and 5, 8 and 9, are\n joined in the MS._\n\n 10^4. _Half a page is gone from the MS., or about 38 or 40\n lines; and so after 20^2, 28^4, 38^2, 47^4, 57^1, 68^1,\n 78^1._\n\n 14^2. they better.\n\n 17^3, 18^1. _The first two words are hard to make out, and\n look like ~A vne~._\n\n 18^2. boirne.\n\n 19^1. his gone.\n\n 20^2. _The lower half of the letters is gone._\n\n 21. _In MS.:_\n\n our Lady was borne\n then thought cornewall K_ing_ these palmers had\n beene in Brittanie.\n\n 28^4. _? MS. Only the upper part of the letters is left._\n\n 31^2. under thrub chadler.\n\n 35. _After this stanza is written, in the left margin of\n the MS., ~The 3d Part~._\n\n 38^1. homly to my hurt. _Madden read ~hourly~._\n\n 39^1. _The top line is pared away._\n\n 41^2. they words.\n\n 43^2. of the trubchandler.\n\n 46^3. then had he.\n\n 64. p', _i. e._ pro _or_ per, me. _Madden._\n\n 66. _Attached to 65 in MS._\n\n 69^4. _? MS._\n\n 76^{5,6}. _Joined with 77 in MS. & and Arabic numerals\n have been frequently written out._\n\n\n[259] Half a page is gone in the manuscript between 'Robin Hood's Death'\nand the beginning of this ballad, and again between the end of this\nballad and the beginning of 'Sir Lionel.' 'Robin Hood's Death,' judging\nby another copy, is complete within two or three stanzas, and 'Sir\nLionel' appears to lack nothing. We may suppose that quite half a dozen\nstanzas are lost from both the beginning and the end of 'King Arthur and\nKing Cornwall.'\n\n[260] British Museum (but now missing), King's Library, 16, E, VIII,\nfol. 131, recto: \"Ci comence le liucr_e_ cu_m_ment charels de fraunce\nvoiet in ierh_usale_m Et pur p_ar_ols sa feme a co_n_stanti_n_noble\np_ur_ ver_e_ roy hugon.\" First published by Michel, London, 1836, and\nlately re\u00ebdited, with due care, by Koschwitz: Karls des Grossen Reise\nnach Jerusalem und Constantinopel, Heilbronn, 1880; 2d ed., 1883.\n\n[261] See the argument of Gaston Paris, Romanis, XI, 7 ff; and of\nKoschwitz, Karl des Grossen Reise, 2te Auflage, Einleitung, pp.\nxiv-xxxii.\n\n[262] Printed by Koschwitz in Sechs Bearbeitungen von Karls des Grossen\nReise, the last from a somewhat later edition, pp. 40-133. The recovery\nof a metrical form of Galien is looked for. In the view of Gaston Paris,\nthe Pilgrimage was made over (renouvel\u00e9) at the end of the twelfth or\nthe beginning of the thirteenth century, and this _rifacimento_\nintercalated in Galien by some rhymer of the fourteenth. See his\n'Galien,' in Hist. Litt. de la France, XXVIII, 221-239, for all that\nconcerns the subject.\n\n[263] Il Viaggio di Carlo Magno in Ispagna, pubblicato per cure di\nAntonio Ceruti, c. LI, II, 170: Rajna, Uggeri il Danese nella\nletteratura romanzesca degl' Italiani, Romania IV, 414 ff. A king of\nPortugal, of the faith of Apollo and Mahound, takes the place of the\nking of Constantinople in the former, and one Saracen or another in the\nseveral versions of the second. G. Paris, in Romania, IX, 3, 10, notes.\n\n[264] The Norwegian version in Karlamagnus Saga ok Kappa hans, ed.\nUnger, p. 466, the Seventh Part. Both the Swedish and Danish are given\nin Storm's Sagnkredsene om Karl den Store, etc., Kristiania, 1874, pp.\n228-245. For the sources, see p. 160 ff. The whole of the Danish\nChronicle of Charlemagne is printed in Brandt's Romantisk Digtning fra\nMiddelalderen, Copenhagen, 1877, the Journey to the Holy Land, p. 146\nff. Brandt does not admit that the Danish chronicle was translated from\nSwedish: p. 347. The 'Geiplur,' 968 vv, and one version of\n'Geipa-t\u00e1ttur,' 340 vv, are included in Koschwitz's Sechs Bearbeitungen,\np. 139 ff, p. 174 ff. For a discussion of them see K\u00f6lbing in Germania,\nXX, 233-239, and as to the relations of the several versions, etc.,\nKoschwitz, in Romanische Studien, II, 1 ff, his Ueberlieferung und\nSprache der Chanson du Voyage de Charlemagne, and Sechs Bearbeitungen,\nEinleitung. The F\u00e4r\u00f6e ballad is thought to show traces in some places of\nChristiern Pedersen's edition of the Danish chronicle, 1584 (K\u00f6lbing, as\nabove, 238, 239), or of stall prints founded on that. This does not,\nhowever, necessarily put the ballad into the sixteenth century. Might\nnot Pedersen have had ballad authority for such changes and additions as\nhe made? It may well be supposed that he had, and if what is peculiar to\nPedersen may have come from ballads, we must hesitate to derive the\nballads from Pedersen. It is, moreover, neither strange nor unexampled\nthat popular ballads should be affected by tradition committed to print\nas well as by tradition still floating in memory. The F\u00e4r\u00f6e copies of\n'Greve Genselin,' for example, as Grundtvig remarks, I, 223, note,\nthough undoubtedly original and independent of Danish, evince\nacquaintance with Vedel's printed text.\n\n[265] Given, with an English translation by Professor Rhys, in Sechs\nBearbeitungen, p. 1, p. 19.\n\n[266] There are some variations in the list of relics in the other\nversions. The R\u00edmur say \"many,\" without specifying.\n\n[267] On the way from Jerusalem to Constantinople the French, according\nto Galien, were waylaid by several thousand Saracens. Three or four of\nthe peers prepared for a fight, though armed only with swords (\"which\nthey never or only most reluctantly put off,\" Arsenal MS.), but Charles\nand the rest felt a better confidence in the relics, and through the\nprayers of the more prudent and pious of the company their foes were\nturned into rocks and stones.\n\n[268] The heir of a Scandinavian king, or earl, at the feast which\nsolemnized his accession, drank a bragur-full, a chief's cup or king's\ntoast, to the memory of his father, and then made some important vow.\nThis he did before he took his father's seat. The guests then made vows.\nThe custom seems not to have been confined to these funeral banquets.\nSee Vigfusson, at the word $Bragr$. Charles and his peers show their\nblood.\n\n[269] Excepting the Welsh translation, which conforms to the original,\nall other versions give Bernard's gab to Turpin, and most others\nTurpin's to Bernard. The Danish chronicle assigns the \"grand three-horse\nact\" to Gerard; the F\u00e4r\u00f6e ballad omits it; the two manuscript Galiens\nattribute it to Bernard [Berart] de Mondidier, the printed Galien to\nBerenger. In these last the feat is, though enormously weighted with\narmor, to leap over two horses and come down on the back of the third so\nheavily as to break his bones. There are, in one version or another,\nother differences as to the feats.\n\n[270] In Galien, Hugo is exceedingly frightened by Charlemagne's fierce\ndemeanor and by what he is told by a recreant Frenchman who is living in\nexile at his court, and rouses the city for an assault on his guests, in\nwhich he loses two thousand of his people. A parley ensues. Hugo will\nhear of no accommodation unless the gabs are performed. \"Content,\" says\nCharles, angrily, \"they shall be, if you wish;\" but he feels how great\nthe peril is, and goes to church to invoke the aid of heaven, which is\nvouchsafed.\n\n[271] Arthur is said to have \"socht to the ciete of Criste,\" in\n'Golagros and Gawane,' Madden's 'Syr Gawayne,' p. 143, v. 302. The\nauthor probably followed the so-called Nennius, c. 63.\n\n[272] Cf. 'Young Beichan,' where the porter has also served thirty years\nand three; 'The Grene Knight,' Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, II, 62;\nthe porter in Kilhwch and Olwen, Mabinogion, II, 255 f.\n\n[273] In Heinrich vom T\u00fcrlin's Cr\u00f4ne we have the following passage, vv\n3313-4888, very possibly to be found in some French predecessor, which\nrecalls the relations of Cornwall King and Guenever. The queen's\ndemeanor may be an imitation of Charlemagne's (Arthur's) wife's\nbluntness, but the _liaison_ of which Cornwall boasts appears to be\nvouched by no other tradition, and must be regarded as the invention of\nthe author of this ballad.\n\nArthur and three comrades return half frozen from a hunt. Arthur sits\ndown at the fire to warm himself. The queen taunts him: she knows a\nknight who rides, winter and summer alike, in a simple shirt, chanting\nlove-songs the while. Arthur resolves to go out with the three the next\nnight to overhaul this hardy chevalier. The three attendants of the king\nhave an encounter with him and fare hard at his hands, but Arthur has\nthe advantage of the stranger, who reveals himself to the king as\nGuenever's first love, by name Gasozein, and shows a token which he had\nreceived from her.\n\n[274]\n\n Under thrub chadler closed was hee. 29^2.\n The bunge of the trubchandler he burst in three. 43^2.\n\nBeing unable to make anything of thrub, trub, I am compelled to conjecture\n_the rub-chadler, that rub-chandler_. The fiend is certainly closed under\na barrel or tub, and I suppose a rubbish barrel or tub. Rubb, however\nderived, occurs in Icelandic in the sense of rubbish, and chalder, however\nderived, is a Scottish form of the familiar chaldron. Professor Skeat,\nwith great probability, suggests that chadler==chaudeler, chaudi\u00e8re.\nCaldaria _lignea_ are cited by Ducange. Cad or kad is well known in the\nsense barrel, and cadiolus, cadulus, are found in Ducange. Cadler, chadler,\nhowever, cannot be called a likely derivative from cad.\n\nIn stanza 48 the fiend, after he has been ousted from the\n\"trubchandler,\" is told to \"lie still in that wall of stone,\" which is\nperhaps his ordinary lair. The spy is concealed under a flight of stone\nsteps in the French poem; in \"a large hollow stone in the door outside\"\nin the Welsh story; in a hollow pillar in Galien and the R\u00edmur; in a\nstone vault in the F\u00e4r\u00f6e ballad: Koschwitz, Karls Reise, p. 64; Sechs\nBearbeitungen, pp 29, 52, 85, 117, 153, 179.\n\n[275] Roland's last blast splits his horn. See the citations by G.\nParis, in Romania, XI, 506 f.\n\n[276] The first has been printed by K\u00f6lbing in Koschwitz's Sechs\nBearbeitungen, as already said. The four texts were most kindly\ncommunicated to me by Professor Grundtvig, a short time before his\nlamentable death, copied by his own hand in parallel columns, with a\nrestoration of the order of the stanzas, which is considerably disturbed\nin all, and a few necessary emendations.\n\n[277] P\u00f3l, #A#, #C#, Kortunatus, #B#, i. e. Koronatus (Grundtvig).\nCoronatus==clericus, tonsura seu corona clericali donatus: Ducange.\n\n[278] The white bears and the wolf-dogs are found in another F\u00e4r\u00f6e\nballad, as yet unprinted, '\u00c1smundar skeinkjari,' where they are subdued\nby an arm-ring and \"rune-gold:\" the white bears in a kindred ballad,\nGrundtvig, No 71, #A# 4, 5, 8, 9, #C# 6, 7, 13, quelled with a\nlily-twig; #E# 12, 13, with runes; and in No 70, #A# 28, #B# 27, 30. The\nsource of this ballad is Fj\u00f6lsvinnsm\u00e1l, which has two watch-dogs in 13,\n14. 'Kilhweh and Olwen,' Mabinogion, II, has a similar story, and there\nare nine watch-dogs, at p. 277. (Grundtvig.)\n\n[279] Romania, IX, 8 ff. The English ballad has also combined two\nstories: that of the gabs with another in which a magical horse, horn,\nand sword are made prize of by a favored hero.\n\n[280] The particular for which superiority is claimed will naturally\nvary. The author of Charlemagne's Journey has the good taste not to give\nprominence to simple riches, but in Galien riches is from the beginning\nthe point. So none hath so much gold as Cornwall King. Solomon's fame is\nto exceed all the kings of the earth \"for riches and for wisdom;\" and\nalthough the queen of Sheba came to prove him with hard questions, she\nmust have had the other matter also in view, for she says, The half was\nnot told me; thy wisdom and prosperity exceedeth the fame which I heard:\n1 Kings, x. Coming down to very late times, we observe that it is the\nwealth of the Abbot of Canterbury which exposes him to a visit from the\nking.\n\n[281] The tale in the Mille et un Jours is directly from the Persian,\nbut the Persian is in the preface said to be a version from Indian, that\nis, Sanskrit. There are two Tatar traditional versions in Radloff, IV,\n120, 310, which are cited by G. Paris.\n\n[282] Cited by G. Paris, who refers also to King Gylfi's expedition to\nAsgard (an imitation of Odin's to Vaf\u00fer\u00fa\u00f0nir), and sees some resemblance\nto the revolving palace of King Hugo in the vanishing mansion in which\nGylfi is received in Gylfaginning; and again to Thor's visit to the\ngiant Geirr\u00f6\u00f0r, Sk\u00e1ldskaparm\u00e1l, 18, which terminates by the giant's\nflinging a red-hot iron bar at Thor, who catches it and sends it back\nthrough an iron pillar, through Geirr\u00f6\u00f0r skulking behind the pillar,\nthrough the wall of the house, and into the ground, a fair matching of\nCharlemagne's gab. (The giant Geirr\u00f6\u00f0r, like Cornwall King, is skilled\nin magic.) The beginning of Biterolf and Dietleib also recalls that of\nCharlemagne's Journey. Biterolf, a Spanish king, hears from an old\npalmer, who has seen many a hero among Christians and heathens, that\nnone is the equal of Attila. Biterolf had thought that he himself had no\nsuperior, and sets out with eleven chosen knights to see Etzel's court\nwith his own eyes. Romania, IX, 9 f.\n\nJ\u00e1tmundr [Hl\u00f6\u00f0ver], a haughty emperor in Saxon-land, sitting on his\nthrone one day, in the best humor with himself, asks Sigur\u00f0r, his prime\nminister, where is the monarch that is his match. Sigur\u00f0r demurs a\nlittle: the emperor specifies his hawk, horse, and sword as quite\nincomparable. That may be, says the counsellor, but his master's glory,\nto be complete, requires a queen that is his peer. The suggestion of a\npossible equal rouses the emperor's ire. \"But since you talk such folly,\nname one,\" he says. Sigur\u00f0r names the daughter of Hr\u00f3lfr [Hugo] of\nConstantinople, and is sent to demand her in marriage. Magus saga jarls,\ned. Cederschi\u00f6ld, c. I: Wulff, Recherches sur les Sagas de M\u00e1gus et de\nGeirard, p. 14 f.\n\n[283] G. Paris, Histoire Po\u00e9tique de Charlemagne, p. 344.\n\n\n\n\n31\n\nTHE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAIN\n\n Percy MS., p. 46. Hales & Furnivall, I, 105; Madden's Syr\n Gawayne, p. 288; Percy's Reliques, ed. 1794, III, 350.\n\n\nWe have here again half a ballad, in seven fragments, but the essentials\nof the story, which is well known from other versions, happen to be\npreserved, or may be inferred.\n\nArthur, apparently some day after Christmas, had been encountered at\nTarn Wadling,[284] in the forest of Inglewood, by a bold baron armed\nwith a club, who offered him the choice of fighting, or ransoming\nhimself by coming back on New Year's day and bringing word what women\nmost desire. Arthur puts this question in all quarters, and having\ncollected many answers, in which, possibly, he had little confidence, he\nrides to keep his day. On the way he meets a frightfully ugly woman; she\nintimates that she could help him. Arthur promises her Gawain in\nmarriage, if she will, and she imparts to him the right answer. Arthur\nfinds the baron waiting for him at the tarn, and presents first the\nanswers which he had collected and written down. These are\ncontemptuously rejected. Arthur then says that he had met a lady on a\nmoor, who had told him that a woman would have her will. The baron says\nthat the misshapen lady on the moor was his sister, and he will burn her\nif he can get hold of her. Upon Arthur's return he tells his knights\nthat he has a wife for one of them, and they ride with the king to see\nher, or perhaps for her to make her choice. When they see the bride,\nthey decline the match in vehement terms, all but Gawain, who is somehow\nled to waive \"a little foul sight and misliking.\" She is bedded in all\nher repulsiveness, and turns to a beautiful young woman. To try Gawain's\ncompliance further, she asks him whether he will have her in this\nlikeness by night only or only by day. Putting aside his own preference,\nGawain leaves the choice to her, and this is all that is needed to keep\nher perpetually beautiful. For a stepmother had witched her to go on the\nwild moor in that fiendly shape until she should meet some knight who\nwould let her have all her will. Her brother, under a like spell, was to\nchallenge men either to fight with him at odds or to answer his hard\nquestion.\n\nThese incidents, with the variation that Arthur (who does not show all\nhis customary chivalry in this ballad) waits for Gawain's consent before\nhe promises him in marriage, are found in a romance, probably of the\nfifteenth century, printed in Madden's Syr Gawayne, and somewhat hastily\npronounced by the editor to be \"unquestionably the original of the\nmutilated poem in the Percy folio.\"[285]\n\nArthur, while hunting in Ingleswood, stalked and finally shot a great\nhart, which fell in a fern-brake. While the king, alone and far from his\nmen, was engaged in making the assay, there appeared a groom, bearing\nthe quaint name of Gromer Somer Joure,[286] who grimly told him that he\nmeant now to requite him for having taken away his lands. Arthur\nrepresented that it would be a shame to knighthood for an armed man to\nkill a man in green, and offered him any satisfaction. The only terms\nGromer would grant were that Arthur should come back alone to that place\nthat day twelvemonth, and then tell him what women love best; not\nbringing the right answer, he was to lose his head. The king gave his\noath, and they parted. The knights, summoned by the king's bugle, found\nhim in heavy cheer, and the reason he would at first tell no man, but\nafter a while took Gawain into confidence. Gawain advised that they two\nshould ride into strange country in different directions, put the\nquestion to every man and woman they met, and write the answers in a\nbook. This they did, and each made a large collection. Gawain thought\nthey could not fail, but the king was anxious, and considered that it\nwould be prudent to spend the only month that was left in prosecuting\nthe inquiry in the region of Ingleswood. Gawain agreed that it was good\nto be speering, and bade the king doubt not that some of his saws should\nhelp at need.\n\nArthur rode to Ingleswood, and met a lady, riding on a\nrichly-caparisoned palfrey, but herself of a hideousness which beggars\nwords; nevertheless the items are not spared. She came up to Arthur and\ntold him that she knew his counsel; none of his answers would help. If\nhe would grant her one thing, she would warrant his life; otherwise, he\nmust lose his head. This one thing was that she should be Gawain's wife.\nThe king said this lay with Gawain; he would do what he could, but it\nwere a pity to make Gawain wed so foul a lady. \"No matter,\" she\nrejoined, \"though I be foul: choice for a mate hath an owl. When thou\ncomest to thine answer, I shall meet thee; else art thou lost.\"\n\nThe king returned to Carlisle with a heart no lighter, and the first man\nhe saw was Gawain, who asked how he had sped. Never so ill: he had met a\nlady who had offered to save his life, but she was the foulest he had\never seen, and the condition was that Gawain should be her husband. \"Is\nthat all?\" said Gawain. \"I will wed her once and again, though she were\nthe devil; else were I no friend.\" Well might the king exclaim, \"Of all\nknights thou bearest the flower!\"\n\nAfter five or six days more the time came for the answer. The king had\nhardly ridden a mile into the forest when he met the lady, by name Dame\nRagnell. He told her Gawain should wed her, and demanded _her_ answer.\n\"Some say this and some say that, but above all things women desire to\nhave the sovereignty; tell this to the knight; he will curse her that\ntold thee, for his labor is lost.\" Arthur, thus equipped, rode on as\nfast as he could go, through mire and fen. Gromer was waiting, and\nsternly demanded the answer. Arthur offered his two books, for Dame\nRagnell had told him to save himself by any of those answers if he\ncould. \"Nay, nay, king,\" said Gromer, \"thou art but a dead man.\" \"Abide,\nSir Gromer, I have an answer shall make all sure. Women desire\nsovereignty.\" \"She that told thee that was my sister, Dame Ragnell; I\npray I may see her burn on a fire.\" And so they parted.\n\nDame Ragnell was waiting for Arthur, too, and would hear of nothing but\nimmediate fulfillment of her bargain. She followed the king to his\ncourt, and required him to produce Gawain instantly, who came and\nplighted his troth. The queen begged her to be married privately, and\nearly in the morning. Dame Ragnell would consent to no such arrangement.\nShe would not go to church till high-mass time, and she would dine in\nthe open hall. At her wedding she was dressed more splendidly than the\nqueen, and she sat at the head of the table at the dinner afterwards.\nThere her appetite was all but as horrible as her person: she ate three\ncapons, three curlews, and great bake meats, all that was set before\nher, less and more.[287]\n\nA leaf is wanting now, but what followed is easily imagined. She chided\nGawain for his offishness, and begged him to kiss her, at least. \"I will\ndo more,\" said Gawain, and, turning, beheld the fairest creature he ever\nsaw. But the transformed lady told him that her beauty would not hold:\nhe must choose whether she should be fair by night and foul by day, or\nfair by day and foul by night.[288] Gawain said the choice was hard, and\nleft all to her. \"Gramercy,\" said the lady, \"thou shalt have me fair\nboth day and night.\" Then she told him that her step-dame had turned her\ninto that monstrous shape by necromancy, not to recover her own till the\nbest knight in England had wedded her and given her sovereignty in all\npoints.[289] A charming little scene follows, vv 715-99, in which Arthur\nvisits Gawain in the morning, fearing lest the fiend may have slain him.\nSomething of this may very likely have been in that half page of the\nballad which is lost after stanza 48.\n\nGower and Chaucer both have this tale, though with a different setting,\nand with the variation, beyond doubt original in the story, that the man\nwhose life is saved by rightly answering the question has himself to\nmarry the monstrous woman in return for her prompting him.\n\nGower relates, Confessio Amantis, Book First, I, 89-104, ed. Pauli, that\nFlorent, nephew of the emperor, as Gawain is of Arthur, slew Branchus, a\nman of high rank. Branchus's kin refrained from vengeance, out of fear\nof the emperor; but a shrewd lady, grandmother to Branchus, undertook to\ncompass Florent's death in a way that should bring blame upon nobody.\nShe sent for Florent, and told him that she would engage that he should\nnot be molested by the family of Branchus if he could answer a question\nshe would ask. He was to have a proper allowance of time to find the\nanswer, but he was also to agree that his life should be forfeited\nunless his answer were right. Florent made oath to this agreement, and\nsought the opinions of the wisest people upon the subject, but their\nopinions were in no accord. Considering, therefore, that he must\ndefault, he took leave of the emperor, adjuring him to allow no revenge\nto be taken if he lost his life, and went to meet his fate. But on his\nway through a forest he saw an ugly old woman, who called to him to\nstop. This woman told him that he was going to certain death, and asked\nwhat he would give her to save him. He said, anything she should ask,\nand she required of him a promise of marriage. That he would not give.\n\"Ride on to your death, then,\" said she. Florent began to reflect that\nthe woman was very old, and might be hidden away somewhere till she\ndied, and that there was no other chance of deliverance, and at last\npledged his word that he would marry her if it should turn out that his\nlife could be saved only through the answer that she should teach him.\nShe was perfectly willing that he should try all other shifts first, but\nif they failed, then let him say that women cared most to be sovereign\nin love. Florent kept back this answer as long as he could. None of his\nown replies availed, and the lady who presided in judgment at last told\nhim that he could be allowed but one more. Then he gave the old woman's\nanswer, and was discharged, with a curse on her that told.[290]\n\nThe old woman was waiting for Florent, and he now had full leisure to\ninspect all her points; but he was a knight, and would hold his troth.\nHe set her on his horse before him, rode by night and lay close by day,\ntill he came to his castle. There the ladies made an attempt to attire\nher for the wedding, and she was the fouler for their pains. They were\nmarried that night. He turned away from the bride; she prayed him not to\nbe so discourteous. He turned toward her, with a great moral effort, and\nsaw (for the chamber was full of light) a lady of eighteen, of\nunequalled beauty. As he would have drawn her to him she forbade, and\nsaid he must make his choice, to have her such by day or by night.\n\"Choose for us both,\" was his reply. \"Thanks,\" quoth she, \"for since you\nhave made me sovereign, I shall be both night and day as I am now.\" She\nexplained that, having been daughter of the king of Sicily, her\nstepmother had forshapen her, the spell to hold till she had won the\nlove and the sovereignty of what knight passed all others in good name.\n\nThe scene of Chaucer's tale, The Wife of Bath, returns to Arthur's\ncourt. One of the bachelors of the household, when returning from\nhawking, commits a rape, for which he is condemned to death. But the\nqueen and other ladies intercede for him, and the king leaves his life\nat the disposal of the queen. The queen, like the shrewd lady in Gower,\nbut with no intent to trapan the young man, says that his life shall\ndepend upon his being able to tell her what women most desire, and\ngives him a year and a day to seek an answer. He makes extensive\ninquiries, but there is no region in which two creatures can be found to\nbe of the same mind, and he turns homeward very downcast.\n\nOn his way through a wood he saw a company of ladies dancing, and moved\ntowards them, in the hope that he might learn something. But ere he came\nthe dancers had vanished, and all he found was the ugliest woman\nconceivable sitting on the green. She asked the knight what he wanted,\nand he told her it was to know what women most desire. \"Plight me thy\ntroth to do the next thing I ask of thee, and I will tell thee.\" He gave\nhis word, and she whispered the secret in his ear.\n\nThe court assembled, the queen herself sitting as justice, and the\nknight was commanded to say what thing women love best. He made his\nresponse triumphantly; there was no dissenting voice. But as soon as he\nwas declared to have ransomed his life, up sprang the old woman he had\nmet in the wood. She had taught the man his answer, he had plighted his\nword to do the first thing she asked of him, and now she asked him to\nmake her his wife. The promise was not disputed, but the poor youth\nbegged her to make some other request; to take all he had in the world,\nand let him go. She would not yield, and they were married the next day.\nWhen they have gone to bed, the old wife, \"smiling ever mo,\" rallies her\nhusband for his indifference, and lectures him for objecting to\nugliness, age, and vulgar birth, which things, she says, are a great\nsecurity for him, and then gives him his election, to have her ugly and\nold as she is, but true, or young and fair, with the possible\ncontingencies. The knight has the grace to leave the decision to her.\n\"Then I have the sovereignty,\" she says, \"and I will be both fair and\ngood; throw up the curtain and see.\" Fair and young she was, and they\nlived to their lives' end in perfect joy.\n\nChaucer has left out the step-mother and her bewitchment, and saves,\nhumbles, and rewards the young knight by the agency of a good fairy; for\nthe ugly old woman is evidently such by her own will and for her own\npurposes. She is \"smiling ever mo,\" and has the power, as she says, to\nset all right whenever she pleases. Her fate is not dependent on the\nknight's compliance, though his is.\n\nThe Wife of Bath's Tale is made into a ballad, or what is called a\nsonnet, 'Of a Knight and a Fair Virgin,' in The Crown Garland of Golden\nRoses, compiled by Richard Johnson, not far from 1600: see the Percy\nSociety reprint, edited by W. Chappell, vol. vi of the series, p. 68.\nUpon Chaucer's story is founded Voltaire's tale, admirable in its way,\nof Ce qui pla\u00eet aux Dames, 1762; of which the author writes, 1765,\nNovember 4, that it had had great success at Fontainebleau in the form\nof a comic opera, entitled La F\u00e9e Urg\u00e8le.[291] The amusing ballad of The\nKnight and Shepherd's Daughter has much in common with the Wife of\nBath's Tale, and might, if we could trace its pedigree, go back to a\ncommon original.[292]\n\nTales resembling the Marriage of Gawain must have been widely spread\nduring the Middle Ages. The ballad of 'King Henry' has much in common\nwith the one now under consideration, and Norse and Gaelic connections,\nand is probably much earlier. At present I can add only one parallel out\nof English, and that from an Icelandic saga.\n\nGr\u00edmr was on the verge of marriage with Lopth\u00e6na, but a week before the\nappointed day the bride was gone, and nobody knew what had become of\nher. Her father had given her a step-mother five years before, and the\nstep-mother had been far from kind; but what then? Gr\u00edmr was restless\nand unhappy, and got no tidings. A year of scarcity coming, he left\nhome with two of his people. After an adventure with four trolls, he had\na fight with twelve men, in which, though they were all slain, he lost\nhis comrades and was very badly wounded. As he lay on the ground,\nlooking only for death, a woman passed, if so she might be called; for\nshe was not taller than a child of seven years, so stout that Gr\u00edmr's\narms would not go round her, misshapen, bald, black, ugly, and\ndisgusting in every particular. She came up to Gr\u00edmr, and asked him if\nhe would accept his life from her. \"Hardly,\" said he, \"you are so\nloathsome.\" But life was precious, and he presently consented. She took\nhim up and ran with him, as if he were a babe, till she came to a large\ncave; there she set him down, and it seemed to Gr\u00edmr that she was uglier\nthan before. \"Now pay me for saving your life,\" she said, \"and kiss me.\"\n\"I cannot,\" said Gr\u00edmr, \"you look so diabolical.\" \"Expect no help, then,\nfrom me,\" said she, \"and I see that it will soon be all over with you.\"\n\"Since it must be, loath as I am,\" said Gr\u00edmr, and went and kissed her;\nshe seemed not so bad to kiss as to look at. When night came she made up\na bed, and asked Gr\u00edmr whether he would lie alone or with her. \"Alone,\"\nhe answered. \"Then,\" said she, \"I shall take no pains about healing your\nwounds.\" Gr\u00edmr said he would rather lie with her, if he had no other\nchance, and she bound up his wounds, so that he seemed to feel no more\nof them. No sooner was Gr\u00edmr abed than he fell asleep, and when he woke,\nhe saw lying by him almost the fairest woman he had ever laid eyes on,\nand marvellously like his true-love, Lopth\u00e6na. At the bedside he saw\nlying the troll-casing which she had worn; he jumped up and burned this.\nThe woman was very faint; he sprinkled her with water, and she came to,\nand said, It is well for both of us; I saved thy life first, and thou\nhast freed me from bondage. It was indeed Lopth\u00e6na, whom the step-mother\nhad transformed into a horrible shape, odious to men and trolls, which\nshe should never come out of till a man should consent to three\nthings,--which no man ever would,--to accept his life at her hands, to\nkiss her, and to share her bed. Gr\u00edms saga lo\u00f0inkinna, Rafn, Fornaldar\nS\u00f6gur, II, 143-52.\n\nSir Frederic Madden, in his annotations upon this ballad, 'Syr Gawayne,'\np. 359, remarks that Sir Steven, stanza 31, does not occur in the Round\nTable romances; that Sir Banier, 32, is probably a mistake for Beduer,\nthe king's constable; and that Sir Bore and Sir Garrett, in the same\nstanza, are Sir Bors de Gauves, brother of Lionel, and Gareth, or\nGaheriet, the younger brother of Gawain.\n\n'The Marriage of Sir Gawaine,' as filled out by Percy from the fragments\nin his manuscript, Reliques, 1765, III, 11, is translated by Bodmer, I,\n110; by Bothe, p. 75; by Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, p.\n135.\n\n\n 1\n Kinge Arthur liues in merry Carleile,\n And seemely is to see,\n And there he hath with him Queene Genev_er_,\n _Tha_t bride soe bright of blee.\n\n 2\n And there he hath w_i_th [him] Queene Genever,\n _Tha_t bride soe bright in bower,\n And all his barons about him stoode,\n _Tha_t were both stiffe and stowre.\n\n 3\n The k_ing_ kept a royall Christmasse,\n Of mirth and great honor,\n And when ...\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 4\n 'And bring me word what thing it is\n T_ha_t a woman [will] most desire;\n This shalbe thy ransome, Arthur,' he sayes,\n 'For Ile haue noe other hier.'\n\n 5\n K_ing_ Arthur then held vp his hand,\n According thene as was the law;\n He tooke his leaue of the baron there,\n And homward can he draw.\n\n 6\n And when he came to merry Carlile,\n To his chamber he is gone,\n And ther came to him his cozen S_i_r Gawaine,\n As he did make his mone.\n\n 7\n And there came to him his cozen S_i_r Gawaine,\n _Tha_t was a curteous knight;\n 'Why sigh you soe sore, vnckle Arthur,' he said,\n 'Or who hath done thee vnright? '\n\n 8\n 'O peace, O peace, thou gentle Gawaine,\n _Tha_t faire may thee beffall!\n For if thou knew my sighing soe deepe,\n Thou wold not meruaile att all.\n\n 9\n 'Ffor when I came to Tearne Wadling,\n A bold barron there I fand,\n W_i_th a great club vpon his backe,\n Standing stiffe and strong.\n\n 10\n 'And he asked me wether I wold fight\n Or from him I shold begone,\n O[r] else I must him a ransome pay,\n And soe dep_ar_t him from.\n\n 11\n 'To fight w_i_th him I saw noe cause;\n Methought it was not meet;\n For he was stiffe and strong w_i_th-all,\n His strokes were nothing sweete.\n\n 12\n 'Therefor this is my ransome, Gawaine,\n I ought to him to pay;\n I must come againe, as I am sworne,\n Vpon the New Yeers day;\n\n 13\n 'And I must bring him word what thing it is\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 14\n Then king Arthur drest him for to ryde,\n In one soe rich array,\n Toward the fore-said Tearne Wadling,\n _Tha_t he might keepe his day.\n\n 15\n And as he rode over a more,\n Hee see a lady where shee sate\n Betwixt an oke and a greene hollen;\n She was cladd in red scarlett.\n\n 16\n Then there as shold haue stood her mouth,\n Then there was sett her eye;\n The other was in her forhead fast,\n The way that she might see.\n\n 17\n Her nose was crooked and turnd outward,\n Her mouth stood foule a-wry;\n A worse formed lady than shee was,\n Neuer man saw w_i_th his eye.\n\n 18\n To halch vpon him, K_ing_ Arthur,\n This lady was full faine,\n But K_ing_ Arthur had forgott his lesson,\n What he shold say againe.\n\n 19\n 'What knight art thou,' the lady sayd,\n 'That will not speak to me?\n Of me be thou nothing dismayd,\n Tho I be vgly to see.\n\n 20\n 'For I haue halched you curteouslye,\n And you will not me againe;\n Yett I may happen S_i_r Knight,' shee said,\n 'To ease thee of thy paine.'\n\n 21\n 'Giue thou ease me, lady,' he said,\n 'Or helpe me any thing,\n Thou shalt have gentle Gawaine, my cozen,\n And marry him w_i_th a ring.'\n\n 22\n 'Why, if I help thee not, thou noble K_ing_ Arthur,\n Of thy owne hearts desiringe,\n Of gentle Gawaine ...\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 23\n And when he came to the Tearne Wadling,\n The baron there cold he finde,\n W_i_th a great weapon on his backe,\n Standing stiffe and stronge.\n\n 24\n And then he tooke K_ing_ Arthurs letters in his hands,\n And away he cold them fling,\n And then he puld out a good browne sword,\n And cryd himselfe a k_ing_.\n\n 25\n And he sayd, I have thee and thy land, Arthur,\n To doe as it pleaseth me,\n For this is not thy ransome sure,\n Therfore yeeld thee to me.\n\n 26\n And then bespoke him noble Arthur,\n And bad him hold his hand:\n 'And giue me leaue to speake my mind\n In defence of all my land.'\n\n 27\n He said, As I came over a more,\n I see a lady where shee sate\n Betweene an oke and a green hollen;\n Shee was clad in red scarlett.\n\n 28\n And she says a woman will haue her will,\n And this is all her cheef desire:\n Doe me right, as thou art a baron of sckill,\n This is thy ransome and all thy hyer.\n\n 29\n He sayes, An early vengeance light on her!\n She walkes on yonder more;\n It was my sister that told thee this,\n And she is a misshappen hore.\n\n 30\n But heer Ile make mine avow to God\n To doe her an euill turne,\n For an euer I may thate fowle theefe get,\n In a fyer I will her burne.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 31\n Sir Lancelott and S_i_r Steven bold,\n They rode w_i_th them that day,\n And the formost of the company\n There rode the steward Kay.\n\n 32\n Soe did S_i_r Banier and S_i_r Bore,\n S_i_r Garrett with them soe gay,\n Soe did S_i_r Tristeram _tha_t gentle k_nigh_t,\n To the forrest fresh and gay.\n\n 33\n And when he came to the greene forrest,\n Vnderneath a greene holly tree,\n Their sate that lady in red scarlet\n _Tha_t vnseemly was to see.\n\n 34\n S_i_r Kay beheld this ladys face,\n And looked vppon her swire;\n 'Whosoeuer kisses this lady,' he sayes,\n 'Of his kisse he stands in feare.'\n\n 35\n S_i_r Kay beheld the lady againe,\n And looked vpon her snout;\n 'Whosoeuer kisses this lady,' he saies,\n 'Of his kisse he stands in doubt.'\n\n 36\n 'Peace, coz_en_ Kay,' then said S_i_r Gawaine,\n 'Amend thee of thy life;\n For there is a knight amongst vs all\n _Tha_t must marry her to his wife.'\n\n 37\n 'What! wedd her to wiffe!' then said S_i_r Kay,\n 'In the diuells name anon!\n Gett me a wiffe where-ere I may,\n For I had rather be slaine!'\n\n 38\n Then some tooke vp their hawkes in hast,\n And some tooke vp their hounds,\n And some sware they wold not marry her\n For citty nor for towne.\n\n 39\n And then be-spake him noble K_ing_ Arthur,\n And sware there by this day,\n 'For a litle foule sight and misliking\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 40\n Then shee said, Choose thee, gentle Gawaine,\n Truth as I doe say,\n Wether thou wilt haue me in this liknesse\n In the night or else in the day.\n\n 41\n And then bespake him gentle Gawaine,\n Was one soe mild of moode,\n Sayes, Well I know what I wold say,\n God grant it may be good!\n\n 42\n To haue thee fowle in the night\n When I w_i_th thee shold play--\n Yet I had rather, if I might,\n Haue thee fowle in the day.\n\n 43\n 'What! when lords goe w_i_th ther feires,' shee said,\n 'Both to the ale and wine,\n Alas! then I must hyde my selfe,\n I must not goe withinne.'\n\n 44\n And then bespake him gentle Gawaine,\n Said, Lady, that's but skill;\n And because thou art my owne lady,\n Thou shalt haue all thy will.\n\n 45\n Then she said, Blesed be thou, gentle Gawain,\n This day _tha_t I thee see,\n For as thou seest me att this time,\n From hencforth I wilbe.\n\n 46\n My father was an old knight,\n And yett it chanced soe\n _Tha_t he marryed a younge lady\n That brought me to this woe.\n\n 47\n Shee witched me, being a faire young lady,\n To the greene forrest to dwell,\n And there I must walke in womans liknesse,\n Most like a feend of hell.\n\n 48\n She witched my brother to a carlish b ...\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 49\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n 'That looked soe foule, and that was wont\n On the wild more to goe.'\n\n 50\n 'Come kisse her, brother Kay,' then said S_i_r Gawaine,\n 'And amend th\u00e9 of thy liffe;\n I sweare this is the same lady\n _Tha_t I marryed to my wiffe.'\n\n 51\n S_i_r Kay kissed that lady bright,\n Standing vpon his ffeete;\n He swore, as he was trew knight,\n The spice was neuer soe sweete.\n\n 52\n 'Well, coz_en_ Gawaine,' sayes S_i_r Kay,\n 'Thy chance is fallen arright,\n For thou hast gotten one of the fairest maids\n I euer saw with my sight.'\n\n 53\n 'It is my fortune,' said S_i_r Gawaine;\n 'For my vnckle Arthurs sake\n I am glad as grasse wold be of raine,\n Great ioy that I may take.'\n\n 54\n S_i_r Gawaine tooke the lady by the one arme,\n S_i_r Kay tooke her by the tother,\n They led her straight to K_ing_ Arthur,\n As they were brother and brother.\n\n 55\n K_ing_ Arthur welcomed them there all,\n And soe did Lady Geneuer his queene,\n W_i_th all the knights of the Round Table,\n Most seemly to be scene.\n\n 56\n K_ing_ Arthur beheld that lady faire\n That was soe faire and bright,\n He thanked Christ in Trinity\n For S_i_r Gawaine that gentle knight.\n\n 57\n Soe did the knights, both more and lesse,\n Reioyced all _tha_t day\n For the good chance that hapened was\n To S_i_r Gawaine and his lady gay.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1^3. Qqueene.\n\n 3^3. _Half a page gone from the MS., about 9 stanzas; and\n so after 13^1, 22^3, 30^4, 39^3, 48^1._\n\n 19^1. _Perhaps ~sayes~._\n\n 23^2. he fimde.\n\n 25^1. _Perhaps ~sayes~._\n\n 26^2. _Perhaps ~hands~._\n\n 27^1. _~He~ altered from ~the~ in MS._\n\n 31. \"The 2d Part\" _is written here in the left margin of\n the MS._ Furnivall.\n\n 34^2. her smire.\n\n 37^4. shaine.\n\n 41^2. w_i_th one.\n\n 43^1. seires.\n\n 44^2. a skill.\n\n 45^3. thou see\n\n 48^1. Carlist B ... _~&~ is printed ~and~._\n\n\n[284] Still so called: near Aiketgate, Hesket. Lysons, Cumberland, p.\n112.\n\n[285] 'The Weddynge of S^r Gawen and Dame Ragnell,' Rawlinson MS., C 86,\nBodleian Library, the portion containing the poem being paper, and\nindicating the close of Henry VII's reign. The poem is in six-line\nstanzas, and, with a leaf that is wanting, would amount to about 925\nlines. Madden's Syr Gawayne, lxiv, lxvii, 26, 298^a-298^y.\n\n[286] Sir Gromer occurs in \"The Turke and Gowin,\" Percy MS., Hales and\nFurnivall, I, 102; Sir Grummore Grummorsum, \"a good knight of Scotland,\"\nin Morte d'Arthur; ed. Wright, I, 286 and elsewhere (Madden).\n\n[287] See 'King Henry,' the next ballad.\n\n[288] The Gaelic tale of 'The Hoodie' offers a similar choice. The\nhoodie, a species of crow, having married the youngest of a farmer's\nthree daughters, says to her, \"Whether wouldst thou rather that I should\nbe a hoodie by day and a man at night, or be a hoodie at night and a man\nby day?\" The woman maintains her proper sovereignty, and does not leave\nthe decision to him: \"'I would rather that thou wert a man by day and a\nhoodie at night,' says she. After this he was a splendid fellow by day,\nand a hoodie at night.\" Campbell, Popular Tales of the West Highlands,\nI, 63.\n\nThe having one shape by day and another by night is a common feature in\npopular tales: as, to be a bear by day and a man by night, Hr\u00f3lfr\nKraki's Saga, c. 26, Asbj\u00f8rnsen og Moe, Norske Folkeeventyr, No 41; a\nlion by day and a man by night, Grimms, K. u. H. m., No 88; a crab by\nday and a man by night, B. Schmidt, Griechische M\u00e4rchen, u. s. w., No\n10; a snake by day and a man by night, Karadshitch, Volksm\u00e4rchen der\nSerben, Nos 9, 10; a pumpkin by day and a man by night, A. & A. Schott,\nWalachische M\u00e6rchen, No 23; a ring by day, a man by night, M\u00fcllenhoff,\nNo 27, p. 466, Karadshitch, No 6, Afanasief, VI, 189. Three princes in\n'Kung Lindorm,' Nicolovius, Folklifwet, p. 48 ff, are cranes by day and\nmen by night, the king himself being man by day and worm by night. The\ndouble shape is sometimes implied though not mentioned.\n\n[289] The brother, Grower Somer Joure, was a victim of the same\nnecromancy; so the Carl of Carlile, Percy MS., Hales & Furnivall, III,\n291.\n\n[290]\n\n And whan that this matrone herde\n The maner how this knight answerde,\n She saide, Ha, treson, wo the be!\n That hast thus told the privete\n Which alle women most desire:\n I wolde that thou were a-fire!\n\nSo Sir Gawen and Dame Ragnell, vv 474 f, and our ballad, stanzas 29, 30.\n\n[291] This was a melodrama by Favart, in four acts: reduced in 1821 to\none act, at the Gymnase.\n\n[292] Chaucer's tale is commonly said to be derived from Gower's, but\nwithout sufficient reason. Vv 6507-14, ed. Tyrwhitt, are close to Dame\nRagnell, 409-420. Gower may have got his from some Example-book. I have\nnot seen it remarked, and therefore will note, that Example-books may\nhave been known in England as early as 1000, for Aelfric seems to speak\nslightingly of them in his treatise on the Old Testament. The Proverbs,\nhe says, is a \"bigspellb\u00f3c, _n\u00e1 swilce g\u00e9 secga\u00f0_, ac w\u00edsd\u00f3mes bigspell\nand warnung wi\u00f0 dysig,\" etc.\n\n\n\n\n32\n\nKING HENRY\n\n 'King Henry.' #a.# The Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 31. #b.#\n Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1802, II, 132.\n\n\nScott describes his copy of 'King Henry' as \"edited from the MS. of Mrs\nBrown, corrected by a recited fragment.\" This MS. of Mrs Brown was\nWilliam Tytler's, in which, as we learn from Anderson's communication to\nPercy (see p. 62, above), this ballad was No 11. Anderson notes that it\nextended to twenty-two stanzas, the number in Scott's copy. No account\nis given of the recited fragment. As published by Jamieson, II, 194, the\nballad is increased by interpolation to thirty-four stanzas. \"The\ninterpolations will be found inclosed in brackets,\" but a painful\ncontrast of style of itself distinguishes them. They were entered by\nJamieson in his manuscript as well.\n\nThe fourteenth stanza, as now printed, the eighteenth in Jamieson's\ncopy, is not there bracketed as an interpolation, and yet it is not in\nthe manuscript. This stanza, however, with some verbal variation, is\nfound in Scott's version, and as it may have been obtained by Jamieson\nin one of his visits to Mrs Brown, it has been allowed to stand.\n\nLewis rewrote the William Tytler version for his Tales of Wonder,\n'Courteous King Jamie,' II, 453, No 57, and it was in this shape that\nthe ballad first came out, 1801.\n\nThe story is a variety of that which is found in 'The Marriage of Sir\nGawain,' and has its parallel, as Scott observed, in an episode in\nHr\u00f3lfr Kraki's saga; #A#, Torf\u00e6us, Historia Hrolfi Krakii, c. vii,\nHavni\u00e6, 1705; #B#, Fornaldar S\u00f6gur, Rafn, I, 30 f, c. 15.\n\nKing Helgi, father of Hr\u00f3lfr Kraki, in consequence of a lamentable\nmisadventure, was living in a solitary way in a retired lodge. One\nstormy Yule-night there was a loud wail at the door, after he had gone\nto bed. Helgi bethought himself that it was unkingly of him to leave\nanything to suffer outside, and got up and unlocked the door. There he\nsaw a poor tattered creature of a woman, hideously misshapen, filthy,\nstarved, and frozen (#A#), who begged that she might come in. The king\ntook her in, and bade her get under straw and bearskin to warm herself.\nShe entreated him to let her come into his bed, and said that her life\ndepended on his conceding this boon. \"It is not what I wish,\" replied\nHelgi, \"but if it is as thou sayest, lie here at the stock, in thy\nclothes, and it will do me no harm.\" She got into the bed, and the king\nturned to the wall. A light was burning, and after a while the king took\na look over his shoulder; never had he seen a fairer woman than was\nlying there, and not in rags, but in a silk kirtle. The king turned\ntowards her now, and she informed him that his kindness had freed her\nfrom a weird imposed by her stepmother, which she was to be subject to\ntill some king had admitted her to his bed, #A#. She had asked this\ngrace of many, but no one before had been moved to grant it.\n\nEvery point of the Norse saga, except the stepmother's weird, is found\nin the Gaelic tale 'Nighean Righ fo Thuinn,' 'The Daughter of King\nUnder-waves,' Campbell's Popular Tales of the West Highlands, No lxxxvi,\nIII, 403 f.\n\nThe Finn were together one wild night, when there was rain and snow. An\nuncouth woman knocked at Fionn's door about midnight, and cried to him\nto let her in under cover. \"Thou strange, ugly creature, with thy hair\ndown to thy heels, how canst thou ask _me_ to let thee in!\" he answered.\nShe went away, with a scream, and the whole scene was repeated with\nOisean. Then she came to Diarmaid. \"Thou art hideous,\" he said, \"and thy\nhair is down to thy heels, but come in.\" When she had come in, she told\nDiarmaid that she had been travelling over ocean and sea for seven\nyears, without being housed, till he had admitted her. She asked that\nshe might come near the fire. \"Come,\" said Diarmaid; but when she\napproached everybody retreated, because she was so hideous. She had not\nbeen long at the fire, when she wished to be under Diarmaid's blanket.\n\"Thou art growing too bold,\" said he, \"but come.\" She came under the\nblanket, and he turned a fold of it between them. \"She was not long\nthus, when he gave a start, and he gazed at her, and he saw the finest\ndrop of blood that ever was, from the beginning of the universe till the\nend of the world, at his side.\"\n\nMr Campbell has a fragment of a Gaelic ballad upon this story, vol.\nxvii., p. 212 of his manuscript collection, 'Collun gun Cheann,' or 'The\nHeadless Trunk,' twenty-two lines. In this case, as the title imports, a\nbody without a head replaces the hideous, dirty, and unkempt\ndraggle-tail who begs shelter of the Finn successively and obtains her\nboon only from Diarmaid. See Campbell's Gaelic Ballads, p. ix.\n\nThe monstrous deformity of the woman is a trait in the ballad of 'The\nMarriage of Sir Gawain,' and related stories, and is described in these\nwith revolting details. Her exaggerated appetite also is found in the\nromance of The Wedding of Sir Gawen and Dame Ragnell, see p. 290. The\noccasion on which she exhibits it is there the wedding feast, and the\nscene consequently resembles, even more closely there than here, what we\nmeet with in the Danish ballads of 'Greve Genselin,' Grundtvig, No 16,\nI, 222, and 'Tord af Havsgaard,' Grundtvig, No 1, I, 1, IV, 580\n(==Kristensen, 'Thors Hammer,' I, 85, No 35) the latter founded on the\n\u00ferymskvi\u00f0a, or Hamarsheimt, of the older Edda. In a Norwegian version of\n'Greve Genselin,' Grundtvig, IV, 732, the feats of eating and drinking\nare performed not by the bride, but by an old woman who acts as\nbridesmaid, br\u00farekvinne.[293]\n\nA maid who submits, at a linden-worm's entreaty, to lie in the same bed\nwith him, finds a king's son by her side in the morning: Grundtvig,\n'Lindormen,' No 65, #B#, #C#, II, 213, III, 839; Kristensen, I, 195, No\n71; Afzelius, III, 121, No 88; Arwidsson, II, 270, No 139; Hazelius, Ur\nde nordiska Folkens Lif, p. 117, and p. 149. In 'Ode und de Slang','\nM\u00fcllenhoff, Sagen u. s. w., p. 383, a maid, without much reluctance,\nlets a snake successively come into the house, into her chamber, and\nfinally into her bed, upon which the snake changes immediately into a\nprince.\n\nScott's copy is translated by Schubart, p. 127, and by Gerhard, p. 129;\nJamieson's, without the interpolations, after Aytoun, II, 22, by Knortz,\nSchottische Balladen, No 36.\n\n\n 1\n Lat never a man a wooing wend\n That lacketh thingis three;\n A routh o gold, an open heart,\n Ay fu o charity.\n\n 2\n As this I speak of King Henry,\n For he lay burd-alone;\n An he's doen him to a jelly hunt's ha,\n Was seven miles frae a town.\n\n 3\n He chas'd the deer now him before,\n An the roe down by the den,\n Till the fattest buck in a' the flock\n King Henry he has slain.\n\n 4\n O he has doen him to his ha,\n To make him beerly cheer;\n An in it came a griesly ghost,\n Steed stappin i the fleer.\n\n 5\n Her head hat the reef-tree o the house,\n Her middle ye mot wel span;\n He's thrown to her his gay mantle,\n Says, 'Lady, hap your lingcan.'\n\n 6\n Her teeth was a' like teather stakes,\n Her nose like club or mell;\n An I ken naething she 'peard to be,\n But the fiend that wons in hell.\n\n 7\n 'Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry,\n Some meat ye gie to me!'\n 'An what meat's in this house, lady,\n An what ha I to gie?'\n 'O ye do kill your berry-brown steed,\n An you bring him here to me.'\n\n 8\n O whan he slew his berry-brown steed,\n Wow but his heart was sair!\n Shee eat him [a'] up, skin an bane,\n Left naething but hide an hair.\n\n 9\n 'Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,\n Mair meat ye gi to me!'\n 'An what meat's in this house, lady,\n An what ha I to gi?'\n 'O ye do kill your good gray-hounds,\n An ye bring them a' to me.'\n\n 10\n O whan he slew his good gray-hounds,\n Wow but his heart was sair!\n She eat them a' up, skin an bane,\n Left naething but hide an hair.\n\n 11\n 'Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,\n Mair meat ye gi to me!'\n 'An what meat's i this house, lady,\n An what ha I to gi?'\n 'O ye do kill your gay gos-hawks,\n An ye bring them here to me.'\n\n 12\n O whan he slew his gay gos-hawks,\n Wow but his heart was sair!\n She eat them a' up, skin an bane,\n Left naething but feathers bare.\n\n 13\n 'Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry,\n Some drink ye bring to me!'\n 'O what drink's i this house, lady,\n That you're nae welcome ti?'\n 'O ye sew up your horse's hide,\n An bring in a drink to me.'\n\n | 14\n | And he's sewd up the bloody hide,\n | A puncheon o wine put in;\n | She drank it a' up at a waught,\n | Left na ae drap ahin.\n\n 15\n 'A bed, a bed, now, King Henry,\n A bed you mak to me!\n For ye maun pu the heather green,\n An mak a bed to me.'\n\n 16\n O pu'd has he the heather green,\n An made to her a bed,\n An up has he taen his gay mantle,\n An oer it has he spread.\n\n 17\n 'Tak aff your claiths, now, King Henry,\n An lye down by my side!'\n 'O God forbid,' says King Henry,\n 'That ever the like betide;\n That ever the fiend that wons in hell\n Shoud streak down by my side.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 18\n Whan night was gane, and day was come,\n An the sun shone throw the ha,\n The fairest lady that ever was seen\n Lay atween him an the wa.\n\n 19\n 'O well is me!' says King Henry,\n 'How lang'll this last wi me?'\n Then out it spake that fair lady,\n 'Even till the day you dee.\n\n 20\n 'For I've met wi mony a gentle knight\n That's gien me sic a fill,\n But never before wi a courteous knight\n That ga me a' my will.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#a.#\n\n 13^6. shew.\n\n 19^1. will.\n\n#b.#\n\n 1. _The first stanza of the original of this copy, as\n cited by Anderson, is_:\n\n Let never a man a wooing wend\n That lacketh things three,\n A routh of gold, and open heart,\n An fu o charity.\n\n 1^4. And fu o courtesey.\n\n 2^1. And this was seen o.\n\n 2^3. And he has taen him to a haunted hunt's ha.\n\n 3^1. He's chaced the dun deer thro the wood.\n\n 3^3. in a' the herd.\n\n 4.\n\n He's taen him to his hunting ha,\n For to make burly cheir;\n When loud the wind was heard to sound,\n And an earthquake rocked the floor.\n\n And darkness coverd a' the hall,\n Where they sat at their meat;\n The gray dogs, youling, left their food,\n And crept to Henrie's feet.\n\n And louder houled the rising wind\n And burst the fastned door;\n And in there came a griesly ghost,\n Stood stamping on the floor.\n\n _The wind and darkness are not of Scott's invention, for\n nearly all that is not in #a# is found in Lewis, too._\n\n 5^{3,4}.\n\n Each frighted huntsman fled the ha,\n And left the king alone.\n\n 7^{4-6}.\n\n That ye're nae wellcum tee?'\n 'O ye's gae kill your berry brown steed,\n And serve him up to me.'\n\n 9^4. That ye're na wellcum tee?\n\n 10^3. a' up, ane by ane.\n\n 11^{4-6}.\n\n That I hae left to gie?'\n 'O ye do fell your gay goss-hawks,\n And bring them a' to me.'\n\n 12^1. he felled.\n\n 12^3. bane by bane.\n\n 14^2. And put in a pipe of wine.\n\n 14^3. up a' at ae draught.\n\n 14^4. drap therein.\n\n 15. _Between ^2 and ^3_:\n\n And what's the bed i this house, ladye,\n That ye're nae wellcum tee?\n\n 15^3. O ye maun pu the green heather.\n\n 17^{1,2}.\n\n Now swear, now swear, ye king Henrie,\n To take me for your bride.\n\n 18^1. When day was come, and night was gane.\n\n 19^3. And out and spak that ladye fair.\n\n 20.\n\n For I was witched to a ghastly shape,\n All by my stepdame's skill,\n Till I should meet wi a courteous knight\n Wad gie me a' my will.\n\n\n[293] The like by a carlin at a birth-feast, 'K\u00e6llingen til Barsel,'\nKristensen, II, 341, No 100, Landstad, p. 666, No 96; known also in\nSweden. Again, by a fighting friar, 'Den stridbare Munken,' Arwidsson,\nI, 417. 'Greve Genselin' is translated by Prior, I, 173, and by\nJamieson, Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 310; 'Tord af\nHavsgaard' by Prior, I, 3.\n\n\n\n\n33\n\nKEMPY KAY\n\n #A.# 'Kempy Kay.' Pitcairn's MSS, II, 125. Scotish Ballads\n and Songs [James Maidment], Edinb. 1859, p. 85; Sharpe's\n Ballad Book, p. 81.\n\n #B.# 'Kempy Kaye.' #a.# Kinloch MSS, I, 65. #b.# Kinloch's\n Ballad Book, p. 41.\n\n #C.# 'Kempy Kay,' or 'Kempy Kane,' Motherwell's MS., p.\n 193. The first stanza in Motherwell's Minstrelsy,\n Appendix, p. xxiv, No XXX.\n\n #D.# 'Kempy Kay,' Motherwell's MS., p. 192.\n\n #E.# 'Drowsy Lane.' Campbell MSS, II, 122.\n\n #F.# 'Bar aye your bower door weel.' Campbell MSS, II,\n 101.\n\n #G.# 'King Knapperty.' Buchan's MSS, I, 133.\n\n\nAll these versions of 'Kempy Kay' are known, or may be presumed, to have\nbeen taken down within the first three decades of this century; #A# is\ntraced as many years back into the last. The fourth stanza of #A#\nclearly belongs to some other ballad. Both #A# and #B# appear to have\nundergone some slight changes when published by Sharpe and Kinloch\nrespectively. Some verses from this ballad have been adopted into one\nform of a still more unpleasant piece in the Campbell collection,\nconcerning a wife who was \"the queen of all sluts.\"[294]\n\nSharpe remarks: \"This song my learned readers will perceive to be of\nScandinavian origin, and that the wooer's name was probably suggested by\nSir Kaye's of the Round Table.... The description of Bengoleer's\ndaughter resembles that of the enchanted damsel who appeared to\ncourteous King Henrie.\" It is among possibilities that the ballad was an\noutgrowth from some form of the story of The Marriage of Sir Gawain, in\nthe Percy version of which the \"unseemly\" lady is so rudely commented on\nand rejected by Kay. This unseemly lady, in The Wedding of Gawen and\nDame Ragnell, and her counterpart in 'King Henry,' who is of superhuman\nheight, show an extravagant voracity which recalls the giantess in\n'Greve Genselin.' In 'Greve Genselin,' a burlesque form of an heroic\nballad which is preserved in a pure shape in three F\u00e4r\u00f6e versions\n(Grundtvig, IV, 737-42), there are many kemps invited to the wedding,\nand in a little dance which is had the smallest kemp is fifteen ells to\n[below] the knee, Grundtvig, No 16, #A# 26, #B# 29, #C# 29. Kempy Kay\nhas gigantic dimensions in #A# 7, #C# 9, #E# 7: teeth like\ntether-stakes, a nose three [nine, five] feet long, three ells [nine\nyards] between his shoulders, a span between his eyne.[295] Of the bride\nit is said in #A# 12 that her finger nails were like the teeth of a rake\nand her teeth like tether-stakes. This is not decisive; it is her\nugliness, filthiness, and laziness that are made most of. We may assume\nthat she would be in dimension and the shape of nature a match for the\nkemp, but she does not comport herself especially like a giantess.\n\nIf Kempy Kay be the original name of the wooer, Knapperty and Chickmakin\nmight easily be derived from corrupt pronunciations like Kampeky,\nKimpaky.\n\n\nA\n\n Pitcairn's MSS, II, 125, as taken down by Mr Pitcairn from\n the singing of his aunt, Mrs Gammell, who had learned it\n in the neighborhood of Kincaid, Stirlingshire, when a\n child, or about 1770. Scotish Ballads and Songs [James\n Maidment], Edinburgh, 1859, p. 35; Sharpe's Ballad Book,\n p. 81.\n\n 1\n Kempy Kaye's a wooing gane,\n Far, far ayont the sea,\n And he has met with an auld, auld man,\n His gudefaythir to be.\n\n 2\n 'It's I'm coming to court your daughter dear,\n And some part of your gear:'\n 'And by my sooth,' quoth Bengoleer,\n 'She'll sare a man a wear.\n\n 3\n 'My dochter she's a thrifty lass,\n She span seven year to me,\n And if it were weel counted up,\n Full three heire it would be.\n\n 4\n 'What's the matter wi you, my fair creature,\n You look so pale and wan?\n I'm sure you was once the fairest creature\n That ever the sun shined on.\n\n 5\n 'Gae scrape yoursel, and gae scart yoursel,\n And mak your brucket face clean,\n For the wooers are to be here to nighte,\n And your body's to be seen.'\n\n 6\n Sae they scrapit her, and they scartit her,\n Like the face of an aussy pan;\n Syne in cam Kempy Kay himself,\n A clever and tall young man.\n\n 7\n His teeth they were like tether-sticks,\n His nose was three fit lang,\n Between his shouthers was ells three,\n And tween his eyne a span.\n\n 8\n He led his dochter by the hand,\n His dochter ben brought he:\n 'O is she not the fairest lass\n That's in great Christendye?'\n\n 9\n Ilka hair intil her head\n Was like a heather-cowe,\n And ilka louse anunder it\n Was like a bruckit ewe.\n\n 10\n She had tauchy teeth and kaily lips,\n And wide lugs, fou o hair;\n Her pouches fou o peasemeal-daighe\n A' hinging down her spare.\n\n 11\n Ilka eye intil her head\n Was like a rotten plumbe,\n And down browed was the queyne,\n And sairly did she gloom.\n\n 12\n Ilka nail upon her hand\n Was like an iron rake,\n And ilka tooth intil her head\n Was like a tether-stake.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 13\n She gied to him a gravat,\n O the auld horse's sheet,\n And he gied her a gay gold ring,\n O the auld couple-root.\n\n\nB\n\n #a.# Kinloch MSS, I, 65. #b.# Kinloch's Ballad Book, p.\n 41. From the recitation of Mary Barr.\n\n 1\n Kempy Kaye is a wooing gane,\n Far ayont the sea,\n And there he met wi auld Goling,\n His gudefather to be, be,\n His gudefather to be.\n\n 2\n 'Whar are ye gaun, O Kempy Kaye,\n Whar are ye gaun sae sune?'\n 'O I am gaun to court a wife,\n And think na ye that's weel dune?'\n\n 3\n 'An ye be gaun to court a wife,\n As ye do tell to me,\n 'T is ye sal hae my Fusome Fug,\n Your ae wife for to be.'\n\n 4\n Whan auld Goling cam to the house,\n He lookit thro a hole,\n And there he saw the dirty drab\n Just whisking oure the coal.\n\n 5\n 'Rise up, rise up my Fusome Fug,\n And mak your foul face clean,\n For the brawest wooer that ere ye saw\n Is come develling doun the green.'\n\n 6\n Up then rose the Fusome Fug,\n To mak her foul face clean;\n And aye she cursed her mither\n She had na water in.\n\n 7\n She rampit out, and she rampit in,\n She rampit but and ben;\n The tittles and tattles that hang frae her tail\n Wad muck an acre o land.\n\n 8\n She had a neis upon her face\n Was like an auld pat-fit;\n Atween her neis hot an her mon\n Was inch thick deep wi dirt.\n\n 9\n She had twa een intil her head\n War like twa rotten plums;\n The heavy brows hung doun her face,\n And O I vow she glooms!\n\n 10\n He gied to her a braw silk napkin,\n Was made o' an auld horse-brat:\n 'I ne'er wore a silk napkin a' my life,\n But weel I wat Ise wear that.'\n\n 11\n He gied to her a braw gowd ring,\n Was made frae an auld brass pan:\n 'I neer wore a gowd ring in a' my life,\n But now I wat Ise wear ane.'\n\n 12\n Whan thir twa lovers had met thegither,\n O kissing to get their fill,\n The slaver that hang atween their twa gabs\n Wad hae tetherd a ten year auld bill.\n\n\nC\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 193. Motherwell's Minstrelsy,\n Appendix, p. xxiv, No XXX, the first stanza.\n\n 1\n Kempy Kaye's a wooing gane,\n And far beyond the sea, a wee\n And there he met wi Drearylane,\n His gay gudefather to be. a wee\n\n 2\n 'Gude een, gude een,' quo Drearylane,\n 'Gude een, gude een,' quo he, a wee\n 'I've come your dochter's love to win,\n I kenna how it will do.' a wee\n\n 3\n 'My dochter she's a thrifty lass,\n She's spun this gay seven year,\n And if it come to gude guiding,\n It will be half a heer.'\n\n 4\n 'Rise up, rise up, ye dirty slut,\n And wash your foul face clean;\n The wooers will be here the night\n That suld been here yestreen.'\n\n 5\n They took him ben to the fire en,\n And set him on a chair;\n He looked on the lass that he loved best,\n And thought she was wondrous fair.\n\n 6\n The een that was in our bride's head\n Was like twa rotten plooms;\n She was a chaunler-chaftit quean,\n And O but she did gloom!\n\n 7\n The skin that was on our bride's breast\n Was like a saffron bag,\n And aye her hand was at her neek,\n And riving up the scabs.\n\n 8\n The hair that was on our bride's head\n Was like a heather-cow,\n And every louse that lookit out\n Was like a brockit ewe.\n\n 9\n Betwixd Kempy's shouthers was three ells,\n His nose was nine feet lang,\n His teeth they were like tether sticks,\n Between his eyne a span.\n\n 10\n So aye they kissed, and aye they clapped,\n I wat they kissed weel;\n The slaver that hang between their mouths\n Wad hae tethered a twa year auld bill.\n\n\nD\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 192.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n The father came unto the door,\n And keeked thro the key-hole, a wee\n And there he saw his dochter Jean,\n Sitting on a coal. a wee\n\n 2\n They scartit her, and scrapit her,\n Wi the hand o a rusty pan, a wee\n Her father he did all his best\n For to get her a man. a wee\n\n 3\n She is to the stoups gane,\n There is nae water in;\n She's cursed the hands and ban'd the feet\n That did na bring it in.\n\n 4\n Out then spak her auld mither,\n In her bed whare she lay:\n 'If there is nae water in the house,\n Gae harl her thro the lin.'\n\n 5\n O she is to the taipy tapples gane,\n That stood for seven year,\n And there she washed her foul face clean,\n And dried it wi a huggar.\n\n 6\n He's gien her a gay gold ring,\n Just like a cable-rope,\n And she's gien him a gay gravat,\n Made out o the tail o a sark.\n\n\nE\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 122.\n\n 1\n 'Gud een, gud een,' says Chickmakin,\n 'Ye're welcome here,' says Drowsy Lane;\n 'I'm comd to court your daughter Jean,\n And marry her wi yer will, a wee.'\n\n 2\n 'My daughter Jean's a thrifty lass,\n She's spun these seven lang years to me,\n And gin she spin another seven,\n She'll munt a half an heir, a wee.'\n\n 3\n Drowsy Lane, it's he's gane hame,\n And keekit through the hole, a wee\n And there he saw his daughter Jean\n A reeking oer the coal. a wee\n\n 4\n 'Get up, get up, ye dirty bitch,\n And wash yer foul face clean,\n For they are to be here the night\n That should hae been here yestreen.'\n\n 5\n Up she rose, pat on her clothes,\n She's washen her foul face clean;\n She cursd the hands, she ban'd the feet,\n That wadna bring the water in.\n\n 6\n She rubbit hersel, she scrubbit hersel,\n Wi the side of a rustit pan, a wee,\n And in a little came Chickmakin,\n A braw young lad indeed was he.\n\n 7\n His teeth they were like tether-steeks,\n His nose was five feet lang;\n Between his shoulders was nine yards broad,\n And between his een a span.\n\n 8\n Ilka hair into his head\n Was like a heather-cowe,\n And ilka louse that lookit out\n Was like a brookit ewe.\n\n 9\n Thae twa kissd and thae twa clapt,\n And thae twa kissd their fill,\n And aye the slaver between them hang\n Wad tetherd a ten-pund bull.\n\n 10\n They twa kissd and they twa clapt,\n And they gaed to their bed, a wee,\n And at their head a knocking stane\n And at their feet a mell, a wee.\n\n 11\n The auld wife she lay in her bed:\n 'And gin ye'll do my bidding a wee,\n And gin ye'll do my bidding,' quoth she,\n 'Yees whirl her oer the lea, a wee.'\n\n\nF\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 101.\n\n 1\n As I cam oer yon misty muir,\n And oer yon grass-green hill,\n There I saw a campy carle\n Going to the mill.\n And bar aye yer bower door weel weel,\n And bar aye yer bower door weel.\n\n 2\n I lookit in at her window,\n And in at her hove hole,\n And there I saw a fousome fag,\n Cowering oer a coal.\n\n 3\n 'Get up, get up, ye fousome fag,\n And make yer face fou clean;\n For the wooers will be here the night,\n And your body will be seen.'\n\n 4\n He gave her a gay cravat,\n 'T was of an auld horse-sheet;\n He gave her a gay goud ring,\n 'T was of an auld tree root.\n\n 5\n He laid his arms about her neck,\n They were like kipple-roots;\n And aye he kissd her wi his lips,\n They were like meller's hoops.\n\n 6\n When they were laid in marriage bed,\n And covered oer wi fail,\n The knocking mell below their heads\n Did serve them wondrous weel.\n\n 7\n Ilka pap into her breasts\n Was like a saffron bag,\n And aye his hand at her a..e\n Was tearing up the scabs.\n\n 8\n Ilka hair into her head\n Was like a heather-cow,\n And ilka louse that lookit out\n Was like a brookit ewe.\n\n\nG\n\n Buchan's MSS, I, 133.\n\n 1\n King Knapperty he's a hunting gane,\n Oer hills and mountains high, high, high,\n A gude pike-staff intill his hand,\n And dulgets anew forbye, I, I, I,\n And dulgets anew forbye.\n\n 2\n Then he met in wi an auld woman,\n Was feeding her flocks near by, I, I, I:\n 'I'm come a wooing to your daughter,\n And a very gude bargain am I, I, I.'\n\n 3\n And she's awa to her wee hole house,\n Lookd in a wee chip hole,\n And there she saw her filthy wee flag,\n Was sitting athort the coal.\n\n 4\n 'Get up, get up, ye filthy foul flag,\n And make your foul face clean;\n There are wooers coming to the town,\n And your foul face mauna be seen.'\n\n 5\n Then up she raise, an awa she gaes,\n And in at the back o the door,\n And there a pig o water she saw,\n 'T was seven years auld an mair.\n\n 6\n Aye she rubbed, an aye she scrubbed,\n To make her foul face clean,\n And aye she bannd the auld wife, her mither,\n For nae bringing clean water in.\n\n 7\n King Knapperty he came in at the door,\n Stood even up in the floor;\n Altho that she had neer seen him before,\n She kent him to be her dear.\n\n 8\n He has taen her in his arms twa,\n And kissd her, cheek and chin:\n 'I neer was kissd afore in my life,\n But this night got mony ane.'\n\n 9\n He has put his hand in his pocket,\n And he's taen out a ring:\n Says, 'Take ye that, my dearest dear,\n It is made o the brazen pan.'\n\n 10\n She thankd him ance, she thankd him twice,\n She thankd him oer again:\n 'I neer got a ring before in my life,\n But this night hae gotten ane.'\n\n 11\n These lovers bed it was well made,\n And at their hearts' desire;\n These lovers bed it was well made,\n At the side o the kitchen fire.\n\n 12\n The bolster that these lovers had\n Was the mattock an the mell,\n And the covring that these lovers had\n Was the clouted cloak an pale.\n\n 13\n The draps that fell frae her twa een\n Woud have gard a froth-mill gang,\n An [the] clunkerts that hung at their heels\n Woud hae muckd an acre o land.\n\n 14\n An ilka hair that was in their head\n Was like a heather-cow,\n And ilka tenant that it containd\n Was like a lintseed-bow.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 5^{3,4}. _Var._\n\n For Kempy Kay will be here the night\n Or else the morn at een.\n\n 9^4. _Var._ Was like a lintseed bow.\n\n _These variations are found in Sharpe's copy. The first\n seven stanzas are put in the order 1, 6, 7, 3, 2, 4, 5._\n\n 2^1. I'm coming.\n\n 3^4. Full ten wobs it would be.\n\n 4^{1,3}. fair maiden, fairest maiden.\n\n 5^2. bruchty.\n\n 6^3. And in.\n\n 7^4. Between his een.\n\n 10^1. _~tauchty~ is misprinted ~lauchty~._\n\n 10^4. War hinging.\n\n 11^3. An down down.\n\n 12^3. _~teeth~, no doubt to indicate the pronunciation._\n\n#B. a.#\n\n 4^1. Whan Kempy Kaye. _Other copies show that it must be\n the father, and not the wooer._\n\n 6^3. _~ae~, with ~ay~ in the margin: qu. ~aye as~?_\n\n #b.#\n\n _The variations of the ~Ballad Book~ are apparently\n arbitrary._\n\n 1^2. Far far.\n\n 8^4. o dirt.\n\n _After 9 follows_:\n\n Ilka hair that was on her head\n Was like a heather cow,\n And ilka Iouse that lookit out\n Was like a lintseed bow.\n\n _#a^4# succeeds, with ~Kempy Kaye~ for ~auld Goling~, and\n is necessarily transferred if the reading ~Kempy Kaye~ is\n retained._\n\n#C.#\n\n _The order of the first five stanzas in the MS is 1, 2, 5,\n 4, 3._\n\n _~A wee~ is the burden after every second and fourth\n verse, and so with #D#._\n\n 1^{1,2}. _In Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xxiv,\n No_ XXX,\n\n Kempy Kane's a wooin gane,\n And far ayont the sea awee.\n\n 3^2. years.\n\n 5^2. on a stool.\n\n#D.#\n\n _The first stanza is numbered 3 in the MS., the second 5,\n and there is space left, as if for another, between 2 and\n 3._\n\n#E.#\n\n _~A wee~, originally a burden at the middle and the end of\n the stanza, as in #C#, #D#, has been adopted into the\n verse in 1, 2, 6, 10(?), 11, in which stanzas the even\n lines are of four accents instead of three. 2, 6 can be\n easily restored, on the model of #C# 3, #A# 6._\n\n 5^4. in the water.\n\n#G.#\n\n _~I, I, I~ is added as burden to every second and fourth\n line; except 1^2, which adds ~high, high~, and 2^4, only\n ~I, I~._\n\n\n[294] MSS, II, 294, \"What a bad luck had I\"==The Queen of all Sluts, the\nsame, p. 297. Stanzas 2, 3, 4, of the former are:\n\n Then een in her head are like two rotten plumbs;\n Turn her about and see how she glooms.\n\n The teeth in her head were like harrow-pins;\n Turn her about, and see how she girns.\n\n The hair in her head was like heathercrows,\n The l ...s were in't thick as linseed bows.\n\nA comparatively inoffensive version, 'The Queen of Sluts,' in Chambers'\nScottish Songs, p. 454.\n\n[295] The Carl of Carlile has the space of a large span between his\nbrows, three yards over his shoulders, fingers like tether-stakes, and\nfifty cubits of height. Percy MS., Hales & Furnivall, III, 283 f, vv\n179-187.\n\n\n\n\n34\n\nKEMP OWYNE\n\n #A.# 'Kemp Owyne.' Buchan's Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, II, 78; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 373; 'Kemp\n Owayne,' Motherwell's MS., p. 448.\n\n #B.# 'Kempion.' #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 29. #b.#\n Scott's Minstrelsy, 1802, II, 93, from William Tytler's\n Brown MS., No 9, \"with corrections from a recited\n fragment.\"\n\n\nIt is not, perhaps, material to explain how Owain, \"the king's son\nUrien,\" happens to be awarded the adventure which here follows. It is\nenough that his right is as good as that of other knights to whom the\nsame achievement has been assigned, though the romance, or, as the\nphrase used to be, \"the book,\" says nothing upon the subject. Owain's\nslaying the fire-drake who was getting the better of the lion may have\nled to his name becoming associated with the still more gallant exploit\nof thrice kissing a fire-drake to effect a disenchantment. The ring in\n#A# 9 might more plausibly be regarded as being a repetition of that\nwhich Owain's lady gave him on leaving her for a twelvemonth's outing, a\nring which would keep him from loss of blood, and also from prison,\nsickness, and defeat in battle--in short, preserve him against all the\naccidents which the knight suggested might prevent his holding his\nday--provided that he had it by him and thought on her. Ritson, Ywaine\nand Gawin, vv 1514-38.\n\nBut an Icelandic saga comes near enough to the story of the ballad as\ngiven in #A# to show where its connections lie. Als\u00f3l and a brother and\nsister are all transformed by a stepmother, a handsome woman, much,\nyounger than her husband. Als\u00f3l's heavy weird is to be a nondescript\nmonster with a horse's tail, hoofs, and mane, white eyes, big mouth, and\nhuge hands, and never to be released from the spell till a king's son\nshall consent to kiss her. One night when Hj\u00e1lmt\u00e8r had landed on a woody\nisland, and it had fallen to him to keep watch, he heard a great din and\ncrashing in the woods, so that the oaks trembled. Presently this monster\ncame out of the thicket with a fine sword in her hand, such as he had\nnot seen the like of. They had a colloquy, and he asked her to let him\nhave the sword. She said he should not have it unless he would kiss her.\n\"I will not kiss thy snout,\" said Hj\u00e1lmt\u00e8r, \"for mayhap I should stick\nto it.\" But something came into his mind which made him think better of\nher offer, and he said he was ready. \"You must leap upon my neck, then,\"\nshe said, \"when I throw up the sword, and if you then hesitate, it will\nbe your death.\" She threw up the sword, he leaped on her neck and kissed\nher, and she gave him the sword, with an augury of victory and good luck\nfor him all his days. The retransformation does not occur on the spot,\nbut further on Hj\u00e1lmt\u00e8r meets \u00c1ls\u00f3l as a young lady at the court of her\nbrother, who has also been restored to his proper form and station;\neverything is explained; Hj\u00e1lmt\u00e8r marries her, and his foster-brother\nher sister. Hj\u00e1lmt\u00e8rs ok \u00d6lvers Saga, cc 10, 22, Rafn, Fornaldar S\u00f6gur,\nIII, 473 ff, 514 ff.\n\nIn many tales of the sort a single kiss suffices to undo the spell and\nreverse the transformation; in others, as in the ballad, three are\nrequired. The triplication of the kiss has led in #A# to a triplication\nof the talisman against wounds. The popular genius was inventive enough\nto vary the properties of the several gifts, and we may believe that\nbelt, ring, and sword had originally each its peculiar quality. The\nperil of touching fin or tail in #A# seems to correspond to that in the\nsaga of hesitating when the sword is thrown up.\n\nThe #Danish# ballad, 'Jomfruen i Ormeham,' from MSS of the sixteenth and\nthe seventeenth century, Grundtvig, No 59, II, 177, resembles both the\nfirst version of the Scottish ballad and the Icelandic saga in the\npoints that the maid offers gifts and is rehabilitated by a kiss. The\nmaid in her proper shape, which, it appears, she may resume for a\nportion of the day, stands at Sir Jenus's bedside and offers him\ngifts--five silver-bowls, all the gold in her kist, twelve foals, twelve\nboats--and ends with saying, \"Were I a swain, as you are, I would\nbetroth a maid.\" It is now close upon midnight, and she hints that he\nmust be quick. But Jenus is fast asleep the while; twelve strikes, and\nthe maid instantly turns into a little snake. The page, however, has\nbeen awake, and he repeats to his master all that has occurred.[296] Sir\nJenus orders his horse, rides along a hillside, and sees the little\nsnake in the grass. He bends over and kisses it, and it turns to a\ncourteous maid, who thanks him, and offers him any boon he may ask. He\nasks her to be his, and as she has loved him before this, she has no\ndifficulty in plighting him her troth.\n\nA maid transformed by a step-mother into a tree is freed by being kissed\nby a man, in 'Jomfruen i Linden,' Grundtvig, II, 214, No 66, Kristensen,\nII, 90, No 31; 'Linden,' Afzelius, III, 114, 118, No 87. In 'Linden,'\nKristensen, I, 13, No 5, a combination of two ballads, a prince cuts\ndown the linden, which changes to a linden-worm; he kisses the worm, and\na young maid stands before him.\n\nA knight bewitched into the shape of a troll is restored by being kissed\nby a peasant's wife thrice [once], 'Trolden og Bondens Hustru,'\nGrundtvig, II, 142, No 52, #A#, #B#; a prince by a kiss from a maid,\n'Lindormen,' Grundtvig, D. g. F., II, 211, No 65 #A#, 'Slangen og den\nlille Pige,' Danske Folkeminder, 1861, p. 15.\n\nThe removal of a spell which compels man or woman to appear continuously\nor alternately as a monster, commonly a snake, by three kisses or by\none, is a regular feature in the numerous German tales of\nSchlangenjungfrauen, Weissefrauen. Often the man is afraid to venture\nthe third kiss, or even a single one. See Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, No 13,\nNo 222; Dobeneck, Des deutschen Mittelalters Volksglauben, I, 18==Grimm,\nNo 13; Mone's Anzeiger, III, 89, VII, 476; Panzer, Bayerische Sagen u.\nBr\u00e4uche, I, 196, No 214; Sch\u00f6nhuth, Die Burgen u.s.w. Badens u. der\nPfalz, I, 105; St\u00f6ber, Die Sagen des Elsasses, p. 346, No 277, p. 248,\nNo 190; Curtze, Volks\u00fcberlieferungen aus Waldeck, p. 198; Sommer, Sagen,\nM\u00e4rchen u. Gebr\u00e4uche aus Sachsen u. Th\u00fcringen, p. 21, No 16; Schambach\nu. M\u00fcller, p. 104, No 132; M\u00fcllenhoff, p. 580, No 597; Wolf, Hessische\nSagen, No 46; etc., etc.: also, Kreutzwald, Ehstnische M\u00e4rchen, by L\u00f6we,\nNo 19, p. 270 f. So in some forms of 'Beauty and the Beast:' T\u00f6ppen,\nAberglauben aus Masuren, p. 142; Mikuli\u010di\u0107, Narodne Pripovietke,\np. 1, No 1; Afanasief, VII, 153, No 15; Coelho, Contos populares\nportuguezes, p. 69, No 29.[297]\n\nRivals or peers of Owain among romantic knights are, first, Lanzelet, in\nUlrich von Zatzikhoven's poem, who kisses a serpent on the mouth once,\nwhich, _after bathing in a spring_ (see 'Tam Lin'), becomes the finest\nwoman ever seen: vv 7836-7939. Brandimarte, again, in Orlando\nInnamorato, lib. II., c. XXVI, stanzas 7-15; and Carduino, I Cantari di\nCarduino, Rajna, stanzas 49, 54 f, 61-64, pp 35-41. Le Bel Inconnu is an\ninvoluntary instrument in such a disenchantment, for the snake\nfascinates him first and kisses him without his knowledge; he afterwards\ngoes to sleep, and finds a beautiful woman standing at his head when he\nwakes: ed. Hippeau, p. 110 ff, v. 3101 ff. The English Libius Disconius\nis kist or he it wist, and the dragon at once turns to a beautiful\nwoman: Percy MS., Hales & Furnivall, II, 493f; Ritson, Romances, II, 84\nf. Espertius, in Tiran le Blanc, is so overcome with fear that he cannot\nkiss the dragon,--a daughter of Hippocrates, transformed by Diana, in\nthe island of Lango,--but Espertius not running away, as two men before\nhim had done, the dragon kisses him with equally good effect: Caylus,\nTiran le Blanc, II, 334-39. This particular disenchantment had not been\naccomplished down to Sir John Mandeville's time, for he mentions only\nthe failures: Voyage and Travel, c. iv, pp 28-31, ed. 1725. Amadis\nd'Astra touches two dragons on the face and breast, and restores them to\nyoung-ladyhood: Historia del Principe Sferamundi, the 13th book of\nAmadis of Gaul, P. II, c. xcvii, pp 458-462, Venice, 1610. This feat is\nshown by the details to be only a variation of the story in Tiran le\nBlanc.[298]\n\nThe Rev. Mr Lamb, of Norham, communicated to Hutchinson, author of 'A\nView of Northumberland,' a ballad entitled 'The Laidley Worm of\nSpindleston Heughs,' with this harmless preamble: \"A song 500 years old,\nmade by the old Mountain Bard, Duncan Frasier, living on Cheviot, A.D.\n1270. From an ancient manuscript.\" This composition of Mr Lamb's--for\nnearly every line of it is his--is not only based on popular tradition,\nbut evidently preserves some small fragments of a popular ballad, and\nfor this reason is given in an Appendix. There is a copy deviating but\nvery little from the print in Kinloch's MSS, I, 187. It was obtained\nfrom the recitation of an old woman in Berwickshire.[299] In this\nrecited version the Child of Wynd, or Childy Wynd (Child O-wyne), has\nbecome Child o Wane (Child O-wayn).\n\nMr R.H. Evans, in his preface to this ballad, Old Ballads, 1810, IV,\n241, says that Mr Turner had informed him \"that a lady upwards of\nseventy had heard her mother repeat an older and nearly similar ballad.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A# is translated by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, p. 19; #B b#\nby Gerhard, p. 171, by Schubart, p. 110, by Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen\nAlt-Englands, p. 201. 'Jomfruen i Ormeham' by Prior, III, 135.\n\n\nA\n\n Buchan, Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 78, from Mr\n Nicol of Strichen, as learned in his youth from old\n people; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 374; Motherwell's MS.,\n p. 448.\n\n 1\n Her mother died when she was young,\n Which gave her cause to make great moan;\n Her father married the warst woman\n That ever lived in Christendom.\n\n 2\n She served her with foot and hand,\n In every thing that she could dee,\n Till once, in an unlucky time,\n She threw her in ower Craigy's sea.\n\n 3\n Says, 'Lie you there, dove Isabel,\n And all my sorrows lie with thee;\n Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea,\n And borrow you with kisses three,\n Let all the warld do what they will,\n Oh borrowed shall you never be!'\n\n 4\n Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang,\n And twisted thrice about the tree,\n And all the people, far and near,\n Thought that a savage beast was she.\n\n 5\n These news did come to Kemp Owyne,\n Where he lived, far beyond the sea;\n He hasted him to Craigy's sea,\n And on the savage beast lookd he.\n\n 6\n Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,\n And twisted was about the tree,\n And with a swing she came about:\n 'Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.\n\n 7\n 'Here is a royal belt,' she cried,\n 'That I have found in the green sea;\n And while your body it is on,\n Drawn shall your blood never be;\n But if you touch me, tail or fin,\n I vow my belt your death shall be.'\n\n 8\n He stepped in, gave her a kiss,\n The royal belt he brought him wi;\n Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,\n And twisted twice about the tree,\n And with a swing she came about:\n 'Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.\n\n 9\n 'Here is a royal ring,' she said,\n 'That I have found in the green sea;\n And while your finger it is on,\n Drawn shall your blood never be;\n But if you touch me, tail or fin,\n I swear my ring your death shall be.'\n\n 10\n He stepped in, gave her a kiss,\n The royal ring he brought him wi;\n Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,\n And twisted ance about the tree,\n And with a swing she came about:\n 'Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.\n\n 11\n 'Here is a royal brand,' she said,\n 'That I have found in the green sea;\n And while your body it is on,\n Drawn shall your blood never be;\n But if you touch me, tail or fin,\n I swear my brand your death shall be.'\n\n 12\n He stepped in, gave her a kiss,\n The royal brand he brought him wi;\n Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short,\n And twisted nane about the tree,\n And smilingly she came about,\n As fair a woman as fair could be.\n\n\nB\n\n #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 29. #b.# Scott's Minstrelsy,\n II, 93, 1802, from William Tytler's Brown MS., No 9, \"with\n corrections from a recited fragment.\"\n\n 1\n 'Come here, come here, you freely feed,\n An lay your head low on my knee;\n The hardest weird I will you read\n That eer war read to a lady.\n\n 2\n 'O meikle dollour sall you dree,\n An ay the sat seas oer ye['s] swim;\n An far mair dollour sall ye dree\n On Eastmuir craigs, or ye them clim.\n\n 3\n 'I wot ye's be a weary wight,\n An releived sall ye never be\n Till Kempion, the kingis son,\n Come to the craig and thrice kiss thee.'\n\n 4\n O meickle dollour did she dree,\n An ay the sat seas oer she swam;\n An far mair dollour did she dree\n On Eastmuir craigs, or them she clam;\n An ay she cried for Kempion,\n Gin he would come till her han.\n\n 5\n Now word has gane to Kempion\n That sich a beast was in his lan,\n An ay be sure she would gae mad\n Gin she gat nae help frae his han.\n\n 6\n 'Now by my sooth,' says Kempion,\n 'This fiery beast I['ll] gang to see;'\n 'An by my sooth,' says Segramour,\n 'My ae brother, I'll gang you wi.'\n\n 7\n O biggit ha they a bonny boat,\n An they hae set her to the sea,\n An Kempion an Segramour\n The fiery beast ha gane to see:\n A mile afore they reachd the shore,\n I wot she gard the red fire flee.\n\n 8\n 'O Segramour, keep my boat afloat,\n An lat her no the lan so near;\n For the wicked beast she'll sure gae mad,\n An set fire to the land an mair.'\n\n 9\n 'O out o my stye I winna rise--\n An it is na for the fear o thee--\n Till Kempion, the kingis son,\n Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.'\n\n 10\n He's louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,\n An he has gien her kisses ane;\n Awa she gid, an again she came,\n The fieryest beast that ever was seen.\n\n 11\n 'O out o my stye I winna rise--\n An it is na for fear o thee--\n Till Kempion, the kingis son,\n Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.'\n\n 12\n He louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,\n An he has gien her kisses twa;\n Awa she gid, an again she came,\n The fieryest beast that ever you saw.\n\n 13\n 'O out o my stye I winna rise--\n An it is na for fear o ye--\n Till Kempion, the kingis son,\n Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.'\n\n 14\n He's louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,\n An he has gien her kisses three;\n Awa she gid, an again she came,\n The fairest lady that ever coud be.\n\n 15\n 'An by my sooth,' say[s] Kempion,\n 'My ain true love--for this is she--\n O was it wolf into the wood,\n Or was it fish intill the sea,\n Or was it man, or wile woman,\n My true love, that misshapit thee?'\n\n 16\n 'It was na wolf into the wood,\n Nor was it fish into the sea,\n But it was my stepmother,\n An wae an weary mot she be.\n\n 17\n 'O a heavier weird light her upon\n Than ever fell on wile woman;\n Her hair's grow rough, an her teeth's grow lang,\n An on her four feet sal she gang.\n\n 18\n 'Nane sall tack pitty her upon,\n But in Wormie's Wood she sall ay won,\n An relieved sall she never be,\n Till St Mungo come oer the sea.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _Buchan gives 4-6 in two six-line stanzas. There are a few\n trivial diversities between Motherwell's manuscript, or my\n copy of it, and his printed text, which conforms to\n Buchan's._\n\n#B. a.#\n\n _Written in long or double lines in the manuscript._\n\n 2^2, 4^2. or.\n\n 5^3. a besure.\n\n 8^4. landy mair\n\n 11^4. twice.\n\n 16^3. _~wicked~ is inserted before stepmother, seemingly\n by Jamieson._\n\n #b.#\n\n _The first stanza, as given by Anderson, Nichols, Literary\n Illustrations, VII, 177, is_:\n\n 'Come here, come here, ye freely feed,\n And lay your head low on my knee;\n The heaviest weird I will you read\n That ever was read till a lady.'\n\n 1^3. heaviest.\n\n 1^4. gaye ladye.\n\n 2^2. ye'se.\n\n 2^4. when ye.\n\n 3^1. I weird ye to a fiery beast.\n\n 5==#a# 4^{5,6} + #a# 5^{1,2}: #a# 5^{3,4} _omitted:_\n\n And aye she cried for Kempion,\n Gin he would but cum to her hand;\n Now word has gane to Kempion\n That sicken a beast was in his land.\n\n 6^4. wi thee.\n\n 7 _omits #a#^{3,4}._\n\n 7^5. But a mile before.\n\n 7^6. Around them she.\n\n 8^2. oer near.\n\n 8^3. will sure.\n\n 8^4. to a' the land and mair.\n\n _After 8 is inserted:_\n\n Syne has he bent an arblast bow,\n And aimd an arrow at her head,\n And swore if she didna quit the land,\n Wi that same shaft to shoot her dead.\n\n 9^1. stythe.\n\n 9^2. awe o thee.\n\n 10^1. dizzy crag.\n\n 10^2. gien the monster.\n\n 11^1. stythe.\n\n 11^2. And not for a' thy bow nor thee.\n\n 12^1. Estmere craigs.\n\n 13^1. my den.\n\n 13^2. Nor flee it for the feir o thee.\n\n 13^3. Kempion, that courteous knight.\n\n 14^1. lofty craig.\n\n 14^4. loveliest lady eer.\n\n 15^{1,2}. _After this is inserted:_\n\n They surely had a heart o stane,\n Could put thee to such misery.\n\n 15^{3-6} _make a separate stanza._\n\n 15^3, 16^1. warwolf in the wood.\n\n 15^4, 16^2. mermaid in the sea.\n\n 15^6. my ain true.\n\n 17^1. weird shall light her on.\n\n 17^3. Her hair shall grow ... teeth grow.\n\n 18^2. In Wormeswood she aye shall won.\n\n 18^{5,6}.\n\n And sighing said that weary wight,\n I doubt that day I'll never see.\n\n\n[296] The incident of a woman trying to move a man who all the while is\nin a deep sleep, and of his servant reporting what has been going on,\ncan hardly have belonged to this ballad from the beginning. It is\nexceedingly common in popular tales: see 'The Red Bull of Norroway,' in\nChambers's Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 3d ed., p. 99; Grimms, 'Das\nsingende springende L\u00f6weneckerchen,' No 88, 'Der Eisenhofen,' No 127,\nand the notes in vol. iii; Leskien u. Brugman, Litanische V. l. u.\nM\u00e4rchen, 'Vom weissen Wolf,' No 23, p. 438, and Wollner's note, p. 571.\n\n[297] But not in Mme Villeneuve's or in Mme de Beaumont's 'La Belle et\nla B\u00eate.'\n\n[298] Lanzelet is cited by J. Grimm; Brandimarte by Walter Scott;\nCarduino by G. Paris; Espertius by Dunlop; Amadis d'Astra by Valentin\nSchmidt. Dunlop refers to a similar story in the sixth tale of the\nContes Amoureux de Jean Flore, written towards the end of the fifteenth\ncentury.\n\n[299] \"The Childe of Wane, as a protector of disconsolate damsels, is\nstill remembered by young girls at school in the neighborhood of\nBamborough, who apply the title to any boy who protects them from the\nassaults of their school-fellows.\" (Kinloch.)\n\n\nAPPENDIX\n\nTHE LAIDLEY WORM OF SPINDLESTON HEUGHS.\n\n A View of Northumberland, by W. Hutchinson, Anno 1776,\n Newcastle, 1778, II, 162-64. Communicated by the Rev. Mr\n Lamb, of Norham.\n\nKinloch's account of the tradition in relation to the queen, as it\nmaintains itself in Berwickshire, is quite in accord with German _sagen_\nabout enchanted ladies, innocent or guilty, and as such may be worth\ngiving: Kinloch MSS, I, 187.\n\n\"Though the ballad mentions that the queen was transformed into 'a\nspiteful toad of monstrous size,' and was doomed in that form to wend on\nthe earth until the end of the world, yet the tradition of the country\ngives another account of the endurance of her enchantment. It is said\nthat in form of a toad as big as a 'clockin hen' she is doomed to\nexpiate her guilt by confinement in a cavern in Bamborough castle, in\nwhich she is to remain in her enchanted shape until some one shall have\nthe hardihood to break the spell by penetrating the cavern, whose\n'invisible' door only opens every seven years, on Christmas eve. The\nadventurer, after entering the cavern, must take the sword and horn of\nthe Childe of Wane, which hang on the wall, and having unsheathed and\nresheathed the sword thrice, and wound three blasts on the horn, he must\nkiss the toad three times; upon which the enchantment will be dissolved,\nand the queen will recover her human form.\n\n\"Many adventurers, it is said, have attempted to disenchant the queen,\nbut have all failed, having immediately fallen into a trance, something\nsimilar to the princes in the Arabian tale who went in search of the\nTalking Bird, Singing Tree, and Yellow Water. The last one, it is said,\nwho made the attempt was a countryman, about sixty years ago, who,\nhaving watched on Christmas eve the opening of the door, entered the\ncavern, took the sword and horn from the wall, unsheathed and resheathed\nthe sword thrice, blew three blasts on the horn, and was proceeding to\nthe final disenchantment by kissing the toad, which he had saluted\ntwice, when, perceiving the various strange sleepers to arise from the\nfloor, his courage failed, and he fled from the cavern, having just\nattained the outside of the door when it suddenly shut with a loud clap,\ncatching hold of the skirt of his coat, which was torn off and left in\nthe door.\n\n And none since that time\n To enter the cavern presume.\"\n\n 1\n The king is gone from Bambrough castle,\n Long may the princess mourn;\n Long may she stand on the castle wall,\n Looking for his return.\n\n 2\n She has knotted the keys upon a string,\n And with her she has them taen,\n She has cast them oer her left shoulder,\n And to the gate she is gane.\n\n 3\n She tripped out, she tripped in,\n She tript into the yard;\n But it was more for the king's sake,\n Than for the queen's regard.\n\n 4\n It fell out on a day the king\n Brought the queen with him home,\n And all the lords in our country\n To welcome them did come.\n\n 5\n 'O welcome, father,' the lady cries,\n 'Unto your halls and bowers;\n And so are you, my stepmother,\n For all that is here is yours.'\n\n 6\n A lord said, wondering while she spake,\n This princess of the North\n Surpasses all of female kind\n In beauty and in worth.\n\n 7\n The envious queen replied: At least,\n You might have excepted me;\n In a few hours I will her bring\n Down to a low degree.\n\n 8\n I will her liken to a laidley worm,\n That warps about the stone,\n And not till Childy Wynd comes back\n Shall she again be won.\n\n 9\n The princess stood at the bower door,\n Laughing, who could her blame?\n But eer the next day's sun went down,\n A long worm she became.\n\n 10\n For seven miles east, and seven miles west,\n And seven miles north and south,\n No blade of grass or corn could grow,\n So venomous was her mouth.\n\n 11\n The milk of seven stately cows--\n It was costly her to keep--\n Was brought her daily, which she drank\n Before she went to sleep.\n\n 12\n At this day may be seen the cave\n Which held her folded up,\n And the stone trough, the very same\n Out of which she did sup.\n\n 13\n Word went east, and word went west,\n And word is gone over the sea,\n That a laidley worm in Spindleston Heughs\n Would ruin the north country.\n\n 14\n Word went east, and word went west,\n And over the sea did go;\n The Child of Wynd got wit of it,\n Which filled his heart with woe.\n\n 15\n He called straight his merry men all,\n They thirty were and three:\n 'I wish I were at Spindleston,\n This desperate worm to see.\n\n 16\n 'We have no time now here to waste,\n Hence quickly let us sail;\n My only sister Margaret,\n Something, I fear, doth ail.'\n\n 17\n They built a ship without delay,\n With masts of the rown tree,\n With fluttering sails of silk so fine,\n And set her on the sea.\n\n 18\n They went aboard; the wind with speed\n Blew them along the deep;\n At length they spied an huge square tower,\n On a rock high and steep.\n\n 19\n The sea was smooth, the weather clear;\n When they approached nigher,\n King Ida's castle they well knew,\n And the banks of Bambroughshire.\n\n 20\n The queen looked out at her bower-window,\n To see what she could see;\n There she espied a gallant ship,\n Sailing upon the sea.\n\n 21\n When she beheld the silken sails,\n Full glancing in the sun,\n To sink the ship she sent away\n Her witch-wives every one.\n\n 22\n Their spells were vain; the hags returned\n To the queen in sorrowful mood,\n Crying that witches have no power\n Where there is rown-tree wood.\n\n 23\n Her last effort, she sent a boat,\n Which in the haven lay,\n With armed men to board the ship,\n But they were driven away.\n\n 24\n The worm leapt up, the worm leapt down,\n She plaited round the stane;\n And ay as the ship came to the land\n She banged it off again.\n\n 25\n The Child then ran out of her reach\n The ship on Budle sand,\n And jumping into the shallow sea,\n Securely got to land.\n\n 26\n And now he drew his berry-brown sword,\n And laid it on her head,\n And swore, if she did harm to him,\n That he would strike her dead.\n\n 27\n 'O quit thy sword, and bend thy bow,\n And give me kisses three;\n For though I am a poisonous worm,\n No hurt I will do to thee.\n\n 28\n 'O quit thy sword, and bend thy bow,\n And give me kisses three;\n If I am not won eer the sun go down,\n Won I shall never be.'\n\n 29\n He quitted his sword, he bent his bow,\n He gave her kisses three;\n She crept into a hole a worm,\n But stept out a lady.\n\n 30\n No cloathing had this lady fine,\n To keep her from the cold;\n He took his mantle from him about,\n And round her did it fold.\n\n 31\n He has taken his mantle from him about,\n And it he wrapt her in,\n And they are up to Bambrough castle,\n As fast as they can win.\n\n 32\n His absence and her serpent shape\n The king had long deplored;\n He now rejoiced to see them both\n Again to him restored.\n\n 33\n The queen they wanted, whom they found\n All pale, and sore afraid,\n Because she knew her power must yield\n To Childy Wynd's, who said:\n\n 34\n 'Woe be to thee, thou wicked witch,\n An ill death mayest thou dee;\n As thou my sister hast likened,\n So likened shalt thou be.\n\n 35\n 'I will turn you into a toad,\n That on the ground doth wend,\n And won, won shalt thou never be,\n Till this world hath an end.'\n\n 36\n Now on the sand near Ida's tower,\n She crawls a loathsome toad,\n And venom spits on every maid\n She meets upon her road.\n\n 37\n The virgins all of Bambrough town\n Will swear that they have seen\n This spiteful toad, of monstrous size,\n Whilst walking they have been.\n\n 38\n All folks believe within the shire\n This story to be true,\n And they all run to Spindleston,\n The cave and trough to view.\n\n 39\n This fact now Duncan Frasier,\n Of Cheviot, sings in rhime,\n Lest Bambroughshire men should forget\n Some part of it in time.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 28^3. son.\n\n\n\n\n35\n\nALLISON GROSS\n\n 'Allison Gross,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 40.\n\n\n'Allison Gross' was printed by Jamieson, Popular Ballads, II, 187,\nwithout deviation from the manuscript save in spelling.\n\nIn a Greek tale, a nereid, that is elf or fairy, turns a youth who had\nrefused to espouse her into a snake, the curse to continue till he finds\nanother love who is as fair as she: 'Die Sch\u00f6nste,' B. Schmidt,\nGriechische M\u00e4rchen, etc., No 10. This tale is a variety of 'Beauty and\nthe Beast,' one of the numerous wild growths from that ever charming\nFrench story.[300]\n\nAn elf, a hill-troll, a mermaid, make a young man offers of splendid\ngifts, to obtain his love or the promise of his faith, in 'Elveskud,'\nGrundtvig, No 47, many of the Danish and two of the Norwegian copies;\n'Hertig Magnus och Elfvorna,' Afzelius, III, 172; 'Hr. Magnus og\nBj\u00e6rgtrolden,' Grundtvig, No 48, Arwidsson, No 147 B; 'Herr Magnus och\nHafstrollet,' Afzelius, No 95, Bugge, No 11; a lind-worm, similarly, to\na young woman, 'Lindormen,' Grundtvig, No 65. Magnus answers the\nhill-troll that he should be glad to plight faith with her were she like\nother women, but she is the ugliest troll that could be found:\nGrundtvig, II, 121, #A# 6, #B# 7; Arwidsson, II, 303, #B# 5; Afzelius,\nIII, 169, st. 5, 173, st. 6. This is like what we read in stanza 7 of\nour ballad, but the answer is inevitable in any such case. Magnus comes\noff scot-free.\n\nThe queen of the fairies undoing the spell of the witch is a remarkable\nfeature, not paralleled, so far as I know, in English or northern\ntradition. The Greek nereids, however, who do pretty much everything,\ngood or bad, that is ascribed to northern elves or fairies, and even\nbear an appellation resembling that by which fairies are spoken of in\nScotland and Ireland, \"the good damsels,\" \"the good ladies,\" have a\nqueen who is described as taking no part in the unfriendly acts of her\nsubjects, but as being kindly disposed towards mankind, and even as\nrepairing the mischief which subordinate sprites have done against her\nwill. If now the fairy queen might interpose in behalf of men against\nher own kith and kin, much more likely would she be to exert herself to\nthwart the malignity of a witch.[301]\n\nThe object of the witch's blowing thrice on a grass-green horn in 8^2 is\nnot clear, for nothing comes of it. In the closely related ballad which\nfollows this, a witch uses a horn to summon the sea-fishes, among whom\nthere is one who has been the victim of her spells. The horn is\nappropriate. Witches were supposed to blow horns when they joined the\nwild hunt, and horn-blower, \"hornbl\u00e2se,\" is twice cited by Grimm as an\nequivalent to witch: Deutsche Mythologie, p. 886.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTranslated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 19; by Rosa\nWarrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 7; Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen\nAlt-Englands, No 9; Lo\u00e8ve-Veimars, Ballades de l'Angleterre, p. 353.\n\n\n 1\n O Allison Gross, that lives in yon towr,\n The ugliest witch i the north country,\n Has trysted me ae day up till her bowr,\n An monny fair speech she made to me.\n\n 2\n She stroaked my head, an she kembed my hair,\n An she set me down saftly on her knee;\n Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true,\n Sae monny braw things as I woud you gi.\n\n 3\n She showd me a mantle o red scarlet,\n Wi gouden flowrs an fringes fine;\n Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true,\n This goodly gift it sal be thine.\n\n 4\n 'Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,\n Haud far awa, an lat me be;\n I never will be your lemman sae true,\n An I wish I were out o your company.'\n\n 5\n She neist brought a sark o the saftest silk,\n Well wrought wi pearles about the ban;\n Says, Gin you will be my ain true love,\n This goodly gift you sal comman.\n\n 6\n She showd me a cup of the good red gold,\n Well set wi jewls sae fair to see;\n Says, Gin you will be my lemman sae true,\n This goodly gift I will you gi.\n\n 7\n 'Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,\n Had far awa, and lat me be;\n For I woudna ance kiss your ugly mouth\n For a' the gifts that ye coud gi.'\n\n 8\n She's turnd her right and roun about,\n An thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn,\n An she sware by the meen and the stars abeen,\n That she'd gar me rue the day I was born.\n\n 9\n Then out has she taen a silver wand,\n An she's turnd her three times roun an roun;\n She's mutterd sich words till my strength it faild,\n An I fell down senceless upon the groun.\n\n 10\n She's turnd me into an ugly worm,\n And gard me toddle about the tree;\n An ay, on ilka Saturdays night,\n My sister Maisry came to me,\n\n 11\n Wi silver bason an silver kemb,\n To kemb my heady upon her knee;\n But or I had kissd her ugly mouth,\n I'd rather a toddled about the tree.\n\n 12\n But as it fell out on last Hallow-even,\n When the seely court was ridin by,\n The queen lighted down on a gowany bank,\n Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye.\n\n 13\n She took me up in her milk-white han,\n An she's stroakd me three times oer her knee;\n She chang'd me again to my ain proper shape,\n An I nae mair maun toddle about the tree.\n\n\n[300] Of these Dr Reinhold K\u00f6hler has given me a note of more than\ntwenty. The French tale itself had, in all likelihood, a popular\nfoundation.\n\n[301] B. Schmidt, Das Volksleben der Neugriechen, pp 100 f, 107, 123.\nEuphemistically the nereids are called \u1f21 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c1\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03c3\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2, \u1f21\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2, \u1f21 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2, \u1f21 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03c4\u03c5\u03c7\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2; their sovereign is\n\u1f21 \u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03b1\u03bb\u03b7 \u03ba\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1, \u1f21 \u03c0\u03c1\u03c9\u03c4\u03b7, etc.\n\n\n\n\n36\n\nTHE LAILY WORM AND THE MACHREL OF THE SEA\n\n Skene MS., p. 30: taken down from recitation in the north\n of Scotland, in 1802 or 1803.\n\n\nSomewhat mutilated, and also defaced, though it be, this ballad has\ncertainly never been retouched by a pen, but is pure tradition. It has\nthe first stanza in common with 'Kemp Owyne,' and shares more than that\nwith 'Allison Gross.' But it is independent of 'Allison Gross,' and has\na far more original sound.\n\nMaisry's services in washing and combing are more conceivable when\nrendered by a maid in her proper shape, as in 'Allison Gross,' than when\nattributed to a machrel of the sea; and it is likely that the machrel\nreturned to her own figure every Saturday, and that this is one of the\npoints lost from the story. It is said, here as in 'Allison Gross,' that\nMaisry kames the laily head on her knee.[302] It would be a mere cavil\nto raise a difficulty about combing a laily worm's head. The fiery beast\nin 'Kemp Owyne,' #A#, has long hair, and the laily worm may have had\nenough to be better for combing.[303]\n\nIt is only natural that the transformed maid should not wish to trust\nherself again in the hands of the stepmother, but it is not according to\npoetical justice that she should remain a machrel of the sea, and here\nagain we may suppose something to have dropped out.\n\nWe have had a double transformation, of sister and brother, in the\n'Marriage of Gawain' and in the 'Wedding of Gawen and Dame Ragnell,' and\nagain, with a second sister added, in the story of \u00c1ls\u00f3l. Brother and\nsister are transformed in the Danish 'Nattergalen,' Grundtvig, No 57. It\nis an aggravation of stepmother malice that the victim of enchantment,\nhowever amiable and inoffensive before, should become truculent and\ndestructive; so with the brother of Gawain's bride, and with the Carl of\nCarlile. The stepmother is satisfactorily disposed of, as she is in\n'Kemp Owyne,' #B#, and the 'Laidly Worm of Spindleston Heughs.'\n\n\n 1\n 'I was but seven year auld\n When my mither she did die;\n My father married the ae warst woman\n The warld did ever see.\n\n 2\n 'For she has made me the laily worm,\n That lies at the fit o the tree,\n An my sister Masery she's made\n The machrel of the sea.\n\n 3\n 'An every Saturday at noon\n The machrel comes to me,\n An she takes my laily head\n An lays it on her knee,\n She kaims it wi a siller kaim,\n An washes't in the sea.\n\n 4\n 'Seven knights hae I slain,\n Sin I lay at the fit of the tree,\n An ye war na my ain father,\n The eight ane ye should be.'\n\n 5\n 'Sing on your song, ye laily worm,\n That ye did sing to me:'\n 'I never sung that song but what\n I would it sing to thee.\n\n 6\n 'I was but seven year auld,\n When my mither she did die;\n My father married the ae warst woman\n The warld did ever see.\n\n 7\n 'For she changed me to the laily worm,\n That lies at the fit o the tree,\n And my sister Masery\n To the machrel of the sea.\n\n 8\n 'And every Saturday at noon\n The machrel comes to me,\n An she takes my laily head\n An lays it on her knee,\n An kames it wi a siller kame,\n An washes it i the sea.\n\n 9\n 'Seven knights hae I slain,\n Sin I lay at the fit o the tree,\n An ye war na my ain father,\n The eighth ane ye shoud be.'\n\n 10\n He sent for his lady,\n As fast as send could he:\n 'Whar is my son that ye sent frae me,\n And my daughter, Lady Masery?'\n\n 11\n 'Your son is at our king's court,\n Serving for meat an fee,\n An your daughter's at our queen's court,\n . . . . . . . '\n\n 12\n 'Ye lie, ye ill woman,\n Sae loud as I hear ye lie;\n My son's the laily worm,\n That lies at the fit o the tree,\n And my daughter, Lady Masery,\n Is the machrel of the sea!'\n\n 13\n She has tane a siller wan,\n An gien him strokes three,\n And he has started up the bravest knight\n That ever your eyes did see.\n\n 14\n She has taen a small horn,\n An loud an shrill blew she,\n An a' the fish came her untill\n But the proud machrel of the sea:\n 'Ye shapeit me ance an unseemly shape,\n An ye's never mare shape me.'\n\n 15\n He has sent to the wood\n For whins and for hawthorn,\n An he has taen that gay lady,\n An there he did her burn.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 2^2, 7^2. lays: _but ~lies~, 12^4._\n\n 3^3. _~ducks~, but compare 8^3._\n\n\n[302] Dives, in one version of a well-known carol, has \"a place prepared\nin hell, to sit upon a _serpent's knee_.\" The pious chanson in question\nis a very different thing from an old ballad, which, it is hoped, no one\nwill think capable of fatuity.\n\n[303] As, for example, a dragon has in Hahn's Griechische M\u00e4rchen, No\n26, I, 187, and elsewhere.\n\n\n\n\n37\n\nTHOMAS RYMER\n\n #A.# 'Thomas Rymer and Queen of Elfland,' Alexander Fraser\n Tytler's Brown MS., No 1.\n\n #B.# 'Thomas the Rhymer,' Campbell MSS, II, 83.\n\n #C.# 'Thomas the Rhymer,' Minstrelsy of the Scottish\n Border, II, 251, 1802, \"from a copy obtained from a lady\n residing not far from Erceldoune, corrected and enlarged\n by one in Mrs Brown's MS.\"\n\n\n#A# is one of the nine ballads transmitted to Alexander Fraser Tytler by\nMrs Brown in April, 1800, as written down from her recollection.[304]\nThis copy was printed by Jamieson, II, 7, in his preface to 'True Thomas\nand the Queen of Elfland.' #B#, never published as yet, has been\ncorrupted here and there, but only by tradition. #C# being compounded of\n#A# and another version, that portion which is found in #A# is put in\nsmaller type.\n\nThomas of Erceldoune, otherwise Thomas the Rhymer, and in the popular\nstyle True Thomas, has had a fame as a seer, which, though progressively\nnarrowed, is, after the lapse of nearly or quite six centuries, far from\nbeing extinguished. The common people throughout the whole of Scotland,\naccording to Mr Robert Chambers (1870), continue to regard him with\nveneration, and to preserve a great number of his prophetic sayings,\nwhich they habitually seek to connect with \"dear years\" and other\nnotable public events.[305] A prediction of Thomas of Erceldoune's is\nrecorded in a manuscript which is put at a date before 1320, and he is\nreferred to with other soothsayers in the Scalacronica, a French\nchronicle of English history begun in 1355. Erceldoune is spoken of as a\npoet in Robert Mannyng's translation of Langtoft's chronicle, finished\nin 1338; and in the Auchinleck copy of 'Sir Tristrem,' said to have been\nmade about 1350, a Thomas is said to have been consulted at Er\u00feeldoun\ntouching the history of Tristrem. So that we seem safe in holding that\nThomas of Erceldoune had a reputation both as prophet and poet in the\nearlier part of the fourteenth century. The vaticinations of Thomas are\ncited by various later chroniclers, and had as much credit in England as\nin Scotland. \"During the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth\ncenturies,\" says Chambers, \"to fabricate a prophecy in the name of\nThomas the Rhymer appears to have been found a good stroke of policy on\nmany occasions. Thus was his authority employed to countenance the views\nof Edward III against Scottish independence, to favor the ambitious\nviews of the Duke of Albany in the minority of James V, and to sustain\nthe spirits of the nation under the harassing invasions of Henry VIII.\"\nDuring the Jacobite rising of 1745 the accomplishment of Thomas's as\nthen unfulfilled predictions was looked for by many. His prophecies, and\nthose of other Scotch soothsayers, were consulted, says Lord Hailes,\n\"with a weak if not criminal curiosity.\" Even as late as the French\nrevolutionary war a rhyme of Thomas's caused much distress and\nconsternation in the border counties of Scotland, where people were\nfearing an invasion. The 'Whole Prophecie' of Merlin, Thomas Rymour, and\nothers, collected and issued as early as 1603, continued to be printed\nas a chap-book down to the beginning of this century, when, says Dr\nMurray, few farm-houses in Scotland were without a copy of it.\n\nAll this might have been if Thomas of Erceldoune had been not more\nhistorical than Merlin. But the name is known to have belonged to a real\nperson. Thomas Rymor de Ercildune is witness to a deed whereby one\nPetrus de Haga obliges himself to make a certain payment to the Abbey of\nMelrose. Petrus de Haga is, in turn, witness to a charter made by\nRichard de Moreville. Unluckily, neither of these deeds is dated. But\nMoreville was constable of Scotland from 1162 to 1189. If we suppose\nMoreville's charter to have been given towards 1189, and Haga to have\nbeen then about twenty years old, and so born about 1170, and further\nsuppose Haga to have made his grant to Melrose towards the end of a life\nof threescore, or three score and ten, the time of Thomas Rymer's\nsignature would be about 1230 or 1240. If Thomas Rymer was then twenty\nyears of age, his birth would have been at 1210 or 1220. In the year\n1294 Thomas de Ercildoun, son and heir of Thomas Rymour de Ercildoun,\nconveyed to a religious house his inheritance of lands in Ercildoun.\nWith Thomas Rhymer in mind, one naturally interprets Thomas Rymour as\nthe prophet and Thomas de Ercildoun as his son. If Rymour was the\nsurname of this family,[306] it would have been better, for us at least,\nif the surname had been subjoined to the first Thomas also. As the\nlanguage stands, we are left to choose among several possibilities.\nThomas the Rhymer may have been dead in 1294; Thomas Rymour, meaning the\nsame person, may have made this cession of lands in 1294, and have\nsurvived still some years. Thomas, the father, may, as Dr Murray\nsuggests, have retired from the world, but still be living, and it may\nbe his son who resigns the lands. Blind Harry's Life of Wallace makes\nThomas Rimour to be alive down to 1296 or 1297. A story reported by\nBower in his continuation of Fordun, c. 1430, makes Thomas to have\npredicted the death of Alexander III in 1286, when, according to the\nprevious (necessarily very loose) calculation, the seer would have been\nbetween sixty-six and seventy-six. Neither of these last dates is\nestablished by the strongest evidence, but there is no reason for\nrefusing to admit, at least, that Thomas of Erceldoune may have been\nalive at the latter epoch.\n\nThomas of Erceldoune's prophetic power was a gift of the queen of the\nelves; the modern elves, equally those of northern Europe and of Greece,\nresembling in respect to this attribute the nymphs of the ancient\nHellenic mythology. How Thomas attained this grace is set forth in the\nfirst of three fits of a poem which bears his name. This poem has come\ndown in four somewhat defective copies: the earliest written a little\nbefore the middle of the fifteenth century, two others about 1450, the\nfourth later. There is a still later manuscript copy of the second and\nthird fits.[307] All the manuscripts are English, but it is manifest\nfrom the nature of the topics that the original poem was the work of a\nScotsman. All four of the complete versions speak of an older story:\n'gyff it be als the storye sayes,' v. 83, 'als the storye tellis full\nryghte,' v. 123. The older story, if any, must be the work of Thomas.\nThe circumstance that the poem, as we have it, begins in the first\nperson, and after a long passage returns for a moment to the first\nperson, though most of the tale is told in the third, is of no\nimportance; nor would it have been important if the whole narrative had\nbeen put into Thomas's mouth, since that is the simplest of literary\nartifices.\n\nThomas, having found favor with the queen of Elfland, was taken with her\nto that country, and there he remained more than three [seven] years.\nThen the time came round when a tribute had to be paid to hell, and as\nThomas was too likely to be chosen by the fiend, the elf queen conducted\nhim back to the world of men. At the moment of parting Thomas desires\nsome token which may authenticate his having spoken with her. She gives\nhim the gift of soothsaying. He presses her to stay and tell him some\nferly. Upon this she begins a train of predictions, which Thomas more\nthan once importunes her to continue. The first two of these, the\nfailure of Baliol's party and the battle of Halidon Hill, 1333, stand by\nthemselves, but they are followed by a series in chronological order,\nextending from the battle of Falkirk to the battle of Otterbourn,\n1298-1388. The third fit, excepting, perhaps, a reference to Henry IV's\ninvasion of Scotland in 1401, seems to consist, not of predictions made\nafter the event, but of \"adaptations of legendary prophecies,\ntraditionally preserved from far earlier times, and furbished up anew at\neach period of national trouble and distress, in expectation of their\nfulfilment being at length at hand.\"[308]\n\nThe older \"story,\" which is twice referred to in the prologue to the\nprophecies of Thomas of Erceldoune, was undoubtedly a romance which\nnarrated the adventure of Thomas with the elf queen _simply_, without\nspecification of his prophecies. In all probability it concluded, in\naccordance with the ordinary popular tradition, with Thomas's return to\nfairy-land after a certain time passed in this world.[309] For the story\nof Thomas and the Elf-queen is but another version of what is related of\nOgier le Danois and Morgan the Fay. Six fairies made gifts to Ogier at\nhis birth. By the favor of five he was to be the strongest, the bravest,\nthe most successful, the handsomest, the most susceptible, of knights:\nMorgan's gift was that, after a long and fatiguing career of glory, he\nshould live with her at her castle of Avalon, in the enjoyment of a\nstill longer youth and never wearying pleasures. When Ogier had passed\nhis hundredth year, Morgan took measures to carry out her promise. She\nhad him wrecked, while he was on a voyage to France, on a loadstone rock\nconveniently near to Avalon, which Avalon is a little way this side of\nthe terrestrial paradise. In due course he comes to an orchard, and\nthere he eats an apple, which affects him so peculiarly that he looks\nfor nothing but death. He turns to the east, and sees a beautiful lady,\nmagnificently attired. He takes her for the Virgin; she corrects his\nerror, and announces herself as Morgan the Fay. She puts a ring on his\nfinger which restores his youth, and then places a crown on his head\nwhich makes him forget all the past. For two hundred years Ogier lived\nin such delights as no worldly being can imagine, and the two hundred\nyears seemed to him but twenty. Christendom was then in danger, and even\nMorgan thought his presence was required in the world. The crown being\ntaken from his head, the memory of the past revived, and with it the\ndesire to return to France. He was sent back by the fairy, properly\nprovided, vanquished the foes of Christianity in a short space, and\nafter a time was brought back by Morgan the Fay to Avalon.[310]\n\nThe fairy adventures of Thomas and of Ogier have the essential points in\ncommon, and even the particular trait that the fairy is taken to be the\nVirgin. The occurrence of this trait again in the ballad, viewed in\nconnection with the general similarity of the two, will leave no doubt\nthat the ballad had its source in the romance. Yet it is an entirely\npopular ballad as to style,[311] and must be of considerable age, though\nthe earliest version (#A#) can be traced at furthest only into the first\nhalf of the last century.\n\nThe scene of the meeting of Thomas with the elf queen is Huntly Banks\nand the Eildon Tree in versions #B#, #C# of the ballad, as in the\nromance.[312] Neither of these is mentioned in #A#, the reciter of which\nwas an Aberdeen woman. The elf-lady's costume and equipment, minutely\ngiven in the romance (henceforth referred to as #R#), are reduced in the\nballad to a skirt of grass-green silk and a velvet mantle, #A#, and a\ndapple-gray horse, #B# 2 (#R# 5), with nine and fifty bells on each tett\nof its mane, #A# 2 (three bells on either side of the bridle, #R#\n9).[313] Thomas salutes the fairy as queen of heaven, #A# 3, #R# 11. #B#\n3 has suffered a Protestant alteration which makes nonsense of the\nfollowing stanza. She corrects his mistake in all, and in #B# 4 tells\nhim she is out hunting, as in #R# 16. As #C# 5 stands, she challenges\nThomas to kiss her, warning him at the same time, unnaturally, and of\ncourse in consequence of a corrupt reading, of the danger; which Thomas\ndefies, #C# 6. These two stanzas in #C# represent the passage in the\nromance, 17-21, in which Thomas embraces the fairy queen, and are\nwanting in #A#, #B#, though not to be spared. It is contact with the\nfairy that gives her the power to carry her paramour off; for carry him\noff she does, and he is in great fright at having to go. The ballad is\nno worse, and the romance would have been much better, for the omission\nof another passage, impressive in itself, but incompatible with the\nproper and original story. The elf-queen had told Thomas that he would\nruin her beauty, if he had his will, and so it came to pass: her eyes\nseemed out, her rich clothing was away, her body was like the lead; and\nit is while thus disfigured that she bids Thomas take leave of sun and\nmoon, so that his alarm is not without reason.[314] He must go with her\nfor seven years, #A#, #B#; only for a twelvemonth, #R#. She takes him up\nbehind her, #A#; she rides and he runs, #B#; she leads him in at Eldon\nhill, #R#; they cross a water, he wading up to the knee, #B#, #R#. The\nwater is subterranean in #R#, and for three days naught is heard but the\nsoughing of the flood. Then they come to an orchard, #A#, #B#, #R#, and\nThomas, like to tyne for lack of food, is about to pull fruit, but is\ntold that the fruit is cursed, #A# 9, #B# 8;[315] if he plucks it, his\nsoul goes to the fire of hell, #R# 35. The fairy has made a provision of\nsafe bread and wine for him in the ballad, #A# 10, #B# 9, but he has\nstill to fast a while in the romance. #C#, which lacks this passage,\nmakes them ride till they reach a wide desert, and leave living land\nbehind, 9; and here (but in #A#, #B#, and #R# in the vicinity of the\norchard) the fairy bids Thomas lay his head on her knee, and she will\nshow him rare sights. These are the way to heaven, #A# 12, #B# 11, #R#\n38; the way to hell, #A# 13, #B# 10, #R# 41; the road to Elfland,\nwhither they are going, #A# 14. #R# does not point out the road to\nElfland, but the elf-queen's castle on a high hill; and there are two\nadditional ferlies, the way to paradise and the way to purgatory,[316]\n39, 40. Thomas, in #A# 15, is now admonished that he must hold his\ntongue, for if he speaks a word he will never get back to his own\ncountry; in #R# 44 he is told to answer none but the elf-queen, whatever\nmay be said to him, and this course he takes in #B# 12. But before they\nproceed to the castle the lady resumes all the beauty and splendor which\nshe had lost, and no explanation is offered save the naive one in the\nLansdowne copy, that if she had not, the king, her consort, would have\nknown that she had been in fault. Now follows in #A# 15 (as recited,\nhere 7), #C# 15, 16, the passage through the subterranean water, which\nshould come before they reach the orchard, as in #B# 6, #R# 30, 31.\nThere is much exaggeration in the ballad: they wade through rivers in\ndarkness and hear the sea roaring, #C# 15, #A# 7, as in #R#, but they\nalso wade through red blood to the knee, #A# 7, #C# 16, and the crossing\noccupies not three days, as in #R# 31, but forty days, #A# 7. In #C#\nthey _now_ come to the garden. Stanzas 15, 16 are out of place in #C#,\nas just remarked, and 17 is entirely perverted. The cursed fruit which\nThomas is not to touch in #A# 9, #B# 8, #R# 35, is offered him by the\nelf-queen as his wages, and will give him the tongue that can never\nlie,--a gift which is made him in the romance at the beginning of the\nsecond fit, when the fairy is preparing to part with him. Stanzas 18,19\nof #C# are certainly a modern, and as certainly an ill-devised,\ninterpolation. #B# has lost the conclusion. In #A#, #C#, Thomas gets a\nfairy costume, and is not seen on earth again for seven years.\n\nThe romance, after some description of the life at the elf-castle,\ninforms us that Thomas lived there more than three years [Cambridge MS.,\nseven], and thought the time but a space of three days, an almost\nmoderate illusion compared with the experience of other mortals under\nanalogous circumstances.[317] The fairy queen then hurried him away, on\nthe eve of the day when the foul fiend was to come to fetch his tribute.\nHe was a mickle man and hend, and there was every reason to fear that he\nwould be chosen. She brought him again to Eldon Tree, and was bidding\nhim farewell. Thomas begged of her a token of his conversation with her,\nand she gave him the gift of true speaking. He urged her further to tell\nhim some ferly, and she made him several predictions, but he would not\nlet her go without more and more. Finally, with a promise to meet him on\nHuntly Banks when she might, she left him under the tree.\n\nPopular tradition, as Sir Walter Scott represents, held that, though\nThomas was allowed to revisit the earth after a seven years' sojourn in\nfairy-land, he was under an obligation to go back to the elf-queen\nwhenever she should summon him. One day while he \"was making merry with\nhis friends in the town of Erceldoune, a person came running in, and\ntold, with marks of fear and astonishment, that a hart and hind had left\nthe neighboring forest, and were composedly and slowly parading the\nstreet of the village. The prophet instantly arose, left his habitation,\nand followed the wonderful animals to the forest, whence he was never\nseen to return.\" He is, however, expected to come back again at some\nfuture time.\n\nWhat we learn from the adventures of Thomas concerning the perils of\ndealing with fairies, and the precautions to be observed, agrees with\nthe general teaching of tradition upon the subject. In this matter there\nis pretty much one rule for all \"unco\" folk, be they fairies, dwarfs,\nwater-sprites, devils, or departed spirits, and, in a limited way, for\nwitches, too. Thomas, having kissed the elf-queen's lips, must go with\nher. When the dead Willy comes to ask back his faith and troth of\nMargaret, and she says he must first kiss her, cheek and chin, he\nreplies, \"If I should kiss your red, red lips, your days would not be\nlong.\"[318] When Thomas is about to pull fruit in the subterranean\ngarden, or paradise, the elf bids him let be: all the plagues of hell\nlight on the fruit of this country; \"if thou pluck it, thy soul goes to\nthe fire of hell.\"[319] The queen had taken the precaution of bringing\nsome honest bread and wine with her for Thomas's behoof. So when Burd\nEllen's brother sets out to rescue his sister, who had been carried off\nby the king of Elfland, his sage adviser enjoins him to eat and drink\nnothing in fairy-land, whatever his hunger or thirst; \"for if he tasted\nor touched in Elfland, he must remain in the power of the elves, and\nnever see middle-eard again.\"[320] Abstinence from speech is equally\nadvisable, according to our ballad and to other authority: Gin ae word\nyou should chance to speak, you will neer get back to your ain countrie,\n#A# 15. They've asked him questions, one and all, but he answered none\nbut that fair ladie, #B# 12. What so any man to thee say, look thou\nanswer none but me, #R# 44.\n\nThat eating and drinking, personal contact, exchange of speech,\nreceiving of gifts, in any abode of unearthly beings, including the\ndead, will reduce a man to their fellowship and condition might be\nenforced by a great number of examples, and has already been abundantly\nshown by Professor Wilhelm M\u00fcller in his beautiful essay, Zur Symbolik\nder deutschen Volkssage.[321] The popular belief of the northern nations\nin this matter is more completely shown than anywhere else in Saxo's\naccount of King Gormo's visit to Guthmund, and it will be enough to cite\nthat. The Danish King Gormo, having heard extraordinary things of the\nriches of Geruth (the giant Geirr\u00f6\u00f0r), determines to verify the reports\nwith his own eyes, under the guidance of Thorkill, from whom he has\nreceived them. The land of Geruth is far to the northeast, beyond the\nsun and stars, and within the realm of Chaos and Old Night. It is, in\nfact, a very dismal and terrific sort of Hades. The way to it lies\nthrough the dominion of Guthmund, Geruth's brother, which is described\nas a paradise, but a paradise of the same dubious attractions as that in\nThomas of Erceldoune. Guthmund, himself a giant, receives the\ntravellers, a band of about three hundred, very graciously, and conducts\nthem to his palace. Thorkill takes his comrades apart, and puts them on\ntheir guard: they must eat and drink nothing that is offered them, but\nlive on the provisions which they have brought, must keep off from the\npeople of the place and not touch them; if they partake of any of the\nfood, they will forget everything, and have to pass their lives in this\nfoul society. Guthmund complains that they slight his hospitality, but\nThorkill, now and always, has an excuse ready. The genial monarch offers\nGormo one of his twelve beautiful daughters in marriage, and their\nchoice of wives to all the rest of the train. Most of the Danes like the\nproposition, but Thorkill renews his warnings. Four take the bait, and\nlose all recollection of the past. Guthmund now commends the delicious\nfruits of his garden, and tries every art to make the king taste them.\nBut he is again foiled by Thorkill, and clearly perceiving that he has\nmet his match, transports the travellers over the river which separates\nhim and his brother, and allows them to continue their journey.[322]\n\n * * * * *\n\n#C# is translated by Talvj, Versuch, etc., p. 552; by Doenniges, p. 64;\nby Arndt, Bl\u00fctenlese, p. 246; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder,\np. 14; by Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen, p. 1; by Edward Barry, Cycle\npopulaire de Robin Hood, p. 92; and by F.H. Bothe, Janus, p. 122, after\nBarry.\n\n\nA\n\n Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 1: Jamieson's\n Popular Ballads, II, 7.\n\n 1\n True Thomas lay oer yond grassy bank,\n And he beheld a ladie gay,\n A ladie that was brisk and bold,\n Come riding oer the fernie brae.\n\n 2\n Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,\n Her mantel of the velvet fine,\n At ilka tett of her horse's mane\n Hung fifty silver bells and nine.\n\n 3\n True Thomas he took off his hat,\n And bowed him low down till his knee:\n 'All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!\n For your peer on earth I never did see.'\n\n 4\n 'O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says,\n 'That name does not belong to me;\n I am but the queen of fair Elfland,\n And I'm come here for to visit thee.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 5\n 'But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas,\n True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,\n For ye maun serve me seven years,\n Thro weel or wae as may chance to be.'\n\n 6\n She turned about her milk-white steed,\n And took True Thomas up behind,\n And aye wheneer her bridle rang,\n The steed flew swifter than the wind.\n\n 7\n For forty days and forty nights\n He wade thro red blude to the knee,\n And he saw neither sun nor moon,\n But heard the roaring of the sea.\n\n 8\n O they rade on, and further on,\n Until they came to a garden green:\n 'Light down, light down, ye ladie free,\n Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.'\n\n 9\n 'O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says,\n 'That fruit maun not be touched by thee,\n For a' the plagues that are in hell\n Light on the fruit of this countrie.\n\n 10\n 'But I have a loaf here in my lap,\n Likewise a bottle of claret wine,\n And now ere we go farther on,\n We'll rest a while, and ye may dine.'\n\n 11\n When he had eaten and drunk his fill,\n 'Lay down your head upon my knee,'\n The lady sayd, 'ere we climb yon hill,\n And I will show you fairlies three.\n\n 12\n 'O see not ye yon narrow road,\n So thick beset wi thorns and briers?\n That is the path of righteousness,\n Tho after it but few enquires.\n\n 13\n 'And see not ye that braid braid road,\n That lies across yon lillie leven?\n That is the path of wickedness,\n Tho some call it the road to heaven.\n\n 14\n 'And see not ye that bonny road,\n Which winds about the fernie brae?\n That is the road to fair Elfland,\n Whe[re] you and I this night maun gae.\n\n 15\n 'But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,\n Whatever you may hear or see,\n For gin ae word you should chance to speak,\n You will neer get back to your ain countrie.'\n\n 16\n He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,\n And a pair of shoes of velvet green,\n And till seven years were past and gone\n True Thomas on earth was never seen.\n\n\nB\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 83.\n\n 1\n As Thomas lay on Huntlie banks--\n A wat a weel bred man was he--\n And there he spied a lady fair,\n Coming riding down by the Eildon tree.\n\n 2\n The horse she rode on was dapple gray,\n And in her hand she held bells nine;\n I thought I heard this fair lady say\n These fair siller bells they should a' be mine.\n\n 3\n It's Thomas even forward went,\n And lootit low down on his knee:\n 'Weel met thee save, my lady fair,\n For thou'rt the flower o this countrie.'\n\n 4\n 'O no, O no, Thomas,' she says,\n 'O no, O no, that can never be,\n For I'm but a lady of an unco land,\n Comd out a hunting, as ye may see.\n\n 5\n 'O harp and carp, Thomas,' she says,\n 'O harp and carp, and go wi me;\n It's be seven years, Thomas, and a day,\n Or you see man or woman in your ain countrie.'\n\n 6\n It's she has rode, and Thomas ran,\n Until they cam to yon water clear;\n He's coosten off his hose and shon,\n And he's wooden the water up to the knee.\n\n 7\n It's she has rode, and Thomas ran,\n Until they cam to yon garden green;\n He's put up his hand for to pull down ane,\n For the lack o food he was like to tyne.\n\n 8\n 'Hold your hand, Thomas,' she says,\n 'Hold your hand, that must not be;\n It was a' that cursed fruit o thine\n Beggared man and woman in your countrie.\n\n 9\n 'But I have a loaf and a soup o wine,\n And ye shall go and dine wi me;\n And lay yer head down in my lap,\n And I will tell ye farlies three.\n\n 10\n 'It's dont ye see yon broad broad way,\n That leadeth down by yon skerry fell?\n It's ill's the man that dothe thereon gang,\n For it leadeth him straight to the gates o hell.\n\n 11\n 'It's dont ye see yon narrow way,\n That leadeth down by yon lillie lea?\n It's weel's the man that doth therein gang,\n For it leads him straight to the heaven hie.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 12\n It's when she cam into the hall--\n I wat a weel bred man was he--\n They've asked him question[s], one and all,\n But he answered none but that fair ladie.\n\n 13\n O they speerd at her where she did him get,\n And she told them at the Eildon tree;\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n\nC\n\n Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 251, ed. 1802.\n\n | 1\n | True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,\n | A ferlie he spied wi' his ee,\n | And there he saw a lady bright,\n | Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.\n\n | 2\n | Her shirt was o the grass-green silk,\n | Her mantle o the velvet fyne,\n | At ilka tett of her horse's mane\n | Hang fifty siller bells and nine.\n\n | 3\n | True Thomas, he pulld aff his cap,\n | And louted low down to his knee:\n | 'All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!\n | For thy peer on earth I never did see.'\n\n | 4\n | 'O no, O no, Thomas,' she said,\n | 'That name does not belang to me;\n | I am but the queen of fair Elfland,\n | That am hither come to visit thee.\n\n 5\n 'Harp and carp, Thomas,' she said,\n 'Harp and carp along wi me,\n And if ye dare to kiss my lips,\n Sure of your bodie I will be.'\n\n 6\n 'Betide me weal, betide me woe,\n That weird shall never daunton me;'\n Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,\n All underneath the Eildon Tree.\n\n | 7\n | 'Now, ye maun go wi me,' she said,\n | 'True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,\n | And ye maun serve me seven years,\n | Thro weal or woe, as may chance to be.'\n\n | 8\n | She mounted on her milk-white steed,\n | She's taen True Thomas up behind,\n | And aye wheneer her bridle rung,\n | The steed flew swifter than the wind.\n\n | 9\n | O they rade on, and farther on--\n | The steed gaed swifter than the wind--\n | Untill they reached a desart wide,\n | And living land was left behind.\n\n | 10\n | 'Light down, light down, now, True Thomas,\n | And lean your head upon my knee;\n | Abide and rest a little space,\n | And I will shew you ferlies three.\n\n | 11\n | 'O see ye not yon narrow road,\n | So thick beset with thorns and briers?\n | That is the path of righteousness,\n | Tho after it but few enquires.\n\n | 12\n | 'And see not ye that braid braid road,\n | That lies across that lily leven?\n | That is the path of wickedness,\n | Tho some call it the road to heaven.\n\n | 13\n | 'And see not ye that bonny road,\n | That winds about the fernie brae?\n | That is the road to fair Elfland,\n | Where thou and I this night maun gae.\n\n | 14\n | 'But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,\n | Whatever ye may hear or see,\n | For, if you speak word in Elflyn land,\n | Ye'll neer get back to your ain countrie.'\n\n 15\n O they rade on, and farther on,\n And they waded thro rivers aboon the knee,\n And they saw neither sun nor moon,\n But they heard the roaring of the sea.\n\n 16\n It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,\n And they waded thro red blude to the knee;\n For a' the blude that's shed on earth\n Rins thro the springs o that countrie.\n\n 17\n Syne they came on to a garden green,\n And she pu'd an apple frae a tree:\n 'Take this for thy wages, True Thomas,\n It will give the tongue that can never lie.'\n\n 18\n 'My tongue is mine ain,' True Thomas said;\n 'A gudely gift ye wad gie to me:'\n I neither dought to buy nor sell,\n At fair or tryst where I may be.\n\n 19\n 'I dought neither speak to prince or peer,\n Nor ask of grace from fair ladye:'\n 'Now hold thy peace,' the lady said,\n 'For as I say, so must it be.'\n\n 20\n He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,\n And a pair of shoes of velvet green,\n And till seven years were gane and past\n True Thomas on earth was never seen.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _7 stands 15 in the MS._\n\n 8^2. _~golden green~, if my copy is right._\n\n _11^{2,3} are 11^{3,2} in the MS.: the order of words is\n still not simple enough for a ballad._\n\n 14^4. goe.\n\n _Jamieson has a few variations, which I suppose to be his\n own._\n\n 1^1. oer yonder bank.\n\n 3^4. your like.\n\n 4^4. And I am come here to.\n\n 6^4. Her steed.\n\n 8^2. garden, _rightly_.\n\n 10^2. clarry.\n\n 11^2. Lay your head.\n\n 12^1. see you not.\n\n 12^4. there's few.\n\n 13. see ye not yon.\n\n 14^1. see ye not.\n\n 14^2. Which winds.\n\n#B.#\n\n 3^2. her knee.\n\n 3^3. thou save.\n\n 12^1. _MS. perhaps ~unto~._\n\n 13^{1,2} _follow st. 12 without separation_.\n\n#C.#\n\n 20^1. a cloth.\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\nTHOMAS OFF ERSSELDOUNE.\n\n Thornton MS., leaf 149, back, as printed by Dr. J. A. H.\n Murray.\n\n [A prologue of six stanzas, found only in the Thornton\n MS., is omitted, as being, even if genuine, not to the\n present purpose.]\n\n 1\n Als I me wente \u00feis endres daye,\n Ffull faste i_n_ mynd makand my mone,\n In a mery morny_n_ge of Maye,\n By Huntle bankkes my selfe allone,\n\n 2\n I herde \u00fee jaye and \u00fee throstelle,\n The mawys menyde of hir songe,\n \u00fee wodewale beryde als a belle,\n That alle \u00fee wode a-bowte me ronge.\n\n 3\n Allon_n_e in longynge thus als I laye,\n Vndyre-nethe a semely tre,\n [Saw] I whare a lady gaye\n [Came ridand] ou_er_ a longe lee.\n\n 4\n If I solde sytt to domesdaye,\n W_i_t_h_ my tonge to wrobbe and wrye,\n Certanely \u00feat lady gaye\n Neu_er_ bese scho askryede for mee.\n\n 5\n Hir palfraye was a dappill graye,\n Swylke one ne saghe I neu_er_ none;\n Als dose \u00fee sonne on som_er_es daye,\n \u00fe_a_t faire lady hir selfe scho schone.\n\n 6\n Hir selle it was of roelle bone,\n Ffull semely was \u00fe_a_t syghte to see;\n Stefly sett w_i_t_h_ p_re_cyous stones,\n And compaste all with crapotee;\n\n 7\n Stones of oryente, grete plente.\n Hir hare abowte hir hede it hange;\n Scho rade ou_er_ \u00feat lange lee;\n A whylle scho blewe, a-no\u00fe_er_ scho sange.\n\n 8\n Hir garthes of nobyll sylke \u00feay were,\n The bukylls were of berelle stone,\n Hir steraps were of crystalle clere,\n And all w_i_t_h_ perelle ou_er_-by-gone.\n\n 9\n Hir payetrelle was of irale fyne,\n Hir cropoure was of orphar\u00eb,\n And als clere golde hir brydill it schone;\n One aythir syde hange bellys three.\n\n 10\n [Scho led _three_ grehoundis in a leesshe,]\n And seuen_e_ raches by hir \u00feay rone;\n Scho bare an horne abowte hir halse,\n And vndir hir belte full many a flone.\n\n 11\n Thom_a_s laye and sawe \u00feat syghte,\n Vndir-nethe ane semly tree;\n He sayd, \u021done es Marye, moste of myghte,\n \u00deat bare \u00fe_a_t childe \u00feat dyede for mee.\n\n 12\n Bot if I speke w_i_t_h_ \u021done lady bryghte,\n I hope myn_e_ herte will bryste i_n_ three;\n Now sall I go w_i_t_h_ all my myghte,\n Hir for to mete at Eldoun_e_ tree.\n\n 13\n Thomas rathely vpe he rase,\n And he rane ou_er_ \u00feat mountayne hye;\n Gyff it be als the storye sayes,\n He hir mette at Eldone tree.\n\n 14\n He knelyde down_e_ appon_e_ his knee,\n Vndir-nethe \u00feat grenwode spraye,\n And sayd, Lufly ladye, rewe one mee,\n Qwene of heuen_e_, als \u00feou wele maye!\n\n 15\n Then spake \u00feat lady milde of thoghte:\n Thomas, late swylke wordes bee;\n Qwene of heuen_e_ ne am I noghte,\n Ffor I tuke neu_er_ so heghe degre.\n\n 16\n Bote I ame of ane o\u00fe_er_ cou_n_tree,\n If I be payrelde moste of pryse;\n I ryde aftyre this wylde fee;\n My raches rynnys at my devyse.'\n\n 17\n 'If \u00fe_o_u be parelde moste of pryse,\n And here rydis thus in thy folye,\n Of lufe, lady, als \u00fe_o_u erte wyse,\n \u00deou gyffe me leue to lye the bye.'\n\n 18\n Scho sayde, \u00feou man_e_, \u00feat ware folye;\n I praye \u00fee, Thomas, \u00fe_o_u late me bee;\n Ffor I saye \u00fee full sekirlye,\n \u00deat synne will fordoo all my beaute.\n\n 19\n 'Now, lufly ladye, rewe one mee,\n And I will eu_er_ more w_i_t_h_ the duelle;\n Here my trouthe I will the plyghte,\n Whethir \u00fe_o_u will in heuen_e_ or helle.'\n\n 20\n 'Mane of molde, \u00fe_o_u will me marre,\n But \u021ditt \u00feou sall hafe all thy will;\n And trowe it wele, \u00fe_o_u chewys \u00fee werre,\n Ffor alle my beaute will \u00fe_o_u spylle.'\n\n 21\n Down_e_ \u00fean_e_ lyghte \u00feat lady bryghte,\n Vndir-nethe \u00feat grenewode spraye;\n And, als the storye tellis full ryghte,\n Seuen_e_ sythis by hir he laye.\n\n 22\n Scho sayd, Man_e_, the lykes thy playe:\n Whate byrde in boure maye delle w_i_t_h_ the?\n Thou merrys me all \u00feis longe daye;\n I pray the, Thomas, late me bee.\n\n 23\n Thom_a_s stode vpe i_n_ \u00feat stede,\n And he by-helde \u00feat lady gaye;\n Hir hare it hange all ou_er_ hir hede,\n Hir eghne semede owte, \u00fe_a_t are were graye.\n\n 24\n And alle \u00fee riche clothynge was a-waye,\n \u00deat he by-fore sawe i_n_ \u00feat stede;\n Hir a schanke blake, hir o\u00feer graye,\n And all hir body lyke the lede.\n\n 25\n Thom_a_s laye, and sawe \u00feat syghte,\n Vndir-nethe \u00feat grenewod tree.\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 26\n \u00dean said Thom_a_s, Allas! allas!\n In faythe \u00feis es a dullfull syghte;\n How arte \u00fe_o_u fadyde \u00feus i_n_ \u00fee face,\n \u00deat schane by-fore als \u00fee sonne so bryght[e]!\n\n 27\n Scho sayd, Thom_a_s, take leue at sone and mon[e],\n And als at lefe \u00fe_a_t grewes on tree;\n This twelmoneth sall \u00fe_o_u w_i_t_h_ me gone,\n And medill-erthe sall \u00fe_o_u none see.'\n\n 28\n He knelyd downe appon_e_ his knee,\n Vndir-nethe \u00fe_a_t grenewod spraye,\n And sayd, Lufly lady, rewe on mee,\n Mylde qwene of heuen_e_, als \u00fe_o_u beste maye!\n\n 29\n 'Allas!' he sayd, 'and wa es mee!\n I trowe my dedis wyll wirke me care;\n My saulle, Jh_e_su, by-teche I the,\n Whedir-some \u00fe_a_t eu_er_ my banes sall fare.'\n\n 30\n Scho ledde hy_m_ in at Eldone hill,\n Vndir-nethe a derne lee,\n Whare it was dirke as mydnyght myrke,\n And eu_er_ \u00fee wat_e_r till his knee.\n\n 31\n The montenans of dayes three,\n He herd bot swoghynge of \u00fee flode;\n At \u00fee laste he sayde, Full wa es mee!\n Almaste I dye, for fawte of f[ode.]\n\n 32\n Scho lede hy_m_ in-till a faire herbere,\n Whare frwte was g[ro]wan[d gret plentee];\n Pere and appill, bothe ryppe \u00feay were,\n The date, and als the damasee.\n\n 33\n \u00dee fygge, and alsso \u00fee wyneberye,\n The nyghtgales byggande on \u00feair neste;\n \u00dee papeioyes faste abowte gan_e_ flye,\n And throstylls sange, wolde hafe no reste.\n\n 34\n He p_re_ssede to pulle frowte w_i_t_h_ his hande,\n Als man_e_ for fude \u00fe_a_t was nere faynt;\n Scho sayd, Thom_a_s, \u00fe_o_u late \u00feam_e_ stande,\n Or ells \u00fee fende the will atteynt.\n\n 35\n If \u00fe_o_u it plokk, sothely to saye,\n Thi saule gose to \u00fee fyre of helle;\n It co_m_mes neu_er_ owte or domesdaye,\n Bot \u00fe_er_ in payne ay for to duelle.\n\n 36\n Thomas, sothely I the hyghte,\n Come lygge thyn_e_ hede down_e_ on my knee,\n And [\u00feou] sall se \u00fee fayreste syghte\n \u00deat eu_er_ sawe man_e_ of thi contree.\n\n 37\n He did in hye als scho hym badde;\n Appone hir knee his hede he layde,\n Ffor hir to paye he was full glade;\n And \u00fean_e_ \u00feat lady to hy_m_ sayde:\n\n 38\n Seese \u00fe_o_u nowe \u021done faire waye,\n \u00deat lygges ou_er_ \u021done heghe mou_n_tayne?\n \u021done es \u00fee waye to heuen_e_ for aye,\n When_e_ synfull sawles are passed \u00feer payne.\n\n 39\n Seese \u00fe_o_u nowe \u021done o\u00fe_er_ waye,\n \u00deat lygges lawe by-nethe \u021done rysse?\n \u021done es \u00fee waye, \u00fee sothe to saye,\n Vn-to \u00fee joye of paradyse.\n\n 40\n Seese \u00fe_o_u \u021ditt \u021done thirde waye,\n \u00deat ligges vndir \u021done grene playne?\n \u021done es \u00fee waye, w_i_t_h_ tene and traye,\n Whare synfull saulis suffirris \u00feaire payne.\n\n 41\n Bot seese \u00fe_o_u nowe \u021done ferthe waye,\n \u00deat lygges ou_er_ \u021done depe delle?\n \u021done es \u00fee waye, so waylawaye!\n Vn-to \u00fee birnande fyre of helle.\n\n 42\n Seese \u00fe_o_u \u021ditt \u021done faire castelle,\n [\u00de_a_t standis ouer] \u021done heghe hill?\n Of towne and towre it beris \u00fee belle;\n In erthe es none lyke it vn-till.\n\n 43\n Ffor sothe, Thom_a_s, \u021done es myn_e_ awenn_e_,\n And \u00fee kynges of this countree;\n Bot me ware leu_er_ be hanged and drawen_e_,\n Or \u00feat he wyste \u00feou laye by me.\n\n 44\n When \u00fe_o_u co_m_mes to \u021done castelle gay,\n I pray \u00fee curtase man_e_ to bee;\n And whate so any man_e_ to \u00fee saye,\n Luke \u00fe_o_u answere none bott mee.\n\n 45 My lorde es seruede at ylk a mese\n W_i_t_h_ thritty knyghttis faire and free;\n I sall saye, syttande at the desse,\n I tuke thi speche by-\u021donde the see\n\n 46\n Thom_a_s still als stane he stude,\n And he by-helde \u00feat lady gaye;\n Scho come agayne als faire and gude,\n And also ryche one hir palfraye.\n\n 47\n Hir grewehundis fillide w_i_t_h_ dere blode,\n Hir raches couplede, by my faye;\n Scho blewe hir horne w_i_t_h_ mayne and mode,\n Vn-to \u00fee castelle scho tuke \u00fee waye.\n\n 48\n In-to \u00fee haulle sothely scho went,\n Thomas foloued at hir hande;\n Than ladyes come, bothe faire and gent,\n With curtassye to hir knelande.\n\n 49\n Harpe and fethill bothe \u00feay fande,\n Gett_er_ne, and als so \u00fee sawtrye;\n Lutte and ryhyne bothe gangande,\n And all man_er_e of mynstralsye.\n\n 50\n \u00dee most m_er_uelle \u00fe_a_t Thom_a_s thoghte,\n When_e_ \u00feat he stode appon_e_ the flore;\n Ffor feftty hertis in were broghte,\n \u00deat were bothe grete and store.\n\n 51\n Raches laye lapande in \u00fee blode,\n Cokes come w_i_t_h_ dryssynge knyfe;\n Thay brittened \u00feam_e_ als \u00feay were wode;\n Reuelle amanges \u00feame was full ryfe.\n\n 52\n Knyghtis dawnesede by three and three,\n There was revelle, gamen_e_ and playe;\n Lufly ladyes, faire and free,\n That satte and sange one riche araye.\n\n 53\n Thom_a_s duellide i_n_ that solace\n More \u00fean_e_ I \u021dowe saye, p_a_rde,\n Till one a daye, so hafe I grace,\n My lufly lady sayde to mee:\n\n 54\n Do buske the, Thom_a_s, \u00fee buse agayne,\n Ffor \u00fe_o_u may here no lengare be;\n Hye the faste, w_i_t_h_ myghte and mayne,\n I sall the brynge till Eldone tree.\n\n 55\n Thom_a_s sayde \u00fean_e_, w_i_t_h_ heuy chere,\n Lufly lady, nowe late me bee;\n Ffor certis, lady, I hafe bene here\n Noghte bot \u00fee space of dayes three.\n\n 56\n 'Ffor sothe, Thomas, als I \u00fee telle,\n \u00deou hase bene here thre \u021dere and more;\n Bot langere here \u00fe_o_u may noghte duelle;\n The skylle I sall \u00fee telle whare-fore.\n\n 57\n 'To morne of helle \u00fee foulle fende\n Amange this folke will feche his fee;\n And \u00fe_o_u arte mekill man_e_ and hende;\n I trowe full wele he wolde chese the.\n\n 58\n 'Ffor alle \u00fee gold \u00fe_a_t eu_e_r may bee,\n Ffro hethyn_e_ vn-to \u00fee worldis ende,\n \u00deou bese neu_er_ be-trayede for mee;\n \u00deerefore w_i_t_h_ me I rede thou wende.'\n\n 59\n Scho broghte hy_m_ agayne to Eldone tree,\n Vndir-nethe \u00fe_a_t grenewode spraye;\n In Huntlee bannkes es mery to bee,\n Whare fowles synges bothe nyght and daye.\n\n 60\n 'Fferre owtt in \u021done mountane graye,\n Thomas, my fawkon_e_ bygges a neste;\n A fawconn_e_ es an erlis praye;\n Ffor-thi in na place may he reste.\n\n 61\n 'Ffare well, Thomas, I wend my waye,\n Ffor me by-houys ou_er_ thir benttis brown_e:_'\n Loo here a fytt: more es to saye,\n All of Thomas of Erselldown_e_.\n\n\nFYTT II.\n\n 1\n 'Fare wele, Thom_a_s, I wend my waye,\n I may no lengare stande wit_h_ the:'\n 'Gyff me a tokynynge, lady gaye,\n That I may saye I spake wit_h_ the.'\n\n 2\n 'To harpe or carpe, whare-so \u00fe_o_u gose,\n Thom_a_s, \u00fe_o_u sall hafe \u00fee chose sothely:'\n And he saide, Harpynge kepe I none,\n Ffor tonge es chefe of mynstralsye.\n\n 3\n 'If \u00fe_o_u will spelle, or tales telle,\n Thom_a_s, \u00fe_o_u sall neu_er_ lesynge lye;\n Whare eu_er_ \u00fe_o_u fare, by frythe or felle,\n I praye the speke none euyll of me.\n\n 4\n 'Ffare wele, Thom_a_s, wit_h_-owttyn_e_ gyle,\n I may no lengare duelle with the:'\n 'Lufly lady, habyde a while,\n And telle \u00fe_o_u me of some ferly.'\n\n 5\n 'Thom_a_s, herkyn_e_ what I the saye:' etc.\n\n_Here begin the prophecies._\n\n * * * * *\n\n _~&~ and ~j~ are replaced by ~and~ and ~I~._\n\n 2^1. throstyll cokke: throstell, _Cambridge MS._\n\n 2^2. menyde hir.\n\n 10^1. _Wanting._ She led, etc., _Cambridge_.\n\n 12^4, 13^4. _Lansdowne_, elden; _Cambridge_, eldryn,\n eldryn_e_.\n\n 16^2. prysse.\n\n 17^1. prysee.\n\n 17^3. wysse.\n\n 43^4. me by. _Cambridge_, be me.\n\n 46^4. also.\n\nFYTT 2.\n\n 2^1. \u00fe_o_u gose. _Cambridge_, \u021de gon.\n\n\n[304] See the letter of Dr Anderson to Bishop Percy, December 29, 1800,\nin Nichols's Illustrations of the Literary History of the Eighteenth\nCentury, VII, 178 f.\n\n[305] Chambers' Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1870, pp. 211-224. See,\nalso, Scott's Minstrelsy, IV, 110-116, 129-151, ed. 1833. But, above\nall, Dr J. A. H. Murray's Introduction to The Romance and Prophecies of\nThomas of Erceldoune, 1875.\n\n[306] Hector Boece (1527) says the surname was Leirmont, but there is no\nevidence for this that is of value. See Murray, p. xiii.\n\n[307] The five copies have been edited by Dr J. A. H. Murray, and\nprinted by the Early English Text Society. A reconstructed text by Dr\nAlois Brandl makes the second volume of a Sammlung englischer Denkm\u00e4ler\nin kritischen Ausgaben, Berlin, 1880.\n\n[308] Murray, pp xxiv-xxvii. As might be expected, the Latin texts\ncorrupt the names of persons and of places, and alter the results of\nbattles. Dr Murray remarks: \"The oldest text makes the Scots win Halidon\nHill, with the slaughter of six thousand Englishmen, while the other\ntexts, wise after the fact, makes the Scots lose, as they actually did.\"\nThis, and the consideration that a question about the conflict between\nthe families of Bruce and Baliol would not be put after 1400, when the\nBaliol line was extinct, disposes Dr Murray to think that verses 326-56\nof the second fit, with perhaps the first fit, the conclusion of the\npoem, and an indefinite portion of fit third, may have been written on\nthe eve of Halidon Hill, with a view to encourage the Scots.\n\n[309] The poem, vv 675-80, says only that Thomas and the lady did not\npart for ever and aye, but that she was to visit him at Huntley banks.\n\n[310] The relations of Thomas Rhymer and Ogier might, perhaps, be\ncleared up by the poem of The Visions of Ogier in Fairy Land. The book\nis thus described by Brunet, ed. 1863, IV, 173: Le premier (second et\ntroisi\u00e8me) livre des visions d'Oger le Dannoys au royaulme de Fairie,\nParis, 1542, pet. in-8, de 48 ff. Brunet adds: A la suite de ce po\u00ebme,\ndans l'exemplaire de la Biblioth\u00e8que imp\u00e9riale, se trouve, Le liure des\nvisions fantastiques, Paris, 1542, pet. in-8, de 24 ff. The National\nLibrary is not now in possession of the volume; nor have all the\ninquiries I have been able to make, though most courteously aided in\nFrance, resulted, as I hoped, in the finding of a copy.\n\n[311] Excepting the two satirical stanzas with which Scott's version\n(#C#) concludes. \"The repugnance of Thomas to be debarred the use of\nfalsehood when he should find it convenient,\" may have, as Scott says,\n\"a comic effect,\" but is, for a ballad, a miserable conceit. Both ballad\nand romance are serious.\n\n[312] Eildon Tree, the site of which is supposed now to be marked by the\nEildon Tree Stone, stood, or should have stood, on the slope of the\neastern of the three Eildon Hills. Huntly Banks are about half a mile to\nthe west of the Eildon Stone, on the same hill-slope. Erceldoun, a\nvillage on the Leader, two miles above its junction with the Tweed, is\nall but visible from the Eildon Stone. Murray, pp l-lii.\n\n[313] In #B# 2, absurdly, the lady holds nine bells in her hand. Ringing\nor jingling bridles are ascribed to fairies, Tam Lin, #A# 37, Cromek's\nRemains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 298 (\"manes hung wi whustles\nthat the win played on,\" p. 299). The fairy's saddle has a bordure of\nbells in the English Launfal, Halliwell's Illustrations of Fairy\nMythology, p. 31, but not in Marie's lai. The dwarf-king Antiloie, in\nUlrich Von Eschenbach's Alexander, has bells on his bridle: Grimm,\nDeutsche Mythologie, I, 385. These bells, however, are not at all\ndistinctive of fairies, but are the ordinary decoration of elegant\n\"outriders\" in the Middle Ages, especially of women. In the romance of\nRichard C\u0153ur de Lion, a messenger's trappings ring with five hundred\nbells. Besides the bridle, bells were sometimes attached to the horse's\nbreastplate, to the saddle-bow, crupper, and stirrups. Conde Claros's\nsteed has three hundred around his breastplate. See Weber's Metrical\nRomances, R.C. de Lion, vv 1514-17, 5712-14, cited by T. Wright, History\nof Domestic Manners in England, 214 f; Liebrecht, Gervasius, p. 122;\nK\u00f6lbing, Englische Studien, III, 105; Zupitza and Varnhagen, Anglia,\nIII, 371, IV, 417; and particularly A. Schultz, Das h\u00f6fische Leben zur\nZeit der Minnesinger, I, 235, 388-91.\n\n[314] The original I suppose to be the very cheerful tale of Ogier, with\nwhich the author of Thomas of Erceldoune has blended a very serious one,\nwithout any regard to the irreconcilableness of the two. He is presently\nforced to undo this melancholy transformation of the fairy, as we shall\nsee. Brandl, 'Thomas of Erceldoune,' p. 20, cites from Giraldus\nCambrensis, Itinerarium Cambri\u00e6, I, 5, a story about one Meilyr, a\nWelshman, the like of which our poet had in mind. This Meilyr was a\ngreat soothsayer, and \"owed his skill to the following adventure:\" Being\nin company one evening with a girl for whom he had long had a passion,\ndesideratis amplexibus atque deliciis cum indulsisset, statim loco\npuell\u00e6 formos\u00e6 formam quamdam villosam, hispidam et hirsutam, adeoque\nenormiter deformem invenit, quod in ipso ejusdem aspectu dementire\nc\u0153pit et insanire. Meilyr recovered his reason after several years,\nthrough the merits of the saints, but always kept up an intimacy with\nunclean spirits, and by their help foretold the future. It is not said\nthat they gave him the tongue that never could lie, but no other tongue\ncould lie successfully in his presence: he always saw a little devil\ncapering on it. He was able, by similar indications, to point out the\nlies and errors of books. The experiment being once tried of laying the\nGospel of John in his lap, every devil instantly decamped. Geoffrey of\nMonmouth's history was substituted, and imps swarmed all over the book\nand him, too.\n\n[315] #B# 8^{3,4} \"It was a' that cursed fruit o thine beggared man and\nwoman in your countrie:\" the fruit of the Forbidden Tree.\n\n[316] Purgatory is omitted in the Cotton MS. of the romance, as in the\nballad.\n\n[317] Ogier le Danois hardly exceeded the proportion of the ordinary\nhyperbole of lovers: two hundred years seemed but twenty. The British\nking Herla lived with the king of the dwarfs more than two hundred\nyears, and thought the time but three days: Walter Mapes, Nug\u00e6\nCurialium, ed. Wright, p. 16 f (Liebrecht). The strongest case, I\nbelieve, is the exquisite legend, versified by Trench, of the monk, with\nwhom three hundred years passed, while he was listening to a bird's\nsong--as he thought, less than three hours. For some of the countless\nrepetitions of the idea, see Pauli's Schimpf und Ernst, ed. Oesterley,\nNo 562, and notes, p. 537; Liebrecht's Gervasins, p. 89; W. Hertz,\nDeutsche Sage im Elsass, pp 115-18, 263; A. Graf, La Leggenda del\nParadiso Terrestre, pp 26-29, 31-33, and notes; J. Koch, Die\nSiebenschl\u00e4ferlegende, kap. ii.\n\n[318] In an exquisite little ballad obtained by Tommaseo from a\npeasant-girl of Empoli, I, 26, a lover who had visited hell, and there\nmet and kissed his mistress, is told by her that he must not hope ever\nto go thence. How the lover escaped in this instance is not explained.\nSuch things happen sometimes, but not often enough to encourage one to\ntake the risk.\n\n Sono stato all' inferno, e son tornato:\n Misericordia, la gente che c'era!\n V'era una stanza tutta illuminata,\n E dentro v'era la speranza mia.\n Quando mi vedde, gran festa mi fece,\n E poi mi disse: Dolce anima mia,\n Non ti arricordi del tempo passato,\n Quando tu mi dicevi, \"anima mia?\"\n Ora, mio caro ben, baciami in bocca,\n Baciami tanto ch'io contenta sia.\n \u00c8 tanto saporita la tua bocca!\n Di grazia saporisci anco la mia.\n Ora, mio caro ben, che m'hai baciato,\n Di qui non isperar d'andarne via.\n\n[319] #A# 8, 9, #R# 34, 35. It was not that Thomas was about to pluck\nfruit from the Forbidden Tree, though #B# understands it so: cf. #R# 32,\n33. The curse of this tree seems, however, to have affected all\nParadise. In modern Greek popular poetry Paradise occurs sometimes\nentirely in the sense of Hades. See B. Schmidt, Volksleben der\nNeugriechen, p. 249.\n\n[320] Jamieson, in Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 398: 'Child\nRowland and Burd Ellen.'\n\n[321] Nieders\u00e4chsische Sagen und M\u00e4rchen, Schambach und M\u00fcller, p. 373.\nShakspere has this: \"They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall\ndie;\" Falstaff, in Merry Wives of Windsor, V, 5. Ancient Greek tradition\nis not without traces of the same ideas. It was Persephone's eating of\nthe pomegranate kernel that consigned her to the lower world, in spite\nof Zeus and Demeter's opposition. The drinking of Circe's brewage and\nthe eating of lotus had an effect on the companions of Ulysses such as\nis sometimes ascribed to the food and drink of fairies, or other demons,\nthat of producing forgetfulness of home: Odyssey, X, 236, IX, 97. But it\nwould not be safe to build much on this. A Hebrew tale makes the human\nwife of a demon charge a man who has come to perform, a certain service\nfor the family not to eat or drink in the house, or to take any present\nof her husband, exactly repeating the precautions observed in Grimm,\nDeutsche Sagen, Nos 41, 49: Tendlan, Das Buch der Sagen und Legenden\nj\u00fcdischer Vorzeit, p. 141. The children of Shem may probably have\nderived this trait in the story from the children of Japhet. Aladdin, in\nthe Arabian Nights, is to have a care, above all things, that he does\nnot touch the walls of the subterranean chamber so much as with his\nclothes, or he will die instantly. This again, by itself, is not very\nconclusive.\n\n[322] Historia Danica, l. viii: M\u00fcller et Velschow, I, 420-25.\n\n\n\n\n38\n\nTHE WEE WEE MAN\n\n #A. a.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Herd's MSS, I, 153; Herd's\n Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 95.\n\n #B.# Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 348.\n\n #C.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 234, ed.\n 1802.\n\n #D.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Kinloch MSS, VII, 253.\n\n #E. a.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Motherwell's Note-Book, fol.\n 40; Motherwell's MS., p. 195. #b.# Motherwell's\n Minstrelsy, p. 343.\n\n #F.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Motherwell's MS., p. 68.\n\n #G.# 'The Little Man,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, I, 263.\n\n\nThis extremely airy and sparkling little ballad varies but slightly in\nthe half dozen known copies. The one in the Musical Museum, No 370, p.\n382, and that in Ritson's Scotish Songs, II, 139, are reprinted from\nHerd.\n\nSingularly enough, there is a poem in eight-line stanzas, in a\nfourteenth-century manuscript, which stands in somewhat the same\nrelation to this ballad as the poem of Thomas of Erceldoune does to the\nballad of Thomas Rymer, but with the important difference that there is\nno reason for deriving the ballad from the poem in this instance. There\nseems to have been an intention to make it, like Thomas of Erceldoune,\nan introduction to a string of prophecies which follows, but no junction\nhas been effected. This poem is given in an appendix.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A# is translated by Arndt, Bl\u00fctenlese, p. 210; #B#, with a few\nimprovements from #E b#, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, p.\n12.\n\n\nA\n\n Herd's MSS, I, 153, Herd's Ancient and Modern Scottish\n Songs, 1776, I, 95.\n\n 1\n As I was wa'king all alone,\n Between a water and a wa,\n And there I spy'd a wee wee man,\n And he was the least that ere I saw.\n\n 2\n His legs were scarce a shathmont's length,\n And thick and thimber was his thigh;\n Between his brows there was a span,\n And between his shoulders there was three.\n\n 3\n He took up a meikle stane,\n And he flang't as far as I could see;\n Though I had been a Wallace wight,\n I couldna liften 't to my knee.\n\n 4\n 'O wee wee man, but thou be strang!\n O tell me where thy dwelling be?'\n 'My dwelling's down at yon bonny bower;\n O will you go with me and see?'\n\n 5\n On we lap, and awa we rade,\n Till we came to yon bonny green;\n We lighted down for to bait our horse,\n And out there came a lady fine.\n\n 6\n Four and twenty at her back,\n And they were a' clad out in green;\n Though the King of Scotland had been there,\n The warst o them might hae been his queen.\n\n 7\n On we lap, and awa we rade,\n Till we came to yon bonny ha,\n Whare the roof was o the beaten gould,\n And the floor was o the cristal a'.\n\n 8\n When we came to the stair-foot,\n Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma,\n But in the twinkling of an eye,\n My wee wee man was clean awa.\n\n\nB\n\n Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 348.\n\n 1\n As I was walking by my lane,\n Atween a water and a wa,\n There sune I spied a wee wee man,\n He was the least that eir I saw.\n\n 2\n His legs were scant a shathmont's length,\n And sma and limber was his thie;\n Atween his shoulders was ae span,\n About his middle war but three.\n\n 3\n He has tane up a meikle stane,\n And flang 't as far as I cold see;\n Ein thouch I had been Wallace wicht,\n I dought na lift 't to my knie.\n\n 4\n 'O wee wee man, but ye be strang!\n Tell me whar may thy dwelling be?\n 'I dwell beneth that bonnie bouir;\n O will ye gae wi me and see?'\n\n 5\n On we lap, and awa we rade,\n Till we cam to a bonny green;\n We lichted syne to bait our steid,\n And out there cam a lady sheen.\n\n 6\n Wi four and twentie at her back,\n A' comely cled in glistering green;\n Thouch there the King of Scots had stude,\n The warst micht weil hae been his queen.\n\n 7\n On syne we past wi wondering cheir,\n Till we cam to a bonny ha;\n The roof was o the beaten gowd,\n The flure was o the crystal a'.\n\n 8\n When we cam there, wi wee wee knichts\n War ladies dancing, jimp and sma,\n But in the twinkling of an eie,\n Baith green and ha war clein awa.\n\n\nC\n\n Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 234, ed. 1802, incorporated with\n 'The Young Tamlane.' From recitation.\n\n 1\n 'Twas down by Carterhaugh, father,\n I walked beside the wa,\n And there I saw a wee wee man,\n The least that eer I saw.\n\n 2\n His legs were skant a shathmont lang,\n Yet umber was his thie;\n Between his brows there was ae span,\n And between his shoulders three.\n\n 3\n He's taen and flung a meikle stane,\n As far as I could see;\n I could na, had I been Wallace wight,\n Hae lifted it to my knee.\n\n 4\n 'O wee wee man, but ye be strang!\n Where may thy dwelling be?'\n 'It 's down beside yon bonny bower;\n Fair lady, come and see.'\n\n 5\n On we lap, and away we rade,\n Down to a bonny green;\n We lighted down to bait our steed,\n And we saw the fairy queen.\n\n 6\n With four and twenty at her back,\n Of ladies clad in green;\n Tho the King of Scotland had been there,\n The worst might hae been his queen.\n\n 7\n On we lap, and away we rade,\n Down to a bonny ha;\n The roof was o the beaten goud,\n The floor was of chrystal a'.\n\n 8\n And there were dancing on the floor,\n Fair ladies jimp and sma;\n But in the twinkling o an eye,\n They sainted clean awa.\n\n\nD\n\n Kinloch MSS, VII, 253. From Mrs Elder.\n\n 1\n As I gaed out to tak a walk,\n Atween the water and the wa,\n There I met wi a wee wee man,\n The weest man that ere I saw.\n\n 2\n Thick and short was his legs,\n And sma and thin was his thie,\n And atween his een a flee might gae,\n And atween his shouthers were inches three.\n\n 3\n And he has tane up a muckle stane,\n And thrown it farther than I c_ou_d see;\n If I had been as strong as ere Wallace was,\n I c_ou_d na lift it to my knie.\n\n 4\n 'O,' quo I, 'but ye be strong!\n And O where may your dwelling be?'\n 'It 's down in to yon bonnie glen;\n Gin ye dinna believe, ye can come and see.'\n\n 5\n And we rade on, and we sped on,\n Till we cam to yon bonny glen,\n And there we lichted and louted in,\n And there we saw a dainty dame.\n\n 6\n There was four and twenty wating on her,\n And ilka ane was clad in green,\n And he had been the king of fair Scotland,\n The warst o them micht hae been his queen.\n\n 7\n There war pipers playing on ilka stair,\n And ladies dancing in ilka ha,\n But before ye c_ou_d hae sadd what was that,\n The house and wee manie was awa.\n\n\nE\n\n #a.# Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 40, \"from Agnes Lyle;\"\n Motherwell's MS., p. 195, \"from the recitation of Agnes\n Laird, Kilbarchan.\" #b.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 343.\n\n 1\n As I was walking mine alone,\n Betwext the water and the wa,\n There I spied a wee wee man,\n He was the least ane that eer I saw.\n\n 2\n His leg was scarse a shaftmont lang,\n Both thick and nimble was his knee;\n Between his eyes there was a span,\n Betwixt his shoulders were ells three.\n\n 3\n This wee wee man pulled up a stone,\n He flang't as far as I could see;\n Tho I had been like Wallace strong,\n I wadna gotn't up to my knee.\n\n 4\n I said, Wee man, oh, but you're strong!\n Where is your dwelling, or where may't be?\n 'My dwelling's at yon bonnie green;\n Fair lady, will ye go and see?'\n\n 5\n On we lap, and awa we rade,\n Until we came to yonder green;\n We lichtit down to rest our steed,\n And there cam out a lady soon.\n\n 6\n Four and twenty at her back,\n And every one of them was clad in green;\n Altho he had been the King of Scotland,\n The warst o them a' micht hae been his queen.\n\n 7\n There were pipers playing in every neuk,\n And ladies dancing, jimp and sma,\n And aye the owre-turn o their tune\n Was 'Our wee wee man has been lang awa.'\n\n\nF\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 68, \"from the recitation of Mrs\n Wilson, of the Renfrewshire Tontine; now of the Caledonian\n Hotel, Inverness.\"\n\n 1\n As I was walking mine alane,\n Between the water and the wa,\n And oh there I spy'd a wee wee mannie,\n The weeest mannie that ere I saw.\n\n 2\n His legs they were na a gude inch lang,\n And thick and nimble was his thie;\n Between his een there was a span,\n And between his shouthers there were ells three.\n\n 3\n I asked at this wee wee mannie\n Whare his dwelling place might be;\n The answer that he gied to me\n Was, Cum alang, and ye shall see.\n\n 4\n So we'll awa, and on we rade,\n Till we cam to yon bonnie green;\n We lichted down to bait our horse,\n And up and started a lady syne.\n\n 5\n Wi four and twenty at her back,\n And they were a' weell clad in green;\n Tho I had been a crowned king,\n The warst o them might ha been my queen.\n\n 6\n So we'll awa, and on we rade,\n Till we cam to yon bonnie hall;\n The rafters were o the beaten gold,\n And silver wire were the kebars all.\n\n 7\n And there was mirth in every end,\n And ladies dancing, ane and a,\n And aye the owre-turn o their sang\n Was 'The wee wee mannie's been lang awa.'\n\n\nG\n\n Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 263.\n\n 1\n As I gaed out to tak the air,\n Between Midmar and bonny Craigha,\n There I met a little wee man,\n The less o him I never saw.\n\n 2\n His legs were but a finger lang,\n And thick and nimle was his knee;\n Between his brows there was a span,\n Between his shoulders ells three.\n\n 3\n He lifted a stane sax feet in hight,\n He lifted it up till his right knee,\n And fifty yards and mair, I'm sure,\n I wyte he made the stane to flee.\n\n 4\n 'O little wee man, but ye be wight!\n Tell me whar your dwelling be;'\n 'I hae a bower, compactly built,\n Madam, gin ye'll cum and see.'\n\n 5\n Sae on we lap, and awa we rade,\n Till we come to yon little ha;\n The kipples ware o the gude red gowd,\n The reef was o the proseyla.\n\n 6\n Pipers were playing, ladies dancing,\n The ladies dancing, jimp and sma;\n At ilka turning o the spring,\n The little man was wearin's wa.\n\n 7\n Out gat the lights, on cam the mist,\n Ladies nor mannie mair coud see\n I turnd about, and gae a look,\n Just at the foot o' Benachie.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 2^2. _The printed copy has ~thighs~._\n\n 4^3. dwelling down.\n\n _There is a copy of this ballad in ~Cunningham's Songs of\n Scotland, I, 303~. Though no confidence can be felt in the\n genuineness of the \"~several variations from recitation\n and singing~,\" with which Cunningham says he sought to\n improve Herd's version, the more considerable ones are\n here noted._\n\n 1^3. O there I met.\n\n 2^1. a shathmont lang.\n\n 3^3. been a giant born.\n\n 4^1. ye're wonder strong.\n\n 4^4. O ladie, gang wi me.\n\n 5^1. away we flew.\n\n 5^2. to a valley green.\n\n 5^3. down and he stamped his foot.\n\n 5^4. And up there rose.\n\n 6^1. Wi four.\n\n 6^2. the glossy green.\n\n 7^2. stately ha.\n\n 8.\n And there were harpings loud and sweet,\n And ladies dancing, jimp and sma;\n He clapped his hands, and ere I wist,\n He sank and saunted clean awa.\n\n#E. a.#\n\n 4^1. your.\n\n _Motherwell has made one or two slight changes in copying\n from his Note-Book into his MS._\n\n #b.# _Besides some alterations of his own, Motherwell has\n introduced readings from #F#._\n\n 2^4. there were.\n\n 3^3 as Wallace.\n\n 5^4. lady sheen.\n\n 6^1. Wi four.\n\n 6^2. And they were a' weel clad.\n\n _After 6 is inserted #F# 6, with the first line changed\n to_\n\n So on we lap, and awa we rade.\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\nThis piece is found in Cotton MS., Julius, A, V, the ninth article in\nthe manuscript, fol. 175, r^o, (otherwise 180, r^o). It is here given\nnearly as printed by Mr Thomas Wright in his edition of the Chronicle of\nPierre de Langtoft, II, 452. It had been previously printed in Ritson's\nAncient Songs, ed. 1829, I, 40; Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 168; the\nRetrospective Review, Second Series, II, 326. The prophecies, omitted\nhere, are given by all the above.\n\n 1\n Als y yod on ay Mounday\n Bytwene Wyltinden and Walle,\n Me ane aftere brade waye,\n Ay litel man y mette withalle;\n The leste that ever I sathe, [sothe] to say,\n Oithere in boure, oithere in halle;\n His robe was noithere grene na gray,\n Bot alle yt was of riche palle.\n\n 2\n On me he cald, and bad me bide;\n Well stille y stode ay litel space;\n Fra Lanchestre the parke syde\n Yeen he come, wel fair his pase.\n He hailsed me with mikel pride;\n Ic haved wel mykel ferly wat he was;\n I saide, Wel mote the bityde!\n That litel man with large face.\n\n 3\n I biheld that litel man\n Bi the stretes als we gon gae;\n His berd was syde ay large span,\n And glided als the fethere of pae;\n His heved was wyte als any swan,\n His hegehen ware gret and grai alsso;\n Brues lange, wel I the can\n Merke it to five inches and mae.\n\n 4\n Armes scort, for sothe I saye,\n Ay span seemed thaem to bee;\n Handes brade, vytouten nay,\n And fingeres lange, he scheued me.\n Ay stan he toke op thare it lay,\n And castid forth that I mothe see;\n Ay merke-soote of large way\n Bifor me strides he castid three.\n\n 5\n Wel stille I stod als did the stane,\n To loke him on thouth me nouthe lange;\n His robe was alle golde bigane,\n Wel craftlike maked, I underestande;\n Botones asurd, everlke ane,\n Fra his elbouthe on til his hande;\n Eldelike man was he nane,\n That in myn herte icke onderestande.\n\n 6\n Til him I sayde ful sone on ane,\n For forthirmare I wald him fraine,\n Glalli wild I wit thi name,\n And I wist wat me mouthe gaine;\n Thou ert so litel of flesse and bane,\n And so mikel of mithe and mayne;\n Ware vones thou, litel man, at hame?\n Wit of the I walde ful faine.\n\n 7\n 'Thoth I be litel and lith,\n Am y nothe wytouten wane;\n Fferli frained thou wat I hith,\n Yat thou salt noth with my name.\n My wonige stede ful wel es dyth,\n Nou sone thou salt se at hame.'\n Til him I sayde, For Godes mith,\n Lat me forth myn erand gane.\n\n 8\n 'The thar noth of thin errand lette,\n Thouth thou come ay stonde wit me;\n Forthere salt thou noth bisette\n Bi miles twa noythere bi three.'\n Na linger durste I for him lette,\n But forth ij fundid wyt that free;\n Stintid vs broke no becke;\n Ferlicke me thouth hu so mouth bee.\n\n 9\n He vent forth, als ij you say,\n In at ay yate, ij underestande;\n Intil ay yate, wundouten nay;\n It to se thouth me nouth lange.\n The bankers on the binkes lay,\n And fair lordes sette ij fonde;\n In ilka ay hirn ij herd ay lay,\n And levedys south meloude sange.\n\n The meeting with the little man was on Monday. We are now\n invited to listen to a tale told on Wednesday by \"a moody\n barn,\" who is presently addressed, in language which, to\n be sure, fits the elf well enough, as \"merry man, that is\n so wight:\" but things do not fay at all here.\n\n 10 Lithe, bothe yonge and alde:\n Of ay worde ij will you saye,\n A litel tale that me was tald\n Erli on ay Wedenesdaye.\n A mody barn, that was ful bald,\n My frend that ij frained aye,\n Al my yerning he me tald,\n And yatid me als we went bi waye.\n\n 11\n 'Miri man, that es so wythe,\n Of ay thinge gif me answere:\n For him that mensked man wyt mith,\n Wat sal worth of this were?' &c.\n\n * * * * *\n\n _The orthography of this piece, if rightly rendered, is\n peculiar, and it is certainly not consistent._\n\n 1^5. _~saith~ for ~saw~ occurs in 23^3._\n\n 2^4. _Wright_, Y cen: _Retrosp. Rev._, Yeen.\n\n 3^8. _W._, Merkes: _R. R._, Merke. fize.\n\n 5^5. _W._, everlkes: _R. R._, euerelke.\n\n 6^8. _W._, of their: _R. R._, of ye (\u00fee). i. wald.\n\n 7^4. _W._, That thou: _R. R._, yat.\n\n 7^5. dygh.\n\n 9^4. south me.\n\n 9^8. me loude.\n\n 10^7. _W._, thering: _R. R._, yering.\n\n 10^8. _W._, y atid: _R. R._, yatid.\n\n\n\n\n39\n\nTAM LIN\n\n #A.# 'Tam Lin,' Johnson's Museum, p. 423, 1792.\n Communicated by Burns.\n\n #B.# 'Young Tom Line,' Glenriddell MS., vol. xi, No 17,\n 1791.\n\n #C.# 'Kertonha, or, The Fairy Court,' Herd, The Ancient\n and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 300.\n\n #D.# 'Tom Linn.' #a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 532. #b.#\n Maidment's New Book of Old Ballads, p. 54. #c.# 'Tom o\n Linn,' Pitcairn's MSS, III, fol. 67.\n\n #E.# 'Young Tamlin,' Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 13.\n\n #F.# 'Tomaline,' Motherwell's MS., p. 64.\n\n #G.# 'Tam-a-line, the Elfin Knight,' Buchan's MSS, I, 8;\n 'Tam a-Lin, or The Knight of Faerylande,' Motherwell's\n MS., p. 595. Dixon, Scottish Traditionary Versions of\n Ancient Ballads, Percy Society, XVII, 11.\n\n #H.# 'Young Tam Lane,' Campbell MSS, II, 129.\n\n #I.# 'The Young Tamlane.' Minstrelsy of the Scottish\n Border: #a#, II, 337, ed. 1833; #b#, II, 228, ed. 1802.\n\n\nThe first twenty-two stanzas of #B# differ from the corresponding ones\nin #A#, 1-23, omitting 16, by only a few words, and there are other\nagreements in the second half of these versions. Burns's intimacy with\nRobert Riddell would naturally lead to a communication from one to the\nother; but both may have derived the verses that are common from the\nsame third party. Herd's fragment, #C#, was the earliest printed.\nScott's version, #I#, as he himself states, was compounded of the Museum\ncopy, Riddell's, Herd's, and \"several recitals from tradition.\" #I b#,\nthe edition of 1802, contained fragments of 'The Bromfield Hill' and of\n'The Wee Wee Man,' which were dropped from the later edition; but\nunfortunately this later edition was corrupted with eleven new stanzas,\nwhich are not simply somewhat of a modern cast as to diction, as Scott\nremarks, but of a grossly modern invention, and as unlike popular verse\nas anything can be. #I# is given according to the later edition, with\nthose stanzas omitted; and all that is peculiar to this version, and not\ntaken from the Museum, Glenriddell, or Herd, is distinguished from the\nrest by the larger type. This, it will be immediately seen, is very\nlittle.\n\nThe copy in Tales of Wonder, II, 459, is #A#, altered by Lewis. Mr\nJoseph Robertson notes, Kinloch MSS, VI, 10, that his mother had\ncommunicated to him some fragments of this ballad slightly differing\nfrom Scott's version, with a substitution of the name True Tammas for\nTam Lane.\n\nThe Scots Magazine for October, 1818, LXXXII, 327-29, has a \"fragment\"\nof more than sixty stanzas, composed in an abominable artificial lingo,\non the subject of this ballad, and alleged to have been taken from the\nmouth of a good old peasant, who, not having heard the ballad for thirty\nyears, could remember no more. Thomas the Rhymer appears in the last\nlines with very great distinction, but it is not clear what part he has\nin the story.[323]\n\nA copy printed in Aberdeen, 1862, and said to have been edited by the\nRev. John Burnett Pratt, of Cruden, Aberdeenshire, is made up from\nAytoun and Scott, with a number of slight changes.[324]\n\n'The Tayl of the \u021dong Tamlene' is spoken of as told among a company\nof shepherds, in Vedderburn's Complaint of Scotland, 1549, p. 63 of Dr\nJames A. H. Murray's edition for the Early English Text Society. 'Thom\nof Lyn' is mentioned as a dance of the same party, a little further on,\nMurray, p. 66, and 'Young Thomlin' is the name of an air in a medley in\n\"Wood's MS.,\" inserted, as David Laing thought, between 1600 and 1620,\nand printed in Forbes's Cantus, 1666: Stenhouse's ed. of The Scots\nMusical Museum, 1853, IV, 440. \"A ballett of Thomalyn\" is licensed to\nMaster John Wallye and Mistress Toye in 1558: Arber, Transcript of the\nRegisters of the Company of Stationers, I, 22; cited by Furnivall,\nCaptain Cox, &c., Ballad Society, p. clxiv.\n\nSir Walter Scott relates a tradition of an attempt to rescue a woman\nfrom fairydom which recalls the ill success of many of the efforts to\ndisenchant White Ladies in Germany: \"The wife of a farmer in Lothian had\nbeen carried off by the fairies, and, during the year of probation,\nrepeatedly appeared on Sunday, in the midst of her children, combing\ntheir hair. On one of these occasions she was accosted by her husband;\nwhen she related to him the unfortunate event which had separated them,\ninstructed him by what means he might win her, and exhorted him to exert\nall his courage, since her temporal and eternal happiness depended on\nthe success of his attempt. The farmer, who ardently loved his wife, set\nout at Halloween, and, in the midst of a plot of furze, waited\nimpatiently for the procession of the fairies. At the ringing of the\nfairy bridles, and the wild, unearthly sound which accompanied the\ncavalcade, his heart failed him, and he suffered the ghostly train to\npass by without interruption. When the last had rode past, the whole\ntroop vanished, with loud shouts of laughter and exultation, among which\nhe plainly discovered the voice of his wife, lamenting that he had lost\nher forever.\" The same author proceeds to recount a real incident, which\ntook place at the town of North Berwick, within memory, of a man who was\nprevented from undertaking, or at least meditating, a similar rescue\nonly by shrewd and prompt practical measures on the part of his\nminister.[325]\n\nThis fine ballad stands by itself, and is not, as might have been\nexpected, found in possession of any people but the Scottish. Yet it has\nconnections, through the principal feature in the story, the\nretransformation of Tam Lin, with Greek popular tradition older than\nHomer.\n\nSomething of the successive changes of shape is met with in a\nScandinavian ballad: 'Nattergalen,' Grundtvig, II, 168, No 57; 'Den\nf\u00f6rtrollade Prinsessan,' Afzelius, II, 67, No 41, Atterbom, Poetisk\nKalender, 1816, p. 44; Dybeck, Runa, 1844, p. 94, No 2; Axelson,\nVandring i Wermlands Elfdal, p. 21, No 3; Lindeman, Norske\nFjeldmelodier, Tekstbilag til 1ste Bind, p. 3, No 10.\n\nThough many copies of this ballad have been obtained from the mouth of\nthe people, all that are known are derived from flying sheets, of which\nthere is a Danish one dated 1721 and a Swedish of the year 1738. What is\nof more account, the style of the piece, as we have it, is not quite\npopular. Nevertheless, the story is entirely of the popular stamp, and\nso is the feature in it, which alone concerns us materially. A\nnightingale relates to a knight how she had once had a lover, but a\nstep-mother soon upset all that, and turned her into a bird and her\nbrother into a wolf. The curse was not to be taken off the brother till\nhe drank of his step-dame's blood, and after seven years he caught her,\nwhen she was taking a walk in a wood, tore out her heart, and regained\nhis human shape. The knight proposes to the bird that she shall come and\npass the winter in his bower, and go back to the wood in the summer:\nthis, the nightingale says, the step-mother had forbidden, as long as\nshe wore feathers. The knight seizes the bird by the foot, takes her\nhome to his bower, and fastens the windows and doors. She turns to all\nthe marvellous beasts one ever heard of,--to a lion, a bear, a variety\nof small snakes, and at last to a loathsome lind-worm. The knight makes\na sufficient incision for blood to come, and a maid stands on the floor\nas fair as a flower. He now asks after her origin, and she answers,\nEgypt's king was my father, and its queen my mother; my brother was\ndoomed to rove the woods as a wolf. \"If Egypt's king,\" he rejoins, \"was\nyour father, and its queen your mother, then for sure you are my\nsister's daughter, who was doomed to be a nightingale.\"[326]\n\nWe come much nearer, and indeed surprisingly near, to the principal\nevent of the Scottish ballad in a Cretan fairy-tale, cited from\nChourmouzis by Bernhard Schmidt.[327] A young peasant of the village\nSgourokeph\u00e1li, who was a good player on the rote, used to be taken by\nthe nereids into their grotto for the sake of his music. He fell in love\nwith one of them, and, not knowing how to help himself, had recourse to\nan old woman of his village. She gave him this advice: that just before\ncock-crow he should seize his beloved by the hair, and hold on,\nunterrified, till the cock crew, whatever forms she should assume. The\npeasant gave good heed, and the next time he was taken into the cave\nfell to playing, as usual, and the nereids to dancing. But as cock-crow\ndrew nigh, he put down his instrument, sprang upon the object of his\npassion, and grasped her by her locks. She instantly changed shape;\nbecame a dog, a snake, a camel, fire. But he kept his courage and held\non, and presently the cock crew, and the nereids vanished all but one.\nHis love returned to her proper beauty, and went with him to his home.\nAfter the lapse of a year she bore a son, but in all this time never\nuttered a word. The young husband was fain to ask counsel of the old\nwoman again, who told him to heat the oven hot, and say to his wife that\nif she would not speak he would throw the boy into the oven. He acted\nupon this prescription; the nereid cried out, Let go my child, dog! tore\nthe infant from his arms, and vanished.\n\nThis Cretan tale, recovered from tradition even later than our ballad,\nrepeats all the important circumstances of the forced marriage of Thetis\nwith Peleus. Chiron, like the old woman, suggested to his prot\u00e9g\u00e9 that\nhe should lay hands on the nereid, and keep his hold through whatever\nmetamorphosis she might make. He looked out for his opportunity and\nseized her; she turned to fire, water, and a wild beast, but he did not\nlet go till she resumed her primitive shape. Thetis, having borne a son,\nwished to make him immortal; to which end she buried him in fire by\nnight, to burn out his human elements, and anointed him with ambrosia by\nday. Peleus was not taken into counsel, but watched her, and saw the boy\ngasping in the fire, which made him call out; and Thetis, thus thwarted,\nabandoned the child and went back to the nereids. Apollodorus,\nBibliotheca, III, 13, 5, 6.\n\nThe Cretan tale does not differ from the one repeated by Apollodorus\nfrom earlier writers a couple of thousand years ago more than two\nversions of a story gathered from oral tradition in these days are apt\nto do. Whether it has come down to our time from mouth to mouth through\ntwenty-five centuries or more, or whether, having died out of the\npopular memory, it was reintroduced through literature, is a question\nthat cannot be decided with certainty; but there will be nothing\nunlikely in the former supposition to those who bear in mind the\ntenacity of tradition among people who have never known books.[328]\n\n#B# 34,\n\n First dip me in a stand of milk,\n And then in a stand of water;\n Haud me fast, let me na gae,\n I'll be your bairnie's father,\n\nhas an occult and very important significance which has only very lately\nbeen pointed out, and which modern reciters had completely lost\nknowledge of, as appears by the disorder into which the stanzas have\nfallen.[329] Immersion in a liquid, generally water, but sometimes milk,\nis a process requisite for passing from a non-human shape, produced by\nenchantment, back into the human, and also for returning from the human\nto a non-human state, whether produced by enchantment or original. We\nhave seen that the serpent which Lanzelet kisses, in Ulrich's romance,\nis not by that simple though essential act instantly turned into a\nwoman. It is still necessary that she should bathe in a spring (p. 308).\nIn an Albanian tale, 'Taubenliebe,' Hahn, No 102, II, 130, a dove flies\ninto a princess's window, and, receiving her caresses, asks, Do you love\nme? The princess answering Yes, the dove says, Then have a dish of milk\nready to-morrow, and you shall see what a handsome man I am. A dish of\nmilk is ready the next morning; the dove flies into the window, dips\nhimself in the milk, drops his feathers, and steps out a beautiful\nyouth. When it is time to go, the youth dips in the milk, and flies off\na dove. This goes on every day for two years. A Greek tale, 'Goldgerte,'\nHahn, No 7, I, 97, has the same transformation, with water for milk. Our\n#B# 34 has well-water only.[330] Perhaps the bath of milk occurred in\none earlier version of our ballad, the water-bath in another, and the\ntwo accounts became blended in time.\n\nThe end of the mutations, in #F# 11, #G# 43, is a naked man, and a\nmother-naked man in #B# 33, under the presumed right arrangement;\nmeaning by right arrangement, however, not the original arrangement, but\nthe most consistent one for the actual form of the tradition. Judging by\nanalogy, the naked man should issue from the bath of milk or of water;\ninto which he should have gone in one of his non-human shapes, a dove,\nswan, or snake (for which, too, a \"stand\" of milk or of water is a more\npracticable bath than for a man). The fragment #C# adds some slight\nprobability to this supposition. The last change there is into \"a dove\nbut and a swan;\" then Tam Lin bids the maiden to let go, for he'll \"be a\nperfect man:\" this, nevertheless, he could not well become without some\nfurther ceremony. #A# is the only version which has preserved an\nessentially correct process: Tam Lin, when a burning gleed, is to be\nthrown into well-water, from which he will step forth a naked\nknight.[331]\n\nAt stated periods, which the ballads make to be seven years, the fiend\nof hell is entitled to take his teind, tithe, or kane from the people of\nfairy-land: #A# 24, #B# 23, #C# 5, #D# 15, #G# 28, #H# 15. The fiend\nprefers those that are fair and fu o flesh, according to #A#, #G#; ane o\nflesh and blood, #D#. #H# makes the queen fear for herself; \"the koors\nthey hae gane round about, and I fear it will be mysel.\" #H# is not\ndiscordant with popular tradition elsewhere, which attributes to fairies\nthe practice of abstracting young children to serve as substitutes for\nthemselves in this tribute: Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 220, 1802. #D# 15\nsays \"the last here goes to hell,\" which would certainly not be\nequitable, and #C# \"we're a' dung down to hell,\" where \"all\" must be\nmeant only of the naturalized members of the community. Poor Alison\nPearson, who lost her life in 1586 for believing these things, testified\nthat the tribute was annual. Mr William Sympson, who had been taken away\nby the fairies, \"bidd her sign herself that she be not taken away, for\nthe teind of them are tane to hell everie year:\" Scott, as above, p.\n208. The kindly queen of the fairies[332] will not allow Thomas of\nErceldoune to be exposed to this peril, and hurries him back to earth\nthe day before the fiend comes for his due. Thomas is in peculiar\ndanger, for the reason given in #A#, #G#, #R#.\n\n To morne of helle \u00fee foulle fende\n Amange this folke will feche his fee;\n And \u00feou art mekill man and hende;\n I trowe full wele he wolde chese the.\n\nThe elf-queen, #A# 42, #B# 40, would have taken out Tam's twa gray een,\nhad she known he was to be borrowed, and have put in twa een of tree,\n#B# 41, #D# 34, #E# 21, #H# 14; she would have taken out his heart of\nflesh, and have put in, #B#, #D#, #E#, a heart of stane, #H# of tree.\nThe taking out of the eyes would probably be to deprive Tam of the\nfaculty of recognizing fairy folk thereafter. Mortals whose eyes have\nbeen touched with fairies' salve can see them when they are to others\ninvisible, and such persons, upon distinguishing and saluting fairies,\nhave often had not simply this power but their ordinary eyesight taken\naway: see Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 304,\nThiele, Danmarks Folkesagn, 1843, II, 202, IV, etc. Grimm has given\ninstances of witches, Slavic, German, Norse and Italian, taking out the\nheart of man (which they are wont to devour), and replacing it in some\ninstances with straw, wood, or something of the kind; nor do the Roman\nwitches appear to have been behind later ones in this dealing: Deutsche\nMythologie, 904 f, and the note III, 312.\n\nThe fairy in the Lai de Lauval, v. 547, rides on a white palfrey, and\nalso two damsels, her harbingers, v. 471; so the fairy princess in the\nEnglish Launfal, Halliwell, Fairy Mythology, p. 30. The fairy king and\nall his knights and ladies ride on white steeds in King Orfeo,\nHalliwell, as above, p. 41. The queen of Elfland rides a milk-white\nsteed in Thomas Rymer, #A#, #C#; in #B#, and all copies of Thomas of\nErceldoune, her palfrey is dapple gray. Tam Lin, #A# 28, #B# 27, etc.,\nis distinguished from all the rest of his \"court\" by being thus mounted;\nall the other horses are black or brown.\n\nTam Lane was taken by the fairies, according to #G# 26, 27, while\nsleeping under an apple-tree. In Sir Orfeo (ed. Zielke, v. 68) it was\nthe queen's sleeping under an ympe-tree that led to her being carried\noff by the fairy king, and the ympe-tree we may suppose to be some kind\nof fruit tree, if not exclusively the apple. Thomas of Erceldoune is\nlying under a semely [derne, cumly] tree, when he sees the fairy queen.\nThe derivation of that poem from Ogier le Danois shows that this must\nhave been an apple-tree. Special trees are considered in Greece\ndangerous to lie under in summer and at noon, as exposing one to be\ntaken by the nereids or fairies, especially plane, poplar, fig, nut, and\nSt John's bread: Schmidt, Volksleben der Neugriechen, p. 119. The elder\nand the linden are favorites of the elves in Denmark.\n\nThe rencounter at the beginning between Tam Lin and Janet (in the wood,\n#D#, #F#, #G#) is repeated between Hind Etin [Young Akin] and Margaret\nin 'Hind Etin,' further on. Some Slavic ballads open in a similar way,\nbut there is nothing noteworthy in that: see p. 41. \"First they did call\nme Jack,\" etc., #D# 9, is a commonplace of frequent occurrence: see,\ne.g., 'The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter.'\n\nSome humorous verses, excellent in their way, about one Tam o Lin are\nvery well known: as Tam o the Linn, Chambers, Scottish Songs, p. 455,\nPopular Rhymes of Scotland, p. 33, ed. 1870; Sharpe's Ballads, new ed.,\np. 44, p. 137, No XVI; Tommy Linn, North Country Chorister, ed. Ritson,\np. 3; Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, p. 271, ed. 1849;\nThomas o Linn, Kinloch MSS, III, 45, V, 81; Tam o Lin, Campbell MSS.,\nII, 107. (Miss Joanna Baillie tried her hand at an imitation, but the\njocosity of the real thing is not feminine.) A fool sings this stanza\nfrom such a song in Wager's comedy, 'The longer thou livest, the more\nfool thou art,' put at about 1568; see Furnivall, Captain Cox, his\nBallads and Books, p. cxxvii:\n\n Tom a Lin and his wife, and his wiues mother,\n They went ouer a bridge all three together;\n The bridge was broken, and they fell in:\n 'The deuil go with all!' quoth Tom a Lin.\n\nMr Halliwell-Phillips (as above) says that \"an immense variety of songs\nand catches relating to Tommy Linn are known throughout the country.\"\nBrian o Lynn seems to be popular in Ireland: Lover's Legends and Stories\nof Ireland, p. 260 f. There is no connection between the song and the\nballad beyond the name: the song is no parody, no burlesque, of the\nballad, as it has been called.\n\n\"Carterhaugh is a plain at the confluence of the Ettrick with the\nYarrow, scarcely an English mile above the town of Selkirk, and on this\nplain they show two or three rings on the ground, where, they say, the\nstands of milk and water stood, and upon which grass never grows.\"\nGlenriddell MS.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTranslated, after Scott, by Schubart, p. 139, and B\u00fcsching's\nW\u00f6chentliche Nachrichten, I, 247; by Arndt, Bl\u00fctenlese, p. 212; after\nAytoun, I, 7, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 8; by Knortz,\nSchottische Balladen, No 17, apparently after Aytoun and Allingham. The\nDanish 'Nattergalen' is translated by Prior, III, 118, No 116.\n\n\nA\n\n Johnson's Museum, p. 423, No 411. Communicated by Robert\n Burns.\n\n 1\n O I forbid you, maidens a',\n That wear gowd on your hair,\n To come or gae by Carterhaugh,\n For young Tam Lin is there.\n\n 2\n There's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh\n But they leave him a wad,\n Either their rings, or green mantles,\n Or else their maidenhead.\n\n 3\n Janet has kilted her green kirtle\n A little aboon her knee,\n And she has broded her yellow hair\n A little aboon her bree,\n And she's awa to Carterhaugh,\n As fast as she can hie.\n\n 4\n When she came to Carterhaugh\n Tam Lin was at the well,\n And there she fand his steed standing,\n But away was himsel.\n\n 5\n She had na pu'd a double rose,\n A rose but only twa,\n Till up then started young Tam Lin,\n Says, Lady, thou's pu nae mae.\n\n 6\n Why pu's thou the rose, Janet,\n And why breaks thou the wand?\n Or why comes thou to Carterhaugh\n Withoutten my command?\n\n 7\n 'Carterhaugh, it is my ain,\n My daddie gave it me;\n I'll come and gang by Carterhaugh,\n And ask nae leave at thee.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 8\n Janet has kilted her green kirtle\n A little aboon her knee,\n And she has snooded her yellow hair\n A little aboon her bree,\n And she is to her father's ha,\n As fast as she can hie.\n\n 9\n Four and twenty ladies fair\n Were playing at the ba,\n And out then cam the fair Janet,\n Ance the flower amang them a'.\n\n 10\n Four and twenty ladies fair\n Were playing at the chess,\n And out then cam the fair Janet,\n As green as onie glass.\n\n 11\n Out then spak an auld grey knight,\n Lay oer the castle wa,\n And says, Alas, fair Janet, for thee\n But we'll be blamed a'.\n\n 12\n 'Haud your tongue, ye auld fac'd knight,\n Some ill death may ye die!\n Father my bairn on whom I will,\n I'll father nane on thee.'\n\n 13\n Out then spak her father dear,\n And he spak meek and mild;\n 'And ever alas, sweet Janet,' he says,\n 'I think thou gaes wi child.'\n\n 14\n 'If that I gae wi child, father,\n Mysel maun bear the blame;\n There's neer a laird about your ha\n Shall get the bairn's name.\n\n 15\n 'If my love were an earthly knight,\n As he's an elfin grey,\n I wad na gie my ain true-love\n For nae lord that ye hae.\n\n 16\n 'The steed that my true-love rides on\n Is lighter than the wind;\n Wi siller he is shod before,\n Wi burning gowd behind.'\n\n 17\n Janet has kilted her green kirtle\n A little aboon her knee,\n And she has snooded her yellow hair\n A little aboon her bree,\n And she's awa to Carterhaugh,\n As fast as she can hie.\n\n 18\n When she cam to Carterhaugh,\n Tam Lin was at the well,\n And there she fand his steed standing,\n But away was himsel.\n\n 19\n She had na pu'd a double rose,\n A rose but only twa,\n Till up then started young Tam Lin,\n Says Lady, thou pu's nae mae.\n\n 20\n Why pu's thou the rose, Janet,\n Amang the groves sae green,\n And a' to kill the bonie babe\n That we gat us between?\n\n 21\n 'O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin,' she says,\n 'For's sake that died on tree,\n If eer ye was in holy chapel,\n Or christendom did see?'\n\n 22\n 'Roxbrugh he was my grandfather,\n Took me with him to bide,\n And ance it fell upon a day\n That wae did me betide.\n\n 23\n 'And ance it fell upon a day,\n A cauld day and a snell,\n When we were frae the hunting come,\n That frae my horse I fell;\n The Queen o Fairies she caught me,\n In yon green hill to dwell.\n\n 24\n 'And pleasant is the fairy land,\n But, an eerie tale to tell,\n Ay at the end of seven years\n We pay a tiend to hell;\n I am sae fair and fu o flesh,\n I'm feard it be mysel.\n\n 25\n 'But the night is Halloween, lady,\n The morn is Hallowday;\n Then win me, win me, an ye will,\n For weel I wat ye may.\n\n 26\n 'Just at the mirk and midnight hour\n The fairy folk will ride,\n And they that wad their true-love win,\n At Miles Cross they maun bide.'\n\n 27\n 'But how shall I thee ken, Tam Lin,\n Or how my true-love know,\n Amang sae mony unco knights\n The like I never saw?'\n\n 28\n 'O first let pass the black, lady,\n And syne let pass the brown,\n But quickly run to the milk-white steed,\n Pu ye his rider down.\n\n 29\n 'For I'll ride on the milk-white steed,\n And ay nearest the town;\n Because I was an earthly knight\n They gie me that renown.\n\n 30\n 'My right hand will be glovd, lady,\n My left hand will be bare,\n Cockt up shall my bonnet be,\n And kaimd down shall my hair,\n And thae's the takens I gie thee,\n Nae doubt I will be there.\n\n 31\n 'They'll turn me in your arms, lady,\n Into an esk and adder;\n But hold me fast, and fear me not,\n I am your bairn's father.\n\n 32\n 'They'll turn me to a bear sae grim,\n And then a lion bold;\n But hold me fast, and fear me not,\n As ye shall love your child.\n\n 33\n 'Again they'll turn me in your arms\n To a red het gaud of airn;\n But hold me fast, and fear me not,\n I'll do to you nae harm.\n\n 34\n 'And last they'll turn me in your arms\n Into the burning gleed;\n Then throw me into well water,\n O throw me in wi speed.\n\n 35\n 'And then I'll be your ain true-love,\n I'll turn a naked knight;\n Then cover me wi your green mantle,\n And cover me out o sight.'\n\n 36\n Gloomy, gloomy was the night,\n And eerie was the way,\n As fair Jenny in her green mantle\n To Miles Cross she did gae.\n\n 37\n About the middle o the night\n She heard the bridles ring;\n This lady was as glad at that\n As any earthly thing.\n\n 38\n First she let the black pass by,\n And syne she let the brown;\n But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed,\n And pu'd the rider down.\n\n 39\n Sae weel she minded whae he did say,\n And young Tam Lin did win;\n Syne coverd him wi her green mantle,\n As blythe's a bird in spring.\n\n 40\n Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,\n Out of a bush o broom:\n 'Them that has gotten young Tam Lin\n Has gotten a stately groom.'\n\n 41\n Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,\n And an angry woman was she:\n 'Shame betide her ill-far'd face,\n And an ill death may she die,\n For she's taen awa the boniest knight\n In a' my companie.\n\n 42\n 'But had I kend, Tam Lin,' she says,\n 'What now this night I see,\n I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een,\n And put in twa een o tree.'\n\n\nB\n\n Glenriddell's MSS, vol. xi, No 17.\n\n 1\n I forbid ye, maidens a',\n That wear goud on your gear,\n To come and gae by Carterhaugh,\n For young Tom Line is there.\n\n 2\n There's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh\n But they leave him a wad.\n Either their things or green mantles,\n Or else their maidenhead.\n\n 3\n But Janet has kilted her green kirtle\n A little above her knee,\n And she has broded her yellow hair\n A little above her bree,\n And she has gaen for Carterhaugh,\n As fast as she can hie.\n\n 4\n When she came to Carterhaugh\n Tom Line was at the well,\n And there she fand his steed standing,\n But away was himsell.\n\n 5\n She hadna pu'd a double rose,\n A rose but only twae,\n Till up then started young Tom Line,\n Says, Lady, thou's pu nae mae.\n\n 6\n Why pu's thou the rose, Janet?\n Why breaks thou the wand?\n Why comest thou to Carterhaugh\n Withouthen my command?\n\n 7\n 'Fair Carterhaugh it is my ain,\n My daddy gave it me;\n I'll come and gae by Carterhaugh,\n And ask nae leave at thee.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 8\n Janet has kilted her green kirtle\n A little aboon her knee,\n And she has snooded her yellow hair\n A little aboon her bree,\n And she is on to her father's ha,\n As fast as she can hie.\n\n 9\n Four and twenty ladies fair\n Were playing at the ba,\n And out then came fair Janet,\n The flowr amang them a'.\n\n 10\n Four and twenty ladies fair\n Were playing at the chess,\n Out then came fair Janet,\n As green as ony glass.\n\n 11\n Out spak an auld grey-headed knight,\n Lay owre the castle wa,\n And says, Alas, fair Janet,\n For thee we'll be blam'd a'.\n\n 12\n 'Had your tongue, you auld grey knight,\n Some ill dead may ye die!\n Father my bairn on whom I will,\n I'll father nane on thee.'\n\n 13\n Out then spak her father dear,\n He spak baith thick and milde;\n 'And ever alas, sweet Janet,' he says,\n 'I think ye gae wi childe.'\n\n 14\n 'If that I gae wi child, father,\n Mysell bears a' the blame;\n There's not a laird about your ha\n Shall get the bairnie's name.\n\n 15\n 'If my lord were an earthly knight,\n As he's an elfish grey,\n I wad na gie my ain true-love\n For nae lord that ye hae.'\n\n 16\n Janet has kilted her green kirtle\n A little aboon her knee,\n And she has snooded her yellow hair\n A little aboon her bree,\n And she's away to Carterhaugh,\n As fast as she can hie.\n\n 17\n When she came to Carterhaugh,\n Tom Line was at the well,\n And there she faund his steed standing,\n But away was himsell.\n\n 18\n She hadna pu'd a double rose,\n A rose but only twae,\n Till up then started young Tom Line,\n Says, Lady, thou's pu na mae.\n\n 19\n Why pu's thou the rose, Janet,\n Out owr yon groves sae green,\n And a' to kill your bonny babe,\n That we gat us between?\n\n 20\n 'O tell me, tell me, Tom,' she says,\n 'For's sake who died on tree,\n If eer ye were in holy chapel,\n Or christendom did see.'\n\n 21\n 'Roxburgh he was my grandfather,\n Took me with him to bide,\n And ance it fell upon a day\n That wae did me betide.\n\n 22\n 'Ance it fell upon a day,\n A cauld day and a snell,\n When we were frae the hunting come,\n That from my horse I fell.\n\n 23\n 'The Queen of Fairies she came by,\n Took me wi her to dwell,\n Evn where she has a pleasant land\n For those that in it dwell,\n But at the end o seven years,\n They pay their teind to hell.\n\n 24\n 'The night it is gude Halloween,\n The fairie folk do ride,\n And they that wad their true-love win,\n At Miles Cross they maun bide.'\n\n 25\n 'But how shall I thee ken, Thomas,\n Or how shall I thee knaw,\n Amang a pack o uncouth knights\n The like I never saw?'\n\n 26\n 'The first company that passes by,\n Say na, and let them gae;\n The next company that passes by,\n Say na, and do right sae;\n The third company that passes by,\n Then I'll be ane o thae.\n\n 27\n 'Some ride upon a black, lady,\n And some ride on a brown,\n But I ride on a milk-white steed,\n And ay nearest the town:\n Because I was an earthly knight\n They gae me that renown.\n\n 28\n 'My right hand will be glovd, lady,\n My left hand will be bare,\n And thae's the tokens I gie thee,\n Nae doubt I will be there.\n\n 29\n 'Then hie thee to the milk-white steed,\n And pu me quickly down,\n Cast thy green kirtle owr me,\n And keep me frae the rain.\n\n 30\n 'They'll turn me in thy arms, lady,\n An adder and a snake;\n But hold me fast, let me na gae,\n To be your warldly mate.\n\n 31\n 'They'll turn me in your arms, lady,\n A grey greyhound to girn;\n But hald me fast, let me na gae,\n The father o your bairn.\n\n 32\n 'They'll turn me in your arms, lady,\n A red het gad o iron;\n Then hand me fast, and be na feard,\n I'll do to you nae harm.\n\n 33\n 'They'll turn me in your arms, lady,\n A mother-naked man;\n Cast your green kirtle owr me,\n To keep me frae the rain.\n\n 34\n 'First dip me in a stand o milk,\n And then a stand o water;\n Haud me fast, let me na gae,\n I'll be your bairnie's father.'\n\n 35\n Janet has kilted her green kirtle\n A little aboon her knee,\n And she has snooded her yellow hair\n A little aboon her bree,\n And she is on to Miles Cross,\n As fast as she can hie.\n\n 36\n The first company that passd by,\n She said na, and let them gae;\n The next company that passed by,\n She said na, and did right sae;\n The third company that passed by,\n Then he was ane o thae.\n\n 37\n She hied her to the milk-white steed,\n And pu'd him quickly down;\n She cast her green kirtle owr him,\n To keep him frae the rain;\n Then she did all was orderd her,\n And sae recoverd him.\n\n 38\n Then out then spak the Queen o Fairies,\n Out o a bush o broom:\n 'They that hae gotten young Tom Line\n Hae got a stately groom.'\n\n 39\n Out than spak the Queen o Fairies,\n Out o a bush of rye:\n 'Them that has gotten young Tom Line\n Has the best knight in my company.\n\n 40\n 'Had I kend, Thomas,' she says,\n 'A lady wad hae borrowd thee,\n I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een,\n Put in twa een o tree.\n\n 41\n 'Had I but kend, Thomas,' she says,\n 'Before I came frae hame,\n I had taen out that heart o flesh,\n Put in a heart o stane.'\n\n\nC\n\n Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 300.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n She's prickt hersell and prind hersell,\n By the ae light o the moon,\n And she's awa to Kertonha,\n As fast as she can gang.\n\n 2\n 'What gars ye pu the rose, Jennet?\n What gars ye break the tree?\n What gars you gang to Kertonha\n Without the leave of me?'\n\n 3\n 'Yes, I will pu the rose, Thomas,\n And I will break the tree;\n For Kertonha shoud be my ain,\n Nor ask I leave of thee.'\n\n 4\n 'Full pleasant is the fairy land,\n And happy there to dwell;\n I am a fairy, lyth and limb,\n Fair maiden, view me well.\n\n 5\n 'O pleasant is the fairy land,\n How happy there to dwell!\n But ay at every seven years end\n We're a' dung down to hell.\n\n 6\n 'The morn is good Halloween,\n And our court a' will ride;\n If ony maiden wins her man,\n Then she may be his bride.\n\n 7\n 'But first ye'll let the black gae by,\n And then ye'll let the brown;\n Then I'll ride on a milk-white steed,\n You'll pu me to the ground.\n\n 8\n 'And first, I'll grow into your arms\n An esk but and an edder;\n Had me fast, let me not gang,\n I'll be your bairn's father.\n\n 9\n 'Next, I'll grow into your arms\n A toad but and an eel;\n Had me fast, let me not gang,\n If you do love me leel.\n\n 10\n 'Last, I'll grow into your arms\n A dove but and a swan;\n Then, maiden fair, you'll let me go,\n I'll be a perfect man.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\nD\n\n #a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 532, a North Country version.\n #b.# Maidment's New Book of Old Ballads, 1844, p. 54, from\n the recitation of an old woman. #c.# Pitcairn's MSS,\n 1817-25, III, p. 67: \"procured by David Webster,\n Bookseller, from tradition.\"\n\n 1\n O all you ladies young and gay,\n Who are so sweet and fair,\n Do not go into Chaster's wood,\n For Tomlin will be there.\n\n 2\n Fair Margret sat in her bonny bower,\n Sewing her silken seam,\n And wished to be in Chaster's wood,\n Among the leaves so green.\n\n 3\n She let her seam fall to her foot,\n The needle to her toe,\n And she has gone to Chaster's wood,\n As fast as she could go.\n\n 4\n When she began to pull the flowers,\n She pulld both red and green;\n Then by did come, and by did go,\n Said, Fair maid, let aleene.\n\n 5\n 'O why pluck you the flowers, lady,\n Or why climb you the tree?\n Or why come ye to Chaster's wood\n Without the leave of me?'\n\n 6\n 'O I will pull the flowers,' she said,\n 'Or I will break the tree,\n For Chaster's wood it is my own,\n I'll no ask leave at thee.'\n\n 7\n He took her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass green sleeve,\n And laid her low down on the flowers,\n At her he asked no leave.\n\n 8\n The lady blushed, and sourly frowned,\n And she did think great shame;\n Says, 'If you are a gentleman,\n You will tell me your name.'\n\n 9\n 'First they did call me Jack,' he said,\n 'And then they called me John,\n But since I lived in the fairy court\n Tomlin has always been my name.\n\n 10\n 'So do not pluck that flower, lady,\n That has these pimples gray;\n They would destroy the bonny babe\n That we've got in our play.'\n\n 11\n 'O tell me, Tomlin,' she said,\n 'And tell it to me soon,\n Was you ever at good church-door,\n Or got you christendoom?'\n\n 12\n 'O I have been at good church-door,\n And aff her yetts within;\n I was the Laird of Foulis's son,\n The heir of all this land.\n\n 13\n 'But it fell once upon a day,\n As hunting I did ride,\n As I rode east and west yon hill\n There woe did me betide.\n\n 14\n 'O drowsy, drowsy as I was!\n Dead sleep upon me fell;\n The Queen of Fairies she was there,\n And took me to hersell.\n\n 15\n 'The Elfins is a pretty place,\n In which I love to dwell,\n But yet at every seven years' end\n The last here goes to hell;\n And as I am ane o flesh and blood,\n I fear the next be mysell.\n\n 16\n 'The morn at even is Halloween;\n Our fairy court will ride,\n Throw England and Scotland both,\n Throw al the world wide;\n And if ye would me borrow,\n At Rides Cross ye may bide.\n\n 17\n 'You may go into the Miles Moss,\n Between twelve hours and one;\n Take holy water in your hand,\n And cast a compass round.\n\n 18\n 'The first court that comes along,\n You'll let them all pass by;\n The next court that comes along,\n Salute them reverently.\n\n 19\n 'The next court that comes along\n Is clad in robes of green,\n And it's the head court of them all,\n For in it rides the queen.\n\n 20\n 'And I upon a milk-white steed,\n With a gold star in my crown;\n Because I am an earthly man\n I'm next to the queen in renown.\n\n 21\n 'Then seize upon me with a spring,\n Then to the ground I'll fa,\n And then you'll hear a rueful cry\n That Tomlin is awa.\n\n 22\n 'Then I'll grow in your arms two\n Like to a savage wild;\n But hold me fast, let me not go,\n I'm father of your child.\n\n 23\n 'I'll grow into your arms two\n Like an adder or a snake;\n But hold me fast, let me not go,\n I'll be your earthly maick.\n\n 24\n 'I'll grow into your arms two\n Like iron in strong fire;\n But hold me fast, let me not go,\n Then you'll have your desire.'\n\n 25\n She rid down to Miles Cross,\n Between twelve hours and one,\n Took holy water in her hand,\n And cast a compass round.\n\n 26\n The first court that came along,\n She let them all pass by;\n The next court that came along\n Saluted reverently.\n\n 27\n The next court that came along\n Were clad in robes of green,\n When Tomlin, on a milk-white steed,\n She saw ride with the queen.\n\n 28\n She seized him in her arms two,\n He to the ground did fa,\n And then she heard a ruefull cry\n 'Tomlin is now awa.'\n\n 29\n He grew into her arms two\n Like to a savage wild;\n She held him fast, let him not go,\n The father of her child.\n\n 30\n He grew into her arms two\n Like an adder or a snake;\n She held him fast, let him not go,\n He was her earthly maick.\n\n 31\n He grew into her arms two\n Like iron in hot fire;\n She held him fast, let him not go,\n He was her heart's desire.\n\n 32\n Then sounded out throw elphin court,\n With a loud shout and a cry,\n That the pretty maid of Chaster's wood\n That day had caught her prey.\n\n 33\n 'O stay, Tomlin,' cried Elphin Queen,\n 'Till I pay you your fee;'\n 'His father has lands and rents enough,\n He wants no fee from thee.'\n\n 34\n 'O had I known at early morn\n Tomlin would from me gone,\n I would have taken out his heart of flesh\n Put in a heart of stone.'\n\n\nE\n\n Motherwell's Note-book, p. 13.\n\n 1\n Lady Margaret is over gravel green,\n And over gravel grey,\n And she's awa to Charteris ha,\n Lang lang three hour or day.\n\n 2\n She hadna pu'd a flower, a flower,\n A flower but only ane,\n Till up and started young Tamlin,\n Says, Lady, let alane.\n\n 3\n She hadna pu'd a flower, a flower,\n A flower but only twa,\n Till up and started young Tamlene,\n Atween her and the wa.\n\n 4\n 'How daur you pu my flower, madam?\n How daur ye break my tree?\n How daur ye come to Charter's ha,\n Without the leave of me?'\n\n 5\n 'Weel I may pu the rose,' she said,\n 'But I daurna break the tree;\n And Charter's ha is my father's,\n And I'm his heir to be.'\n\n 6\n 'If Charteris ha be thy father's,\n I was ance as gude mysell;\n But as I came in by Lady Kirk,\n And in by Lady Well,\n\n 7\n 'Deep and drowsy was the sleep\n On my poor body fell;\n By came the Queen of Faery,\n Made me with her to dwell.\n\n 8\n 'But the morn at een is Halloween,\n Our fairy foks a' do ride;\n And she that will her true-love win,\n At Blackstock she must bide.\n\n 9\n 'First let by the black,' he said,\n 'And syne let by the brown;\n But when you see the milk-white steed,\n You'll pull his rider down.\n\n 10\n 'You'll pull him into thy arms,\n Let his bricht bridle fa,\n And he'll fa low into your arms\n Like stone in castle's wa.\n\n 11\n 'They'll first shape him into your arms\n An adder or a snake;\n But hold him fast, let him not go,\n He'll be your world's make.\n\n 12\n 'They'll next shape him into your arms\n Like a wood black dog to bite;\n Hold him fast, let him not go,\n For he'll be your heart's delight.\n\n 13\n 'They'll next shape [him] into your arms\n Like a red-het gaud o airn;\n But hold him fast, let him not go,\n He's the father o your bairn.\n\n 14\n 'They'll next shape him into your arms\n Like the laidliest worm of Ind;\n But hold him fast, let him not go,\n And cry aye \"Young Tamlin.\"'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 15\n Lady Margaret first let by the black,\n And syne let by the brown,\n But when she saw the milk-white steed\n She pulled the rider down.\n\n 16\n She pulled him into her arms,\n Let his bright bridle fa',\n And he fell low into her arms,\n Like stone in castle's wa.\n\n 17\n They first shaped him into arms\n An adder or a snake;\n But she held him fast, let him not go,\n For he'd be her warld's make.\n\n 18\n They next shaped him into her arms\n Like a wood black dog to bite;\n But she held him fast, let him not go,\n For he'd be her heart's delight.\n\n 19\n They next shaped him into her arms\n Like a red-het gaud o airn;\n But she held him fast, let him not go,\n He'd be father o her bairn.\n\n 20\n They next shaped him into her arms\n Like the laidliest worm of Ind;\n But she held him fast, let him not go,\n And cried aye 'Young Tamlin.'\n\n 21\n The Queen of Faery turned her horse about,\n Says, Adieu to thee, Tamlene!\n For if I had kent what I ken this night,\n If I had kent it yestreen,\n I wad hae taen out thy heart o flesh,\n And put in a heart o stane.\n\n\nF\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 64, from the recitation of widow\n McCormick, February, 1825.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n She's taen her petticoat by the band,\n Her mantle owre her arm,\n And she's awa to Chester wood,\n As fast as she could run.\n\n 2\n She scarsely pulled a rose, a rose,\n She scarse pulled two or three,\n Till up there starts Thomas\n On the Lady Margaret's knee.\n\n 3\n She's taen her petticoat by the band,\n Her mantle owre her arm,\n And Lady Margaret's gane hame agen,\n As fast as she could run.\n\n 4\n Up starts Lady Margaret's sister,\n An angry woman was she:\n 'If there ever was a woman wi child,\n Margaret, you are wi!'\n\n 5\n Up starts Lady Margaret's mother,\n An angry woman was she:\n 'There grows ane herb in yon kirk-yard\n That will scathe the babe away.'\n\n 6\n She took her petticoats by the band,\n Her mantle owre her arm,\n And she's gane to yon kirk-yard\n As fast as she could run.\n\n 7\n She scarcely pulled an herb, an herb,\n She scarse pulled two or three,\n Till up starts there Thomas\n Upon this Lady Margret's knee.\n\n 8\n 'How dare ye pull a rose?' he says,\n 'How dare ye break the tree?\n How dare ye pull this herb,' he says,\n 'To scathe my babe away?\n\n 9\n 'This night is Halloweve,' he said,\n 'Our court is going to waste,\n And them that loves their true-love best\n At Chester bridge they'll meet.\n\n 10\n 'First let pass the black,' he says,\n 'And then let pass the brown,\n But when ye meet the milk-white steed,\n Pull ye the rider down.\n\n 11\n 'They'll turn me to an eagle,' he says,\n 'And then into an ass;\n Come, hold me fast, and fear me not,\n The man that you love best.\n\n 12\n 'They'll turn me to a flash of fire,\n And then to a naked man;\n Come, wrap you your mantle me about,\n And then you'll have me won.'\n\n 13\n She took her petticoats by the band,\n Her mantle owre her arm,\n And she's awa to Chester bridge,\n As fast as she could run.\n\n 14\n And first she did let pass the black,\n And then let pass the brown,\n But when she met the milk-white steed,\n She pulled the rider down.\n\n 15\n They turned him in her arms an eagle,\n And then into an ass;\n But she held him fast, and feared him not,\n The man that she loved best.\n\n 16\n They turned him into a flash of fire,\n And then into a naked man;\n But she wrapped her mantle him about,\n And then she had him won.\n\n 17\n 'O wae be to ye, Lady Margaret,\n And an ill death may you die,\n For you've robbed me of the bravest knight\n That eer rode in our company.'\n\n\nG\n\n Buchan's MSS, I, 8; Motherwell's MS., p. 595.\n\n 1\n Take warning, a' ye ladies fair,\n That wear gowd on your hair,\n Come never unto Charter's woods,\n For Tam-a-line he's there.\n\n 2\n Even about that knight's middle\n O' siller bells are nine;\n Nae ane comes to Charter wood,\n And a maid returns again.\n\n 3\n Lady Margaret sits in her bower door,\n Sewing at her silken seam;\n And she langd to gang to Charter woods,\n To pou the roses green.\n\n 4\n She hadna poud a rose, a rose,\n Nor broken a branch but ane,\n Till by it came him true Tam-a-line,\n Says, Ladye, lat alane.\n\n 5\n O why pou ye the rose, the rose?\n Or why brake ye the tree?\n Or why come ye to Charter woods,\n Without leave askd of me?\n\n 6\n 'I will pou the rose, the rose,\n And I will brake the tree;\n Charter woods are a' my ain,\n I'll ask nae leave o thee.'\n\n 7\n He's taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass-green sleeve,\n And laid her low on gude green wood,\n At her he spierd nae leave.\n\n 8\n When he had got his wills of her,\n His wills as he had taen,\n He's taen her by the middle sma,\n Set her to feet again.\n\n 9\n She turnd her right and round about,\n To spier her true-love's name,\n But naething heard she, nor naething saw,\n As a' the woods grew dim.\n\n 10\n Seven days she tarried there,\n Saw neither sun nor meen;\n At length, by a sma glimmering light,\n Came thro the wood her lane.\n\n 11\n When she came to her father's court,\n As fine as ony queen;\n But when eight months were past and gane,\n Got on the gown o' green.\n\n 12\n Then out it speaks an eldren knight,\n As he stood at the yett:\n 'Our king's daughter, she gaes wi bairn,\n And we'll get a' the wyte.'\n\n 13\n 'O had your tongue, ye eldren man,\n And bring me not to shame;\n Although that I do gang wi bairn,\n Yese naeways get the blame.\n\n 14\n 'Were my love but an earthly man,\n As he's an elfin knight,\n I woudna gie my ain true love\n For a' that's in my sight.'\n\n 15\n Then out it speaks her brither dear,\n He meant to do her harm:\n 'There is an herb in Charter wood\n Will twine you an the bairn.'\n\n 16\n She's taen her mantle her about,\n Her coffer by the band,\n And she is on to Charter wood,\n As fast as she coud gang.\n\n 17\n She hadna poud a rose, a rose,\n Nor braken a branch but ane,\n Till by it came him Tam-a-Line,\n Says, Ladye, lat alane.\n\n 18\n O why pou ye the pile, Margaret,\n The pile o the gravil green,\n For to destroy the bonny bairn\n That we got us between?\n\n 19\n O why pou ye the pile, Margaret,\n The pile o the gravil gray,\n For to destroy the bonny bairn\n That we got in our play?\n\n 20\n For if it be a knave-bairn,\n He's heir o a' my land;\n But if it be a lass-bairn,\n In red gowd she shall gang.\n\n 21\n 'If my luve were an earthly man,\n As he's an elfin rae,\n I coud gang bound, love, for your sake,\n A twalmonth and a day.'\n\n 22\n 'Indeed your love's an earthly man,\n The same as well as thee,\n And lang I've haunted Charter woods,\n A' for your fair bodie.'\n\n 23\n 'O tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line,\n O tell, an tell me true,\n Tell me this night, an mak nae lie,\n What pedigree are you?'\n\n 24\n 'O I hae been at gude church-door,\n An I've got Christendom;\n I'm the Earl o' Forbes' eldest son,\n An heir ower a' his land.\n\n 25\n 'When I was young, o three years old,\n Muckle was made o me;\n My step-mother put on my claithes,\n An ill, ill sained she me.\n\n 26\n 'Ae fatal morning I went out,\n Dreading nae injury,\n And thinking lang, fell soun asleep,\n Beneath an apple tree.\n\n 27\n 'Then by it came the Elfin Queen,\n And laid her hand on me;\n And from that time since ever I mind,\n I've been in her companie.\n\n 28\n 'O Elfin it's a bonny place,\n In it fain woud I dwell;\n But ay at ilka seven years' end\n They pay a tiend to hell,\n And I'm sae fou o flesh an blude,\n I'm sair feard for mysell.'\n\n 29\n 'O tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line,\n O tell, an tell me true;\n Tell me this night, an mak nae lie,\n What way I'll borrow you?'\n\n 30\n 'The morn is Halloweven night,\n The elfin court will ride,\n Through England, and thro a' Scotland,\n And through the world wide.\n\n 31\n 'O they begin at sky setting,\n Rides a' the evening tide;\n And she that will her true-love borrow,\n [At] Miles-corse will him bide.\n\n 32\n 'Ye'll do you down to Miles-corse,\n Between twall hours and ane,\n And full your hands o holy water,\n And cast your compass roun.\n\n 33\n 'Then the first an court that comes you till\n Is published king and queen;\n The next an court that comes you till,\n It is maidens mony ane.\n\n 34\n 'The next an court that comes you till\n Is footmen, grooms and squires;\n The next an court that comes you till\n Is knights, and I'll be there.\n\n 35\n 'I Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed,\n A goud star on my crown;\n Because I was an earthly knight,\n Got that for a renown.\n\n 36\n 'And out at my steed's right nostril,\n He'll breathe a fiery flame;\n Ye'll loot you low, and sain yoursel,\n And ye'll be busy then.\n\n 37\n 'Ye'll take my horse then by the head,\n And lat the bridal fa;\n The Queen o' Elfin she'll cry out,\n True Tam-a-Line's awa.\n\n 38\n 'Then I'll appear in your arms\n Like the wolf that neer woud tame;\n Ye'll had me fast, lat me not go,\n Case we neer meet again.\n\n 39\n 'Then I'll appear in your arms\n Like the fire that burns sae bauld;\n Ye'll had me fast, lat me not go,\n I'll be as iron cauld.\n\n 40\n 'Then I'll appear in your arms\n Like the adder an the snake;\n Ye'll had me fast, lat me not go,\n I am your warld's make.\n\n 41\n 'Then I'll appear in your arms\n Like to the deer sae wild;\n Ye'll had me fast, lat me not go,\n And I'll father your child.\n\n 42\n 'And I'll appear in your arms\n Like to a silken string;\n Ye'll had me fast, lat me not go,\n Till ye see the fair morning.\n\n 43\n 'And I'll appear in your arms\n Like to a naked man;\n Ye'll had me fast, lat me not go,\n And wi you I'll gae hame.'\n\n 44\n Then she has done her to Miles-corse,\n Between twall hours an ane,\n And filled her hands o holy water,\n And kiest her compass roun.\n\n 45\n The first an court that came her till\n Was published king and queen;\n The niest an court that came her till\n Was maidens mony ane.\n\n 46\n The niest an court that came her till\n Was footmen, grooms and squires;\n The niest an court that came her till\n Was knights, and he was there.\n\n 47\n True Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed,\n A gowd star on his crown;\n Because he was an earthly man,\n Got that for a renown.\n\n 48\n And out at the steed's right nostril,\n He breathd a fiery flame;\n She loots her low, an sains hersell,\n And she was busy then.\n\n 49\n She's taen the horse then by the head,\n And loot the bridle fa;\n The Queen o Elfin she cried out,\n 'True Tam-a-Line's awa.'\n\n 50\n 'Stay still, true Tam-a-Line,' she says,\n 'Till I pay you your fee:'\n 'His father wants not lands nor rents,\n He'll ask nae fee frae thee.'\n\n 51\n 'Gin I bad kent yestreen, yestreen,\n What I ken weel the day,\n I shoud taen your fu fause heart,\n Gien you a heart o clay.'\n\n 52\n Then he appeared in her arms\n Like the wolf that neer woud tame;\n She held him fast, let him not go,\n Case they neer meet again.\n\n 53\n Then he appeared in her arms\n Like the fire burning bauld;\n She held him fast, let him not go,\n He was as iron cauld.\n\n 54\n And he appeared in her arms\n Like the adder an the snake;\n She held him fast, let him not go,\n He was her warld's make.\n\n 55\n And he appeared in her arms\n Like to the deer sae wild;\n She held him fast, let him not go,\n He's father o her child.\n\n 56\n And he appeared in her arms\n Like to a silken string;\n She held him fast, let him not go,\n Till she saw fair morning.\n\n 57\n And he appeared in her arms\n Like to a naked man;\n She held him fast, let him not go,\n And wi her he's gane hame.\n\n 58\n These news hae reachd thro a' Scotland,\n And far ayont the Tay,\n That Lady Margaret, our king's daughter,\n That night had gaind her prey.\n\n 59\n She borrowed her love at mirk midnight,\n Bare her young son ere day,\n And though ye'd search the warld wide,\n Ye'll nae find sic a may.\n\n\nH\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 129.\n\n 1\n I forbid ye, maidens a',\n That wears gowd in your hair,\n To come or gang by Carterhaugh,\n For young Tam Lane is there.\n\n 2\n I forbid ye, maidens a',\n That wears gowd in your green,\n To come or gang by Carterhaugh,\n For fear of young Tam Lane.\n\n 3\n 'Go saddle for me the black,' says Janet,\n 'Go saddle for me the brown,\n And I'll away to Carterhaugh,\n And flower mysell the gown.\n\n 4\n 'Go saddle for me the brown,' says Janet,\n 'Go saddle for me the black,\n And I'll away to Carterhaugh,\n And flower mysel a hat.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 5\n She had not pulld a flowr, a flowr,\n A flower but only three,\n Till up there startit young Tam Lane,\n Just at bird Janet's knee.\n\n 6\n 'Why pullst thou the herb, Janet,\n And why breaks thou the tree?\n Why put you back the bonny babe\n That's between you and me?'\n\n 7\n 'If my child was to an earthly man,\n As it is to a wild buck rae,\n I would wake him the length of the winter's night,\n And the lea lang simmer's day.'\n\n 8\n 'The night is Halloween, Janet,\n When our gude neighbours will ride,\n And them that would their true-love won\n At Blackning Cross maun bide.\n\n 9\n 'Many will the black ride by,\n And many will the brown,\n But I ride on a milk-white steed,\n And ride nearest the town:\n Because I was a christened knight\n They gie me that renown.\n\n 10\n 'Many will the black ride by,\n But far mae will the brown;\n But when ye see the milk-white stead,\n Grip fast and pull me down.\n\n 11\n 'Take me in yer arms, Janet,\n An ask, an adder lang;\n The grip ye get ye maun haud fast,\n I'll be father to your bairn.\n\n 12\n 'Take me in your arms, Janet,\n An adder and a snake;\n The grip ye get ye maun haud fast,\n I'll be your warld's make.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 13\n Up bespak the Queen of Fairies,\n She spak baith loud and high:\n 'Had I kend the day at noon\n Tam Lane had been won from me,\n\n 14\n 'I wad hae taen out his heart o flesh,\n Put in a heart o tree,\n That a' the maids o Middle Middle Mist\n Should neer hae taen Tam Lane frae me.'\n\n 15\n Up bespack the Queen of Fairies,\n And she spak wi a loud yell:\n 'Aye at every seven year's end\n We pay the kane to hell,\n And the koors they hae gane round about,\n And I fear it will be mysel.'\n\n\nI\n\n #a.# Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 337, ed. 1833.\n #b.# II, 228, ed. 1802.\n\n 1\n 'O I forbid ye, maidens a',\n That wear gowd on your hair,\n To come or gae by Carterhaugh,\n For young Tamlane is there.\n\n 2\n 'There's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh\n But maun leave him a wad,\n Either gowd rings, or green mantles,\n Or else their maidenheid.\n\n 3\n 'Now gowd rings ye may buy, maidens,\n Green mantles ye may spin,\n But, gin ye lose your maidenheid,\n Ye'll neer get that agen.'\n\n 4\n But up then spak her, fair Janet,\n The fairest o a' her kin:\n 'I'll cum and gang to Carterhaugh,\n And ask nae leave o him.'\n\n 5\n Janet has kilted her green kirtle\n A little abune her knee,\n And she has braided her yellow hair\n A little abune her bree.\n\n 6\n And when she came to Carterhaugh,\n She gaed beside the well,\n And there she fand his steed standing,\n But away was himsell.\n\n 7\n She hadna pu'd a red red rose,\n A rose but barely three,\n Till up and starts a wee wee man,\n At lady Janet's knee.\n\n 8\n Says, Why pu ye the rose, Janet?\n What gars ye break the tree?\n Or why come ye to Carterhaugh,\n Withouten leave o me?\n\n 9\n Says, Carterhaugh it is mine ain,\n My daddie gave it me;\n I'll come and gang to Carterhaugh,\n And ask nae leave o thee.\n\n 10\n He's taen her by the milk-white hand,\n Among the leaves sae green,\n And what they did I cannot tell,\n The green leaves were between.\n\n 11\n He's taen her by the milk-white hand,\n Among the roses red,\n And what they did I cannot say,\n She neer returnd a maid.\n\n 12\n When she cam to her father's ha,\n She looked pale and wan;\n They thought she'd dreed some sair sickness,\n Or been with some leman.\n\n 13\n She didna comb her yellow hair\n Nor make meikle o her head,\n And ilka thing that lady took\n Was like to be her deid.\n\n 14\n It's four and twenty ladies fair\n Were playing at the ba;\n Janet, the wightest of them anes,\n Was faintest o them a'.\n\n 15\n Four and twenty ladies fair\n Were playing at the chess;\n And out there came the fair Janet,\n As green as any grass.\n\n 16\n Out and spak an auld grey-headed knight,\n Lay oer the castle wa:\n 'And ever, alas! for thee, Janet,\n But we'll be blamed a'!'\n\n 17\n 'Now haud your tongue, ye auld grey knight,\n And an ill deid may ye die!\n Father my bairn on whom I will,\n I'll father nane on thee.'\n\n 18\n Out then spak her father dear,\n And he spak meik and mild:\n 'And ever, alas! my sweet Janet,\n I fear ye gae with child.'\n\n 19\n 'And if I be with child, father,\n Mysell maun bear the blame;\n There's neer a knight about your ha\n Shall hae the bairnie's name.\n\n 20\n 'And if I be with child, father,\n 'T will prove a wondrous birth,\n For weel I swear I'm not wi bairn\n To any man on earth.\n\n 21\n 'If my love were an earthly knight,\n As he's an elfin grey,\n I wadna gie my ain true love\n For nae lord that ye hae.'\n\n 22\n She prinkd hersell and prinnd hersell,\n By the ae light of the moon,\n And she's away to Carterhaugh,\n To speak wi young Tamlane.\n\n 23\n And when she cam to Carterhaugh,\n She gaed beside the well,\n And there she saw the steed standing,\n But away was himsell.\n\n 24\n She hadna pu'd a double rose,\n A rose but only twae,\n When up and started young Tamlane,\n Says, Lady, thou pu's nae mae.\n\n 25\n Why pu ye the rose, Janet,\n Within this garden grene,\n And a' to kill the bonny babe\n That we got us between?\n\n 26\n 'The truth ye'll tell to me, Tamlane,\n A word ye mauna lie;\n Gin eer ye was in haly chapel,\n Or sained in Christentie?'\n\n 27\n 'The truth I'll tell to thee, Janet,\n A word I winna lie;\n A knight me got, and a lady me bore,\n As well as they did thee.\n\n 28\n 'Randolph, Earl Murray, was my sire,\n Dunbar, Earl March, is thine;\n We loved when we were children small,\n Which yet you well may mind.\n\n 29\n 'When I was a boy just turnd of nine,\n My uncle sent for me,\n To hunt and hawk, and ride with him,\n And keep him companie.\n\n 30\n 'There came a wind out of the north,\n A sharp wind and a snell,\n And a deep sleep came over me,\n And frae my horse I fell.\n\n 31\n 'The Queen of Fairies keppit me\n In yon green hill to dwell,\n And I'm a fairy, lyth and limb,\n Fair ladye, view me well.\n\n 32\n 'Then would I never tire, Janet,\n In Elfish land to dwell,\n But aye, at every seven years,\n They pay the teind to hell;\n And I am sae fat and fair of flesh,\n I fear 't will be mysell.\n\n 33\n 'This night is Halloween, Janet,\n The morn is Hallowday,\n And gin ye dare your true love win,\n Ye hae nae time to stay.\n\n 34\n 'The night it is good Halloween,\n When fairy folk will ride,\n And they that wad their true-love win,\n At Miles Cross they maun bide.'\n\n 35\n 'But how shall I thee ken, Tamlane?\n Or how shall I thee knaw,\n Amang so many unearthly knights,\n The like I never saw?'\n\n 36\n 'The first company that passes by,\n Say na, and let them gae;\n The next company that passes by,\n Say na, and do right sae;\n The third company that passes by,\n Then I'll be ane o thae.\n\n 37\n 'First let pass the black, Janet,\n And syne let pass the brown,\n But grip ye to the milk-white steed,\n And pu the rider down.\n\n 38\n 'For I ride on the milk-white steed,\n And aye nearest the town;\n Because I was a christend knight,\n They gave me that renown.\n\n 39\n 'My right hand will be gloved, Janet,\n My left hand will be bare;\n And these the tokens I gie thee,\n Nae doubt I will be there.\n\n 40\n 'They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,\n An adder and a snake;\n But had me fast, let me not pass,\n Gin ye wad be my maik.\n\n 41\n 'They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,\n An adder and an ask;\n They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,\n A bale that burns fast.\n\n 42\n 'They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,\n A red-hot gad o airn;\n But haud me fast, let me not pass,\n For I'll do you no harm.\n\n 43\n 'First dip me in a stand o milk,\n And then in a stand o water;\n But had me fast, let me not pass,\n I'll be your bairn's father.\n\n 44\n 'And next they'll shape me in your arms\n A tod but and an eel;\n But had me fast, nor let me gang,\n As you do love me weel.\n\n 45\n 'They'll shape me in your arms, Janet,\n A dove but and a swan,\n And last they'll shape me in your arms\n A mother-naked man;\n Cast your green mantle over me,\n I'll be myself again.'\n\n 46\n Gloomy, gloomy, was the night,\n And eiry was the way,\n As fair Janet, in her green mantle,\n To Miles Cross she did gae.\n\n 47\n About the dead hour o the night\n She heard the bridles ring,\n And Janet was as glad o that\n As any earthly thing.\n\n 48\n And first gaed by the black black steed,\n And then gaed by the brown;\n But fast she gript the milk-white steed,\n And pu'd the rider down.\n\n 49\n She pu'd him frae the milk-white steed,\n And loot the bridle fa,\n And up there raise an erlish cry,\n 'He's won amang us a'!'\n\n 50\n They shaped him in fair Janet's arms\n An esk but and an adder;\n She held him fast in every shape,\n To be her bairn's father.\n\n 51\n They shaped him in her arms at last\n A mother-naked man,\n She wrapt him in her green mantle,\n And sae her true love wan.\n\n 52\n Up then spake the Queen o Fairies,\n Out o a bush o broom:\n 'She that has borrowd young Tamlane\n Has gotten a stately groom.'\n\n 53\n Up then spake the Queen o Fairies,\n Out o a bush o rye:\n 'She's taen awa the bonniest knight\n In a' my cumpanie.\n\n 54\n 'But had I kennd, Tamlane,' she says,\n 'A lady wad borrowd thee\n I wad taen out thy twa grey een,\n Put in twa een o tree.\n\n 55\n 'Had I but kennd, Tamlane,' she says,\n 'Before ye came frae hame,\n I wad taen out your heart o flesh,\n Put in a heart o stane.\n\n 56\n 'Had I but had the wit yestreen\n That I hae coft the day,\n I'd paid my kane seven times to hell\n Ere you'd been won away.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _Divided in the Museum into 45-1/2 four-line stanzas,\n without heed to rhyme or reason, 3^{5,6} making a stanza\n with 4^{1,2}, etc._\n\n 3^1. has belted.\n\n 4^2. _~Tom~, elsewhere ~Tam~._\n\n 17^4. brie.\n\n 34^2. burning lead.\n\n#B.#\n\n \"An Old Song called Young Tom Line.\" _Written in\n twenty-six stanzas of four [three, two] long, or double,\n lines._\n\n 19^3. yon bonny babes.\n\n 26^2. and do right sae.\n\n 26^4. and let them gae. _See 36._\n\n _26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33 stand in MS. 31, 26, 27,\n 32, 28, 29, 33, 30._\n\n#D.#\n\n _#b# has 26 stanzas, #c# has 12. The first 12 stanzas of\n #a# and #b# and the 12 of #c#, and again the first 22\n stanzas of #a#, and #b#, are almost verbally the same, and\n #a# 23==#b# 24. #b# has but 26 stanzas._\n\n #a.# _15 stands 24 in MS._\n\n 17^1. Miles Cross: #b#, Moss.\n\n 17^3. the holy.\n\n 19^2. So(?)clad: #b#, is clad.\n\n 22^1. twa.\n\n 25^1. ride.\n\n #b.# 4^4. let abeene.\n\n 6^4. I'll ask no.\n\n 7^8. her down.\n\n 10^4. gotten in.\n\n 11^1. to me.\n\n 11^3. at a.\n\n 12^4. his land.\n\n 15^3. and through.\n\n 16^5. if that.\n\n 16^6. _Rides Cross, as in #a#._\n\n 17^8. Take holy.\n\n 20^4. next the.\n\n _After 23_:\n\n 'I'll grow into your arms two\n Like ice on frozen lake;\n But hold me fast, let me not go,\n Or from your goupen break.'\n\n 25.\n And it's next night into Miles Moss\n Fair Margaret has gone,\n When lo she stands beside Rides Cross,\n Between twelve hours and one.\n\n 26.\n There's holy water in her hand,\n She casts a compass round,\n And presently a fairy band\n Comes riding oer the mound.\n\n #c.# _1^3, and always, ~Chester's wood~._\n\n 3^1. the seam.\n\n 4^4. let alane.\n\n 6^1. will pluck.\n\n 6^4. ask no.\n\n 9^4. has been.\n\n 11^1. me, Tom o Lin.\n\n 12^4. his land.\n\n#E.#\n\n _18, 19, 20 are not written out. We are directed to\n understand them to be \"~as in preceding stanzas, making\n the necessary grammatical changes~.\"_\n\n#F.#\n\n 11^2, 15^2. _~ass~, somebody's blunder for ~ask~._\n\n#G.#\n\n 21^2. _~elfin gray~, Motherwell, but see #H#, 7^2._\n\n 26^1. Ay.\n\n 31^1. began.\n\n 58^2. _Motherwell_: far's the river Tay.\n\n 58^4. _Motherwell_: she gained.\n\n _Motherwell, as usual, seems to have made some slight\n changes in copying._\n\n#I.#\n\n _Scott's copy having been \"~prepared from a collation of\n the printed copies~,\" namely, those in Johnson's Museum\n and Herd's Scottish Songs, \"~with a very accurate one in\n Glenriddell's MS., and with several recitals from\n tradition~,\" what was not derived from tradition, but from\n the Museum, Glenriddell, and Herd, is printed in smaller\n type._\n\n #a.# _3, 20, not in #b.#_\n\n _After 31 are omitted five stanzas of the copy obtained by\n Scott \"~from a gentleman residing near Langholm~,\" and\n others, of the same origin, after 46 and 47._\n\n 32\n 'But we that live in Fairy-land\n No sickness know nor pain;\n I quit my body when I will,\n And take to it again.\n\n 33\n 'I quit my body when I please,\n Or unto it repair;\n We can inhabit at our ease\n In either earth or air.\n\n 34\n 'Our shapes and size we can convert\n To either large or small;\n An old nut-shell's the same to us\n As is the lofty hall.\n\n 35\n 'We sleep in rose-buds soft and sweet,\n We revel in the stream;\n We wanton lightly on the wind\n Or glide on a sunbeam.\n\n 36\n 'And all our wants are well supplied\n From every rich man's store,\n Who thankless sins the gifts he gets,\n And vainly grasps for more.'\n\n 40^4. _~buy me maik~, a plain misprint for the ~be my\n maik~ of #b# 57._\n\n 46. _After this stanza are omitted:_\n\n 52\n The heavens were black, the night was dark,\n And dreary was the place,\n But Janet stood with eager wish\n Her lover to embrace.\n\n 53\n Betwixt the hours of twelve and one\n A north wind tore the bent,\n And straight she heard strange elritch sounds\n Upon that wind which went.\n\n 47. _After this stanza are omitted:_\n\n 55\n Their oaten pipes blew wondrous shrill,\n The hemlock small blew clear,\n And louder notes from hemlock large,\n And bog-reed, struck the ear;\n But solemn sounds, or sober thoughts,\n The fairies cannot bear.\n\n 56\n They sing, inspired with love and joy,\n Like skylarks in the air;\n Of solid sense, or thought that's grave,\n You'll find no traces there.\n\n 57\n Fair Janet stood, with mind unmoved,\n The dreary heath upon,\n And louder, louder waxd the sound\n As they came riding on.\n\n 58\n Will o Wisp before them went,\n Sent forth a twinkling light,\n And soon she saw the fairy bands\n All riding in her sight.\n\n #b# _6-12 is a fragment of '~The Broomfield-Hill~,'\n introduced by a stanza formed on the sixth, as here\n given:_\n\n 5.\n And she's away to Carterhaugh,\n And gaed beside the wood,\n And there was sleeping young Tamlane,\n And his steed beside him stood.\n\n _After the fragment of '~The Broomfield-Hill~' follows:_\n\n 13.\n Fair Janet, in her green cleiding,\n Returned upon the morn,\n And she met her father's ae brother,\n The laird of Abercorn.\n\n _And then these two stanzas, the first altered from Herd's\n fragment of '~The Broomfield Hill~,' '~I'll wager, I'll\n wager~,' p. 310, ed. 1769, and the second from Herd's\n fragment, '~Kertonha~,' or version #C# of this ballad:_\n\n 14.\n I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager wi you\n Five hunder merk and ten,\n I'll maiden gang to Carterhaugh,\n And maiden come again.\n\n 15.\n She princked hersell, and prin'd hersell,\n By the ae light of the moon,\n And she's away to Carterhaugh\n As fast as she could win.\n\n _Instead of #a# 10, 11, #b# has:_\n\n He's taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass-green sleeve,\n He's led her to the fairy ground,\n And spierd at her nae leave.\n\n _Instead of 14 of #a#, #b# has something nearer to #A#,\n #B# 9:_\n\n 23.\n It's four and twenty ladies fair\n Were in her father's ha,\n Whan in there came the fair Janet,\n The flower amang them a'.\n\n _After 21 of #a# follows in #b# a copy of '~The Wee Wee\n Man~,' 32-39, attached by these two stanzas, which had\n been \"~introduced in one recital only~:\"_\n\n 30.\n 'Is it to a man of might, Janet,\n Or is it to a man o mean?\n Or is it unto young Tamlane,\n That 's wi the fairies gane?'\n\n 31.\n ''T was down by Carterhaugh, father,\n I walked beside the wa,\n And there I saw a wee, wee man,\n The least that eer I saw.'\n\n _Instead of 22, which had been used before, we have in\n #b#:_\n\n 40.\n Janet's put on her green cleiding,\n Whan near nine months were gane,\n And she's awa to Carterhaugh,\n To speak wi young Tamlane.\n\n #b# _has in place of #a# 28-30:_\n\n 46.\n Roxburgh was my grandfather,\n Took me with him to bide,\n And as we frae the hunting came\n This harm did me betide.\n\n 47.\n Roxburgh was a hunting knight,\n And loved hunting well,\n And on a cauld and frosty day\n Down frae my horse I fell.\n\n #b# _49 has #A# 24 instead of #a# 37, #I# 32._\n\n #b# _61^2==#a# 49^2==#I# 44^2 has ~toad~, and so has #C#\n 9^2, from which the stanza is taken. ~Tod~ is an\n improvement, but probably an editorial improvement._\n\n\n[323] These are the concluding verses, coming much nearer to the\nlanguage of this world than the rest. They may have a basis of\ntradition:\n\n Whar they war aware o the Fairy King,\n A huntan wi his train.\n\n Four an twenty gentlemen\n Cam by on steeds o brown;\n In his hand ilk bore a siller wand,\n On his head a siller crown.\n\n Four an twenty beltit knichts\n On duiplit greys cam by;\n Gowden their wands an crowns, whilk scanct\n Like streamers in the sky.\n\n Four an twenty noble kings\n Cam by on steeds o snaw,\n But True Thomas, the gude Rhymer,\n Was king outower them a'.\n\n[324] \"Tamlane: an old Scottish Border Ballad. Aberdeen, Lewis and James\nSmith, 1862. \"I am indebted for a sight of this copy, and for the\ninformation as to the editor, to Mr Macmath.\n\n[325] Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 221-24, ed. 1802.\n\n[326] Restoration from enchantment is effected by drinking blood, in\nother ballads, as Grundtvig, No 55, II, 156, No 58, II, 174; in No 56,\nII, 158, by a maid in falcon shape eating of a bit of flesh which her\nlover had cut from his breast.\n\n[327] Volksleben der Neugriechen, pp 115-17, \"from Chourmouzis,\n\u039a\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1, p. 69 f, Athens, 1842.\" Chourmouzis heard this story, about\n1820 or 1830, from an old Cretan peasant, who had heard it from his\ngrandfather.\n\n[328] The silence of the Cretan fairy, as #B#. Schmidt has remarked,\neven seems to explain Sophocles calling the nuptials of Peleus and\nThetis \"speechless,\" \u03b1\u03c6\u03b8\u03bf\u03b3\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2. Sophocles gives the\ntransformations as being lion, snake, fire, water: Scholia in Pindari\nNemea, III, 60; Schmidt, as before, p. 116, note. That a firm grip and a\nfearless one would make any sea-god do your will would appear from the\nadditional instances of Menelaus and Proteus, in Odyssey, IV, and of\nHercules and Nereus, Apollodorus, II, 5, 11, 4, Scholia in Apollonii\nArgonaut., IV, 1396. Proteus masks as lion, snake, panther, boar,\nrunning water, tree; Nereus as water, fire, or, as Apollodorus says, in\nall sorts of shapes. Bacchus was accustomed to transform himself when\nviolence was done him, but it is not recorded that he was ever brought\nto terms like the watery divinities. See Mannhardt, Wald- und Feldkulte,\nII, 60-64, who also well remarks that the tales of the White Ladies,\nwho, to be released from a ban, must be kissed three times in various\nshapes, as toad, wolf, snake, etc., have relation to these Greek\ntraditions.\n\n[329] The significance of the immersion in water is shown by Mannhardt,\nWald-u. Feldkulte, II, 64 ff. The disorder in the stanzas of #A# at this\nplace has of course been rectified. In Scott's version, #I#,\ntransformations are added at random from #C#, _after_ the dipping in\nmilk and in water, which seems indeed to have been regarded by the\nreciters only as a measure for cooling red-hot iron or the burning\ngleed, and not as the act essential for restoration to the human nature.\n\n[330] Possibly the holy water in #D# 17, #G# 32, is a relic of the\nwater-bath.\n\n[331] In the MS. of #B# also the transformation into a het gad of iron\ncomes just before the direction to dip the object into a stand of milk;\nbut we have the turning into a mother-naked man several stanzas earlier.\nBy reading, in 33^1, I'll turn, and putting 33 after 34, we should have\nthe order of events which we find in #A#.\n\nThat Tam Lin should go into water or milk as a dove or snake, or in some\nother of his temporary forms, and _come out_ a man, is the only\ndisposition which is consistent with the order of the world to which he\nbelongs. Mannhardt gives us a most curious and interesting insight into\nsome of the laws of that world in Wald-u. Feldkulte, II, 64-70. The wife\nof a Cashmere king, in a story there cited from Benfey's Pantschatantra,\nI, 254, \u00a7 92, is delivered of a serpent, but is reported to have borne a\nson. Another king offers his daughter in marriage, and the Cashmere\nking, to keep his secret, accepts the proposal. In due time the princess\nclaims her bridegroom, and they give her the snake. Though greatly\ndistressed, she accepts her lot, and takes the snake about to the holy\nplaces, at the last of which she receives a command to put the snake\ninto the water-tank. As soon as this is done the snake takes the form of\na man. A woman's giving birth to a snake was by no means a rare thing in\nKarst in the seventeenth century, and it was the rule in one noble\nfamily that all the offspring should be in serpent form, or at least\nhave a serpent's head; but a bath in water turned them into human shape.\nFor elves and water nymphs who have entered into connections with men in\nthe form of women, bathing in water is equally necessary for resuming\ntheir previous shape, as appears from an ancient version of the story of\nMelusina: Gervasius, ed. Liebrecht, p. 4 f, and Vincentius\nBellovacensis, Speculum Naturale, 2, 127 (from Helinaudus), cited by\nLiebrecht, at p. 66.\n\nA lad who had been changed into an ass by a couple of witches recovers\nhis shape merely by jumping into water and rolling about in it: William\nof Malmesbury's Kings of England, c. 10, cited by Vincent of Beauvais,\nSpeculum Naturale, iii, 109; D\u00fcntzer, Liebrecht's Dunlop, p. 538. Simple\nillusions of magic, such as clods and wisps made to appear swine to our\neyes, are inevitably dissolved when the unrealities touch water.\nLiebrecht's Gervasius, p. 65.\n\n[332] Cf. 'Allison Gross.'\n\n\n\n\n40\n\nTHE QUEEN OF ELFAN'S NOURICE\n\n Skene MSS, No 8, p. 25. Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. Laing,\n p. 169.\n\n\nWe see from this pretty fragment, which, after the nature of the best\npopular ballad, forces you to chant and will not be read, that a woman\nhad been carried off, four days after bearing a son, to serve as nurse\nin the elf-queen's family. She is promised that she shall be permitted\nto return home if she will tend the fairy's bairn till he has got the\nuse of his legs. We could well have spared stanzas 10-12, which belong\nto 'Thomas Rymer,' to know a little more of the proper story.\n\nThat elves and water-spirits have frequently solicited the help of\nmortal women at lying-in time is well known: see Stewart's Popular\nSuperstitions of the Highlands, p. 104; Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, Nos 41,\n49, 68, 69, 304; M\u00fcllenhoff, Nos 443, 444; Thiele, Danmarks Folkesagen,\n1843, II, 200, Nos 1-4; Asbj\u00f8rnsen, Norske Huldre-Eventyr, 2d ed., I,\n16; Maurer, Isl\u00e4ndische Volkssagen, p. 6 f; Keightley's Fairy Mythology,\npp 122, 261, 275, 301, 311, 388, 488.[333] They also like to have their\noffspring suckled by earthly women. It is said, writes Gervase of\nTilbury, that nobody is more exposed to being carried off by\nwater-sprites than a woman in milk, and that they sometimes restore\nsuch a woman, with pay for her services, after she has nursed their\nwretched fry seven years. He had himself seen a woman who had been\nabducted for this purpose, while washing clothes on the bank of the\nRhone. She had to nurse the nix's son under the water for that term, and\nthen was sent back unhurt. Otia Imperialia, III, 85, Liebrecht, p. 38.\nChoice is naturally made of the healthiest and handsomest mothers for\nthis office. \"A fine young woman of Nithsdale, when first made a mother,\nwas sitting singing and rocking her child, when a pretty lady came into\nher cottage, covered with a fairy mantle. She carried a beautiful child\nin her arms, swaddled in green silk. 'Gie my bonnie thing a suck,' said\nthe fairy. The young woman, conscious to whom the child belonged, took\nit kindly in her arms, and laid it to her breast. The lady instantly\ndisappeared, saying, 'Nurse kin', an ne'er want.' The young mother\nnurtured the two babes, and was astonished, whenever she awoke, at\nfinding the richest suits of apparel for both children, with meat of\nmost delicious flavor. This food tasted, says tradition, like loaf mixed\nwith wine and honey,\" etc. Cromek, Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway\nSong, p. 302.\n\n\n 1\n I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low,\n An a cow low down in yon glen;\n Lang, lang will my young son greet\n Or his mither bid him come ben.\n\n 2\n I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low,\n An a cow low down in yon fauld;\n Lang, lang will my young son greet\n Or his mither take him frae cauld.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n Waken, Queen of Elfan,\n An hear your nourice moan.'\n\n 4\n 'O moan ye for your meat,\n Or moan ye for your fee,\n Or moan ye for the ither bounties\n That ladies are wont to gie?'\n\n 5\n 'I moan na for my meat,\n Nor moan I for my fee,\n Nor moan I for the ither bounties\n That ladies are wont to gie.\n\n 6\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n But I moan for my young son\n I left in four nights auld.\n\n 7\n 'I moan na for my meat,\n Nor yet for my fee,\n But I mourn for Christen land,\n It's there I fain would be.'\n\n 8\n 'O nurse my bairn, nourice,' she says,\n 'Till he stan at your knee,\n An ye's win hame to Christen land,\n Whar fain it's ye wad be.\n\n 9\n 'O keep my bairn, nourice,\n Till he gang by the hauld,\n An ye's win hame to your young son\n Ye left in four nights auld.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 10\n 'O nourice lay your head\n Upo my knee:\n See ye na that narrow road\n Up by yon tree?\n\n 11\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n That's the road the righteous goes,\n And that's the road to heaven.\n\n 12\n 'An see na ye that braid road,\n Down by yon sunny fell?\n Yon's the road the wicked gae,\n An that's the road to hell.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1^1. an a bonnie cow low, _with ~an~ crossed out_.\n\n 2^2. yon fall: _~fauld~ in margin_.\n\n 6^4. _~auld~ not in MS., supplied from 9^4._\n\n 7^3. Christend.\n\n 8^1. _~she says~ is probably the comment of the singer or\n reciter._\n\n\n[333] Many of these instances are cited by Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie,\n1875, I, 378. In Thiele's first example the necessity of having\nChristian aid comes from the lying-in woman being a Christian who had\nbeen carried off by an elf. In Asbj\u00f8rnsen's tale, the woman who is sent\nfor to act as midwife finds that her own serving-maid is forced, without\nbeing aware of it, to work all night in the elfin establishment, and is\nvery tired with double duty.\n\n\n\n\n41\n\nHIND ETIN\n\n #A.# 'Young Akin,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, I, 6. Motherwell's MS., p. 554.\n\n #B.# 'Hynde Etin,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p.\n 228.\n\n #C.# 'Young Hastings,' Buchan, Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, II, 67. 'Young Hastings the Groom,' Motherwell's\n MS., p. 450; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 287.\n\n\nIt is scarcely necessary to remark that this ballad, like too many\nothers, has suffered severely by the accidents of tradition. #A# has\nbeen not simply damaged by passing through low mouths, but has been\nworked over by low hands. Something considerable has been lost from the\nstory, and fine romantic features, preserved in Norse and German\nballads, have been quite effaced.\n\nMargaret, a king's daughter, #A#, an earl's daughter, #B#, a lady of\nnoble birth, #C#, as she sits sewing in her bower door, hears a note in\nElmond's wood and wishes herself there, #A#. The wood is Amon-shaw in\n#C#, Mulberry in #B#: the Elmond (Amond, Elfman?) is probably\nsignificant. So far the heroine resembles Lady Isabel in No 4, who,\nsewing in her bower, hears an elf-horn, and cannot resist the enchanted\ntone. Margaret makes for the wood as fast as she can go. The note that\nis heard in #A# is mistaken in #B# for _nuts_: Margaret, as she stands\nin her bower door, spies some nuts growing in the wood, and wishes\nherself there. Arrived at the wood, Margaret, in #A# as well as #B#,\nimmediately takes to pulling nuts.[334] The lady is carried off in #C#\nunder cover of a magical mist, and the hero in all is no ordinary hind.\n\nMargaret has hardly pulled a nut, when she is confronted by young Akin,\n#A#, otherwise, and correctly, called Etin in #B#, a hind of giant\nstrength in both, who accuses her of trespassing, and stops her. Akin\npulls up the highest tree in the wood and builds a bower, invisible to\npassers-by, for their habitation. #B#, which recognizes no influence of\nenchantment upon the lady's will, as found in #A#, and no prepossession\non her part, as in #C#, makes Hind Etin pull up the biggest tree in the\nforest as well, but it is to scoop out a cave many fathoms deep, in\nwhich he confines Margaret till she comes to terms, and consents to _go\nhome_ with him, wherever that may be. Hastings, another corruption of\nEtin, carries off the lady on his horse to the wood, \"where again their\nloves are sworn,\" and there they take up their abode in a cave of stone,\n#C# 9. Lady Margaret lives with the etin seven years, and bears him\nseven sons, #A# 9; many years, and bears seven sons, #B#; ten years, and\nbears seven bairns, #C# 6, 8, 9.[335]\n\nOnce upon a time the etin goes hunting, and takes his eldest boy with\nhim. The boy asks his father why his mother is so often in tears, and\nthe father says it is because she was born of high degree, but had been\nstolen by him; \"is wife of Hynde Etin, wha ne'er got christendame,\" #B#\n15. The etin, who could pull the highest tree in the wood up by the\nroots, adds in #A# 15 that when he stole his wife he was her father's\ncup-bearer! and that he caught her \"on a misty night,\" which reminds us\nof the mist which Young Hastings, \"the groom,\" cast before the lady's\nattendants when he carried her off.\n\nThe next time Akin goes hunting he leaves his young comrade behind, and\nthe boy tells his mother that he heard \"fine music ring\" when he was\ncoming home, on the other occasion. She wishes she had been there. He\ntakes his mother and six brothers, and they make their way through the\nwood at their best speed, not knowing in what direction they are going.\nBut luckily they come to the gate of the king, the father and\ngrandfather of the band. The mother sends her eldest boy in with three\nrings, to propitiate the porter, the butler-boy, who acts as usher in\nthis particular palace, and the minstrel who plays before the king. His\nmajesty is so struck with the resemblance of the boy to his daughter\nthat he is blinded with tears. The boy informs his grandfather that his\nmother is standing at the gates, with six more brothers, and the king\norders that she be admitted. He asks her to dine, but she can touch\nnothing till she has seen her mother and sister. Admitted to her mother,\nthe queen in turn says, You will dine with me; but she can touch nothing\ntill she has seen her sister. Her sister, again, invites her to dine,\nbut now she can touch nothing till she has seen her \"dear husband.\"\nRangers are sent into the wood to fetch Young Akin, under promise of a\nfull pardon. He is found tearing his yellow hair. The king now asks Akin\nto dine with him, and there appears to have been a family dinner. While\nthis is going on the boy expresses a wish to be christened, \"to get\nchristendoun;\" in all his eight years he had never been in a church. The\nking promises that he shall go that very day with his mother, and all\nseven of the boys seem to have got their christendoun; and so, we may\nhope, did Hind Etin, who was, if possible, more in want of it than they;\n#B# 15, 19.\n\nIn this story #A# and #B# pretty nearly agree. #C# has nothing of the\nrestoration of the lady to her parents and home. The mother, in this\nversion, having harped her seven bairns asleep, sits down and weeps\nbitterly. She wishes, like Fair Annie, that they were rats, and she a\ncat, to eat them one and all. She has lived ten years in a stone cave,\nand has never had a churching. The eldest boy suggests that they shall\nall go to some church: they be christened and she be churched. This is\naccomplished without any difficulty, and, as the tale stands, we can\nonly wonder that it had not been attempted before.\n\nThe etin of the Scottish story is in Norse and German a dwarf-king,\nelf-king, hill-king, or even a merman. The ballad is still sung in\nScandinavia and Germany, but only the Danes have versions taken down\nbefore the present century.\n\n#Danish.# 'Jomfruen og Dv\u00e6rgekongen,' Grundtvig, No 37, #A-C# from\nmanuscripts of the sixteenth century. #A-G#, Grundtvig, II, 39-46; #H#,\nI, III, 806-808; #K-T#, IV, 795-800, #P-S# being short fragments. #K#\npreviously in \"Fylla,\" a weekly newspaper, 1870, Nos 23, 30; #L-O#, #Q#,\n#R#, 'Agnete i Bj\u00e6rget,' in Kristensen's Jyske Folkeviser, II, 72, 77,\n349, 74, I, xxxi, II, 79; #U#, a short fragment, Danske Viser, V, x,\nxi.\n\n#Swedish.# 'Den Bergtagna,' #A#, #B#, Afzelius, I, 1, No 1, II, 201.\n#C#, 'Bergkonungen,' Afzelius, II, 22, No 35. #D#, #E#, 'Herr Elver,\nBergakonungen,' Arwidsson, II, 277, No 141 B, II, 275, No 141 A. #F#,\n'Jungfrun och Bergakonungen,' Arwidsson, II, 280, No 142. #G#, 'Agneta\noch Bergamannen,' Wigstr\u00f6m, Folkdiktning, p. 13. #H#, 'Jungfrun och\nBergamannen,' the same, p. 21. #I#, #K#, #L#, in Cavallius and Stephens'\nmanuscript collection (#K#, #L#, fragments), given by Grundtvig, IV,\n803. #M#, F. L. Borgstr\u00f6ms Folkvisor, No 11, described by Grundtvig, IV,\n802. #N#, Werner's Westerg\u00f6tlands Fornminnen, p. 93 f, two stanzas.\n\n#Norwegian.# #A#, #B#,[336] #C#, 'Liti Kersti, som vart inkvervd,'\nLandstad, p. 431, No 42, p. 442, No 44, p. 446, No 45. #D#, 'Margit\nHjuxe, som vart inkvervd,' the same, p. 451, No 46. #E#, #F#, 'M\u00e5lfri,'\n'Antonetta,' Grundtvig, IV, 801 f, the last evidently derived from\nDenmark. #G-P#, nine versions communicated to Grundtvig by Professor\nSophus Bugge, and partially described in Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, III,\n808-10. Lindeman gives the first stanza of #A# with airs No 214, No 262\nof his Fjeldmelodier, and perhaps had different copies. Nos 323, 320 may\nalso have been versions of this ballad. #C#, rewritten, occurs in #J#.\nM. Moe og Ivar Mortensen's Norske Fornkv\u00e6de og Folkevisur, p. 16. Mixed\nforms, in which the ballad proper is blended with another, Landstad, No\n43==Swedish, Arwidsson, No 145; eight, communicated by Bugge, Grundtvig,\nIII, 810-13; two others, IV, 483 f.[337]\n\n#F\u00e4r\u00f6e.# #A#, #B#, Grundtvig, IV, 803 f.\n\n#Icelandic.# 'Rika \u00e1lfs kv\u00e6\u00f0i,' \u00cdslenzk fornkv\u00e6\u00f0i, No 4.\n\nDanish #A#, one of the three sixteenth-century versions, tells how a\nknight, expressing a strong desire to obtain a king's daughter, is\noverheard by a dwarf, who says this shall never be. The dwarf pretends\nto bargain with the knight for his services in forwarding the knight's\nobject, but consults meanwhile with his mother how he may get the lady\nfor himself.[338] The mother tells him that the princess will go to\neven-song, and the dwarf writes runes on the way she must go by, which\ncompel her to come to the hill. The dwarf holds out his hand and asks,\nHow came ye to this strange land? to which the lady answers mournfully,\nI wot never how. The dwarf says, You have pledged yourself to a knight,\nand he has betrayed you with runes: this eve you shall be the dwarf's\nguest. She stayed there the night, and was taken back to her mother in\nthe morning. Eight years went by; her hand was sought by five kings,\nnine counts, but no one of them could get a good answer. One day her\nmother asked, Why are thy cheeks so faded? Why can no one get thee? She\nthen revealed that she had been beguiled by the dwarf, and had seven\nsons and a daughter in the hill, none of whom she ever saw. She thought\nshe was alone, but the dwarf-king was listening. He strikes her with an\nelf-rod, and bids her hie to the hill after him. Late in the evening the\npoor thing dons her cloak, knocks at her father's door, and says\ngood-night to the friends that never will see her again, then sadly\nturns to the hill. Her seven sons advance to meet her, and ask why she\ntold of their father. Her tears run sore; she gives no answer; she is\ndead ere midnight.\n\nWith #A# agrees another of the three old Danish copies, #B#, and three\nmodern ones, #D#, #M#, #N#, have something of the opening scene which\ncharacterizes #A#. So also Swedish #C#, #I#, and the Icelandic ballad.\nIn Swedish #C#, Proud Margaret, who is daughter of a king of seven\nkingdoms, will have none of her suitors (this circumstance comes too\nsoon). A hill-king asks his mother how he may get her. She asks in\nreturn, What will you give me to make her come of herself to the hill?\nHe promises red gold and chestfuls of pence; and one Sunday morning\nMargaret, who has set out to go to church, is made--by magical\noperations, of course--to take the way to the hill.\n\nA second form begins a stage later: Danish #C#, #G#, #K#, Swedish #D#,\n#E#, #K#, Norwegian #A#, #C#, #E#, #G#, #H#, #I# (?), #K#, #L#, #M# (?),\n#N# (?), F\u00e4r\u00f6e #A#, #B#. We learn nothing of the device by which the\nmaid has been entrapped. Mother and daughter are sitting in their bower,\nand the mother asks her child why her cheeks are pale, why milk is\nrunning from her breasts. She answers that she has been working too\nhard; that what is taken for milk is mead. The mother retorts that other\nwomen do not suffer from their industry; that mead is brown, and milk is\nwhite. Hereupon the daughter reveals that she has been beguiled by an\nelf, and, though living under her mother's roof, has had eight or nine\nchildren (seven or eight sons and a daughter; fifteen children, F\u00e4r\u00f6e\n#A#, #B#), none of whom she ever saw, since after birth they were always\ntransferred to the hill (see, especially, Danish #C#, #G#, also #A#;\nNorwegian #H#, #I#; F\u00e4r\u00f6e #A#, #B#). The mother (who disowns her, Danish\n#C#, #G#, Swedish #D#, #E#, Norwegian #K#), in several versions, asks\nwhat gifts she got for her honor. Among these was a harp [horn,\nNorwegian #L#], which she was to play when she was unhappy. The mother\nasks for a piece, and the first tones bring the elf, who reproaches the\ndaughter for betraying him: had she concealed their connection she might\nstill have lived at home, #C#; but now she must go with him. She is\nkindly received by her children. They give her a drink which makes her\nforget father and mother, heaven and earth, moon and sun, and even makes\nher think she was born in the hill, Danish #C#, #G#, Swedish #D#,\nNorwegian #A#, #C#.[339]\n\nDanish #G#, #K#, F\u00e4r\u00f6e #A#, #B#, take a tragic turn: the woman dies in\nthe first two the night she comes to the hill. Danish #C#, one of the\nsixteenth-century versions, goes as far as possible in the other\ndirection. The elf-king pats Maldfred's cheek, takes her in his arms,\ngives her a queen's crown and name.\n\n And this he did for the lily-wand,\n He had himself christened and all his land!\n\nA third series of versions offers the probable type of the\nmuch-corrupted Scottish ballads, and under this head come Danish #E#,\n#F#, #H#, #I#, #L-R#, #T#; Swedish #A#, #B#, #F-I#, and also #C#, after\nan introduction which belongs to the first class; Norwegian #D#, #F#.\nThe characteristic feature is that the woman has been living eight or\nnine years in the hill, and has there borne her children, commonly seven\nsons and a daughter. She sets out to go to matins, and whether under the\ninfluence of runes, or accidentally, or purposely, takes the way to the\nhill. In a few cases it is clear that she does not seek the hill-man or\nput herself in his way, e.g., Danish #N#, Swedish #G#, but Swedish #A#,\n#H#, #N# make her apply for admission at the hill-door. In Danish #I#,\n#N-R#, #T#, Norwegian #F#, it is not said that she was on her way to\nchurch; she is in a field or in the hill. In Swedish #F# she has been\ntwo years in the cave, and it seems to her as if she had come yesterday.\nAfter her eight or nine years with the hill-man the woman longs to go\nhome, Danish #E#, #F#, #I#, Swedish #A#, #F#, #I#, Norwegian #D#; to go\nto church, Danish #L#, #M#, #N#, #P#, #T#, Norwegian #F#; for she had\nheard Denmark's bells, church bells, Danish #L-P#, #T#, Swedish #G#,\nNorwegian #D#, #F#. She had heard these bells as she watched the\ncradle, Danish #T#, #P#, Swedish #G#; sat by the cradle and sang, #T# 4;\ncompare English #C# 7. She asks the hill-man's permission, and it is\ngranted on certain terms: she is not to talk of him and her life in the\nhill, Danish #E#, #I#, Swedish #A#, #F#, #I#, is to come back, Danish\n#F#, must not stay longer than an hour or two, Norwegian #D#; she is not\nto wear her gold, her best clothes, not to let out her hair, not to go\ninto her mother's pew at the church, not to bow when the priest\npronounces the holy name, or make an offering, or go home after service,\netc., Danish #I#, #L-P#, #T#, Norwegian #F#. All these last conditions\nshe violates, nor does she in the least heed the injunction not to speak\nof the hill-man. The consequence is that he summarily presents himself,\nwhether at the church or the paternal mansion, and orders her back to\nthe hill, sometimes striking her on the ear or cheek so that blood runs,\nor beating her with a rod, Danish #E#, #I#, #L#, #M#, #S#, #T#, Swedish\n#A#, #B#, #C#, #H#, #I#, Norwegian #F#. In a few versions, the hill-man\ntells her that her children are crying for her, and she replies, Let\nthem cry; I will never go back to the hill; Danish #M#, #N#, #O#,\nNorwegian #F#. In Danish #E#, Swedish #G#, a gold apple thrown into her\nlap seems to compel her to return; more commonly main force is used. She\nis carried dead into the hill, or dies immediately on her arrival, in\nNorwegian #F#, Danish #T#; she dies of grief, according to traditional\ncomment, in Norwegian #D#. They give her a drink, and her heart breaks,\nSwedish #A#, #G#, #H#, #M#; but elsewhere the drink only induces\nforgetfulness, Danish #L#, #M#, Swedish #B#, #C#, #F#.\n\nMuch of the story of 'Jomfruen og Dv\u00e6rgekongen' recurs in the ballad of\n'Agnete og Havmanden,' which, for our purposes, may be treated as a\nsimple variation of the other. The Norse forms are again numerous, but\nall from broadsides dating, at most, a century back, or from recent\ntradition.\n\n#Danish.# 'Agnete og Havmanden,' Grundtvig, No 38, #A-D#, II, 51 ff, 656\nff, III, 813 ff. Copies of #A# are numerous, and two had been previously\nprinted; in Danske Viser, I, 313, No 50, and \"in Barfod's Brage og Idun,\nII, 264.\" #E#, Rask's Morskabsl\u00e6sning, III, 81, Grundtvig, II, 659. #F#,\none stanza, Grundtvig, p. 660. #G#, #H#, the same, III, 816. #I#,\nKristensen, II, 75, No 28 C, Grundtvig, IV, 807. #K#, Grundtvig, IV,\n808.[340]\n\n#Swedish.# #A#, #B#, #C#, in Cavallius and Stephens' unprinted\ncollection, described by Grundtvig, II, 661. #D#, 'Agneta och\nHafsmannen,' Eva Wigstr\u00f6m's Folkdiktning, p. 9. #E#, Bergstr\u00f6m's\nAfzelius, II, 308. #F#, 'Sk\u00f6n Anna och Hafskungen,' Aminson, Bidrag till\nS\u00f6dermanlands \u00e4ldre Kulturhistoria, III, 43. #G#, 'Helena och\nHafsmannen,' the same, p. 46.\n\n#Norwegian.# #A#, Grundtvig, III, 817, properly Danish rather than\nNorwegian. #B#, a version partly described at p. 818. #C#, Grundtvig,\nIV, 809, also more Danish than Norwegian. All these communicated by\nBugge.\n\nDanish #C#, #G#, Norwegian #A#, have a hillman instead of a merman, and\nmight as well have been put with the other ballad. On the other hand,\nthe Danish versions #M#, #N#, #O# of 'The Maid and the Dwarf-King' call\nthe maid Agenet, and give the hill-man a name, Nek, Netmand, Mekmand,\nwhich implies a watery origin for him, and the fragments #P#, #Q#, #R#\nhave similar names, Nekmand, Negen, L\u00e6kkemand, as also Agenete, and\nmight as well have been ranked with 'Agnes and the Merman.' In 'The Maid\nand the Dwarf-King,' Swedish #L# (one stanza) the maid is taken by \"Pel\nElfven\" to the sea.\n\nAgnes goes willingly with the merman to the sea-bottom, Danish #A#, #D#,\n#E#, #K#, Swedish #A#, #D#, #E#, Norwegian #A#, #C#. She lives there,\naccording to many versions, eight years, and has seven children. As she\nis sitting and singing by the cradle one day, she hears the bells of\nEngland, Danish #A#, #C#, #D#, #E#, #H#, #I#, #K#, Swedish #D# [church\nbells, bells, #F#, #G#], Norwegian #A#, #C#. She asks if she may go to\nchurch, go home, and receives permission on the same terms as in the\nother ballad. Her mother asks her what gifts she had received, Danish\n#A#, #D#, #E#, #H#, #I#, Swedish #E#, #F#, Norwegian #C#. When the\nmerman comes into the church all the images turn their backs, Danish\n#A#, #D#, #K#, Swedish #D#, #F#, #G#, Norwegian #A#, #C#; and, in some\ncases, for Agnes, too. He tells her that the children are crying for\nher; she refuses to go back, Danish #A#, #C#,# D#, #I#, #K#, Swedish\n#D#, #F#, #G# (and apparently #A#, #B#, #C#), Norwegian #C#. In\nNorwegian #A# the merman strikes her on the cheek, and she returns; in\nDanish #I# she is taken back quietly; in Danish #C# he gives her so sore\nan ail that she dies presently; in Danish #H# she is taken away by\nforce, and poisoned by her children; in Danish #K# the merman says that\nif she stays with her mother they must divide the children (five). He\ntakes two, she two, and each has to take half of the odd one.\n\nThe Norse forms of 'Agnes and the Merman' are conceded to have been\nderived from Germany: see Grundtvig, IV, 812. Of the #German# ballad,\nwhich is somewhat nearer to the English, the following versions have\nbeen noted:\n\n#A.# 'Die sch\u00f6ne Agniese,' Fiedler, Volksreime und Volkslieder in\nAnhalt-Dessau, p. 140, No 1==Mittler, No 553. #B.# 'Die sch\u00f6ne Agnese,'\nParisius, Deutsche Volkslieder in der Altmark und im Magdeburgischen\ngesammelt, p. 29, No 8 B, from nearly the same region as #A#. #C.#\nParisius, p. 28, No 8 A, Pechau on the Elbe. #D.# 'Die sch\u00f6ne Angnina,'\nErk's Neue Sammlung, ii, 40, No 26==Mittler, No 552, from the\nneighborhood of Magdeburg. #E.# 'Die Sch\u00f6ne Agnete,' Erk's Liederhort,\nNo 16^a, p. 47, Erk's Wunderhorn, IV, 91, from the neighborhood of\nGuben. _F._ 'Die sch\u00f6ne Dorothea,' Liederhort, No 16^b, p. 48, Gramzow\nin der Ukermark. #G.# 'Die sch\u00f6ne Hann\u0103le,' Liederhort, No 16, p. 44,\nErk's Wunderhorn, IV, 87, Silesia. #H.# 'Die sch\u00f6ne Hannele,' Hoffmann\nu. Richter, Schlesische Volkslieder, p. 3, No 1==Mittler, No 551, B\u00f6hme,\nNo 90 A, Breslau. 'Der Wassermann,' Simrock, No 1, is a compounded copy.\n\nA wild merman has become enamored of the King of England's daughter,\n#A#, #B#, #C#, #D#. He plates a bridge with gold; she often walks over\nthe bridge; it sinks with her into the water [the merman drags her down\ninto the water, #H#]. She stays below seven years, and bears seven sons.\nOne day [by the cradle, #C#, #G#] she hears the bells of England, #A# 6,\n#B#, #C#, #D#, #F# [bells, #E#, #G#, #H#], and longs to go to church.\nShe expresses this wish to the merman, #C#, #D#, #G#, #H#. The merman\nsays she must take her seven sons with her, #B#, #C#, #D#; she must come\nback, #G#, #H#. She takes her seven sons by the hand, and goes with them\nto England, #A# 5, #B# 7; cf. Scottish #C# 13, 14, #A# 22, 50. When she\nenters the church everything in it bows, #A#, #B#, #F#. Her parents are\nthere, #C#, #D#; her father opens the pew, her mother lays a cushion for\nher, #G#, #H#. As she goes out of the church, there stands the merman,\n#A#, #B#, #E#, #F#. Her parents take her home in #D#, #G#, #H#. They\nseat her at the table, and while she is eating, a gold apple falls into\nher lap (cf. 'The Maid and the Dwarf-King,' Danish #E#, Swedish #G#),\nwhich she begs her mother to throw into the fire; the merman appears,\nand asks if she wishes him burnt, #G#, #H#. The merman, when he presents\nhimself at the church, asks whether the woman will go back with him, or\ndie where she is, and she prefers death on the spot, #A#, #B#, #E#. In\nthe other case, he says that if she will not return, the children must\nbe divided,--three and three, and half of the seventh to each; the\nmother prefers the water to this. #D# has a peculiar and not very happy\ntrait. The merman fastens a chain to his wife's foot before she goes up,\nand, having been kept long waiting, draws it in. But the people at the\nchurch have taken off the chain, and he finds nothing at the end of it.\nHe asks whether she does not wish to live with him; she replies, I will\nno longer torment you, or fret myself to death.\n\nThe story of Agnes and the Merman occurs in a Wendish ballad, with an\nintroductory scene found in the beautiful German ballad, 'Wassermanns\nBraut:'[341] Haupt und Schmaler, I, 62, No 34. A maid begs that she may\nbe left to herself for a year, but her father says it is time for her to\nbe married. She goes to her chamber, weeps and wrings her hands. The\nmerman comes and asks, Where is my bride? They tell him that she is in\nher chamber, weeping and wringing her hands. The merman asks her the\nreason, and she answers, They all say that you are the merwoman's son.\nHe says he will build her a bridge of pure silver and gold, and have her\ndriven over it with thirty carriages and forty horses; but ere she has\nhalf passed the bridge it goes down to the bottom. She is seven years\nbelow, has seven sons in as many years, and is going with the eighth.\nShe implores her husband to permit her to go to church in the upper\nworld, and he consents, with the proviso that she shall not stay for the\nbenediction. At church she sees her brother and sister, who receive her\nkindly. She tells them that she cannot stay till the benediction;[342]\nthey beg her to come home to dine with them. She does wait till the\nbenediction; the merman rushes frantically about. As she leaves the\nchurch and is saying good-by to her sister, she meets the merman, who\nsnatches the youngest child from her (she appears to have all seven with\nher), tears it in pieces, strangles the rest, scatters their limbs on\nthe road, and hangs himself, asking, Does not your heart grieve for your\nchildren? She answers, I grieve for none but the youngest.[343]\n\nA Slovenian ballad has the story with modifications, Achacel and\nKorytko, [S,]lov\u00e9n\u015fke P\u00e9\u015fmi krajnskiga Nar\u00f3da, I, 30,[344]\n'Povodnji m\u00f3sh;' given in abstract by Haupt and Schmaler, I, 339, note\nto No. 34. Mizika goes to a dance, in spite of her mother's forbidding.\nHer mother, in a rage, wishes that the merman may fetch her. A young man\nwho dances with her whirls her round so furiously that she complains,\nbut he becomes still more violent. Mizika sees how it is, and exclaims,\nThe merman has come for me! The merman flies out of the window with her,\nand plunges into the water. She bears a son, and asks leave to pay a\nvisit to her mother; and this is allowed on conditions, one of which is\nthat she shall not expose herself to a benediction. She does not\nconform, and the merman comes and says that her son is crying for her.\nShe refuses to go with him, and he tears the boy in two, that each may\nhave a half.\n\nTwo or three of the minuter correspondences between the Scottish and the\nNorse or German ballads, which have not been referred to, may be\nindicated in conclusion. The hillman, in several Norwegian copies, as\n#B#, #M#, carries off the lady on horseback, and so Hastings in #C#. In\n#A# 34-39, the returned sister, being invited to dine, cannot eat a bit\nor drink a drop. So, in 'The Maid and the Dwarf-King,' Swedish #G# 15,\n16, they set before Agnes dishes four and five, dishes eight and nine,\nbut she can take nothing:\n\n Agneta ej smakte en endaste bit.\n\nYoung Akin, in #A# 43, is found in the wood, \"tearing his yellow hair.\"\nThe merman has golden hair in Danish #A# 16, Swedish #D# 2, 19,\nNorwegian #A# 17 (nothing very remarkable, certainly), and in Danish #D#\n31 wrings his hands and is very unhappy, because Agnes refuses to\nreturn. It is much more important that in one of the Swedish copies of\nthe merman ballad, Grundtvig, II, 661a, we find a trace of the\n'christendom' which is made such an object in the Scottish ballads:\n\n 'Nay,' said the mother, 'now thou art mine,'\n And christened her with water and with wine.\n\n'The Maid and the Dwarf-King,' Danish #E#, is translated by Prior, III,\n338; Swedish #A# by Stephens, Foreign Quarterly Review, XXV, 35; Swedish\n#C# by Keightley, Fairy Mythology, p. 103. 'Agnes and the Merman,'\nDanish #A#, #C#, by Prior, III, 332, 335; some copy of #A# by Borrow, p.\n120; \u00d8hlenschl\u00e6ger's ballad by Buchanan, p. 76.\n\nScottish #B# is translated, after Allingham, by Knortz, Lieder u.\nRomanzen, No 30; #A# 1-8, #C# 6-14, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische\nVolkslieder, No 2; a compounded version by Roberts into German by\nPodhorszki, Acta Comparationis, etc., VIII, 69-73.\n\n\nA\n\n Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 6;\n Motherwell's MS., p. 554.\n\n 1\n Lady Margaret sits in her bower door,\n Sewing at her silken seam;\n She heard a note in Elmond's wood,\n And wishd she there had been.\n\n 2\n She loot the seam fa frae her side,\n And the needle to her tae,\n And she is on to Elmond's wood\n As fast as she coud gae.\n\n 3\n She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,\n Nor broken a branch but ane,\n Till by it came a young hind chiel,\n Says, Lady, lat alane.\n\n 4\n O why pu ye the nut, the nut,\n Or why brake ye the tree?\n For I am forester o this wood:\n Ye shoud spier leave at me.\n\n 5\n 'I'll ask leave at no living man,\n Nor yet will I at thee;\n My father is king oer a' this realm,\n This wood belongs to me.'\n\n 6\n She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,\n Nor broken a branch but three,\n Till by it came him Young Akin,\n And gard her lat them be.\n\n 7\n The highest tree in Elmond's wood,\n He's pu'd it by the reet,\n And he has built for her a bower,\n Near by a hallow seat.\n\n 8\n He's built a bower, made it secure\n Wi carbuncle and stane;\n Tho travellers were never sae nigh,\n Appearance it had nane.\n\n 9\n He's kept her there in Elmond's wood,\n For six lang years and one,\n Till six pretty sons to him she bear,\n And the seventh she's brought home.\n\n 10\n It fell ance upon a day,\n This guid lord went from home,\n And he is to the hunting gane,\n Took wi him his eldest son.\n\n 11\n And when they were on a guid way,\n Wi slowly pace did walk,\n The boy's heart being something wae,\n He thus began to talk:\n\n 12\n 'A question I woud ask, father,\n Gin ye woudna angry be:'\n 'Say on, say on, my bonny boy,\n Ye'se nae be quarrelld by me.'\n\n 13\n 'I see my mither's cheeks aye weet,\n I never can see them dry;\n And I wonder what aileth my mither,\n To mourn continually.'\n\n 14\n 'Your mither was a king's daughter,\n Sprung frae a high degree,\n And she might hae wed some worthy prince,\n Had she nae been stown by me.\n\n 15\n 'I was her father's cup-bearer,\n Just at that fatal time;\n I catchd her on a misty night,\n Whan summer was in prime.\n\n 16\n 'My luve to her was most sincere,\n Her luve was great for me,\n But when she hardships doth endure,\n Her folly she does see.'\n\n 17\n 'I'll shoot the buntin o the bush,\n The linnet o the tree,\n And bring them to my dear mither,\n See if she'll merrier be.'\n\n 18\n It fell upo another day,\n This guid lord he thought lang,\n And he is to the hunting gane,\n Took wi him his dog and gun.\n\n 19\n Wi bow and arrow by his side,\n He's aff, single, alane,\n And left his seven children to stay\n Wi their mither at hame.\n\n 20\n 'O I will tell to you, mither,\n Gin ye wadna angry be:'\n 'Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy,\n Ye'se nae be quarrelld by me.'\n\n 21\n 'As we came frae the hynd-hunting,\n We heard fine music ring:'\n 'My blessings on you, my bonny boy,\n I wish I'd been there my lane.'\n\n 22\n He's taen his mither by the hand,\n His six brithers also,\n And they are on thro Elmond's wood,\n As fast as they coud go.\n\n 23\n They wistna weel where they were gaen,\n Wi the stratlins o their feet;\n They wistna weel where they were gaen,\n Till at her father's yate.\n\n 24\n 'I hae nae money in my pocket,\n But royal rings hae three;\n I'll gie them you, my little young son,\n And ye'll walk there for me.\n\n 25\n 'Ye'll gie the first to the proud porter,\n And he will lat you in;\n Ye'll gie the next to the butler-boy,\n And he will show you ben;\n\n 26\n 'Ye'll gie the third to the minstrel\n That plays before the king;\n He'll play success to the bonny boy\n Came thro the wood him lane.'\n\n 27\n He gae the first to the proud porter,\n And he opend an let him in;\n He gae the next to the butler-boy,\n And he has shown him ben;\n\n 28\n He gae the third to the minstrel\n That playd before the king;\n And he playd success to the bonny boy\n Came thro the wood him lane.\n\n 29\n Now when he came before the king,\n Fell low down on his knee;\n The king he turned round about,\n And the saut tear blinded his ee.\n\n 30\n 'Win up, win up, my bonny boy,\n Gang frae my companie;\n Ye look sae like my dear daughter,\n My heart will birst in three.'\n\n 31\n 'If I look like your dear daughter,\n A wonder it is none;\n If I look like your dear daughter,\n I am her eldest son.'\n\n 32\n 'Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy,\n Where may my Margaret be?'\n 'She's just now standing at your yates,\n And my six brithers her wi.'\n\n 33\n 'O where are all my porter-boys\n That I pay meat and fee,\n To open my yates baith wide and braid?\n Let her come in to me.'\n\n 34\n When she came in before the king,\n Fell low down on her knee;\n 'Win up, win up, my daughter dear,\n This day ye'll dine wi me.'\n\n 35\n 'Ae bit I canno eat, father,\n Nor ae drop can I drink,\n Till I see my mither and sister dear,\n For lang for them I think.'\n\n 36\n When she came before the queen,\n Fell low down on her knee;\n 'Win up, win up, my daughter dear\n This day ye'se dine wi me.'\n\n 37\n 'Ae bit I canno eat, mither,\n Nor ae drop can I drink,\n Until I see my dear sister,\n For lang for her I think.'\n\n 38\n When that these two sisters met,\n She haild her courteouslie;\n 'Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,\n This day ye'se dine wi me.'\n\n 39\n 'Ae bit I canno eat, sister,\n Nor ae drop can I drink,\n Until I see my dear husband,\n For lang for him I think.'\n\n 40\n 'O where are all my rangers bold\n That I pay meat and fee,\n To search the forest far an wide,\n And bring Akin to me?'\n\n 41\n Out it speaks the little wee boy:\n Na, na, this maunna be;\n Without ye grant a free pardon,\n I hope ye'll nae him see.\n\n 42\n 'O here I grant a free pardon,\n Well seald by my own han;\n Ye may make search for Young Akin,\n As soon as ever you can.'\n\n 43\n They searchd the country wide and braid,\n The forests far and near,\n And found him into Elmond's wood,\n Tearing his yellow hair.\n\n 44\n 'Win up, win up now, Young Akin,\n Win up, and boun wi me;\n We're messengers come from the court,\n The king wants you to see.'\n\n 45\n 'O lat him take frae me my head,\n Or hang me on a tree;\n For since I've lost my dear lady,\n Life's no pleasure to me.'\n\n 46\n 'Your head will nae be touchd, Akin,\n Nor hangd upon a tree;\n Your lady's in her father's court,\n And all he wants is thee.'\n\n 47\n When he came in before the king,\n Fell low down on his knee;\n 'Win up, win up now, Young Akin,\n This day ye'se dine wi me.'\n\n 48\n But as they were at dinner set,\n The boy asked a boun:\n 'I wish we were in the good church,\n For to get christendoun.\n\n 49\n 'We hae lived in guid green wood\n This seven years and ane;\n But a' this time, since eer I mind,\n Was never a church within.'\n\n 50\n 'Your asking's nae sae great, my boy,\n But granted it shall be;\n This day to guid church ye shall gang,\n And your mither shall gang you wi.'\n\n 51\n When unto the guid church she came,\n She at the door did stan;\n She was sae sair sunk down wi shame,\n She coudna come farer ben.\n\n 52\n Then out it speaks the parish priest,\n And a sweet smile gae he:\n 'Come ben, come ben, my lily flower,\n Present your babes to me.'\n\n 53\n Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick,\n And likewise James and John;\n They calld the eldest Young Akin,\n Which was his father's name.\n\n 54\n Then they staid in the royal court,\n And livd wi mirth and glee,\n And when her father was deceasd,\n Heir of the crown was she.\n\n\nB\n\n Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 228.\n\n 1\n May Margret stood in her bouer door,\n Kaiming doun her yellow hair;\n She spied some nuts growin in the wud,\n And wishd that she was there.\n\n 2\n She has plaited her yellow locks\n A little abune her bree,\n And she has kilted her petticoats\n A little below her knee,\n And she's aff to Mulberry wud,\n As fast as she could gae.\n\n 3\n She had na pu'd a nut, a nut,\n A nut but barely ane,\n Till up started the Hynde Etin,\n Says, Lady, let thae alane!\n\n 4\n 'Mulberry wuds are a' my ain;\n My father gied them me,\n To sport and play when I thought lang;\n And they sall na be tane by thee.'\n\n 5\n And ae she pu'd the tither berrie,\n Na thinking o' the skaith,\n And said, To wrang ye, Hynde Etin,\n I wad be unco laith.\n\n 6\n But he has tane her by the yellow locks,\n And tied her till a tree,\n And said, For slichting my commands,\n An ill death sall ye dree.\n\n 7\n He pu'd a tree out o the wud,\n The biggest that was there,\n And he howkit a cave monie fathoms deep,\n And put May Margret there.\n\n 8\n 'Now rest ye there, ye saucie may;\n My wuds are free for thee;\n And gif I tak ye to mysell,\n The better ye'll like me.'\n\n 9\n Na rest, na rest May Margret took,\n Sleep she got never nane;\n Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor,\n Her head upon a stane.\n\n 10\n 'O tak me out,' May Margret cried,\n 'O tak me hame to thee,\n And I sall be your bounden page\n Until the day I dee.'\n\n 11\n He took her out o the dungeon deep,\n And awa wi him she's gane;\n But sad was the day an earl's dochter\n Gaed hame wi Hynde Etin.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 12\n It fell out ance upon a day\n Hynde Etin's to the hunting gane,\n And he has tane wi him his eldest son,\n For to carry his game.\n\n 13\n 'O I wad ask ye something, father,\n An ye wadna angry be;'\n 'Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,\n Ask onie thing at me.'\n\n 14\n 'My mother's cheeks are aft times weet,\n Alas! they are seldom dry;'\n 'Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,\n Tho she should brast and die.\n\n 15\n 'For your mother was an earl's dochter,\n Of noble birth and fame,\n And now she's wife o Hynde Etin,\n Wha neer got christendame.\n\n 16\n 'But we'll shoot the laverock in the lift,\n The buntlin on the tree,\n And ye'll tak them hame to your mother,\n And see if she'll comforted be.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 17\n 'I wad ask ye something, mother,\n An ye wadna angry be;'\n 'Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,\n Ask onie thing at me.'\n\n 18\n 'Your cheeks they are aft times weet,\n Alas! they're seldom dry;'\n 'Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,\n Tho I should brast and die.\n\n 19\n 'For I was ance an earl's dochter,\n Of noble birth and fame,\n And now I am the wife of Hynde Etin,\n Wha neer got christendame.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\nC\n\n Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 67,\n communicated by Mr James Nicol, of Strichen; Motherwell's\n Minstrelsy, p. 287; Motherwell's MS., p. 450.\n\n 1\n 'O well like I to ride in a mist,\n And shoot in a northern win,\n And far better a lady to steal,\n That's come of a noble kin.'\n\n 2\n Four an twenty fair ladies\n Put on this lady's sheen,\n And as mony young gentlemen\n Did lead her ower the green.\n\n 3\n Yet she preferred before them all\n Him, young Hastings the Groom;\n He's coosten a mist before them all,\n And away this lady has taen.\n\n 4\n He's taken the lady on him behind,\n Spared neither grass nor corn,\n Till they came to the wood o Amonshaw,\n Where again their loves were sworn.\n\n 5\n And they hae lived in that wood\n Full mony a year and day,\n And were supported from time to time\n By what he made of prey.\n\n 6\n And seven bairns, fair and fine,\n There she has born to him,\n And never was in gude church-door,\n Nor ever got gude kirking.\n\n 7\n Ance she took harp into her hand,\n And harped them a' asleep,\n Then she sat down at their couch-side,\n And bitterly did weep.\n\n 8\n Said, Seven bairns hae I born now\n To my lord in the ha;\n I wish they were seven greedy rats,\n To run upon the wa,\n And I mysel a great grey cat,\n To eat them ane and a'.\n\n 9\n For ten lang years now I hae lived\n Within this cave of stane,\n And never was at gude church-door,\n Nor got no gude churching.\n\n 10\n O then out spake her eldest child,\n And a fine boy was he:\n O hold your tongue, my mother dear;\n I'll tell you what to dee.\n\n 11\n Take you the youngest in your lap,\n The next youngest by the hand,\n Put all the rest of us you before,\n As you learnt us to gang.\n\n 12\n And go with us unto some kirk--\n You say they are built of stane--\n And let us all be christened,\n And you get gude kirking.\n\n 13\n She took the youngest in her lap,\n The next youngest by the hand,\n Set all the rest of them her before,\n As she learnt them to gang.\n\n 14\n And she has left the wood with them,\n And to the kirk has gane,\n Where the gude priest them christened,\n And gave her gude kirking.\n\n * * * * *\n\n #C.# _Motherwell's copies exhibit five or six slight\n variations from Buchan._\n\n\n[334] This reading, _nuts_, may have subsequently made its way into #A#\ninstead of _rose_, which it would be more ballad-like for Margaret to be\nplucking, as the maid does in 'Tam Lin,' where also the passage #A# 3-6,\n#B# 2-4 occurs. Grimm suggests a parallel to Tam Lin in the dwarf\nLaurin, who does not allow trespassing in his rose-garden: Deutsche\nMythologie, III, 130. But the resemblance seems not material, there\nbeing no woman in the case. The pretence of trespass in Tam Lin and Hind\nEtin is a simple commonplace, and we have it in some Slavic forms of No\n4, as at p. 41.\n\n[335] #B# is defective in the middle and the end. \"The reciter,\nunfortunately, could not remember more of the ballad, although the story\nwas strongly impressed on her memory. She related that the lady, after\nhaving been taken home by Hynde Etin, lived with him many years, and\nbore him seven sons, the eldest of whom, after the inquiries at his\nparents detailed in the ballad, determines to go in search of the earl,\nhis grandfather. At his departure his mother instructs him how to\nproceed, giving him a ring to bribe the porter at her father's gate, and\na silken vest, wrought by her own hand, to be worn in presence of her\nfather. The son sets out, and arrives at the castle, where, by bribing\nthe porter, he gets admission to the earl, who, struck with the\nresemblance of the youth to his lost daughter, and the similarity of the\nvest to one she had wrought for himself, examines the young man, from\nwhom he discovers the fate of his daughter. He gladly receives his\ngrandson, and goes to his daughter's residence, where he meets her and\nHynde Etin, who is pardoned by the earl, through the intercession of his\ndaughter.\" Kinloch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 226 f.\n\n[336] #B#, Landstad 44 (which has only this in common with the Scottish\nballad, that a hill-man carries a maid to his cave), has much\nresemblance at the beginning to 'Kvindemorderen,' Grundtvig, No 183, our\nNo 4. See Grundtvig's note ** at III, 810. This is only what might be\nlooked for, since both ballads deal with abductions.\n\n[337] It is not necessary, for purposes of the English ballad, to notice\nthese mixed forms.\n\n[338] In 'N\u00f8kkens Svig,' #C#, Grundtvig, No 39, the merman consults with\nhis mother, and then, as also in other copies of the ballad, transforms\nhimself into a knight. See the translation by Prior, III, 269; Jamieson,\nPopular Ballads, I, 210; Lewis, Tales of Wonder, I, 60.\n\n[339] The beauty of the Norse ballads should make an Englishman's heart\nwring for his loss. They are particularly pretty here, where the\nforgetful draught is administered; as Norwegian #C#, #A#:\n\n Forth came her daughter, as jimp as a wand,\n She dances a dance, with silver can in hand.\n 'O where wast thou bred, and where wast thou born?\n And where were thy maiden-garments shorn?'\n 'In Norway was I bred, in Norway was I born,\n And in Norway were my maiden-garments shorn.'\n The ae first drink from the silver can she drank,\n What stock she was come of she clean forgat.\n 'O where wast thou bred, and where wast thou born?\n And where were thy maiden-garments shorn?'\n 'In the hill was I bred, and there was I born,\n In the hill were my maiden-garments shorn.'\n\n[340] For reasons, doubtless sufficient, but to me unknown, Grundtvig\nhas not noticed two copies in Boisen's Nye og gamle Viser, 10th edition,\np. 192, p. 194. The former of these is like #A#, with more resemblance\nhere and there to other versions, and may be a made-up copy; the other,\n'Agnete og Bj\u00e6rgmanden, fra S\u00f8nderjylland,' consists of stanzas 1-5 of\n#C#.\n\n[341] See five versions in Mittler, Nos 546-550. As Grundtvig remarks,\nwhat is one ballad in Wendish is two in German and three in Norse: #D#.\ng. #F#., IV, 810.\n\n[342] This trait, corresponding to the prohibition in the Norse ballads\nof bowing when the holy name is pronounced, occurs frequently in\ntradition, as might be expected. In a Swedish merman-ballad, 'Necken,'\nAfzelius, III, 133, the nix, who has attended to church the lady whom he\nis about to kidnap, makes off with his best speed when the priest reads\nthe benediction. See, further, \u00c1rnason's \u00cdslenzkar \u00fej\u00f3\u00f0s\u00f6gur, I, 73 f;\nMaurer's Isl\u00e4ndische Volksagen, 19 f; Liebrecht, Gervasius, p. 26, LVII,\nand p. 126, note (Grundtvig).\n\n[343] The merfolk are apt to be ferocious, as compared with hill-people,\nelves, etc. See Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, I, 409 f.\n\n[344] I 79, of a second edition, which, says Vraz, has an objectionable\nfantastic spelling due to the publisher.\n\n\n\n\n42\n\nCLERK COLVILL\n\n #A.# 'Clark Colven,' from a transcript of No 13 of William\n Tytler's Brown MS.\n\n #B.# 'Clerk Colvill, or, The Mermaid,' Herd's Ancient and\n Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 302.\n\n #C.# W. F. in Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, VIII, 510,\n from the recitation of a lady in Forfarshire.\n\n\nAlthough, as has been already said, William Tytler's Brown manuscript is\nnow not to be found, a copy of two of its fifteen ballads has been\npreserved in the Fraser Tytler family, and 'Clerk Colvill,' #A# ('Clark\nColven') is one of the two.[345] This ballad is not in Jamieson's Brown\nmanuscript. Rewritten by Lewis, #A# was published in Tales of Wonder,\n1801, II, 445, No 56. #B#, 1769, is the earliest printed English copy,\nbut a corresponding Danish ballad antedates its publication by\nseventy-five years. Of #C#, W. F., who communicated it to Notes and\nQueries, says: \"I have reason to believe that it is originally from the\nsame source as that from which Scott, and especially Jamieson, derived\nmany of their best ballads.\" This source should be no other than Mrs\nBrown, who certainly may have known two versions of Clerk Colvill; but\n#C# is markedly different from #A#. An Abbotsford manuscript, entitled\n\"Scottish Songs,\" has, at fol. 3, a version which appears to have been\nmade up from Lewis's copy, its original, #A#, and Herd's, #B#.\n\nAll the English versions are deplorably imperfect, and #C# is corrupted,\nbesides. The story which they afford is this. Clerk Colvill, newly\nmarried as we may infer, is solemnly entreated by his gay lady never to\ngo near a well-fared may who haunts a certain spring or water. It is\nclear that before his marriage he had been in the habit of resorting to\nthis mermaid, as she is afterwards called, and equally clear, from the\nimpatient answer which he renders his dame, that he means to visit her\nagain. His coming is hailed with pleasure by the mermaid, who, in the\ncourse of their interview, does something which gives him a strange pain\nin the head,--a pain only increased by a prescription which she pretends\nwill cure it, and, as she then exultingly tells him, sure to grow worse\nuntil he is dead. He draws his sword on her, but she merrily springs\ninto the water. He mounts his horse, rides home tristful, alights\nheavily, and bids his mother make his bed, for all is over with him.\n\n#C# is at the beginning blended with verses which belong to 'Willie and\nMay Margaret,' Jamieson, I, 135 (from Mrs Brown's recitation), or 'The\nDrowned Lovers,' Buchan, I, 140. In this ballad a mother adjures her son\nnot to go wooing, under pain of her curse. He goes, nevertheless, and is\ndrowned. It is obvious, without remark, that the band and belt in #C# 1\ndo not suit the mother; neither does the phrase 'love Colin' in the\nsecond stanza.[346] #C# 9-11 afford an important variation from the\nother versions. The mermaid appears at the foot of the young man's bed,\nand offers him a choice between dying then and living with her in the\nwater. (See the Norwegian ballads at p. 377.)\n\nClerk Colvill is not, as his representative is or may be in other\nballads, the guiltless and guileless object of the love or envy of a\nwater-sprite or elf. His relations with the mermaid began before his\nmarriage with his gay lady, and his death is the natural penalty of his\ndesertion of the water-nymph; for no point is better established than\nthe fatal consequences of inconstancy in such connections.[347] His\nhistory, were it fully told, would closely resemble that of the Knight\nof Staufenberg, as narrated in a German poem of about the year\n1300.[348]\n\nThe already very distinguished chevalier, Peter Diemringer, of\nStaufenberg (in the Ortenau, Baden, four leagues from Strassburg), when\nriding to mass one Whitsunday, saw a lady of surpassing beauty, dressed\nwith equal magnificence, sitting on a rock by the wayside. He became\ninstantaneously enamored, and, greeting the lady in terms expressive of\nhis admiration, received no discouraging reply. The lady rose; the\nknight sprang from his horse, took a hand which she offered, helped her\nfrom the rock, and they sat down on the grass. The knight asked how she\ncame to be there alone. The lady replied that she had been waiting for\nhim: ever since he could bestride a horse she had been devoted to him;\nshe had been his help and protection in tourneys and fights, in all\nclimes and regions, though he had never seen her. The knight wished he\nmight ever be hers. He could have his wish, she said, and never know\ntrouble or sickness, on one condition, and that was that he never should\nmarry: if he did this, he would die in three days. He vowed to be hers\nas long as he lived; they exchanged kisses, and then she bade him mount\nhis horse and go to mass. After the benediction he was to return home,\nand when he was alone in his chamber, and wished for her, she would\ncome, and so always; that privilege God had given her: \"sw\u00e2 ich wil, d\u00e2\nbin ich.\" They had their meeting when he returned from church: he\nredoubled his vows, she promised him all good things, and the bounties\nwhich he received from her overflowed upon all his friends and comrades.\n\nThe knight now undertook a chivalrous tour, to see such parts of the\nworld as he had not visited before. Wherever he went, the fair lady had\nonly to be wished for and she was by him: there was no bound to her love\nor her gifts. Upon his return he was beset by relatives and friends, and\nurged to marry. He put them off with excuses: he was too young to\nsacrifice his freedom, and what not. They returned to the charge before\nlong, and set a wise man of his kindred at him to beg a boon of him.\n\"Anything,\" he said, \"but marrying: rather cut me into strips than\nthat.\" Having silenced his advisers by this reply, he went to his closet\nand wished for his lady. She was full of sympathy, and thought it might\nmake his position a little easier if he should tell his officious\nfriends something of the real case, how he had a wife who attended him\nwherever he went and was the source of all his prosperity; but he must\nnot let them persuade him, or what she had predicted would surely come\nto pass.\n\nAt this time a king was to be chosen at Frankfurt, and all the nobility\nflocked thither, and among them Staufenberg, with a splendid train. He,\nas usual, was first in all tourneys, and made himself remarked for his\nliberal gifts and his generous consideration of youthful antagonists:\nhis praise was in everybody's mouth. The king sent for him, and offered\nhim an orphan niece of eighteen, with a rich dowry. The knight excused\nhimself as unworthy of such a match. The king said his niece must accept\nsuch a husband as he pleased to give, and many swore that Staufenberg\nwas a fool. Bishops, who were there in plenty, asked him if he had a\nwife already. Staufenberg availed himself of the leave which had been\ngiven him, and told his whole story, not omitting that he was sure to\ndie in three days if he married. \"Let me see the woman,\" said one of the\nbishops. \"She lets nobody see her but me,\" answered Staufenberg. \"Then\nit is a devil,\" said another of the clergy, \"and your soul is lost\nforever.\" Staufenberg yielded, and said he would do the king's will. He\nwas betrothed that very hour, and set out for Ortenau, where he had\nappointed the celebration of the nuptials. When night came he wished for\nthe invisible lady. She appeared, and told him with all gentleness that\nhe must prepare for the fate of which she had forewarned him, a fate\nseemingly inevitable, and not the consequence of her resentment. At the\nwedding feast she would display her foot in sight of all the guests:\nwhen he saw that, let him send for the priest. The knight thought of\nwhat the clergy had said, and that this might be a cheat of the devil.\nThe bride was brought to Staufenberg, the feast was held, but at the\nvery beginning of it a foot whiter than ivory was seen through the\nceiling. Staufenberg tore his hair and cried, Friends, ye have ruined\nyourselves and me! He begged his bride and all who had come with her to\nthe wedding to stay for his funeral, ordered a bed to be prepared for\nhim and a priest to be sent for. He asked his brothers to give his bride\nall that he had promised her. But she said no; his friends should rather\nhave all that she had brought; she would have no other husband, and\nsince she had been the cause of his death she would go into a cloister,\nwhere no eye should see her: which she did after she had returned to her\nown country.\n\nA superscription to the old poem denominates Staufenberg's amphibious\nconsort a mer-fey, sea-fairy; but that description is not to be strictly\ninterpreted, no more than mer-fey, or fata morgana, is in some other\nromantic tales. There is nothing of the water-sprite in her, nor is she\nspoken of by any such name in the poem itself. The local legends of\nsixty years ago,[349] and perhaps still, make her to have been a proper\nwater-nymph. She is first met with by the young knight near a spring or\na brook, and it is in a piece of water that he finds his death, and that\non the evening of his wedding day.\n\nClerk Colvill and the mermaid are represented by Sir Oluf and an elf in\nScandinavian ballads to the number of about seventy. The oldest of these\nis derived from a Danish manuscript of 1550, two centuries and a half\nlater than the Staufenberg poem, but two earlier than Clerk Colvill, the\noldest ballad outside of the Scandinavian series. Five other versions\nare of the date 1700, or earlier, the rest from tradition of this\ncentury. No ballad has received more attention from the heroic Danish\neditor, whose study of 'Elveskud' presents an admirably ordered synoptic\nview of all the versions known up to 1881: Grundtvig, No 47, II, 109-19,\n663-66; III, 824-25; IV, 835-74.[350]\n\nThe Scandinavian versions are:\n\n#F\u00e4r\u00f6e#, four: #A#, 39 sts, #B#, 24 sts, #C#, 18 sts, #D#, 23 sts,\nGrundtvig, IV, 849-52.\n\n#Icelandic#, twelve, differing slightly except at the very end: #A#,\n'Kv\u00e6\u00f0i af \u00d3lafi Liljur\u00f3s,' 24 sts, MS. of 1665; #B#, #C#, MS. of about\n1700, 20 sts, 1 st.; #D#, 18 sts; #E#, 17 sts; #F#, #G#, 16 sts; #H#,\n'\u00d3lafs kv\u00e6\u00f0i,' 22 sts; #I a#, 18 sts;# I b#, 20 sts; #K#, 22 sts; #L#,\n24 sts; #M#, 25 sts. These in \u00cdslenzk fornkv\u00e6\u00f0i, pp 4-10, #A a# in full,\nbut only the variations of the other versions. #I b#, previously,\n'\u00d3lafur og \u00e1lfam\u00e6r,' Berggreen, Danske Folke-Sange og Melodier, 2d ed.,\npp 56, 57, No 20 d; and #M#, \"Sn\u00f3t, p. 200.\"\n\n#Danish#, twenty-six: 'Elveskud' #A#, 54 sts, MS. of 1550, Grundtvig,\nII, 112; #B#, 25 sts, Syv No 87 (1695), Danske Viser, I, 237, Grundtvig,\nII, 114; #C#, 29 sts, the same, II, 115; #D a#, #D b#, 31, 15 sts, II,\n116, 665; #E-G#, 20, 16, 8 sts, II, 117-19; #H#, _I_, 32, 25 sts, II,\n663-64; #K#, 29 sts, #L#, 15 sts, #M#, 27 sts, #N#, 16 sts, #O#, 33 sts,\n#P#, 22 sts, #Q#, 7 sts, #R#, 22 sts, #S#, 32 sts, #T#, 27 sts, #U#, 25\nsts, #V#, 18 sts, #X#, 11 sts, #Y#, 11 sts, #Z#, 8 sts, #\u00c6#, 23 sts, IV,\n835-47; #\u00d8#, 10 sts, Boisen, Nye og gamle Viser, 1875, p. 191, No 98.\n\n#Swedish#, eight: #A#, 15 sts, 'Elf-Qvinnan och Herr Olof,' MS. of\nseventeenth century, Afzelius, III, 165; #B#, 12 sts, 'Herr Olof i\nElfvornas dans,' Afzelius, III, 160; #C#, 18 sts, Afzelius, III, 162;\n#D#, 21 sts, 'Herr Olof och Elfvorna,' Arwidsson, II, 304; #E#, 20 sts,\nArwidsson, II, 307; #F#, 19 sts, Grundtvig, IV, 848; #G#, 12 sts, 'Herr\nOlof och Elffrun,' Djurklou, p. 94; _H_, 8 sts, Afzelius, Sago-H\u00e4fder,\ned. 1844, ii, 157.\n\n#Norwegian#, eighteen: #A#, 39 sts, 'Olaf Liljukrans,' Landstad, p. 355;\n#B#, 15 sts, Landstad, p. 843; #C-S#, collections of Professor Bugge,\nused in manuscript by Grundtvig; #C#, 36 sts, partly printed in\nGrundtvig, III, 824; #D#, 23 sts, Grundtvig, III, 824-25, partly; #E#,\n22 sts; #F#, 11 sts; #G#, 27 sts; #H#, 13 sts; #I#, 7 sts; #K#, 4 sts,\ntwo printed, _ib._, p. 824.[351]\n\nOf these the F\u00e4r\u00f6e versions are nearest to the English. Olaf's mother\nasks him whither he means to ride; his corselet is hanging in the loft;\n#A#, #C#, #D#. \"I am going to the heath, to course the hind,\" he says.\n\"You are not going to course the hind; you are going to your leman.\nWhite is your shirt, well is it washed, but bloody shall it be when it\nis taken off,\" #A#, #D#. \"God grant it be not as she bodes!\" exclaims\nOlaf, as he turns from his mother, #A#. He rides to the hills and comes\nto an elf-house. An elf comes out, braiding her hair, and invites him to\ndance. \"You need not braid your hair for me; I have not come a-wooing,\"\nhe says. \"I must quit the company of elves, for to-morrow is my bridal.\"\n\"If you will have no more to do with elves, a sick bridegroom shall you\nbe! Would you rather lie seven years in a sick-bed, or go to the mould\nto-morrow?\" He would rather go to the mould to-morrow. The elf brought\nhim a drink, with an atter-corn, a poison grain, floating in it: at the\nfirst draught his belt burst #A#, #B*#. \"Kiss me,\" she said, \"before you\nride.\" He leaned over and kissed her, though little mind had he to it:\nshe was beguiling him, him so sick a man. His mother came out to meet\nhim: \"Why are you so pale, as if you had been in an elf-dance?\" \"I have\nbeen in an elf-dance,\" he said,[352] went to bed, turned his face to the\nwall, and was dead before midnight. His mother and his love (moy, v\u00edv)\ndied thereupon.\n\nDistinct evidence of previous converse with elves is lacking in the\nIcelandic versions. Olaf rides along the cliffs, and comes upon an\nelf-house. One elf comes out with her hair twined with gold, another\nwith a silver tankard, a third in a silver belt, and a fourth welcomes\nhim by name. \"Come into the booth and drink with us.\" \"I will not live\nwith elves,\" says Olaf; \"rather will I believe in God.\" The elf answers\nthat he might do both, excuses herself for a moment, and comes back in a\ncloak, which hides a sword. \"You shall not go without giving us a kiss,\"\nshe says. Olaf leans over his saddle-bow and kisses her, with but half a\nheart, and she thrusts the sword under his shoulder-blade into the roots\nof his heart. He sees his heart's blood under his horse's feet, and\nspurs home to his mother. \"Whence comest thou, my son, and why so pale,\nas if thou hadst been in an elf-dance (leik)?\" \"It boots not to hide it\nfrom thee: an elf has beguiled me. Make my bed, mother; bandage my side,\nsister.\" He dies presently: there was more mourning than mirth; three\nwere borne to the grave together.\n\nNearly all the Danish and Swedish versions, and a good number of the\nNorwegian, interpose an affecting scene between the death of the hero\nand that of his bride and his mother. The bride, on her way to Olaf's\nhouse, and on her arrival, is disconcerted and alarmed by several\nominous proceedings or circumstances. She hears bells tolling; sees\npeople weeping; sees men come and go, but not the bridegroom. She is put\noff for a time with false explanations, but in the end discovers the\nawful fact. Such a passage occurs in the oldest Danish copy, which is\nalso the oldest known copy of the ballad. The importance of this version\nis such that the story requires to be given with some detail.\n\nOluf rode out before dawn, but it seemed to him bright as day.[353] He\nrode to a hill where dwarfs were dancing. A maid stepped out from the\ndance, put her arm round his neck, and asked him whither he would ride.\n\"To talk with my true-love,\" said he. \"But first,\" said she, \"you must\ndance with us.\" She then went on to make him great offers if he would\nplight himself to her: a horse that would go to Rome and back in an\nhour, and a gold saddle for it; a new corselet, having which he never\nneed fly from man; a sword such, as never was used in war. Such were all\nher benches as if gold were laid in links, and such were all her\ndrawbridges as the gold on his hands. \"Keep your gold,\" he answered; \"I\nwill go home to my true-love.\" She struck him on the cheek, so that the\nblood spattered his coat; she struck him midshoulders, so that he fell\nto the ground: \"Stand up, Oluf, and ride home; you shall not live more\nthan a day.\" He turned his horse, and rode home a shattered man. His\nmother was at the gate: \"Why comest thou home so sad?\" \"Dear mother,\ntake my horse; dear brother, fetch a priest,\" \"Say not so, Oluf; many a\nsick man does not die. To whom do you give your betrothed?\" \"Rise, my\nseven brothers, and ride to meet my young bride.\"\n\nAs the bride's train came near the town, they heard the bells going.\n\"Why is this?\" she asked, her heart already heavy with pain; \"I know of\nno one having been sick.\" They told her it was a custom there to receive\na bride so. But when she entered the house, all the women were weeping.\n\"Why are these ladies weeping?\" No one durst answer a word. The bride\nwent on into the hall, and took her place on the bride-bench. \"I see,\"\nshe said, \"knights go and come, but I see not my lord Oluf.\" The mother\nanswered, Oluf is gone to the wood with hawk and hound. \"Does he care\nmore for hawk and hound than for his young bride?\"\n\nAt evening they lighted the torches as if to conduct the bride to the\nbride-bed; but Oluf's page, who followed his lady, revealed the truth on\nthe way. \"My lord,\" he said, \"lies on his bier above, and you are to\ngive your troth to his brother.\" \"Never shalt thou see that day that I\nshall give my troth to two brothers.\" She begged the ladies that she\nmight see the dead. They opened the door; she ran to the bier, threw\nback the cloth, kissed the body precipitately; her heart broke in\npieces; grievous was it to see.\n\nDanish #B#, printed by Syv in 1695, is the copy by which the ballad of\nthe Elf-shot has become so extensively known since Herder's time,\nthrough his translation and others.[354]\n\nThe principal variations of the Scandinavian ballads, so far as they\nhave not been given, now remain to be noted.\n\nThe hero's name is mostly Oluf, Ole, or a modification of this, Wolle,\nRolig, Volder; sometimes with an appendage, as F\u00e4r\u00f6e \u00d3lavur Riddarar\u00f3s,\nR\u00f3sinkrans, Icelandic \u00d3lafur Liljur\u00f3s, Norwegian Olaf Liljukrans, etc.\nIt is Peder in Danish #H#, #I#, #O#, #P#, #Q#, #R#, #\u00c6#.\n\nExcepting the F\u00e4r\u00f6e ballads, Oluf is not distinctly represented as\nhaving had previous acquaintance with the elves. In Swedish #A# 5 he\nsays, I cannot dance with you, my betrothed has forbidden me; in Danish\n#C#, I should be very glad if I could; to-morrow is my wedding-day.\n\nThe object of his riding out is to hunt, or the like, in Danish #D b#,\n#E#, #F#, #I#, #R#, #T#, #X#, #Y#; to bid guests to his wedding, Danish\n#B#, #C#, #D a#, #G#, #H#, #K-N#, #P#, #S#, #U#, #V#, #\u00d8#, Norwegian\n#A#, #B#.\n\nHe falls in with dwarfs, Danish #A#, #H#, Norwegian _A_; trolds, Danish\n#I#; elves and dwarfs, Norwegian #B#, and a variation of #A#: elsewhere\nit is elves.\n\nThere is naturally some diversity in the gifts which the elf offers Oluf\nin order to induce him to dance with her. He more commonly replies that\nthe offer is a handsome one, 'kan jeg vel f\u00e5,' but dance with her he\ncannot; sometimes that his true-love has already given him that, or two,\nthree, seven such, Danish #D a#, #I#, #T#, #X#, #Y#.\n\nIf he will not dance with her, the elf threatens him with sore sickness,\nDanish #B#, #E#, #H#, #Z#, #\u00d8#, Norwegian #A#, Swedish #E#, #F#; a great\nmisfortune, Danish #F#, Swedish #A#; sharp knives, Danish #P#; it shall\ncost him his young life, Danish #D a, b#, #T#, #Y#.\n\nOluf dances with the elves, obviously under compulsion, in Danish #C#,\n#D#, #G-N#, #S#, #T#, #U#, #X#, #Y#, Swedish #F#, and only in these. He\ndances till both his boots are full of blood, #D a# 15, #D b# 4, #G# 5,\n#I# 11, #K# 5, #L# 5, #M# 6, #N# 7, #S# 6 [shoes], #T# 10, #U# 5, #X# 8,\n#Y# 7; he dances so long that he is nigh dead, #I# 12.\n\nThe hard choice between dying at once or lying sick seven years is\nfound, out of the F\u00e4r\u00f6e ballads, only in Danish #H# 8, #M# 8, #O# 4, #Q#\n2, #S# 8. Norwegian ballads, like English #C#, present an option between\nliving with elves and dying, essentially a repetition of the terms under\nwhich Peter of Staufenberg weds the fairy, that he shall forfeit his\nlife if he takes a mortal wife. So Norwegian\n\n #A# 12\n Whether wilt thou rather live with the elves,\n Or leave the elves, a sick man?\n\n 13\n Whether wilt thou be with the elves,\n Or bid thy guests and be sick?\n\n #B# 9\n Whether wilt thou stay with the elves,\n Or, a sick man, flit [bring home] thy true-love?\n\n 10\n Whether wilt thou be with elves,\n Or, a sick man, flit thy bride?\n\nThere is no answer.\n\nNorwegian #C#, #E#, #G#, #I# resemble #A#. #H# is more definite.\n\n 6\n Whether wilt thou go off sick, \"under isle,\"\n Or wilt thou marry an elf-maid?\n\n 7\n Whether wilt thou go off sick, under hill,\n Or wilt thou marry an elf-wife?\n\nTo which Olaf answers that he lists not to go off a sick man, and he\ncannot marry an elf.\n\nThe two last stanzas of English #C#, which correspond to these,\n\n 'Will ye lie there an die, Clerk Colin,\n Will ye lie there an die?\n Or will ye gang to Clyde's water,\n To fish in flood wi me?'\n\n 'I will lie here an die,' he said,\n 'I will lie here an die;\n In spite o a' the deils in hell,\n I will lie here an die,'\n\nmay originally have come in before the mermaid and the clerk parted; but\nher visit to him as he lies in bed is paralleled by that of the fairy to\nStaufenberg after he has been persuaded to give up what he had been\nbrought to regard as an infernal _liaison_; and certainly Clerk Colin's\nlanguage might lead us to think that some priest had been with him, too.\n\nUpon Oluf's now seeking to make his escape through the elves' flame,\nring, dance, etc., Norwegian #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, #G#, #I#, #H#, #K#, the\nelf-woman strikes at him with a gold band, her wand, hand, a branch or\ntwig; gives him a blow on the cheek, between the shoulders, over his\nwhite neck; stabs him in the heart, gives him knife-strokes five, nine;\nsickness follows the stroke, or blood: Danish #A#, #B#, #F#, #N#, #O#,\n#R#, #V#, #Z#, #\u00c6#, #\u00d8#, Swedish #D#, #G#, Norwegian #A-E#, #H#, #I#,\nIcelandic. The knife-stabs are delayed till the elves have put him on\nhis horse in Danish #D#, #G#, #X#; as he sprang to his horse the knives\nrang after him, #H#. \"Ride home,\" they say, \"you shall not live more\nthan a day\" [five hours, two hours], Danish #A#, #C#, #K-N#, #S#, #U#,\n#V#. His hair fades, Danish #E#; his cheek pales, Danish #E#, Norwegian\n#A#; sickness follows him home, Swedish #A#, #C#, #D#, #E#; the blood is\nrunning out of the wound in his heart, Swedish #G#; when he reaches his\nfather's house both his boots are full of blood, Danish #R#, #\u00c6#.\n\nHis mother [father] is standing without, and asks, Why so pale? Why runs\nthe blood from thy saddle? Oluf, in some instances, pretends that his\nhorse, not being sure-footed, had stumbled, and thrown him against a\ntree, but is told, or of himself adds, that he has been among the elves.\nHe asks one or the other of his family to take his horse, bring a\npriest, make his bed, put on a bandage. He says he shall never rise from\nhis bed, Swedish #C#, Danish #F#; fears he shall not live till the\npriest comes, Danish #O#, #P#.\n\nThe important passage which relates the arrival of the bride, the\nominous circumstances at the bridegroom's house, the attempts to keep\nthe bride in ignorance of his death, and her final discovery that she is\nwidowed before marriage, occupies some thirty stanzas in Danish #A#,\nthe oldest of all copies; in Danish #B# it is reduced to six; in other\nDanish versions it has a range of from fifteen to two; but, shorter or\nlonger, it is found in all versions but #R#, #\u00d8#, and the fragments #G#,\n#L#, #Q#, #X#, #Z#. All the Swedish versions have a similar scene,\nextending from three to nine stanzas, with the exception of #G# and of\n#A#, which latter should perhaps be treated as a fragment. In Norwegian\n#A#, again, this part of the story fills ten stanzas; #B# lacks it, but\n#C-H# (which have not been published in full) have it, and probably\nother unpublished copies.\n\nThe bride is expected the next day, Danish #D#, #F#, #I#, #K#, #N#, #O#,\n#S#, #T#, #U#, Swedish #A#, #D#. In Danish #A# Oluf begs his brothers,\nshortly after his reaching home, to set out to meet her; he fears she\nmay arrive that very night, Danish #\u00c6#. \"What shall I answer your young\nbride?\" asks the mother, Danish #B#, #C#, #D#, etc., Swedish #H#. \"Tell\nher that I have gone to the wood, to hunt and shoot, to try my horse and\nmy dogs,\" Danish #B#, #C#, #D#, #F#, #H#, #I#, #K#, #O#, #S#, #T#, #U#,\nSwedish #D#, #H#, Norwegian #A#, #L#; in Danish #N# only, \"Say I died in\nthe night.\" Oluf now makes his will; he wishes to assign his bride to\nhis brother, Danish #L#, #O#, #R#, Norwegian #C#, #F#; he dies before\nthe bride can come to him. (Norwegian #F# seems to have gone wrong\nhere.)\n\nThe bride, with her train, comes in the morning, Danish #B#, #D#, #E#,\n#I#, #M#, #T#, Swedish #D#, Norwegian #D#; Swedish #C# makes her wait\nfor her bridegroom several days. As she passes through the town the\nbells are tolling, and she anxiously asks why, Danish #A#, #K#, #O#,\n#S#, #U#; she is told that it is a custom there to ring when the bride\ncomes, Danish #A#, Swedish #B#. In Danish #H#, though it is day, she\nsees a light burning in Oluf's chamber, and this alarms her. When she\ncomes to the house, Oluf's mother is weeping, all the ladies are\nweeping, or there are other signs of grief, Danish #A#, #C#, #H#, #U#,\n#\u00c6#. When she asks the reason, no one can answer, or she is told that a\nwoman, a fair knight, is dead, #A#, #C#, #H#. Now she asks, Where is\nOluf, who should have come to meet me, should have been here to receive\nme? Danish #K#, #O#, #S#, #U#, #D#, #E#, #I#, #T#, etc. They conduct the\nbride into the hall and seat her on the bride bench; knights come and\ngo; they pour out mead and wine. \"Where is Oluf,\" she asks again; the\nmother replies, as best she can, that Oluf is gone to the wood, Danish\n#B#, #H#, Norwegian #A#, #D#, Swedish #H#, etc. \"Does he then care more\nfor that than for his bride?\" Danish #A#, #D#, #I#, #M#, etc., Swedish\n#C#, #D#, Norwegian #A#, #E#, #G#.\n\nThe truth is now avowed that Oluf is dead, Danish #A#, #D#, #I#, #T#,\n#Y#, #\u00c6#, Swedish #B#, Norwegian #G#. The bride begs that she may see\nthe dead, Danish #A#, #C#, #P#, #\u00c6#, Swedish #F#, Norwegian #D#, #E#,\nand makes her way to the room where Oluf is lying. She puts aside the\ncloths that cover him, or the curtains, or the flowers, Danish #A#, #B#,\n#K#, #V#, etc., Swedish #C#, #D#, Norwegian #C#, #D#, #E#, #G#; says a\nword or two to her lover, Danish #A#, #C#, #E#, #H#, Swedish #E#, #F#,\nNorwegian #G#; kisses him, Danish #A#, #C#, #H#; her heart breaks,\nDanish #A#, #C#; she swoons dead at his feet, Danish #K#, #M#, #S#, #U#.\nIn Norwegian #A#, #C#, #D#, she kills herself with Olaf's sword; in\nSwedish #E#, with her own knife. In Danish #R# she dies in Oluf's\nmother's arms. On the morrow, when it was day, in Oluf's house three\ncorpses lay: the first was Oluf, the second his maid, the third his\nmother, of grief was she dead: Danish, Swedish, Norwegian,\n_passim_.[355]\n\n#Breton# ballads preserve the story in a form closely akin to the\nScandinavian, and particularly to the oldest Danish version. I have seen\nthe following, all from recent tradition: #A#, #C#, 'Ann Aotro ar\nC'hont,' 'Le Seigneur Comte,' Luzel, I, 4/5, 16/17, fifty-seven and\nfifty-nine two-line stanzas. #B#, 'Ann Aotro Nann,' 'Le Seigneur Nann,'\nLuzel, #I#, 10/11, fifty-seven stanzas.[356] #D#, 'Aotrou Nann hag ar\nGorrigan,' 'Le Seigneur Nann et la F\u00e9e,' Villemarqu\u00e9, p. 25, ed. 1867,\nthirty-nine stanzas. #E#, 'Monsieur Nann,' Po\u00e9sies populaires de la\nFrance, MS., V, fol. 381, fifty-three verses. #F#, 'Sonen Gertrud guet\nhi Vam,' 'Chant de Gertrude et de sa M\u00e8re,' L. K\u00e9rardven [==Dufilhol],\nGuionvac'h, \u00c9tudes sur la Bretagne, 2d ed., Paris, 1835, p. 362, p. 13,\neleven four-line stanzas. #G#, Rolland in Romania, XII, 117, a somewhat\nabridged literal translation, in French.\n\nThe count [Nann] and his wife were married at the respective ages of\nthirteen and twelve. The next year a son was born [a boy and girl, #D#].\nThe young husband asked the countess if she had a fancy for anything.\nShe owned that she should like a bit of game, and he took his gun\n[lance] and went to the wood. At the entrance of the wood he met a fairy\n[a dwarf, #E#; a hind, #G#; saw a white hind, which he pursued hotly\ntill evening, when he dismounted near a grotto to drink, and there was a\nkorrigan, sitting by the spring, combing her hair with a gold comb,\n#D#]. The fairy [dwarf, hind] said that she had long been looking for\nhim, #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, #G#. \"Now that I have met you, you must marry\nme.\"[357] \"Marry you? Not I. I am married already.\" \"Choose either to\ndie in three days or to lie sick in bed seven [three] years\" [and then\ndie, #C#]. He would rather die in three days, for his wife is very\nyoung, and would suffer greatly [he would rather die that instant than\nwed a korrigan, #D#].\n\nOn reaching home the young man called to his mother to make his bed; he\nshould never get up again. [His mother, in #C# 21, says, Do not weep so:\nit is not every sick man that dies, as in Danish #A# 22.] He recounted\nhis meeting with the fairy, and begged that his wife might not be\ninformed of his death.\n\nThe countess asked, What has happened to my husband, that he does not\ncome to see me? She was told that he had gone to the wood to get her\nsomething, #A# [to Paris, #C#; to the city, #D#]. Why were the\nmen-servants weeping? The best horse had been drowned in bathing him,\n#A#, #E#; had been eaten by the wolves, #B#; had broken his neck, #C#;\nhad died, #F#. They were not to weep; others should be bought. And why\nwere the maids weeping? Linen had been lost in washing, #A#, #C#, #E#,\n#F#; the best silver cover had been stolen, #F#. They must not weep; the\nloss would be supplied. Why were the priests chanting? [the bells\ntolling, #E#, #F#]. A poor person whom they had lodged had died in the\nnight, #A-E# [a young prince had died, #F#]. What dress should she wear\nfor her churching,--red or blue? #D#, #F#.[358] The custom had come in\nof wearing black [she asks for red, they give her black, #F#]. On\narriving at the church, or cemetery, she saw that the earth had been\ndisturbed; her pew was hung with black, #B#; why was this? \"I can no\nlonger conceal it,\" said her mother-in-law: \"your husband is dead.\" She\ndied upon the spot, #A#, #D#. \"Take my keys, take care of my son; I will\nstay with his father,\" #B#, #C#. \"Your son is dead, your daughter is\ndead,\" #F#.[359]\n\nThis ballad has spread, apparently from Brittany, over all France. No\ndistinct trace of the fairy remains, however, except in a single case.\nThe versions that have been made public, so far as they have come to my\nknowledge, are as follows, resemblance to the Breton ballad principally\ndirecting the arrangement.\n\n#A.# 'Le fils Louis,' Vend\u00e9e, pays de Retz, Po\u00e9sies populaires de la\nFrance, MS., III, fol. 118, printed in Romania, XI, 100, 44 verses. #B.#\nNormandy, 1876, communicated by Legrand to Romania, X, 372, 61 verses.\n#C.# \"Forez, Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric No\u00eblas, Annales de la Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 imp\u00e9riale\nd'agriculture, industrie, sciences, arts et belles-lettres du\nd\u00e9partement de la Loire, Ann\u00e9e 1865, p. 210, 64 verses,\" Grundtvig, IV,\n867-70. #D.# Victor Smith, Chants populaires du Velay et du Forez,\nRomania, X, 583, 68 verses. #E.# The same, p. 581, 64 verses. #F.#\nSaint-Denis, Po\u00e9s. pop. de la France, III, fol. 103, Romania, XI, 98, 74\nverses, as sung by a young girl, her mother and grandmother. #G.# Poitou\net Vend\u00e9e, \u00c9tudes historiques et artistiques par B. Fillon et O. De\nRochbrune, 7^e-10^e livraisons, Fontenay-le-Comte, 1865, article\nNalliers, pp 17, 18, nineteen four-line stanzas and a couplet; before by\nB. Fillon in \"L'Histoire v\u00e9ridique des fraudes et ex\u00e9crables voleries et\nsubtilit\u00e9s de Guillery, depuis sa naissance jusqu'\u00e0 la juste punition de\nses crimes, Fontenay, 1848,\" extracted in Po\u00e9s, pop., III, fol. 112;\nother copies at fol. 108 and at fol. 116; Romania, XI, 101, 78 verses.\n#H.# Bourbonnais, Po\u00e9s. pop. III, fol. 91, Romania, XI, 103, 38 verses,\nsung by a woman seventy-two years old. #I.# Bretagne, Loud\u00e9ac, Po\u00e9s.\npop., III, fol. 121, Romania, XI, 103 f, 64 verses. #J.# Po\u00e9s. pop.,\nIII, fol. 285, Romania, XII, 115 (I), 50 verses. #K.# Bretagne (?),\nRomania, XII, 115 f, 36 verses. #L.# V. Smith, Chants pop. du Velay et\ndu Forez, Romania, X, 582. 57 verses. #M.# 'Le roi Renaud,' Fl\u00e9vy,\nPuymaigre, I, 39, 78 verses. #N.# Touraine, Bl\u00e9r\u00e9, Brachet in Revue\nCritique, II, 125, 60 verses. #O.# The same, variations of a later\nversion. #P.# 'L'Arnaud l'Infant,' Limoges, Laforest, Limoges au XVII^e\nsi\u00e8cle, 1862, p. 300, Po\u00e9s. pop., III, fol. 95, Romania, XI, 104, 82\nverses. #Q.# Charente, Po\u00e9s. pop., III, fol. 107, Romania, XI, 99, 60\nverses. #R.# Cambes, Lot-et-Garonne, Romania, XII, 116, 46 verses. #S.#\nJura, Revue des Deux Mondes, 1854, Ao\u00fbt, p. 486, 50 verses. #T.# Rouen,\nPo\u00e9s. pop. III, fol. 100, Romania, XI, 102, 60 verses, communicated by a\ngentleman who at the beginning of the century had learned the ballad\nfrom an aunt, who had received it from an aged nun. #U. a#, Buchon,\nNo\u00ebls et Chants populaires de la Franche-Comt\u00e9, p. 85, 34 verses; #b#,\nTarb\u00e9, Romancero de Champagne, Vol. II, Chants Populaires, p. 125, 32\nverses; #c#, G. de Nerval, La Boh\u00e8me Galante, ed. 1866, p. 77, Les\nFilles du Feu, ed. 1868, p. 130, 30 verses; #d#, 'Jean Renaud,' Bujeaud,\nChants et Chansons populaires des Provinces de l'Ouest, II, 213, 32\nverses. #V.# Po\u00e9s. pop., III, fol. 122, Romania, XI, 100 f, 32 verses.\n#W.# Le Bl\u00e9sois, Amp\u00e8re, Instructions, etc., p. 37, 36 verses. #X.#\nProvence, Po\u00e9s. pop., III, fol. 114, Romania, XI, 105, 44 verses. #Y.#\n'Lou Counte Arnaud,' Biv\u00e8s, Gers, Blad\u00e9, Po\u00e9s. pop. de la Gascogne, II,\n134/135, 48 verses. #Z.# Vagney, Vosges, M\u00e9lusine, p. 75, 44 verses.\n#AA.# Cambes, Lot-et-Garonne, Romania, XII, 116 f, 40 verses. #BB.#\nQuercy, S\u00e9rignac, Po\u00e9s. pop., Romania, XI, 106, 34 verses. #CC.# Quercy,\nPo\u00e9s. pop., Romania, XI, 107, 26 verses. #DD.# Bretagne, Villemarqu\u00e9,\nBarzaz-Breiz, ed. 1846, I, 46, 12 verses. #EE.# Orl\u00e9ans, Po\u00e9s. pop.,\nIII, fol. 102, Romania, XI, 107, 10 verses. #FF.# Auvergne, Po\u00e9s, pop.,\nIII, fol. 89, Romania, XI, 107 f, 6 verses. #GG.# Boulonnais, 'La\nBallade du Roi Renaud,' E. Hamy, in Almanach de Boulogne-sur-Mer pour\n1863, p. 110 (compounded from several versions), 16 four-line\nstanzas.[360]\n\nThe name of the hero in the French ballad is mostly Renaud, or some\nmodification of Renaud: Jean Renaud, #G#, #H#, #U#; Renom, #AA#; Arnaud,\n#C#, #E#, #L#, #Y#, #BB#; L'Arnaud l'Infant, #P#; Louis Renaud, brother\nof Jean, #F#. It is Louis in #A#, #I#, #J#, #V#. He is king, or of the\nroyal family, #F#, #M#, #N#, #O#, #Q#, #W#, #BB#, #CC#, #GG#; count,\n#Y#; Renaud le grand, #H#, #Z#. In #A#, while he is walking in his\nmeadows, he meets Death, who asks him, peremptorily, Would you rather\ndie this very night, or languish seven years? and he answers that he\nprefers to die at once. Here there is a very plain trace of the older\nfairy. He is mortally hurt, while hunting, by a wolf, #B#; by a boar,\n#DD#. But in more than twenty versions he returns from war, often with a\nhorrible wound, \"apportant son c\u0153ur dans sa main,\" #C#; \"tenant ses\ntripes dans ses mains,\" #N#; \"oque ses tripes on sa main, sen estoumac\non sen chapea, sen c\u00fbr covert de sen mentea,\" #G#; etc. In #F#, #I#, #J#\nhe comes home in a dying state from prison (to which he was consigned,\naccording to #I#, for robbing a church!). In these versions the story is\nconfused with that of another ballad, existing in Breton, and very\nlikely in French, 'Komt ar Chapel,' 'Le Comte des Chapelles,' Luzel, I,\n456/457, or 'Le Page de Louis XIII,' Villemarqu\u00e9, Barzaz-Breiz, p. 301.\nA fragment of a corresponding Italian ballad is given by Nigra, Romania,\nXI, 397, No 9.\n\nRenaud, as it will be convenient to call the hero, coming home triste et\nchagrin, #F#, #P#, #U b, c#, triste et bien malau #Y#, receives on his\narriving felicitations from his mother on account of the birth of a son.\nHe has no heart to respond to these: \"Ni de ma femme, ni de mon fils, je\nne saurais me r\u00e9joui.\" He asks that his bed may be made, with\nprecautions against his wife's hearing. At midnight he is dead.\n\nThe wife, hearing the men-servants weeping, asks her mother-in-law the\ncause. The best horse [horses] has been found dead in the stable, has\nstrayed away, etc., #B#, #D-S#, #GG#. \"No matter for that,\" says the\nwife; \"when Renaud comes he will bring better,\" #B#, #D-G#, #L-Q#, #GG#.\nThe maids are heard weeping; why is that? They have lost, or injured,\nsheets in the washing, #B#, #D#, #E#, #G#, #J#. When Renaud comes we\nshall have better, #B#, #D#, #E#, #G#. Or a piece of plate has been lost\nor broken, #A#, #F#, #H#, #I#, #K#, #O#. [It is children with the\ntoothache, #F#, #U a, b, c, d#]. \"What is this chanting which I hear?\"\nIt is a procession, making the tour of the house: #B#, #D-F#, #L#,\n#P-X#, #GG#. \"What gown shall I wear when I go to church?\" Black is the\ncolor for women at their churching, #B#, #F#, #I#, #L#, #M#, #O#, #P#,\n#V#, #Y#; black is more becoming, plus joli, plus convenant, plus\ncons\u00e9quent, #A#, #D#, #H#, #K#, #N#, #R#, #X#, #BB#, #DD#, #GG#;\n\"quittez le ros', quittez le gris, prenez le noir, pour mieux choisir,\"\netc., #Q#, #W#, #U#, #E#, #S#, #T#.\n\nBesides these four questions, all of which occur in Breton ballads,\nthere are two which are met with in many versions, always coming before\nthe last. \"What is this pounding (frapper, cogner, taper) which I hear?\"\nIt is carpenters, or masons, repairing some part of the house, #D#, #E#,\n#K#, #L#, #N#, #P-U#, #W#; #A#, #V#, #X#, #AA#; #GG#. \"Why are the bells\nringing?\" For a procession, or because a distinguished personage has\ncome, has died, etc., #A#, #B#, #F-L#, #Q#, #R#, #W#, #Y#, #AA#, #DD#,\n#GG#. On the way to church [or cemetery] herdboys or others say to one\nanother, as the lady goes by, That is the wife of the king, the\nseigneur, that was buried last night, or the like; and the mother-in-law\nhas again to put aside the lady's question as to what they were saying,\n#D#, #E#, #G#, #H#, #L-P#, #S#, #T#, #X#, #Y#, #FF#, #GG#.\n\nFlambeaux or candles are burning at the church, #E#, #V#; a taper is\npresented to the widow, #M#, or holy water, #N#, #T#, #Z#, #GG#; the\nchurch is hung with black, #D#, #O#, #FF#; the funeral is going on,\n#AA#, #CC#. \"Whose is this new monument?\" \"What a fine tomb!\" #M#, #N#,\n#R#, #T#, #Z#, #GG#. The scene in other cases is transferred to the\ncemetery. \"Why has the earth been disturbed?\" \"What new monument is\nthis?\" #A#, #DD#; #C#, #F#, #I#, #J#, #P#. In #B# the tomb is in the\ngarden; in #L#, #S#, #X#, #BB# the place is not defined.\n\nThe young wife utters a piercing shriek, #C#, #D#, #K#, #L#, #N#. Open\nearth, split tomb, split tiles! #A#, #B#, #Q#, #R#, #V#, #W#, #X#, #Y#;\nI will stay with my husband, will die with my husband, will not go back,\n#A#, #C#, #D#, #M#, #N#, #Q#, #R#, #S#, #X#, #Y#, #Z#, #BB#, #CC#, #GG#.\nShe bids her mother take her keys, #B#, #C#, #G#, #L#, #M#, #P#, #Y#,\n#BB#, #CC#, #GG#, and commits her son [children] to her kinsfolk, to\nbring up piously, #B#, #G#, #I#, #J#, #L#, #M#, #O#, #Z#, #BB#, #CC#. In\n#H#, #P#, #Q#, #W#, #X#, #Y# the earth opens, and in the last four it\nencloses her. In #K# heaven is rent by her shriek, and she sees her\nhusband in light (who says, strangely, that his mouth smacks of rot); he\nbids her bring up the children as Christians. Heaven opens to her prayer\nin #AA#, and a voice cries, Wife, come up hither! In #GG# the voice from\nheaven says, Go to your child: I will keep your husband safe. There are\nother variations.[361]\n\n#G#, #T#, #I# say expressly that Renaud's wife died the next day, or\nafter hearing three masses, or soon after. #M#, #O#, by a feeble modern\nperversion, make her go into a convent.\n\n#Italian# ballads cover very much the same ground as the French. The\nversions hitherto published are:\n\n#A.# 'La Lavandaia,' Cento, Ferraro, Canti popolari di Ferrara, Cento e\nPontelagoscuro, p. 52, 16 verses, Romania, XI, 397, amended. #B.# 'Il\nCavaliere della bella Spada,' Pontelagoscuro, Ferraro, p. 107,\npreviously in Rivista di Filologia romanza, II, 205, 28 verses, Romania,\nXI, 398. #C.# Piedmont, communicated by Nigra, with other versions, to\nRomania, XI, 394, No 4, 48 verses. #D.# Romania, XI, 393 f, No 3, 34\nverses. #E.# _Ib._ p. 395, No 6, 42 verses. #F.# _Ib._ p. 392 f, No 2,\n46 verses. #G.# 'Conte Anzolin,' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p. 61,\n57 verses. #H.# Romania, XI, 396, No 7, 38 verses. #I.# _Ib._ p. 394 f,\nNo 5, 26 verses. #J.# 'Il re Carlino,' Ferraro, Canti popolari\nmonferrini, p. 34, 42 verses. #K.# Romania, XI, 392, No 1, 20 verses.\n#L.# 'Il Conte Angiolino,' Rovigno, Ive, Canti popolari istriani, p.\n344, 34 verses. #M.# 'Il Conte Cagnolino,' Pontelagoscuro, Ferraro, as\nabove, p. 84, Rivista di Filologia romanza, II, 196, 36 verses. All\nthese are from recent tradition.\n\nThe name Rinaldo, Rinald, is found only in _I_, #C#, and the latter has\nalso L\u00fcis. L\u00fcis is the name in #E#; Carlino, Carlin, in #J#, #H#;\nAngiolino, Anzolin, #L#, #G#; Cagnolino, #M#. The rank is king in #C#,\n#E#, #H-K#; prince, #D#; count, #G#, #L#, #M#.\n\n#A# and #B#, corrupted fragments though they be, retain clear traces of\nthe ancient form of the story, and of the English variety of that form.\nUnder the bridge of the Rella [Diamantina] a woman is washing clothes,\ngh' \u00e8 'na lavandera. A knight passes, #B#, and apparently accosts the\nlaundress. She moves into the water, and the knight after her; the\nknight embraces her, #A#. Dowy rade he hame, el va a c\u00e0 t\u00fcto moj\u00e0, #A#.\nIn #B# (passing over some verses which have intruded) he has many\nknife-stabs, and his horse many also.[362] He asks his mother to put him\nto bed and his horse into the stable, and gives directions about his\nfuneral.\n\nAll of the story which precedes the hero's return home is either\nomitted, #D#, #F#, #J#, #K#, #L#, or abridged to a single stanza: ven da\nla cassa lo re Rinald, ven da la cassa, l'\u00e8 t\u00fct fer\u00ec, #C#; ven da la\nguerra re Rinaldo, ven da la guerra, l'\u00e8 t\u00fct fer\u00ec, #I#, #E#, #H#; save\nthat #G#, which like #C# makes him to have been hunting (and to have\nbeen bitten by a mad dog), adds that, while he was hunting, his wife had\ngiven birth to a boy. #M# has an entirely false beginning: Count\nCagnolino was disposed to marry, but wished to be secure about his\nwife's previous life. He had a marble statue in his garden which moved\nits eyes when any girl that had gone astray presented herself before it.\nThe daughter of Captain Tartaglia having been declined, for reason, and\nanother young woman espoused, Tartaglia killed the count while they were\nhunting.\n\nThe wounded man, already feeling the approach of death, #F#, #G#, #L#,\nasks that his bed may be made; he shall die before the morrow, #D#, #F#,\n#J#; let not his wife know, #F#, #G#. The wife asks why the\nmen-servants, coachmen, are weeping, and is told that they have drowned\n[lost] some of the horses, #C-J#, #M# [have burned the king's carriage,\n#K#]. We will get others when the king comes, she answers, #C#, #D#, #H#\n[when I get up, #F#, as in Breton #A#]. Why are the maids weeping? The\nmaids have lost sheets or towels in washing, #F#, #I#, #K#; have\nscorched the shirts in ironing, #C#, #D#, #H#. When the king comes, he\nwill buy or bring better, #C#, #D#, #H# [when I get up, #F#, as in\nBreton #A#]. Why are the priests chanting? For a great feast to-morrow,\n#F#. Why are the carpenters at work? They are making a cradle for your\nboy, #C-E#, #H-K#. Why do the bells ring? A great lord is dead; in honor\nof somebody or something; #C#, #E-L#. Why does not Anzolin come to see\nme? He has gone a-hunting, #G#, #L#. What dress shall I put on to go to\nchurch? [When I get up I shall put on red, #F#, #I#.] You in black and I\nin gray, as in our country is the way, #C-F#, #H#, #I# [#H# moda a\n_Paris_, by corruption of d\u00ebl pais]; I white, you gray, #J#; you will\nlook well in black, #M#; put on red, or put on white, or put on black\nfor custom's sake, #G#.\n\nThe children in the street say, That is the wife of the lord who was\nburied, or the people look at the lady in a marked way, #C#, #J#, #G#,\n#M#; and why is this? For the last time the mother-in-law puts off the\nquestion. At the church, under the family bench, there is a grave new\nmade, and now it has to be said that the husband is buried there, #C-K#,\n#M#.\n\nA conclusion is wanting in half of the ballads, and what there is is\ncorrupted in others. The widow commends her boy to her husband's mother,\n#G#, #M#, and says she will die with her dear one, #D#, #E#, #J#, #M#.\nIn #C#, as in French #V#, she wishes to speak to her husband. If the\ndead ever spake to the quick, she would speak once to her dear L\u00fcis; if\nthe quick ever spake to the dead, she would speak once to her dear\nhusband. In #G# she bids the grave unlock, that she may come into the\narms of her beloved, and then bids it close, that in his arms she may\nstay: cf. French #Y#, #Q#, #X#, #R#, #AA#.\n\nThe story of the Italian ballad, under the title of 'Il Conte\nAngiolino,' was given in epitome by Luigi Carrer, in his Prose e Poesie,\nVenice, 1838, IV, 81 f, before any copy had been published (omitted in\nlater editions). According to Carrer's version, the lady, hearing bells,\nand seeing from her windows the church lighted up as for some office,\nextracts the fact from her mother-in-law on the spot, and then, going to\nthe church and seeing her husband's tomb, prays that it would open and\nreceive her.\n\nA fragment of an Italian ballad given by Nigra, Romania, XI, 396, No 8,\ndescribes three card players, quarrelling over their game, as passing\nfrom words to knives, and from knives to pistols, and one of the party,\nthe king of Spain, as being wounded in the fray. He rides home with a\ndepressed air, and asks his mother to make his bed, for he shall be dead\nat midnight and his horse at dawn. There is a confusion of two stories\nhere, as will be seen from Spanish ballads which are to be spoken of.\nBoth stories are mixed with the original adventure of the mermaid in 'Il\nCavaliere della bella spada,' already referred to as #B#. In this last\nthe knight has a hundred and fifty stabs, and his horse ninety.[363]\n\nNigra has added to the valuable and beautiful ballads furnished to\nRomania, XI, a tale (p. 398) from the province of Turin, which preserves\nthe earlier portion of the Breton story. A hunter comes upon a beautiful\nwoman under a rock. She requires him to marry her, and is told by the\nhunter that he is already married. The beautiful woman, who is of course\na fairy, presents the hunter with a box for his wife, which he is not to\nopen. This box contains an explosive girdle, intended to be her death;\nand the hunter's curiosity impelling him to examine the gift, he is so\nmuch injured by a detonation which follows that he can just drag himself\nhome to die.\n\n#Spanish.# This ballad is very common in Catalonia, and has been found\nin Asturias. Since it is also known in Portugal, we may presume that it\nmight be recovered in other parts of the peninsula. #A.# 'La bona\nviuda,' Briz, Cansons de la Terra, III, 155, 32 verses. #B.# 'La Viuda,'\n33 verses, Mil\u00e1 y Fontanals, Romancerillo Catalan, 2d ed., p. 155, No\n204. #C-I#. _Ib._ p. 156 f. #J.# _Ib._ p. 157 f, No 204, 36 verses. #K.#\n'Romance de Do\u00f1a Ana,' Asturias, the argument only, Amador de los Rios,\nHistoria Critica de la Literatura Espa\u00f1ola, VII, 446, being No 30 of\nthat author's unpublished collection.\n\nThe name of the husband is Don Joan de Sevilla, #D#, Don Joan, #F#, Don\nOlalbo, #I#, Don Francisco, #J#, Don Pedro, #K#. His wife, a princess,\n#A#, #G#, has given birth to a child, or is on the eve of so doing. The\ngentleman is away from home, or is about to leave home on a pilgrimage\nof a year and a day, #A#, #G#; has gone to war, #D#; to a hunt, #I#,\n#K#. He dies just as he returns home or is leaving home, or away from\nhome, in other versions, but in #K# comes back in a dying condition, and\nbegs that his state may be concealed from his wife. The lady, hearing a\ncommotion in the house, and asking the cause, is told that it is the\nnoisy mirth of the servants, #A-D#. There is music, chanting, tolling of\nbells; and this is said to be for a great person who has died, #B#, #D#,\n#A#. In #B#, #D#, the wife asks, Can it be for my husband? In #J# the\nmother-in-law explains her own sorrowful demeanor as occasioned by the\ndeath of an uncle, and we are informed that the burial was without\nbells, in order that the new mother might not hear. In #J# only do we\nhave the question, Where is my husband? He has been summoned to court,\nsays the mother-in-law, where, as a favorite, he will stay a year and\nten days. When should the young mother go to mass? Peasants go after a\nfortnight, tradesfolk after forty days, etc.; she, as a great lady, will\nwait a year and a day, #A#, #D#, #I#, a year, #B#, a year and ten days,\n#J#. What dress should she wear, silk, gold tissue, silver? etc. Black\nwould become her best, #A#, #J#, #K#. [Do\u00f1a Ana, in #K#, like the lady\nin Italian #G#, resists the suggestion of mourning, as proper only for a\nwidow, and appears in a costume de Pascua florida: in some other copies\nalso she seems to wear a gay dress.] The people, the children, point to\nher, and say, There is the widow, and her mother-in-law parries the\ninquiry why she is the object of remark; but the truth is avowed when\nthey see a grave digging, and the wife asks for whom it is, #A#. In #J#\nthe lady sees a monument in the church, hung with black, reads her\nhusband's name, and swoons. #B#, #C# make the mother's explanation\nfollow upon the children's talk. In #K# the announcement is made first\nby a shepherd, then confirmed by gaping spectators and by a rejected\nlover. The widow commends her child to its grandmother, and says she\nwill go to her husband in heaven, #A-D#; dies on the spot, #K#; Don\nFrancisco dies in March, Do\u00f1a Ana in May, #J#.\n\n'Don Joan y Don Ramon' is a ballad in which a young man returns to his\nmother mortally wounded, and therefore would be likely to blend in the\nmemory of reciters with any other ballad in which the same incident\noccurred. A version from the Balearic Islands may be put first, which\nhas not yet taken up any characteristic part of the story of Renaud:\nRecuerdos y Bellezas de Espa\u00f1a, Mallorca, p. 336, 1842==Mil\u00e1, 1853, p.\n114, No 15, Briz, III, 172; Die Balearen in Wort und Bild geschildert,\nby the Archduke Ludwig Salvator, Leipzig, 1871, II, 556.[364]\n\nDon Joan and Don Ramon are returning from the chase. Don Ramon falls\nfrom his horse; Don Joan rides off. Don Ramon's mother sees her son\ncoming through a field, gathering plants to heal his wounds. \"What is\nthe matter?\" she asks; \"you are pale.\" \"I have been bled, and they made\na mistake.\" \"Ill luck to the barber!\" \"Curse him not; it is the last\ntime. Between me and my horse we have nine and twenty lance thrusts; the\nhorse has nine and I the rest. The horse will die to-night and I in the\nmorning. Bury him in the best place in the stable, and me in St Eulalia;\nlay a sword crosswise over my grave, and if it is asked who killed me,\nlet the answer be, Don Joan de la cassada.\"\n\nThere are numerous Catalan versions, and most of them add something to\nthis story: Mil\u00e1, 2d ed., 'El guerrero mal herido,' p. 171, No 210,\n#A-F#, #A_{1}-G_{1}#, #A_{11}#; Briz, III, 171 f, two copies. These\ndisagree considerably as to the cause of the hero's death, and the names\nare not constant. In #A_{1}# of Mil\u00e1, as in the Balearic ballad, Don\nJoan and Don Ramon are coming from the chase, and have a passage at\nlances; Don Joan is left dead, and Don Ramon is little short of it. #A#,\n#B#, of Mil\u00e1, tell us that Don Pedro died on the field of battle and Don\nJoan came home mortally wounded. #E# says that Don Joan and Don Ramon\ncome from the chase, but Don Joan immediately says that he comes from a\ngreat battle. It is battle in #F_{1}#, in #E_{1}# (with Gast\u00f3\nreturning), and in both the Catalan copies of Briz, the hero being Don\nJoan in the first of these last, and in the other nameless. The wounded\nman says he has been badly bled, Mil\u00e1, #A#, #B#, #A_{1}#, #C_{1}#, Briz\n2; he and his horse have lance wounds fifty-nine, thirty-nine,\ntwenty-nine, etc., the horse nine and he the rest, Mil\u00e1, #A#, #B#, #E#,\n#A_{1}#, Briz 1. His mother informs him that his wife has borne a child,\n\"a boy like the morning star,\" Briz 1, and says that if he will go to\nthe best chamber he will find her surrounded by dames and ladies. This\ngives him no pleasure; he does not care for wife, nor dames, nor ladies,\nnor boys, nor morning stars: Briz 1, Mil\u00e1, #A_{1}-G_{1}#. He asks to\nhave his bed made, Mil\u00e1, #A-D#, #B_{1}#, #C_{1}#, Briz 1, 2, for he\nshall die at midnight and his horse at dawn, #A-D#, #A_{1}#, Briz 2, and\ngives directions for his burial and that of his horse. Let the bells\ntoll when he is dead, and when people ask for whom it is, the answer\nwill be, For Don Joan, Briz 1, Gast\u00f3, Mil\u00e1, #E_{1}#, who was killed in\nbattle. Let his arms be put over the place where his horse is buried,\nand when people ask whose arms they are his mother will say, My son's,\nwho died in battle, Mil\u00e1 #A#, #B_{1}#. Let a drawn sword be laid across\nhis grave, and let those that ask who killed him be told, Don Joan, at\nthe chase, Mil\u00e1, #A_{1}#.[365]\n\nWe have, probably, to do with two different ballads here, versions #A-F#\nof Mil\u00e1's 'Guerrero mal herido,' and Briz's second, belonging with 'Don\nJoan y Don Ramon,' while #A_{1}-G_{1}# of Mil\u00e1, and Briz's first,\nrepresent a ballad of the Renaud class. It is, however, possible that\nthe first series may be imperfect copies of the second.\n\n'Don Joan y Don Ramon' has agreements with Italian #B#, #A#: in #B#,\nparticularly, we note the hundred and fifty stabs of the knight and the\nninety of his horse.\n\n#Portuguese.# A good Portuguese version, 'D. Pedro e D. Leonarda,' in\nfifty short verses, unfortunately lacking the conclusion, has been\nlately communicated to Romania (XI, 585) by Leite de Vasconcellos. Dom\nPedro went hunting, to be gone a year and a day, but was compelled to\nreturn home owing to a malady which seized him. His mother greets him\nwith the information that his wife has given birth to a son. \"Comfort\nand cheer her,\" he says, \"and for me make a bed, which I shall never\nrise from.\" The wife asks, Where is my husband, that he does not come to\nsee me? \"He has gone a-hunting for a year and a day,\" replies the\nmother. What is this commotion in the house? \"Only visitors.\" But the\nbells are tolling! Could it be for my husband? \"No, no; it is for a\nfeast-day.\" When do women go to mass after child-birth? \"Some in three\nweeks and some in two, but a lady of your rank after a year and a day.\"\nAnd what color do they wear? \"Some light blue and some a thousand\nwonders, but you, as a lady of rank, will go in mourning.\" The ballad\nstops abruptly with a half-pettish, half-humorous imprecation from the\ndaughter-in-law against the mother for keeping her shut up so long.\n\nThere is a Slavic ballad, which, like the versions that are so popular\nwith the Romance nations, abridges the first part of the story, and\nmakes the interest turn upon the gradual discovery of the hero's death,\nbut in other respects agrees with northern tradition.\n\n#Bohemian.# #A a.# Erben, p. 473, No 9, He\u0159man a Dorni\u010dka==Waldau,\nB\u00f6hmische Granaten, I, 73, No 100; #b.# \u010celakowsky, I, 26==Haupt u.\nSchmaler, I, 327. #B.# Erben, p. 475. #C.# Moravian, Su\u0161il, p. 82, No\n89 a, 'Ne\u0161t'astn\u00e1 svatba,' 'The Doleful Wedding.' #D.# Su\u0161il, p.\n83, No 89 b. #E.# Slovak, \u010celakowsky, I, 80.\n\n#Wendish.# #A.# Haupt und Schmaler, I, 31, No 3, 'Zrudny kwas,' 'The\nDoleful Wedding.' #B.# II, 131, No 182, 'Plakajuen \u0144e\u1e83esta,' 'The\nWeeping Bride' (the last eight stanzas, the ten before being in no\nconnection).\n\nThe hero on his wedding day is making ready his horse to fetch the\nbride; for he is, as in the Scandinavian ballads, not yet a married man.\nHis mother, Bohemian #A#, ascertaining his intention, begs him not to go\nhimself with the bridal escort. Obviously she has a premonition of\nmisfortune. Herman will never invite guests, and not go for them. The\nmother, in an access of passion, exclaims, If you go, may you break your\nneck, and never come back! Here we are reminded of the F\u00e4r\u00f6e ballad.\nBohemian #C#, #D# make the forebodings to rise in Herman's mind, not in\nhis mother's. The mother opposes the match in Bohemian #E#, and the\nsister wishes that he may break his neck. Wendish #A# has nothing of\nopposition or bodement before the start, but the crows go winging about\nthe young men who are going for the bride, and caw a horrible song, how\nthe bridegroom shall fall from his horse and break his neck. The train\nsets off with a band of trumpets, drums, and stringed instruments, or,\nBohemian #D#, with a discharge of a hundred muskets, and when they come\nto a linden in a meadow Herman's horse \"breaks his foot,\" and the rider\nhis neck; Bohemian #D#, when they come to a copse in a meadow the\nhundred pieces are again discharged, and Herman is mortally wounded. His\nfriends stand debating what they shall do. The dying man bids them keep\non: since the bride cannot be his, she shall be his youngest brother's,\nBohemian #A#, #C#; cf. Danish #L#, #O#, #R#, Norwegian #C#, #F#. The\ntrain arrives at the bride's house; the bride comes out to greet them,\nbut, not seeing the bridegroom, inquires affrightedly what has become of\nhim. They pretend that he has remained at home to see to the tables. The\nmother is reluctant to give them the bride, but finally yields. When the\ntrain comes again to the linden in the mead, Dorothy sees blood. It is\nHerman's! she cries; but they assure her that it is the blood of a deer\nthat Herman had killed for the feast. They reach Herman's house, where\nthe bride has an appalling reception, which need not be particularized.\n\nIn Bohemian #A#, while they are at supper (or at half-eve==three in the\nafternoon), a death-bell is heard. Dorothy turns pale. For whom are they\ntolling? Surely it is for Herman. They tell her that Herman is lying in\nhis room with a bad headache, and that the bell is ringing for a child.\nBut she guesses the truth, sinks down and dies, #a#. She wears two\nknives in her hair, and thrusts one of them into her heart, #b#. The two\nare buried in one grave. In Bohemian #B# the bell sounds for the first\ntime as the first course is brought on, and a second time when the\nsecond course comes. The bride is told in each case that the knell is\nfor a child. Upon the third sounding, when the third course is brought\nin, they tell her that it is for Herman. She seizes two knives and runs\nto the graveyard: with one she digs herself a grave, and with the other\nstabs herself. In the Wendish fragment #B#, at the first and second\ncourse (there is no bell) the bride asks where the bridegroom is, and at\nthe third repeats the question with tears. She is told that he is\nranging the woods, killing game for his wedding. In Bohemian #C# the\nbell tolls while they are getting the table ready. The bride asks if it\nis for Herman, and is told that it is for a child. When they sit down to\ntable, the bells toll again. For whom should this be? For whom but\nHerman? She springs out of the window, and the catastrophe is the same\nas in Bohemian #B#. In #D# the bride hears the bell as the train is\napproaching the house, and they say it is for a child. On entering the\ncourt she asks where Herman is. He is in the cellar drawing wine for his\nguests. She asks again for Herman as the company sits down to table, and\nthe answer is, In the chamber, lying in a coffin. She springs from the\ntable and rushes to the chamber, seizing two golden knives, one of which\nshe plunges into her heart. In Bohemian #E#, when the bride arrives at\nJohn the bridegroom's house, and asks where he is, they tell her she had\nbetter go to bed till midnight. The moment she touches John she springs\nout of bed, and cries, Dear people, why have ye laid a living woman with\na dead man? They stand, saying, What shall we give her, a white cap or a\ngreen chaplet? \"I have not deserved the white (widow's) cap,\" she says;\n\"I have deserved a green chaplet.\" In Wendish #A#, when the bell first\nknolls, the bride asks, Where is the bridegroom? and they answer, In the\nnew chamber, putting on his fine clothes. A second toll evokes a second\ninquiry; and they say he is in the new room, putting on his sword. The\nthird time they conceal nothing: He fell off his horse and broke his\nneck. \"Then tear off my fine clothes and dress me in white, that I may\nmourn a year and a day, and go to church in a green chaplet, and never\nforget him that loved me!\" It will be remembered that the bride takes\nher own life in Norwegian #A#, #C#, #D#, and in Swedish #E#, as she does\nin Bohemian #A b#, #B#, #C#, #D#.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#B# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 305,\nNo 48; by Doenniges, p. 25.\n\n'Der Ritter von Staufenberg' is translated by Jamieson, from the\n\"Romanzen\" in the Wunderhorn, in Illustrations of Northern Antiquities,\np. 257. Danish #A# by Prior, II, 301; #B# by Jamieson, Popular Ballads,\nI, 219, and by Prior, II, 306, Buchanan, p. 52. 'The Erl-King's\nDaughter,' \"Danish,\" in Lewis's Tales of Wonder, I, 53, No 10, is\nrendered from Herder. Swedish #A# by Keightley, Fairy Mythology, p. 84;\n#B# by Keightley, p. 82, and by William and Mary Howitt, Literature and\nRomance of Northern Europe, I, 269. There is a version from Swedish by\nJ. H. Dixon, in Notes and Queries, 4th Series, I, 168. Breton #D# by\nKeightley, as above, p. 433, and by Tom Taylor, Ballads and Songs of\nBrittany, 'Lord Nann and the Fairy,' p. 9. Bohemian #A b# by Bowring,\nCheskian Anthology, p. 69.\n\n\n#A#\n\n From a transcript from William Tytler's Brown MS.\n\n 1\n Clark Colven and his gay ladie,\n As they walked to yon garden green,\n A belt about her middle gimp,\n Which cost Clark Colven crowns fifteen:\n\n 2\n 'O hearken weel now, my good lord,\n O hearken weel to what I say;\n When ye gang to the wall o Stream,\n O gang nae neer the well-fared may.'\n\n 3\n 'O haud your tongue, my gay ladie,\n Tak nae sic care o me;\n For I nae saw a fair woman\n I like so well as thee.'\n\n 4\n He mounted on his berry-brown steed,\n And merry, merry rade he on,\n Till he came to the wall o Stream,\n And there he saw the mermaiden.\n\n 5\n 'Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may,\n And ay's ye wash your sark o silk:'\n 'It's a' for you, ye gentle knight,\n My skin is whiter than the milk.'\n\n 6\n He's taen her by the milk-white hand,\n He's taen her by the sleeve sae green,\n And he's forgotten his gay ladie,\n And away with the fair maiden.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 7\n 'Ohon, alas!' says Clark Colven,\n 'And aye sae sair's I mean my head!'\n And merrily leugh the mermaiden,\n 'O win on till you be dead.\n\n 8\n 'But out ye tak your little pen-knife,\n And frae my sark ye shear a gare;\n Row that about your lovely head,\n And the pain ye'll never feel nae mair.'\n\n 9\n Out he has taen his little pen-knife,\n And frae her sark he's shorn a gare,\n Rowed that about his lovely head,\n But the pain increased mair and mair.\n\n 10\n 'Ohon, alas!' says Clark Colven,\n 'An aye sae sair's I mean my head!'\n And merrily laughd the mermaiden,\n 'It will ay be war till ye be dead.'\n\n 11\n Then out he drew his trusty blade,\n And thought wi it to be her dead,\n But she's become a fish again,\n And merrily sprang into the fleed.\n\n 12\n He's mounted on his berry-brown steed,\n And dowy, dowy rade he home,\n And heavily, heavily lighted down\n When to his ladie's bower-door he came.\n\n 13\n 'Oh, mither, mither, mak my bed,\n And, gentle ladie, lay me down;\n Oh, brither, brither, unbend my bow,\n 'T will never be bent by me again.'\n\n 14\n His mither she has made his bed,\n His gentle ladie laid him down,\n His brither he has unbent his bow,\n 'T was never bent by him again.\n\n\nB\n\n Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 302; ed.\n 1776, I, 161.\n\n 1\n Clerk Colvill and his lusty dame\n Were walking in the garden green;\n The belt around her stately waist\n Cost Clerk Colvill of pounds fifteen.\n\n 2\n 'O promise me now, Clerk Colvill,\n Or it will cost ye muckle strife,\n Ride never by the wells of Slane,\n If ye wad live and brook your life.'\n\n 3\n 'Now speak nae mair, my lusty dame,\n Now speak nae mair of that to me;\n Did I neer see a fair woman,\n But I wad sin with her body?'\n\n 4\n He's taen leave o his gay lady,\n Nought minding what his lady said,\n And he's rode by the wells of Slane,\n Where washing was a bonny maid.\n\n 5\n 'Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid,\n That wash sae clean your sark of silk;'\n 'And weel fa you, fair gentleman,\n Your body whiter than the milk.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 6\n Then loud, loud cry'd the Clerk Colvill,\n 'O my head it pains me sair;'\n 'Then take, then take,' the maiden said,\n 'And frae my sark you'll cut a gare.'\n\n 7\n Then she's gied him a little bane-knife,\n And frae her sark he cut a share;\n She's ty'd it round his whey-white face,\n But ay his head it aked mair.\n\n 8\n Then louder cry'd the Clerk Colvill,\n 'O sairer, sairer akes my head;'\n 'And sairer, sairer ever will,'\n The maiden crys, 'till you be dead.'\n\n 9\n Out then he drew his shining blade,\n Thinking to stick her where she stood,\n But she was vanishd to a fish,\n And swam far off, a fair mermaid.\n\n 10\n 'O mother, mother, braid my hair;\n My lusty lady, make my bed;\n O brother, take my sword and spear,\n For I have seen the false mermaid.'\n\n\nC\n\n Notes and Queries, 4th Series, VIII, 510, from the\n recitation of a lady in Forfarshire.\n\n 1\n Clerk Colin and his mother dear\n Were in the garden green;\n The band that was about her neck\n Cost Colin pounds fifteen;\n The belt about her middle sae sma\n Cost twice as much again.\n\n 2\n 'Forbidden gin ye wad be, love Colin,\n Forbidden gin ye wad be,\n And gang nae mair to Clyde's water,\n To court yon gay ladie.'\n\n 3\n 'Forbid me frae your ha, mother,\n Forbid me frae your bour,\n But forbid me not frae yon ladie;\n She's fair as ony flour.\n\n 4\n 'Forbidden I winna be, mother,\n Forbidden I winna be,\n For I maun gang to Clyde's water,\n To court yon gay ladie.'\n\n 5\n An he is on his saddle set,\n As fast as he could win,\n An he is on to Clyde's water,\n By the lee licht o the moon.\n\n 6\n An when he cam to the Clyde's water\n He lichted lowly down,\n An there he saw the mermaiden,\n Washin silk upon a stane.\n\n 7\n 'Come down, come down, now, Clerk Colin,\n Come down an [fish] wi me;\n I'll row ye in my arms twa,\n An a foot I sanna jee.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 8\n 'O mother, mother, mak my bed,\n And, sister, lay me doun,\n An brother, tak my bow an shoot,\n For my shooting is done.'\n\n 9\n He wasna weel laid in his bed,\n Nor yet weel fa'en asleep,\n When up an started the mermaiden,\n Just at Clerk Colin's feet.\n\n 10\n 'Will ye lie there an die, Clerk Colin,\n Will ye lie there an die?\n Or will ye gang to Clyde's water,\n To fish in flood wi me?'\n\n 11\n 'I will lie here an die,' he said,\n 'I will lie here an die;\n In spite o a' the deils in hell\n I will lie here an die.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 7^3. _~laugh~; but we have ~laughd~ in 10^3._\n\n 9^3. _~Rowed~ seems to be written ~Round~, possibly\n ~Rowad~._\n\n 14^3. brother.\n\n#B.#\n\n 5^4. _The edition of 1776 has ~body's~._\n\n#C.#\n\n 7. When they part he returns home, and on the way his head\n becomes \"wondrous sair:\" _seemingly a comment of the\n reciter_.\n\n _The Abbotsford copy in \"~Scottish Songs~,\" fol. 3, has\n these readings, not found in Lewis, the Brown MS., or\n Herd._\n\n 3^2.\n\n And dinna deave me wi your din: _Lewis_,\n And haud, my Lady gay, your din.\n\n 6^3. He's laid her on the flowery green.\n\n\n[345] \"From a MS. in my grandfather's writing, with the following note:\nCopied from an old MS. in the possession of Alexander Fraser Tytler.\"\nNote of Miss Mary Fraser Tytler. The first stanza agrees with that which\nis cited from the original by Dr Anderson in Nichols's Illustrations,\nVII, 177, and the number of stanzas is the same.\n\nColvill, which has become familiar from Herd's copy, is the correct\nform, and Colven, Colvin, a vulgarized one, which in #C# lapses into\nColin.\n\n[346] Still, though these _particular verses_ appear to have come from\n'The Drowned Lovers,' they may represent other original ones which were\nto the same effect. See, further on, the beginning of some F\u00e4r\u00f6e\nversions.\n\n[347] Hoc equidem a viris omni exceptione majoribus quotidie scimus\nprobatum, quod quosdam hujusmodi larvarum quas fadas nominant amatores\naudivimus, et cum ad aliarum foeminarum matrimonia se transtulerunt,\nante mortuos quam cum superinductis carnali se copula immiscuerunt. Des\nGervasius von Tilbury Otia Imperialia (of about 1211), Liebrecht, p. 41.\n\n[348] Der Ritter von Stauffenberg, from a MS. of perhaps 1437, C. M.\nEngelhardt, Strassburg, 1823. Edited by Oskar J\u00e4nicke, in Altdeutsche\nStudien von O. J\u00e4nicke, E. Steinmeyer, W. Wilmanns, Berlin, 1871. Die\nLegende vom Ritter Herrn Peter Diemringer von Staufenberg in der\nOrtenau, reprint by F. Culemann of the Strassburg edition of Martin\nSchott, 1480-82. The old printed copy was made over by Fischart in 1588\n(Jobin, Strassburg, in that year), and this 'ernewerte Beschreibung der\nalten Geschicht' is rehashed in seven 'Romanzen' in Wunderhorn, I,\n407-18, ed. 1806, 401-12, ed. 1853. Simrock, Die deutschen Volksb\u00fccher,\nIII, 1-48.\n\n[349] Engelhardt, pp 6, 13 f: Sagen aus Baden und der Umgegend,\nCarlsruhe, 1834, pp 107-122.\n\n[350] Separately printed, under the title, Elveskud, dansk, svensk,\nnorsk, f\u00e6r\u00f8sk, islandsk, skotsk, vendisk, b\u00f8misk, tysk, fransk,\nitaliensk, katalonsk, spansk, bretonsk Folkevise, i overblik ved Svend\nGrundtvig. Kj\u00f8benhavn, 1881.\n\n[351] All the Norse versions are in two-line stanzas.\n\n[352] In 'Jomfruen og Dv\u00e6rgekongen,' #C# 25, 26, Grundtvig, No 37, the\nwoman who has been carried off to the hill, wishing to die, asks that\natter-corns may be put into her drink. She evidently gets, however, only\nthe villar-konn, elvar-konn, of Landstad, Nos 42-45, which are of\nlethean property. But in J. og D. #F#, we may infer an atter-corn,\nthough none is mentioned, from the effect of the draughts, which is that\nbelt, stays, and sark successively burst. See p. 363 f.\n\n[353] So, also, Swedish #A#, #F#, Norwegian #A#, #C#. This is a cantrip\nsleight of the elves. The Icelandic burden supposes this illumination,\n\"The low was burning red;\" and when Olaf seeks to escape, in Norwegian\n#A#, #C#, #E#, #G#, #I#, #K#, he has to make his way through the\nelf-flame, elvelogi.\n\n[354] Grundtvig remarks that Herder's translation, 'Erlk\u00f6nigs Tochter,'\nVolkslieder, II, 158, took so well with the Germans that at last it came\nto pass for an original German ballad. The Wunderhorn, I, 261, ed. 1806,\ngives it with the title, 'Herr Olof,' as from a flying sheet\n(==Scherer's Deutsche Volkslieder, 1851, p. 371). It appears, with some\nlittle changes, in Zarnack's Deutsche Volkslieder, 1819, I, 29, whence\nit passed into Erlach, IV, 6, and Richter und Marschner, p. 60.\nKretzschmer has the translation, again, with a variation here and there,\nset to a \"North German\" and to a \"Westphalian\" air, p. 8, p. 9.\n\n[355] Owing to a close resemblance of circumstances in 'The Elf-shot,'\nin 'Frillens H\u00e6vn' ('The Leman's Wreak'), Grundtvig, No 208, and in\n'Ribold og Guldborg,' Grundtvig, No 82, these ballads naturally have\ndetails in common. The pretence that the horse was not sure-footed and\nhurtled his rider against a tree; the request to mother, father, etc.,\nto make the bed, take care of the horse, apply a bandage, send for a\npriest, etc.; the testament, the assignment of the bride by the dying\nman to his brother, and her declaration that she will never give her\ntroth to two brothers; and the nearly simultaneous death of hero, bride,\nand mother, occur in many versions of both Elveskud and Ribold, and most\nof them in Frillens H\u00e6vn. A little Danish ballad, 'Hr. Olufs D\u00f8d,' cited\nby Grundtvig, IV, 847, seems to be Elveskud with the elf-shot omitted.\n\n[356] Luzel was in possession of other versions, but he assures us that\nevery detail is contained in one or the other of these three.\n\n[357] #B# 13, \"You must marry me straightway, or give me my weight in\nsilver;\" _then_, \"or die in three days,\" etc. It is not impossible that\nthis stanza, entirely out of place in this ballad, was derived from 'Le\nComte des Chapelles,' Luzel, p. 457, from which certain French versions\nhave taken a part of their story. See Luzel, the eighth and ninth\nstanzas, on p. 461.\n\n[358] #B# 50, \"A white gown, or _broget_, or my violet petticoat?\" Luzel\nsays he does not understand _broget_, and in his Observations, prefixed\nto the volume, expresses a conjecture that it must have been altered\nfrom _droged_, robe d'enfant, robe de femme, but we evidently want a\ncolor. Grundtvig remarks that _broget_ would make sense in Danish, where\nit means party-colored. Scotch _broakit_ is black and white. Icelandic\n_br\u00f3k_, tartan, party-colored cloth, is said to be from Gaelic _breac_,\nversicolor (Vigfusson). This points to a suitable meaning for Breton\n_broget_.\n\n[359] #D# adds: \"It was a marvel to see, the night after husband and\nwife had been buried, two oaks rise from the common tomb, and on their\nbranches two white doves, which sang there at daybreak, and then took\nflight for the skies.\"\n\n[360] It will be observed that some of the Renaud ballads in the Po\u00e9sies\npopulaires de la France were derived from earlier publications: such as\nwere communicated by collectors appear to have been sent in in 1852 or\n1853. The versions cited by Rathery, Revue Critique, II, 287 ff, are all\nfrom the MS. Po\u00e9sies populaires. #BB#, #CC# have either been overlooked\nby me in turning over the first five volumes, or occur in vol. vi, which\nhas not yet been received. #GG# came to hand too late to be ranked at\nits proper place.\n\n[361] In #C# the mother-in-law tells her daughter, austerely:\n\n Vous aurez plut\u00f4t trouv\u00e9 un mari\n Que moi je n'aurai trouv\u00e9 un fils.\n\nSo #E#, nearly. A mother makes a like remark to the betrothed of a dead\nson in the Danish ballad of 'Ebbe Tygesen,' Grundtvig, Danske K\u00e6mpeviser\nog Folkesange, fornyede i gammel Stil, 1867, p. 122, st. 14. #F# and #T#\nconclude with these words of the wife:\n\n 'Ma m\u00e8re, dites au fossoyeur\n Qu'il creuse une fosse pour deux;\n 'Et que l'espace y soit si grand\n Que l'on y mette aussi l'enfant.'\n\nThe burial of father, mother, and child in a common grave is found\nelsewhere in ballads, as in 'Redselille og Medelvold,' Grundtvig, No\n271, #A# 37, #G# 20, #M# 26, #X# 27.\n\n[362] Shutting our eyes to other Romance versions, or, we may say,\nopening them to Scandinavian ones, we might see in these stabs the\nwounds made by the elf-knives in Danish #D#, #G#, #H#, #N#, #O#, #R#,\n#X#, Swedish #G#, Norwegian #H#, #I#. See 'Don Joan y Don Ramon,'\nfurther on.\n\n[363] The ballad of 'Luggieri,' published by Salvatori in the Rassegna\nSettimanale, Rome, June 22, 1879, and reprinted by Nigra in Romania, XI,\n391 (a variety of 'Rizzardo bello,' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p.\n62, No 83), appears to me not to belong with 'Renaud,' but with the\nclass of 'The Cruel Brother,' as already remarked of the Venetian ballad\nat p. 142.\n\n[364] The version in the Recuerdos was obtained in Majorca by Don J. M.\nQuadrado. The editor remarks that the employment of the articles Il and\nLa instead of Es and Sa proves it to be as old as the sixteenth century.\nDie Balearen, etc., is cited after Grundtvig.\n\n[365] I do not entirely understand Professor Mil\u00e1's arrangement of those\ntexts which he has not printed in full, and it is very likely that more\nof his copies than I have cited exhibit some of the traits specified.\n\n\n\n\n43\n\nTHE BROOMFIELD HILL\n\n #A.# 'The Broomfield Hill.' #a.# Scott's Minstrelsy, III,\n 271, 1803. #b.# The same, II, 229, 1802.\n\n #B.# 'I'll wager, I'll wager,' etc., Herd's Ancient and\n Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 310.\n\n #C.# 'Broomfield Hills,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of\n Scotland, II, 291.\n\n #D.# 'Lord John,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p.\n 195.\n\n #E.# Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January, 1830, p. 7.\n\n #F.# 'The Merry Broomfield, or The West Country Wager.'\n #a.# Douce Ballads, III, fol. 64^b. #b.# The same, IV,\n fol. 10.\n\n\nA song of 'Brume, brume on hil' is one of those named in The Complaint\nof Scotland, 1549, p. 64 of Dr J. A. H. Murray's edition. \"The foot of\nthe song\" is sung, with others, by Moros in Wager's \"very merry and\npithy Comedy called The longer thou livest the more fool thou art,\" c.\n1568. 'Broom, broom on hil' is also one of Captain Cox's \"bunch of\nballets and songs, all auncient,\" No 53 of the collection, 1575.[366]\nThe lines that Moros sings are:\n\n Brome, brome on hill,\n The gentle brome on hill, hill,\n Brome, brome on Hive hill,\n The gentle brome on Hive hill,\n The brome stands on Hive hill #a#.\n\n\"A more sanguine antiquary than the editor,\" says Scott, \"might perhaps\nendeavor to identify this poem, which is of undoubted antiquity, with\nthe 'Broom, broom on hill' mentioned ... as forming part of Captain\nCox's collection.\" Assuredly \"Broom, broom on hill,\" if that were all,\nwould justify no such identification, but the occurrence of Hive hill,\nboth in the burden which Moros sings and in the eighth stanza of Scott's\nballad, is a circumstance that would embolden even a very cautious\nantiquary, if he had received Hive hill from tradition, and was\ntherefore unaffected by a suspicion that this locality had been\nintroduced by an editor from the old song.[367]\n\nMost of the versions give no explicit account of the knight's prolonged\nsleep. He must needs be asleep when the lady comes to him, else there\nwould be no story; but his heavy slumber, not broken by all the efforts\nof his horse and his hawk, is as a matter of course not natural; es geht\nnicht zu mit rechten dingen; the witch-wife of #A# 4 is at the bottom of\nthat. And yet the broom-flowers strewed on his hals-bane in #A# 8, #B#\n3, and the roses in #D# 6, are only to be a sign that the maid had been\nthere and was gone. Considering the character of many of Buchan's\nversions, we cannot feel sure that #C# has not borrowed the second and\nthird stanzas from #B#, and the witch-wife, in the sixth, from #A#; but\nit would be extravagant to call in question the genuineness of #C# as a\nwhole. The eighth stanza gives us the light which we require.\n\n 'Ye'll pu the bloom frae aff the broom,\n Strew't at his head and feet,\n And aye the thicker that ye do strew,\n The sounder he will sleep.'\n\nThe silver belt about the knight's head in #A# 5 can hardly have to do\nwith his sleeping, and to me seems meaningless. It is possible that\nroses are not used at random in #D# 6, though, like the posie of\npleasant perfume in #F# 9, they serve only to prove that the lady had\nbeen there. An excrescence on the dog-rose, rosenschwamm, schlafkunz,\nkunz, schlafapfel, it is believed in Germany, if laid under a man's\npillow, will make him sleep till it is taken away. Grimm, Deutsche\nMythologie, p. 1008, and Deutsches W\u00f6rterbuch (Hildebrand), V, 2753 _e_.\n\n#C# makes the lady hide in the broom to hear what the knight will say\nwhen he wakes, and in this point agrees with the broadside #F#, as also\nin the comment made by the men on their master in stanza 24; cf. #F# 16.\n\nMr J. W. Dixon has reprinted an Aldermary Churchyard copy of the\nbroadside, differing as to four or five words only from #F#, in Ancient\nPoems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 116, Percy\nSociety, Volume XVII. The editor remarks that #A# is evidently taken\nfrom #F#; from which it is clear that the pungent buckishness of the\nbroadside does not necessarily make an impression. #A# smells of the\nbroom; #F# suggests the groom.[368]\n\nThe sleep which is produced in #A# by strewing the flower of the broom\non a man's head and feet, according to a witch's advice, is brought\nabout in two Norse ballads by means not simply occult, but altogether\npreternatural; that is, by the power of runes. One of these,\n'S\u00f6mn-runorna,' Arwidsson, II, 249, No 133, is preserved in a manuscript\nof the end of the seventeenth, or the beginning of the eighteenth,\ncentury. The other, 'S\u00f6vnerunerne,' Grundtvig, II, 337, No 81, was taken\ndown in 1847 from the singing of a woman seventy-five years of age.\n\nThe Swedish ballad runs thus. There is a damsel in our land who every\nnight will sleep with a man, and dance a maid in the morning. The fame\nof this comes to the ears of the son of the king of England, who orders\nhis horse, thinking to catch this damsel. When he arrives at the castle\ngate, there stands the lady, and asks him what is his haste. He frankly\nanswers that he expects to get a fair maid's honor for his pains, and\nshe bids him follow her to the upper room. She lays sheets on the bed,\nand writes strong runes on them. The youth sits down on the bed, and is\nasleep before he can stretch himself out. He sleeps through that day,\nand the next, and into the third. Then the lady rouses him. \"Wake up;\nyou are sleeping your two eyes out.\" He is still so heavy that he can\nhardly stir. He offers her his horse and saddle to report the matter as\nhe wishes. \"Keep your horse,\" she says; \"shame fa such liars.\"\n\nThe Danish story is much the same. One of a king's five sons goes to\nmake trial of the maid. She tells him to fasten his horse while she goes\nbefore and unlocks; calls to her maid to bring five feather-beds,\nfeather-beds nine, and write a sleep on each of them. He sleeps through\nthree days, and is roused the fourth, with \"Wake up, wake up; you have\nslept away your pluck.\" He offers her a bribe, as before, which she\nscornfully rejects, assuring him that he will not be spared when she\ncomes among maids and knights.\n\nA sleep produced by runes or gramarye is one of the two main incidents\nof a tale in the Gesta Romanorum, better known through the other, which\nis the forfeit of flesh for money not forthcoming at the day set, as in\nthe Merchant of Venice: Latin, Oesterley, No 195, p. 603;[369] English,\nHarleian MS. 7333, No 40, printed by Douce, Illustrations of Shakspere,\nI, 281, Madden, p. 130, Herrtage, p. 158; German, No 68, of the printed\nedition of 1489 (which I have not seen). A knight, who has a passion\nfor an emperor's daughter, engages to give a thousand [hundred] marks\nfor being once admitted to her bed. He instantly falls asleep, and has\nto be roused in the morning. Like terms are made for a second night, and\nthe man's lands have to be pledged to raise the money. He sleeps as\nbefore, but stipulates for a third night at the same price. A merchant\nlends him the thousand marks, on condition that, if he breaks his day,\nhis creditor may take the money's weight of flesh from his body. Feeling\nwhat a risk he is now running, the knight consults a philosopher,\nVirgil, in the English version. The philosopher (who in the Latin\nversion says he ought to know, for he had helped the lady to her trick)\ntells the knight that between the sheet and coverlet of the bed there is\na letter, which causes the sleep; this he must find, and, when found,\ncast far from the bed. The knight follows these directions, and gets the\nbetter of the lady, who conceives a reciprocal passion for him, and\ndelivers him, in the sequel, from the fearful penalty of his bond by\npleading that the flesh must be taken without shedding of blood.\n\nThe romance of Dolopathos, a variety of the Seven Wise Masters, written\nabout 1185, considerably before the earliest date which has hitherto been\nproposed for the compilation of the Gesta, has this story, with\nvariations, of which only these require to be noted. The lady has herself\nbeen a student in magic. She is wooed of many; all comers are received,\nand pay a hundred marks; any one who accomplishes his will may wed her the\nnext day. An enchanted feather of a screech-owl, laid under the pillow,\nmakes all who enter the bed fall asleep at once, and many have been\nbaffled by this charm. At last a youth of high birth, but small means,\ntries his fortune, and, failing at the first essay, tries once more.\nThinking that the softness of his couch was the cause of his falling\nasleep, he puts away the pillow, and in this process the feather is thrown\nout: Iohannis de Alta Silva Dolopathos, ed. Oesterley, pp 57-59; Herbers,\nLi Romans de Dolopathos, Brunet et Montaiglon, vv 7096-7498, pp 244-59; Le\nRoux de Lincy, in a sequel to Loiseleur-Deslongchamps's Essai sur les\nFables indiennes, pp 211 ff. This form of the tale is found in German, in\na fifteenth-century manuscript, from which it was printed by Haupt in\nAltdeutsche Bl\u00e4tter, I, 143-49; but here the sleep is produced by the use\nof _both_ the means employed in the Gesta and in Dolopathos, letter\n(runes) and feather, \"the wild man's feather.\"[370]\n\nMagic is dropped, and a sleeping draught administered, just as the man\nis going to bed, in a version of the story in the Pecorone of Ser\nGiovanni Fiorentino, Giornata, IV^a, Nov. 1_{a} (last quarter of the\nfourteenth century). Upon the third trial the man, warned by a friendly\nchambermaid not to drink, pours the medicated wine into his bosom. The\naccount of Ser Giovanni is adopted in Les Adventures d'Abdalla fils\nd'Hanif, etc., La Haye, 1713, Biblioth\u00e8que de Romans, 1778, Janvier, I,\n112-14, 143 f.\n\nEllin writes sleep-runes on the cushions on which her husband is to\nsleep, in the Danish ballad 'Fr\u00e6ndeh\u00e6vn,' Grundtvig, No 4, #A# 33 [#C#\n45].\n\nIn Icelandic tales a sleep-thorn[371] is employed, probably a thorn\ninscribed with runes. The thorn is stuck into the clothes or into the\nhead (the ears, according to the popular notion, Vigfusson), and the\nsleep lasts till the thorn is taken out. Odin stuck such a thorn into\nBrynhild's garments: F\u00e1fnism\u00e1l, 43; Sigrdr\u00edfum\u00e1l, 7; V\u00f6ls\u00fanga Saga,\nFornaldar S\u00f6gur, I, 166. The thorn is put into the clothes also in the\nIcelandic fairy-tale, M\u00e6r\u00fe\u00f6ll, Maurer, Isl\u00e4ndische Volkssagen, p. 286.\n\u00d3l\u00f6f, to save herself from Helgi's violence, and to punish his\ninsolence, sticks him with a sleep-thorn after he is dead drunk: Hr\u00f3lfs\nSaga Kraka, Forn. S. I, 18f, Torf\u00e6us, p. 32. Vilhj\u00e1lmr sticks a\nsleep-thorn into Hr\u00f3lfr, and he lies as if dead so long as the thorn is\nin him: Gaungu-Hr\u00f3lfs Saga, Forn. S., III, 303, 306.\n\nA pillow of soporific quality, which Kamele, by Isot's direction, puts\nunder Kaedin's head, assures her safety though she lies all night by his\nside: Ulrich's continuation of Gottfried's Tristan, vv 1668-99, 1744-85;\nand Heinrich's continuation, omitting the last circumstance, vv\n4861-4960 (J. Grimm).\n\nThe witch-woman, in the English ballad, #A# 4, represents the\nphilosopher in the Gesta, and the wager in the other versions the fee or\nfine exacted by the lady in the Gesta and elsewhere.\n\nAn Italian ballad, a slight and unmeritable thing, follows the story of\nSer Giovanni, or agrees with it, in respect to the sleeping-draught. A\nman falls in with a girl at a spring, and offers her a hundred ducats,\nor scudi, per una nottina. The girl says that she must consult her\nmother. The mother advises her to accept the offer: she will give the\nman a drug, and the money will serve for a dowry. The man, roused in the\nmorning, counts out the money with one hand and wipes his eyes with the\nother. When asked why he is crying, he replies that the money is not the\nloss he weeps for, and makes a second offer of the same amount. The girl\nwishes to refer the matter to her mother again, but the gallant says the\nmother shall not take him in a second time. One version (#A#) ends\nsomewhat more respectably: the girl declares that, having come off with\nher honor once, she will not again expose herself to shame. #A.#\nFerraro, Canti popolari monferrini, 'La Ragazza onesta,' p. 66, No 47.\n#B.# Ferraro, C. p. di Ferrara, Cento e Pontelagoscuro, p. 53 (Cento) No\n4, 'La Ragazza onesta.' #C.# The same, p. 94 (Pontelagoscuro) No 8, 'La\nBrunetta,' previously in Rivista di Filologia Romanza, II, 200. #D.#\nWolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p. 74, 'La Contadina alla Fonte.' #E.#\nBernoni, C. p. veneziani, Puntata V, No 4, p. 6, 'La bella Brunetta.'\n#F.# Bolza, Canzoni p. comasche, p. 677, No 57, 'L'Amante deluso.' #G.#\nIve, C. p. istriani, p. 324, No 4, 'La Contadina alla Fonte.' #H.#\nGinandrea, C. p. marchigiani, p. 277, No 12, 'La Madre indegna.' #I.#\nFerraro, C. p. della Bassa Romagna, Rivista di Letteratura popolare, p.\n57, 'La Ragazza onesta.' #J.# Casetti e Imbriani, C. p. della Provincie\nmeridionali, p. 1, No 1 (Chieti), the first sixteen verses. #K.#\nArchivio per Tradizioni popolari, I, 89, No 4, 'La Fand\u00e9ll e lu\nCaval\u00e9re,' the first thirteen lines.\n\n'The Sleepy Merchant,' a modern ballad, in Kinloch's MSS, V, 26, was\nperhaps fashioned on some traditional report of the story in Il\nPecorone. The girl gives the merchant a drink, and when the sun is up\nstarts to her feet, crying, \"I'm a leal maiden yet!\" The merchant comes\nback, and gets another dram, but \"tooms it a' between the bolster and\nthe wa,\" and then sits up and sings.\n\nA ballad found everywhere in Germany, but always in what appears to be\nan extremely defective form, must originally, one would think, have had\nsome connection with those which we are considering. A hunter meets a\ngirl on the heath, and takes her with him to his hut, where they pass\nthe night. She rouses him in the morning, and proclaims herself still a\nmaid. The hunter is so chagrined that he is of a mind to kill her, but\nspares her life. 'Der J\u00e4ger,' 'Der ernsthafte J\u00e4ger,' 'Des J\u00e4gers\nVerdruss,' 'Der J\u00e4ger und die reine Jungfrau,' 'Der verschlafene J\u00e4ger:'\nMeinert, p. 203; Wunderhorn, 1857, I, 274, Birlinger u. Crecelius, I,\n190; B\u00fcsching u. von der Hagen, p. 134, No 51; Nicolai, Almanach, I, 77\n(fragment); Erk u. Irmer, ii, 12, No 15; Meier, p. 305, No 170; Pr\u00f6hle,\nNo 54, p. 81; Fiedler, p. 175; Erk, Liederhort, pp 377 f, Nos 174,\n174^a; Hoffmann u. Richter, p. 202, No 176; Ditfurth, Fr\u00e4nkische\nVolkslieder, II, 26 f, Nos 30, 31; Norrenberg, Des d\u00fclkener Fiedlers\nLiederbuch, No 16, p. 20; J. A. E. K\u00f6hler, Volksbrauch im Voigtlande, p.\n307; Jeitteles, Volkslied in Steiermark, Archiv f\u00fcr Lit. gesch., IX,\n361, etc.; Uhland, No 104, Niederdeutsches Liederbuch, No 59,\n'vermuthlich vom Eingang des 17. Jhd.' Cf. Die M\u00e2eget, Flemish,\nB\u00fcsching u. von der Hagen, p. 311; Willems, p. 160, No 61.[372]\n\n#A a# is translated by Doenniges, p. 3; by Gerhard, p. 146; by Arndt,\nBl\u00fctenlese, p. 226.\n\n\nA\n\n #a.# Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 271, ed. 1803. #b.# Sts.\n 8-14; the same, II, 229, ed. 1802.\n\n 1\n There was a knight and a lady bright,\n Had a true tryste at the broom;\n The ane gaed early in the morning,\n The other in the afternoon.\n\n 2\n And ay she sat in her mother's bower door,\n And ay she made her mane:\n 'O whether should I gang to the Broomfield Hill,\n Or should I stay at hame?\n\n 3\n 'For if I gang to the Broomfield Hill,\n My maidenhead is gone;\n And if I chance to stay at hame,\n My love will ca me mansworn.'\n\n 4\n Up then spake a witch-woman,\n Ay from the room aboon:\n 'O ye may gang to the Broomfield Hill,\n And yet come maiden hame.\n\n 5\n 'For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill,\n Ye'll find your love asleep,\n With a silver belt about his head,\n And a broom-cow at his feet.\n\n 6\n 'Take ye the blossom of the broom,\n The blossom it smells sweet,\n And strew it at your true-love's head,\n And likewise at his feet.\n\n 7\n 'Take ye the rings off your fingers,\n Put them on his right hand,\n To let him know, when he doth awake,\n His love was at his command.'\n\n 8\n She pu'd the broom flower on Hive Hill,\n And strewd on 's white hals-bane,\n And that was to be wittering true\n That maiden she had gane.\n\n 9\n 'O where were ye, my milk-white steed,\n That I hae coft sae dear,\n That wadna watch and waken me\n When there was maiden here?'\n\n 10\n 'I stamped wi my foot, master,\n And gard my bridle ring,\n But na kin thing wald waken ye,\n Till she was past and gane.'\n\n 11\n 'And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk,\n That I did love sae dear,\n That wadna watch and waken me\n When there was maiden here.'\n\n 12\n 'I clapped wi my wings, master,\n And aye my bells I rang,\n And aye cry'd, Waken, waken, master,\n Before the ladye gang.'\n\n 13\n 'But haste and haste, my gude white steed,\n To come the maiden till,\n Or a' the birds of gude green wood\n Of your flesh shall have their fill.'\n\n 14\n 'Ye need na burst your gude white steed\n Wi racing oer the howm;\n Nae bird flies faster through the wood,\n Than she fled through the broom.'\n\n\nB\n\n Herd, Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 310.\n\n 1\n 'I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with you\n Five hundred merks and ten,\n That a maid shanae go to yon bonny green wood,\n And a maiden return agen.'\n\n 2\n 'I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with you\n Five hundred merks and ten,\n That a maid shall go to yon bonny green wood,\n And a maiden return agen.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n She's pu'd the blooms aff the broom-bush,\n And strewd them on 's white hass-bane:\n 'This is a sign whereby you may know\n That a maiden was here, but she's gane.'\n\n 4\n 'O where was you, my good gray steed,\n That I hae loed sae dear?\n O why did you not awaken me\n When my true love was here?'\n\n 5\n 'I stamped with my foot, master,\n And gard my bridle ring,\n But you wadnae waken from your sleep\n Till your love was past and gane.'\n\n 6\n 'Now I may sing as dreary a sang\n As the bird sung on the brier,\n For my true love is far removd,\n And I'll neer see her mair.'\n\n\nC\n\n Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 291.\n\n 1\n There was a knight and lady bright\n Set trysts amo the broom,\n The one to come at morning ear,\n The other at afternoon.\n\n 2\n 'I'll wager a wager wi you,' he said,\n 'An hundred merks and ten,\n That ye shall not go to Broomfield Hills,\n Return a maiden again.'\n\n 3\n 'I'll wager a wager wi you,' she said,\n 'A hundred pounds and ten,\n That I will gang to Broomfield Hills,\n A maiden return again.'\n\n 4\n The lady stands in her bower door,\n And thus she made her mane:\n 'O shall I gang to Broomfield Hills,\n Or shall I stay at hame?\n\n 5\n 'If I do gang to Broomfield Hills,\n A maid I'll not return;\n But if I stay from Broomfield Hills,\n I'll be a maid mis-sworn.'\n\n 6\n Then out it speaks an auld witch-wife,\n Sat in the bower aboon:\n 'O ye shall gang to Broomfield Hills,\n Ye shall not stay at hame.\n\n 7\n 'But when ye gang to Broomfield Hills,\n Walk nine times round and round;\n Down below a bonny burn bank,\n Ye'll find your love sleeping sound.\n\n 8\n 'Ye'll pu the bloom frae aff the broom,\n Strew 't at his head and feet,\n And aye the thicker that ye do strew,\n The sounder he will sleep.\n\n 9\n 'The broach that is on your napkin,\n Put it on his breast bane,\n To let him know, when he does wake,\n That's true love's come and gane.\n\n 10\n 'The rings that are on your fingers,\n Lay them down on a stane,\n To let him know, when he does wake,\n That's true love's come and gane.\n\n 11\n 'And when ye hae your work all done,\n Ye'll gang to a bush o' broom,\n And then you'll hear what he will say,\n When he sees ye are gane.'\n\n 12\n When she came to Broomfield Hills,\n She walkd it nine times round,\n And down below yon burn bank,\n She found him sleeping sound.\n\n 13\n She pu'd the bloom frae aff the broom,\n Strew'd it at 's head and feet,\n And aye the thicker that she strewd,\n The sounder he did sleep.\n\n 14\n The broach that was on her napkin,\n She put on his breast bane,\n To let him know, when he did wake,\n His love was come and gane.\n\n 15\n The rings that were on her fingers,\n She laid upon a stane,\n To let him know, when he did wake,\n His love was come and gane.\n\n 16\n Now when she had her work all dune,\n She went to a bush o broom,\n That she might hear what he did say,\n When he saw she was gane.\n\n 17\n 'O where were ye, my guid grey hound,\n That I paid for sae dear,\n Ye didna waken me frae my sleep\n When my true love was sae near?'\n\n 18\n 'I scraped wi my foot, master,\n Till a' my collars rang,\n But still the mair that I did scrape,\n Waken woud ye nane.'\n\n 19\n 'Where were ye, my berry-brown steed,\n That I paid for sae dear,\n That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep\n When my love was sae near?'\n\n 20\n 'I patted wi my foot, master,\n Till a' my bridles rang,\n But still the mair that I did patt,\n Waken woud ye nane.'\n\n 21\n 'O where were ye, my gay goss-hawk,\n That I paid for sae dear,\n That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep\n When ye saw my love near?'\n\n 22\n 'I flapped wi my wings, master,\n Till a' my bells they rang,\n But still the mair that I did flap,\n Waken woud ye nane.'\n\n 23\n 'O where were ye, my merry young men,\n That I pay meat and fee,\n Ye woudna waken me out o' my sleep\n When my love ye did see?'\n\n 24\n 'Ye'll sleep mair on the night, master,\n And wake mair on the day;\n Gae sooner down to Broomfield Hills\n When ye've sic pranks to play.\n\n 25\n 'If I had seen any armed men\n Come riding over the hill--\n But I saw but a fair lady\n Come quietly you until.'\n\n 26\n 'O wae mat worth you, my young men,\n That I pay meat and fee,\n That ye woudna waken me frae sleep\n When ye my love did see.\n\n 27\n 'O had I waked when she was nigh,\n And o her got my will,\n I shoudna cared upon the morn\n Tho sma birds o her were fill.'\n\n 28\n When she went out, right bitter wept,\n But singing came she hame;\n Says, I hae been at Broomfield Hills,\n And maid returnd again.\n\n\nD\n\n Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 195.\n\n 1\n 'I'll wager, I'll wager,' says Lord John,\n 'A hundred merks and ten,\n That ye winna gae to the bonnie broom-fields,\n And a maid return again.'\n\n 2\n 'But I'll lay a wager wi you, Lord John,\n A' your merks oure again,\n That I'll gae alane to the bonnie broom-fields,\n And a maid return again.'\n\n 3\n Then Lord John mounted his grey steed,\n And his hound wi his bells sae bricht,\n And swiftly he rade to the bonny broom-fields,\n Wi his hawks, like a lord or knicht.\n\n 4\n 'Now rest, now rest, my bonnie grey steed,\n My lady will soon be here,\n And I'll lay my head aneath this rose sae red,\n And the bonnie burn sae near.'\n\n 5\n But sound, sound was the sleep he took,\n For he slept till it was noon,\n And his lady cam at day, left a taiken and away,\n Gaed as licht as a glint o the moon.\n\n 6\n She strawed the roses on the ground,\n Threw her mantle on the brier,\n And the belt around her middle sae jimp,\n As a taiken that she'd been there.\n\n 7\n The rustling leaves flew round his head,\n And rousd him frae his dream;\n He saw by the roses, and mantle sae green,\n That his love had been there and was gane.\n\n 8\n 'O whare was ye, my gude grey steed,\n That I coft ye sae dear,\n That ye didna waken your master,\n Whan ye kend that his love was here?'\n\n 9\n 'I pautit wi my foot, master,\n Garrd a' my bridles ring,\n And still I cried, Waken, gude master,\n For now is the hour and time.'\n\n 10\n 'Then whare was ye, my bonnie grey hound,\n That I coft ye sae dear,\n That ye didna waken your master,\n Whan ye kend that his love was here?'\n\n 11\n 'I pautit wi my foot, master,\n Garrd a' my bells to ring,\n And still I cried, Waken, gude master,\n For now is the hour and time.'\n\n 12\n 'But whare was ye, my hawks, my hawks,\n That I coft ye sae dear,\n That ye didna waken your master,\n Whan ye kend that his love was here?'\n\n 13\n 'O wyte na me, now, my master dear,\n I garrd a' my young hawks sing,\n And still I cried, Waken, gude master,\n For now is the hour and time.'\n\n 14\n 'Then be it sae, my wager gane,\n 'T will skaith frae meikle ill,\n For gif I had found her in bonnie broom-fields,\n O her heart's blude ye'd drunken your fill.'\n\n\nE\n\n Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1, 1830, p. 7.\n\n 1\n 'I'll wager, I'll wager wi you, fair maid,\n Five hunder punds and ten,\n That a maid winna gae to the bonnie green bower,\n An a maid return back agen.'\n\n 2\n 'I'll wager, I'll wager wi you, kin' sir,\n Five hunder punds and ten,\n That a maid I'll gang to the bonnie green bower,\n An a maid return again.'\n\n 3\n But when she cam to the bonnie green bower,\n Her true-love was fast asleep;\n Sumtimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,\n An his breath was wondrous sweet.\n\n 4\n Sometimes she went to the crown o his head,\n Sometimes to the soles o his feet,\n Sometimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,\n An his breath was wondrous sweet.\n\n 5\n She's taen a ring frae her finger,\n Laid it upon his breast-bane;\n It was for a token that she had been there,\n That she had been there, but was gane.\n\n 6\n 'Where was you, where was ye, my merrymen a',\n That I do luve sae dear,\n That ye didna waken me out o my sleep\n When my true love was here?\n\n 7\n 'Where was ye, where was ye, my gay goshawk,\n That I do luve sae dear,\n That ye didna waken me out o my sleep\n When my true love was here?'\n\n 8\n 'Wi my wings I flaw, kin' sir,\n An wi my bill I sang,\n But ye woudna waken out o yer sleep\n Till your true love was gane.'\n\n 9\n 'Where was ye, my bonnie grey steed,\n That I do luve sae dear,\n That ye didna waken me out o my sleep\n When my true love was here?'\n\n 10\n 'I stampit wi my fit, maister,\n And made my bridle ring,\n But ye wadna waken out o yer sleep,\n Till your true love was gane.'\n\n\nF\n\n #a.# Douce Ballads, III, fol. 64b: Newcastle, printed and\n sold by John White, in Pilgrim Street. #b.# Douce Ballads,\n IV, fol. 10.\n\n 1\n A noble young squire that livd in the west,\n He courted a young lady gay,\n And as he was merry, he put forth a jest,\n A wager with her he would lay.\n\n 2\n 'A wager with me?' the young lady reply'd,\n 'I pray, about what must it be?\n If I like the humour you shan't be deny'd;\n I love to be merry and free.'\n\n 3\n Quoth he, 'I will lay you an hundred pounds,\n A hundred pounds, aye, and ten,\n That a maid if you go to the merry broomfield,\n That a maid you return not again.'\n\n 4\n 'I'll lay you that wager,' the lady she said,\n Then the money she flung down amain;\n 'To the merry broomfield I'll go a pure maid,\n The same I'll return home again.'\n\n 5\n He coverd her bett in the midst of the hall\n With an hundred and ten jolly pounds,\n And then to his servant straightway he did call,\n For to bring forth his hawk and his hounds.\n\n 6\n A ready obedience the servant did yield,\n And all was made ready oer night;\n Next morning he went to the merry broomfield,\n To meet with his love and delight.\n\n 7\n Now when he came there, having waited a while,\n Among the green broom down he lies;\n The lady came to him, and coud not but smile,\n For sleep then had closed his eyes.\n\n 8\n Upon his right hand a gold ring she secur'd,\n Down from her own finger so fair,\n That when he awaked he might be assur'd\n His lady and love had been there.\n\n 9\n She left him a posie of pleasant perfume,\n Then stept from the place where he lay;\n Then hid herself close in the besom of the broom,\n To hear what her true-love would say.\n\n 10\n He wakend and found the gold ring on his hand,\n Then sorrow of heart he was in:\n 'My love has been here, I do well understand,\n And this wager I now shall not win.\n\n 11\n 'O where was you, my goodly gawshawk,\n The which I have purchasd so dear?\n Why did you not waken me out of my sleep\n When the lady, my lover, was here?'\n\n 12\n 'O with my bells did I ring, master,\n And eke with my feet did I run;\n And still did I cry, Pray awake, master,\n She's here now, and soon will be gone.'\n\n 13\n 'O where was you, my gallant greyhound,\n Whose collar is flourishd with gold?\n Why hadst thou not wakend me out of my sleep\n When thou didst my lady behold?'\n\n 14\n 'Dear master, I barkd with my mouth when she came,\n And likewise my coller I shook,\n And told you that here was the beautiful dame,\n But no notice of me then you took.'\n\n 15\n 'O where was thou, my serving-man,\n Whom I have cloathed so fine?\n If you had wak'd me when she was here,\n The wager then had been mine.'\n\n 16\n 'In the night ye should have slept, master,\n And kept awake in the day;\n Had you not been sleeping when hither she came,\n Then a maid she had not gone away.'\n\n 17 Then home he returnd, when the wager was lost,\n With sorrow of heart, I may say;\n The lady she laughd to find her love crost,--\n This was upon midsummer-day.\n\n 18\n 'O squire, I laid in the bushes conceald,\n And heard you when you did complain;\n And thus I have been to the merry broomfield,\n And a maid returnd back again.\n\n 19\n 'Be chearful, be chearful, and do not repine,\n For now 't is as clear as the sun,\n The money, the money, the money is mine,\n The wager I fairly have won.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. b.#\n\n 8^1. flower frae the bush.\n\n 8^3. a witter true.\n\n 9^2. I did love.\n\n 11^1. gray goshawk.\n\n 11^2. sae well.\n\n 11^3. When my love was here hersell.\n\n 12^4. Afore your true love gang.\n\n 13^3. in good.\n\n 14^{2-4}.\n\n By running oer the howm;\n Nae hare runs swifter oer the lea\n Nor your love ran thro the broom.\n\n#E#\n\n _concludes with these stanzas, which do not belong to this\n ballad_:\n\n 11\n 'Rise up, rise up, my bonnie grey cock,\n And craw when it is day,\n An your neck sall be o the beaten gowd,\n And your wings o the silver lay.'\n\n 12\n But the cock provd fauss, and untrue he was,\n And he crew three hour ower seen,\n The lassie thocht it day, and sent her love away,\n An it was but a blink o the meen.\n\n 13\n 'If I had him but agen,' she says,\n 'O if I but had him agen,\n The best grey cock that ever crew at morn\n Should never bereave me o 's charms.'\n\n#F. a.#\n\n 8^2. fingers.\n\n 11^1, 13^1. Oh.\n\n 15^2. I am.\n\n #b.#\n\n 2^2. I pray you now, what.\n\n 3^1. Said he.\n\n 3^4. _omits_ That.\n\n 4^3. _omits_ pure.\n\n 4^4. And the ... back again.\n\n 5^2. ten good.\n\n 5^3. he strait.\n\n 5^4. _omits_ For.\n\n 6^1. his servants.\n\n 6^2. _omits_ made.\n\n 6^4. his joy.\n\n 7^4. sleep had fast.\n\n 8^2. finger.\n\n 9^3. in the midst.\n\n 9^4. what her lover.\n\n 10^1. Awaking he found.\n\n 10^2. of bearst.\n\n 10^3. _omits_ do.\n\n 11^3. wake.\n\n 11^4. and lover.\n\n 12^{1,2}. I did.\n\n 12^3. wake.\n\n 12^4. here and she.\n\n 13^3. Why did you not wake.\n\n 14^1. I barked aloud when.\n\n 14^3. that there was my.\n\n 15^2. I have.\n\n 15^3. when she had been here.\n\n 15^4. had been surely mine.\n\n 16^1. _omits_ should.\n\n 17^3. to see.\n\n 18^1. lay.\n\n 18^3. so I.\n\n 18^4. have returnd.\n\n #b# _has no imprint._\n\n\n[366] Furnivall, Captain Cox, his Ballads and Books, pp cxxvii f. Ritson\ncited the comedy in the dissertation prefixed to his Ancient Songs,\n1790, p. lx.\n\n[367] Motherwell remarks, at page 42 of his Introduction, \"The song is\npopular still, and is often to be met with.\" It was printed in a cheap\nAmerican song-book, which I have not been able to recover, under the\ntitle of 'The Green Broomfield,' and with some cis-atlantic variations.\nGraham's Illustrated Magazine, September, 1858, gives these stanzas:\n\n \"Then when she went to the green broom field,\n Where her love was fast asleep,\n With a gray _goose_-hawk and a green laurel bough,\n And a green broom under his feet.\n\n \"And when he awoke from out his sleep,\n An angry man was he;\n He looked to the East, and he looked to the West,\n And he wept for his sweetheart to see.\n\n \"Oh! where was you, my gray _goose_-hawk,\n The hawk that I loved so dear,\n That you did not awake me from out my sleep,\n When my sweetheart was so near?\"\n\n[368] The broadside is also copied into Buchan's MSS, II, 197.\n\n[369] The Anglo-Latin text in Harleian MS. 2270, No 48.\n\n[370] Sy ... bereytte keyn abende das bette met der cz\u00f6berye met der\nschryft und met des wylden mannes veddere, p. 145, lines 8, 10-12; das\nquam alles von der czoyberye, das die jungfrowe dy knaben alle beczobert\nhatte met schryft und met bryven, dy sy en under dy h\u00f6bt leyte under dy\nkussen, und met den veddern von den wylden ruchen l\u00fcten, lines 1-5. Only\n_one_ letter and one feather is employed in each case.\n\n[371] Svefn\u00feorn, Danish s\u00f8vntorn, or s\u00f8vnpreen: blundstafir,\nsleep-staves, rods (if not letters, runes) in Sigrdr\u00edfum\u00e1l, 2.\n\n[372] The first stanza of the German ballad occurs in a music-book of\n1622: Hoffmann u. Richter, p. 202, who add that the ballad is extant in\nDutch and Flemish.\n\n\n\n\n44\n\nTHE TWA MAGICIANS\n\n Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 24;\n Motherwell's MS., p. 570.\n\n\nA base-born cousin of a pretty ballad known over all Southern Europe,\nand elsewhere, and in especially graceful forms in France.\n\nThe French ballad generally begins with a young man's announcing that he\nhas won a mistress, and intends to pay her a visit on Sunday, or to give\nher an _aubade_. She declines his visit, or his music. To avoid him she\nwill turn, e. g., into a rose; then he will turn bee, and kiss her. She\nwill turn quail; he sportsman, and bag her. She will turn carp; he\nangler, and catch her. She will turn hare; and he hound. She will turn\nnun; he priest, and confess her day and night. She will fall sick; he\nwill watch with her, or be her doctor. She will become a star; he a\ncloud, and muffle her. She will die; he will turn earth, into which they\nwill put her, or St Peter, and receive her into Paradise. In the end she\nsays, Since you are inevitable, you may as well have me as another; or\nmore complaisantly, Je me donnerai \u00e0 toi, puisque tu m'aimes tant.\n\nThis ballad might probably be found anywhere in France, but most of the\nknown versions are from south of the Loire. #A.# Romania, X, 390, E.\nLegrand, from Normandy; also known in Champagne. #B.# 'Les\nTransformations,' V. Smith, Vielles Chansons du Velay et du Forez,\nRomania, VII, 61 ff. #C.# Po\u00e9sies populaires de la France, MS., III,\nfol. 233, Vienne. #D.# The same, II, fol. 39, Gu\u00e9ret, Creuse. #E, F.#\nThe same volume, fol. 41, fol. 42. #G.# 'La maitresse gagn\u00e9e,' the same\nvolume, fol. 38: \"on chante cette chanson sur les confines du\nd\u00e9partement de l'Ain qui le s\u00e9parent de la Savoie.\"[373] #H.# 'J'ai fait\nune maitresse,' Champfleury, Chansons populaires des Provinces, p. 90,\nBourbonnais. #I.# 'Adiu, Margaridoto,' Blad\u00e9, Po\u00e9sies pop. de la\nGascogne, II, 361. #J.# M\u00e9lusine, col. 338 f, Carcasonne. #K.# Montel et\nLambert, Chansons pop. du Languedoc, p. 544-51, and Revue des Langues\nromanes, XII, 261-67, four copies. #L.# 'Les Transfourmatiens,' Arbaud,\nII, 128. The Proven\u00e7al ballad is introduced by Mistral into Mir\u00e8io,\nChant III, as the song of Magali. #M.# 'La Poursuite d'Amour,' Marelle,\nin Archiv f\u00fcr das Studium der neueren Sprachen, LVI, 191. #N.# 'J'ai\nfait une maitresse,' Gagnon, Chansons populaires du Canada, p. 137, and\nLovell, Recueil de Chansons canadiennes, 'Chanson de Voyageur,' p. 68.\n#O.# Gagnon, p. 78.\n\n#Catalan.# Closely resembling the French: #A.# 'La Esquerpa,' Briz,\nCansons de la Terra, I, 125. #B, C, D.# 'Las Transformaciones,' Mil\u00e1,\nRomancerillo Catalan, p. 393, No 513.\n\n#Italian.# Reduced to a _rispetto_, Tigri, Canti popolari toscani, ed.\n1860, p. 241, No 861.\n\n#Roumanian.# 'Cucul si Turturica,' Alecsandri, Poesi\u011b populare ale\nRom\u00e2nilor, p. 7, No 3; French version, by the same, Ballades et Chants\npopulaires, p. 35, No 7; Schuller, Rom\u00e4nische Volkslieder, p. 47. The\ncuckoo, or the lover under that style, asks the dove to be his mistress\ntill Sunday. The dove, for his sake, would not say No, but because of\nhis mother, who is a witch, if not let alone will change into a roll,\nand hide under the ashes. Then he will turn into a shovel, and get her\nout. She will turn into a reed, and hide in the pond. He will come as\nshepherd to find a reed for a flute, put her to his lips, and cover her\nwith kisses. She will change to an image, and hide in the depths of the\nchurch. He will come every day in the week, as deacon or chorister, to\nkiss the images (a pious usage in those parts), and she will not thus\nescape him. Schuller refers to another version, in Schuster's unprinted\ncollection, in which youth and maid carry on this contest in their\nproper persons, and not under figure.\n\n#Ladin.# Flugi, Die Volkslieder des Engadin, p. 83, No 12. \"Who is the\nyounker that goes a-field ere dawn? Who is his love?\" \"A maid all too\nfair, with dowry small enough.\" \"Maid, wilt give me a rose?\" \"No; my\nfather has forbidden.\" \"Wilt be my love?\" \"Rather a seed, and hide in\nthe earth.\" \"Then I will be a bird, and pick thee out,\" etc.\n\n#Greek.# Tommaseo, III, 61, Passow, p. 431, No 574a. A girl tells her\nmother she will kill herself rather than accept the Turk: she will turn\nswallow, and take to the woods. The mother replies, Turn what you will,\nhe will turn hunter, and take you from me. The same kernel of this\nballad of transformations in Comparetti, Saggi dei Dialetti greci dell'\nItalia meridionale, p. 38, No 36, as M. Paul Meyer has remarked, Revue\nCritique, II, 302.\n\nThe ballad is well known to the Slavic nations.\n\n#Moravian.# \u010celakovsk\u00fd, p. 75, No 6, Wenzig, Slawische Volkslieder,\np. 72, Bibliothek slavischer Poesien, p. 92. A youth threatens to carry\noff a maid for his wife. She will fly to the wood as a dove. He has a\nrifle that will bring her down. She will jump into the water as a fish.\nHe has a net that will take the fish. She will turn to a hare; he to a\ndog; she cannot escape him.\n\n#Polish.# Very common. #A a.# Wac\u0142aw z Oleska, p. 417, No 287;\nKonopka, p. 124. A young man says, though he should ride night and day\nfor it, ride his horse's eyes out, the maid must be his. She will turn\nto a bird, and take to the thicket. But carpenters have axes which can\nfell a wood. Then she will be a fish, and take to the water. But\nfishermen have nets which will find her. Then she will become a wild\nduck, and swim on the lake. Sportsmen have rifles to shoot ducks. Then\nshe will be a star in the sky, and give light to the people. He has a\nfeeling for the poor, and will bring the star down to the earth by his\nprayers. \"I see,\" she says, \"it's God's ordinance; whithersoever I\nbetake myself, you are up with me; I will be yours after all.\" Nearly\nthe same mutations in other versions, with some variety of introduction\nand arrangement. #A b.# Kolberg, Lud, VI, 129, No 257. #A c.#\n\"Przyjaciel ludu, 1836, rok 2, No 34;\" Lipi\u0144ski, p. 135; Kolberg, Lud\nXII, 98, No 193. #B.# Pauli, Pie\u015b\u0144i ludu polskiego, I, 135. #C.#\nThe same, p. 133. #D.# Kolberg, Lud, XII, 99, No 194. #E.# Lud, IV, 19,\nNo 137. #F.# Lud, XII, 97, No 192. #G.# Lud, II, 134, No 161. #H.# Lud,\nVI, 130, No 258. #I.# Woicicki, I, 141, Waldbr\u00fchl, Slawische Balalaika,\np. 433. #J. a, b.# Roger, p. 147, No 285, p. 148, No 286.\n\n#Servian.# Karadshitch, I, 434, No 602; Talvj, II, 100; Kapper, II, 208;\nPellegrini, p. 37. Rather than be her lover's, the maid will turn into a\ngold-jug in a drinking-house; he will be mine host. She will change into\na cup in a coffee-house; he will be _cafetier_. She will become a quail,\nhe a sportsman; a fish, he a net. Pellegrini has still another form, 'La\nfanciulla assediata,' p. 93. An old man desires a maid. She will rather\nturn into a lamb; he will turn into a wolf. She will become a quail; he\na hawk. She will change into a rose; he into a goat, and tear off the\nrose from the tree.\n\nThere can be little doubt that these ballads are derived, or take their\nhint, from popular tales, in which (1) a youth and maid, pursued by a\nsorcerer, fiend, giant, ogre, are transformed by the magical powers of\none or the other into such shapes as enable them to elude, and finally\nto escape, apprehension; or (2) a young fellow, who has been apprenticed\nto a sorcerer, fiend, etc., and has acquired the black art by\nsurreptitious reading in his master's books, being pursued, as before,\nassumes a variety of forms, and his master others, adapted to the\ndestruction of his intended victim, until the tables are turned by the\nfugitive's taking on the stronger figure and despatching his adversary.\n\nSpecimens of the first kind are afforded by Gonzenbach, Sicilianische\nM\u00e4rchen, Nos 14, 15, 54, 55; Grimms, Nos 51, 56, 113; Schneller, No 27;\nPitr\u00e8, Fiabe, Novelle e Racconti siciliani, No 15; Imbriani, Novellaja\nmilanese, No 27, N. fiorentana, No 29; Maspons y Labr\u00f3s, Rondallayre, I,\n85, II, 30; Cosquin, Contes lorrains, in Romania, V, 354; Ralston's\nRussian Folk-Tales, p. 129 f, from Afanasief V, No 23; Bechstein,\nM\u00e4rchenbuch, p. 75, ed. 1879, which combines both. Others in K\u00f6hler's\nnote to Gonzenbach, No 14, at II, 214.\n\nOf the second kind, among very many, are Straparola, viii, 5, see\nGrimms, III, 288, Louveau et Larivey, II, 152; Grimms, Nos 68, 117;\nM\u00fcllenhoff, No 27, p. 466; Pr\u00f6hle, M\u00e4rchen f\u00fcr die Jugend, No 26;\nAsbj\u00f8rnsen og Moe, No 57; Grundtvig, Gamle danske Minder, 1854, Nos 255,\n256; Hahn, Griechische M\u00e4rchen, No 68; the Breton tale Koadalan, Luzel,\nin Revue Celtique, I, 106/107; the Schotts, Walachische M\u00e6rchen, No\n18;[374] Woicicki, Klechdy, II, 26, No 4; Karadshitch, No 6; Afanasief,\nV, 95 f, No 22, VI, 189 ff, No 45 a, b, and other Russian and Little\nRussian versions, VIII, 340. K\u00f6hler adds several examples of one kind or\nthe other in a note to Koadalan, Revue Celtique, I, 132, and Wollner\nSlavic parallels in a note to Leskien und Brugman, Litanische\nVolkslieder und M\u00e4rchen, p. 537 f.\n\nThe usual course of events in these last is that the prentice takes\nrefuge in one of many pomegranate kernels, barley-corns, poppy-seeds,\nmillet-grains, pearls; the master becomes a cock, hen, sparrow, and\npicks up all of these but one, which turns into a fox, dog, weasel,\ncrow, cat, hawk, vulture, that kills the bird.\n\nThe same story occurs in the Turkish Forty Viziers, Behrnauer, p. 195\nff, the last transformations being millet, cock, man, who tears off the\ncock's head. Also in the introduction to Siddhi-K\u00fcr, J\u00fclg, pp 1-3, where\nthere are seven masters instead of one, and the final changes are worms,\ninstead of seeds, seven hens, a man with a cane who kills the hens.[375]\n\nThe pomegranate and cock (found in Straparola) are among the\nmetamorphoses in the contest between the afrite and the princess in the\ntale of the Second Calender in the Arabian Nights.\n\nEntirely similar is the pursuit of Gwion the pigmy by the goddess\nKoridgwen, cited by Villemarqu\u00e9, Barzaz Breiz, p. lvi, ed. 1867, from\nthe Myvyrian Archaiology of Wales, I, 17. Gwion having, by an accident,\ncome to the knowledge of superhuman mysteries, Koridgwen wishes to take\nhis life. He flees, and turns successively into a hare, fish, bird; she\nfollows, in the form of hound, otter, hawk; finally he becomes a wheaten\ngrain, she a hen, and swallows the grain.\n\nThe ordinary tale has found its way into rhyme in a German broadside\nballad, Longard, Altrheinl\u00e4ndische M\u00e4hrlein und Liedlein, p. 76, No 40,\n'Von einem gottlosen Zauberer und seiner unschuldigen Kindlein\nwunderbarer Erl\u00f6sung.' The two children of an ungodly magician, a boy\nand a girl, are devoted by him to the devil. The boy had read in his\nfather's books while his father was away. They flee, and are pursued:\nthe girl becomes a pond, the boy a fish. The wicked wizard goes for a\nnet. The boy pronounces a spell, by which the girl is turned into a\nchapel, and he into an image on the altar. The wizard, unable to get at\nthe image, goes for fire. The boy changes the girl into a\nthreshing-floor, himself into a barley-corn. The wizard becomes a hen,\nand is about to swallow the grain of barley. By another spell the boy\nchanges himself into a fox, and then twists the hen's neck.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTranslated by Gerhard, p. 18.\n\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n The lady stands in her bower door,\n As straight as willow wand;\n The blacksmith stood a little forebye,\n Wi hammer in his hand.\n\n 2\n 'Weel may ye dress ye, lady fair,\n Into your robes o red;\n Before the morn at this same time,\n I'll gain your maidenhead.'\n\n 3\n 'Awa, awa, ye coal-black smith,\n Woud ye do me the wrang\n To think to gain my maidenhead,\n That I hae kept sae lang!'\n\n 4\n Then she has hadden up her hand,\n And she sware by the mold,\n 'I wudna be a blacksmith's wife\n For the full o a chest o gold.\n\n 5\n 'I'd rather I were dead and gone,\n And my body laid in grave,\n Ere a rusty stock o coal-black smith\n My maidenhead shoud have.'\n\n 6\n But he has hadden up his hand,\n And he sware by the mass,\n 'I'll cause ye be my light leman\n For the hauf o that and less.'\n\n O bide, lady, bide,\n And aye he bade her bide;\n The rusty smith your leman shall be,\n For a' your muckle pride.\n\n 7\n Then she became a turtle dow,\n To fly up in the air,\n And he became another dow,\n And they flew pair and pair.\n O bide, lady, bide, &c.\n\n 8\n She turnd hersell into an eel,\n To swim into yon burn,\n And he became a speckled trout,\n To gie the eel a turn.\n O bide, lady, bide, &c.\n\n 9\n Then she became a duck, a duck,\n To puddle in a peel,\n And he became a rose-kaimd drake,\n To gie the duck a dreel.\n O bide, lady, bide, &c.\n\n 10\n She turnd hersell into a hare,\n To rin upon yon hill,\n And he became a gude grey-hound,\n And boldly he did fill.\n O bide, lady, bide, &c.\n\n 11\n Then she became a gay grey mare,\n And stood in yonder slack,\n And he became a gilt saddle.\n And sat upon her back.\n Was she wae, he held her sae,\n And still he bade her bide;\n The rusty smith her leman was,\n For a' her muckle pride.\n\n 12\n Then she became a het girdle,\n And he became a cake,\n And a' the ways she turnd hersell,\n The blacksmith was her make.\n Was she wae, &c.\n\n 13\n She turnd hersell into a ship,\n To sail out ower the flood;\n He ca'ed a nail intill her tail,\n And syne the ship she stood.\n Was she wae, &c.\n\n 14\n Then she became a silken plaid,\n And stretchd upon a bed,\n And he became a green covering,\n And gaind her maidenhead.\n Was she wae, &c.\n\n\n[373] There are two other versions in this great collection besides the\nfive cited, but either I have overlooked these, or they are in Volume\nVI, not yet received.\n\n[374] The Schotts are reminded by their story that Wade puts his son\nWeland in apprenticeship to Mimir Smith, and to the dwarfs. They might\nhave noted that the devil, in the Wallachian tale, wishes to keep his\nprentice a second year, as the dwarfs wish to do in the case of Weland.\nThat little trait comes, no doubt, from Weland's story; but we will not,\ntherefore, conclude that our smith is Weland Smith, and his adventure\nwith the lady founded upon that of Weland with Nidung's daughter.\n\n[375] See Benfey, Pantschatantra, I, 410 f, who maintains the Mongol\ntale to be of Indian origin, and thinks the story to have been derived\nfrom the contests in magic between Buddhist and Brahman saints, of which\nmany are related in Buddhist legends.\n\n\n\n\n45\n\nKING JOHN AND THE BISHOP\n\n #A.# 'Kinge John and Bishoppe,' Percy MS., p. 184; Hales\n and Furnivall, I, 508.\n\n #B.# 'King John and the Abbot of Canterbury,' broadside\n printed for P. Brooksby.\n\n\nThe broadside #B# was printed, with trifling variations, or corrections,\nin Pills to purge Melancholy, IV, 29 (1719), and in Old Ballads, II, 49\n(1723). It is found in several of the collections: Pepys, II, 128, No\n112; Roxburghe, III, 883; Ouvry, No 47; the Bagford; and it was among\nHeber's ballads. Brooksby published from 1672 to 1695, and #B# was\n\"allowed\" by Roger l'Estrange, who was licenser from 1663 to 1685:\nChappell, The Roxburghe Ballads, I, xviii, xxiii. The title of #B# is A\n_new_ ballad of King John and the Abbot of Canterbury, to the tune of\n'The King and the Lord Abbot.'[376] This older ballad seems not to have\ncome down.\n\nThere are at least two other broadsides extant upon the same subject,\nboth mentioned by Percy, and both inferior even to #B#, and in a far\nless popular style: 'The King and the Bishop,' Pepys, I, 472, No 243,\nRoxburghe, III, 170, Douce, fol. 110; and 'The Old Abbot and King\nOlfrey,' Douce, II, fol. 169, Pepys, II, 127, No 111, printed in Old\nBallads, II, 55.[377] In both of these the Shepherd is the Bishop's\nbrother, which he is not in #B#; in #A# he is half-brother. Pepys's\nPenny Merriments contain, I, 14, 'The pleasant History of King Henry the\nEighth and the Abbot of Reading.'[378] This last may, without rashness,\nbe assumed to be a variation of 'King John and the Abbot.'\n\nPercy admitted 'King John and the Abbot' to his Reliques, II, 302,\nintroducing many lines from #A# \"worth reviving,\" and many improvements\nof his own,[379] and thus making undeniably a very good ballad out of a\nvery poor one.\n\nThe story of this ballad was told in Scotland, some fifty years ago, of\nthe Gudeman of Ballengeigh, James the V, the hero of not a few other\ntales. Once on a time, falling in with the priest of Markinch (near\nFalkland), and finding him a dullard, he gave the poor man four\nquestions to think of till they next met, with an intimation that his\nbenefice would be lost were they not rightly answered. The questions\nwere those of our ballad, preceded by Where is the middle of the earth?\nThe parson could make nothing of them, and was forced to resort to a\nmiller of the neighborhood, who was reputed a clever fellow. When called\nto answer the first question, the miller put out his staff, and said,\nThere, as your majesty will find by measuring. The others were dealt\nwith as in the ballad. The king said that the miller should have the\nparson's place, but the miller begged off from this in favor of the\nincumbent. Small, Interesting Roman Antiquities recently discovered in\nFife, p. 289 ff.\n\nRiddle stories in which a forfeit is to be paid by a vanquished party\nhave incidentally been referred to under No 1 and No 2. They are a very\nextensive class. The oldest example is that of Samson's riddle, with a\nstake of thirty sheets (or shirts) and thirty change of garments:\nJudges, xiv, 12 ff. Another from Semitic tradition is what is related of\nSolomon and Hiram of Tyre, in Josephus against Apion, i, 17, 18, and\nAntiquities, viii, 5. After the manner of Amasis and the \u00c6thiopian king\nin Plutarch (see p. 13), they send one another riddles, with a heavy\nfine for failure,--in this case a pecuniary one. Solomon at first poses\nHiram; then Hiram guesses Solomon's riddles, by the aid of Abdemon (or\nthe son of Abdemon), and in turn poses Solomon with riddles devised by\nAbdemon.[380]\n\n'P\u00e1 gr\u00f6nali\u00f0hei\u00f0i,' Landstad, p. 369, is a contest in riddles between\ntwo brothers (refreshingly original in some parts), introduced by three\nstanzas, in which it is agreed that the defeated party shall forfeit his\nshare of their inheritance: and this the editor seems to take quite\nseriously.\n\nDeath is the penalty attending defeat in many of these wit-contests.\nOdin (Vaf\u00fer\u00fa\u00f0nism\u00e1l), jealous of the giant Vaf\u00fer\u00fa\u00f0nir's wisdom, wishes\nto put it to test. He enters the giant's hall, assuming the name of\nGagnr\u00e1\u00f0r, and announces the object of his visit. The giant tells him he\nshall never go out again unless he prove the wiser, asks a few questions\nto see whether he be worth contending with, and, finding him so,\nproposes a decisive trial, with their heads for the stake. Odin now\npropounds, first, twelve questions, mostly in cosmogony, and then five\nrelating to the future of the universe; and all these the giant is\nperfectly competent to answer. The very unfair question is then put,\nWhat did Odin say in his son's ear ere Balder mounted the funeral pile?\nUpon this Vaf\u00fer\u00fb\u00f0nir owns himself vanquished, and we may be sure he was\nnot spared by his antagonist.\n\nThe Hervarar saga contains a story which, in its outlines, approximates\nto that of our ballad until we come to the conclusion, where there is no\nlikeness. King Hei\u00f0rekr, after a long career of blood, gave up war and\ntook to law-making. He chose his twelve wisest men for judges, and\nswore, with one hand on the head and the other on the bristles of a huge\nhog which he had reared, that no man should do such things that he\nshould not get justice from these twelve, while any one who preferred\nmight clear himself by giving the king riddles which he could not guess.\nThere was a man named Gestr, and surnamed the Blind, a very bad and\ntroublesome fellow, who had withheld from Hei\u00f0rekr tribute that was due.\nThe king sent him word to come to him and submit to the judgment of the\ntwelve: if he did not, the case would be tried with arms. Neither of\nthese courses pleased Gestr, who was conscious of being very guilty: he\ntook the resolution of making offerings to Odin for help. One night\nthere was a knock. Gestr went to the door, and saw a man, who announced\nhis name as Gestr. After mutual inquiries about the news, the stranger\nasked whether Gestr the Blind was not in trouble about something. Gestr\nthe Blind explained his plight fully, and the stranger said, \"I will go\nto the king and try what I can effect: we will exchange looks and\nclothes.\" The stranger, in the guise of Gestr, entered the king's hall,\nand said, Sire, I am come to make my peace. \"Will you abide by the\njudgment of my men of law?\" asked the king. \"Are there not other ways?\"\ninquired Gestr. \"Yes: you shall give me riddles which I cannot guess,\nand so purchase your peace.\" Gestr assented, with feigned hesitation;\nchairs were brought, and everybody looked to hear something fine. Gestr\ngave, and Hei\u00f0rekr promptly answered, some thirty riddles.[381] Then\nsaid Gestr: Tell thou me this only, since thou thinkest to be wiser than\nall kings: What said Odin in Balder's ear before he was borne to the\npile? \"Shame and cowardice,\" exclaimed Hei\u00f0rekr, \"and all manner of\npoltroonery, jugglery, goblinry! no one knows those words of thine save\nthou thyself, evil and wretched wight!\" So saying, Hei\u00f0rekr drew\nTyrfing, that never was bared but somebody must fall, to cut down Gestr.\nThe disguised Odin changed to a hawk, and made for the window, but did\nnot escape before Hei\u00f0rekr's sword had docked the bird's tail. For\nbreaking his own truce Odin said Hei\u00f0rekr should die by the hand of a\nslave, which came to pass. Fornaldar S\u00f6gur, Rafn, I, 462 ff.\n\nThe same story has come down in a F\u00e4r\u00f6e ballad, 'G\u00e1tu r\u00edma,'\nHammershaimb, F\u00e6r\u00f6iske Kv\u00e6der, No 4, p. 26 (and previously published in\nthe Antiquarisk Tidsskrift, 1849-51, pp 75-78), translated by Dr Prior,\nI, 336 ff. Gest promises Odin twelve gold marks to take his place. The\nriddles are announced as thirteen in number, but the ballad is slightly\ndefective, and among others the last question, What were Odin's words to\nBalder? is lost. Odin flies off in the shape of a falcon; Hejdrek and\nall his men are burned up.\n\nA tale presenting the essential traits of our ballad is cited in Vincent\nof Beauvais's Speculum Morale, i, 4, 10, at the end. We read, he says,\nof a king, who, seeking a handle for wrenching money out of a wealthy\nand wise man, put him three questions, apparently insoluble, intending\nto make him pay a large sum for not answering them: 1, Where is the\nmiddle point of the earth? 2, How much water is there in the sea? 3, How\ngreat is the mercy of God? On the appointed day, having been brought\nfrom prison into the presence to ransom himself if he could, the\nrespondent, by the _advice of a certain philosopher_, proceeded thus. He\nplanted his staff where he stood, and said, Here is the centre; disprove\nit if you can. If you wish me to measure the sea, stop the rivers, so\nthat nothing may flow in till I have done; then I will give you the\ncontents. To answer your third question, I must borrow your robes and\nyour throne. Then mounting the throne, clothed with the royal insignia,\n\"Behold,\" said he, \"the height of the mercy of God: but now I was a\nslave, now I am a king; but now poor, and now rich; but now in prison\nand in chains, and now at liberty,\" etc.\n\nOf the same stamp is a story in the English Gesta Romanorum, Madden, p.\n55, No 19. A knight was accused to the emperor by his enemies, but not\nso as to give a plausible ground for steps against him. The emperor\ncould hit upon no way but to put him questions, on pain of life and\ndeath. The questions were seven; the third and the sixth will suffice:\nHow many gallons of salt water been in the sea? Answer: Let all the\noutpassings of fresh water be stopped, and I shall tell thee. How many\ndays' journey beth in the circle of the world? Answer: Only the space of\none day.\n\nMuch nearer to the ballad, and earlier than either of the preceding, is\nthe Stricker's tale of \u00c2m\u00ees and the Bishop, in the Pfaffe \u00c2m\u00ees, dated at\nabout 1236. \u00c2m\u00ees, a learned and bountiful priest in England, excited the\nenvy of his bishop, who sent for him, told him that he lived in better\nstyle than his superior, and demanded a subvention. The priest flatly\nrefused to give the bishop anything but a good dinner. \"Then you shall\nlose your church,\" said the bishop in wrath. But the priest, strong in a\ngood conscience, felt small concern about that: he said the bishop might\ntest his fitness with any examination he pleased. That I will do, said\nthe bishop, and gave him five questions. \"How much is there in the sea?\"\n\"One tun,\" answered \u00c2m\u00ees; \"and if you think I am not right, stop all the\nrivers that flow in, and I will measure it and convince you.\" \"Let the\nrivers run,\" said the bishop. \"How many days from Adam to our time?\"\n\"Seven,\" said the parson; \"for as soon as seven are gone, they begin\nagain.\" The bishop, fast losing his temper, next demanded \"What is the\nexact middle of the earth? Tell me, or lose your church.\" \"Why, my\nchurch stands on it,\" replied \u00c2m\u00ees. \"Let your men measure, and take the\nchurch if it prove not so.\" The bishop declined the task, and asked once\nmore: How far is it from earth to sky? and then: What is the width of\nthe sky? to which \u00c2m\u00ees replied after the same fashion.\n\nIn this tale of the Stricker the parson answers for himself, and not by\ndeputy, and none of the questions are those of our ballad. But in a tale\nof Franco Sacchetti,[382] given in two forms, Novella iv^a, we have both\nthe abbot and his humble representative, and an agreement as to one of\nthe questions. Bernab\u00f2 Visconti (\u2020 1385) was offended with a rich\nabbot, who had neglected some dogs that had been entrusted to his care,\nand was minded to make the abbot pay him a fine; but so far yielded to\nthe abbot's protest as to promise to release him from all penalties if\nhe could answer four questions: How far is it from here to heaven? How\nmuch water is there in the sea? What is going on in hell? What is the\nvalue of my person? A day was given to get up the answers. The abbot\nwent home, in the depths of melancholy, and met on the way one of his\nmillers, who inquired what was the matter, and, after receiving an\nexplanation, offered to take the abbot's place, disguising himself as\nwell as he could. The answers to the two first questions are not the\nusual ones: huge numbers are given, and the seigneur is told to measure\nfor himself, if not willing to accept them. The answer to the fourth is\ntwenty-nine deniers; for our Lord was sold for thirty, and you must be\nworth one less than he. Messer Bernab\u00f2 said the miller should be abbot,\nand the abbot miller, from that time forth. Sacchetti says that others\ntell the story of a pope and an abbot, adding one question. The gardener\nof the monastery presents the abbot, makes the usual answer to the\nsecond question as to the water in the sea, and prizes Christ's vicar at\ntwenty-eight deniers.\n\nThe excellent old farce, \"Ein Spil von einem Kaiser und eim Apt,\"\nFastnachtspiele aus dem 15^n Jahrhundert, I, 199, No 22, obliges the\nabbot to answer three questions, or pay for all the damages done in the\ncourse of a calamitous invasion. The abbot has a week's grace allowed\nhim. The questions are three: How much water in the sea? How much is the\nemperor worth? Whose luck came quickest? The miller answers for the\nabbot: Three tubs, if they are big enough; eight and twenty pence; and\n_he_ is the man whose luck came quickest, for just before he was a\nmiller, now he is an abbot. The emperor says that, since the miller has\nacted for the abbot, abbot he shall be.\n\nVery like this, as to the form of the story, is the anecdote in Pauli's\nSchimpf und Ernst, LV, p. 46, ed. Oesterley (c. 1522). A nobleman, who\nis seeking an occasion to quarrel with an abbot, tells him that he must\nanswer these questions in three days, or be deposed: What do you value\nme at? Where is the middle of the world? How far apart are good and bad\nluck? A swineherd answers for him: Since Christ was sold for thirty\npence, I rate the emperor at twenty-nine and you at twenty-eight; my\nchurch is the mid-point of the world, and, if you will not believe me,\nmeasure for yourself; good and bad luck are but one night apart, for\nyesterday I was a swineherd, to-day I am an abbot. Then, says the\nnobleman, an abbot shall you stay. With this agrees, say the Grimms, the\ntale in Eyring's Proverbiorum Copia (1601), I, 165-168, III, 23-25.\n\nWaldis, Esopus (1548), B. 3, Fabel 92, Kurz, I, 382, agrees in general\nwith Pauli: but in place of the first two questions has these three: How\nfar is to heaven? How deep is the sea? How many tubs will hold all the\nsea-water? The answers are: A short day's journey, for Christ ascended\nin the morning and was in heaven before night; a stone's cast; one tub,\nif large enough.\n\nTeofilo Folengo (1491-1544), as pointed out by K\u00f6hler, has the story in\nthe 8th canto of his Orlandino; and here we find the third question of\nour ballad. There are three besides: How far from earth to heaven? From\nthe east to the west?--a modification of the second question in the\nballad; How many drops of water in the seas about Italy? The abbot's\ncook, Marcolf, answers to the first, One leap, as proved by Satan's\nfall; to the second, One day's journey, if the sun is to be trusted; and\ninsists that, for a correct count under the third, all the rivers shall\nfirst be stopped. To the fourth he makes the never-stale reply, You\n_think_ I am the abbot, but I am the cook. Rainero says he shall remain\nabbot, and the abbot the cook. (Stanzas 38, 39, 64-69, pp 186 f, 195 ff,\nLondon edition of 1775.)\n\nA capital Spanish story, 'Gramatica Parda, Trueba, Cuentos Populares, p.\n287, has all three of the questions asked and answered as in our ballad.\nThere is a curate who sets up to know everything, and the king, \"el rey\nque rabi\u00f3,\" has found him out, and gives him a month to make his three\nanswers, with a premium and a penalty. The curate is forced to call in a\ndespised goatherd, who also had all along seen through the shallowness\nof the priest. The king makes the goatherd \"archip\u00e1mpano\" of Seville,\nand condemns the curate to wear the herdsman's garb and tend his goats\nfor a month.[383]\n\nThe first and third questions of the ballad are found in the\nthirty-eighth tale of Le Grand Parangon des Nouvelles Nouvelles of\nNicolas de Troyes, 1536 (ed. Mabille, p. 155 ff); in the Patra\u00f1uelo of\nJuan de Timoneda, 1576, Pat. 14, Novelistas anteriores \u00e1 Cervantes, in\nthe Rivadeneyra Biblioteca, p. 154 f; and in the Herzog Heinrich Julius\nvon Braunschweig's comedy, Von einem Edelman welcher einem Abt drey\nFragen auffgegeben, 1594, ed. Holland, p. 500 ff. The other question is\nas to the centre of the earth, and the usual answers are given by the\nabbot's miller, cook, servant, except that in Timoneda the cook is so\nrational as to say that the centre must be under the king's feet, seeing\nthat the world is as round as a ball.[384] The question Where is the\nmiddle of the earth? is replaced by How many stars are there in the sky?\nthe other two remaining, in Balthasar Schupp, Schriften, Franckfurt,\n1701, I, 91 f (K\u00f6hler), and in Gottlieb Cober (\u2020 1717),\nCabinet-prediger, 2^r Theil, No 65, p. 323 (Gr\u00e4ter, Idunna u. Hermode,\n1814, No 33, p. 131, and p. 87). The abbot's miller gives a huge number,\nand bids the king (of France) verify it, if he wishes. This last is no\ndoubt the version of the story referred to by the Grimms in their note\nto K. u. H. m\u00e4rchen, No 152.\n\nWe encounter a slight variation, not for the better, in L'\u00c9lite des\nContes du Sieur d'Ouville (\u2020 1656 or 1657), Rouen, 1699, I, 241; \u00e0 la\nHaye, 1703, I, 296; ed. Ristelhuber, 1876, p. 46 (K\u00f6hler); Nouveaux\nContes \u00e0 Rire, Cologne, 1709, p. 266; Contes \u00e0 Rire, Paris, 1781, I,\n184. An ignorant and violent nobleman threatens a parson, who plumes\nhimself on a little astrology, that he will expose him as an impostor if\nhe does not answer four questions: Where is the middle of the world?\nWhat am I worth? What am I thinking? What do I believe? The village\nmiller answers for the cur\u00e9. The reply to the third question is, You are\nthinking more of your own interest than of mine; the others as before.\nThis story is retold, after tradition, by C\u00e9nac Moncaut, Contes\npopulaires de la Gascogne, p. 50, of a marquis, archipr\u00eatre, and miller.\nThe query, What am I thinking of? with the answer, More of your interest\nthan of mine (which is not exactly in the popular manner), is replaced\nby a logical puzzle, not found elsewhere: Quel est le nombre qui se\ntrouve renferm\u00e9 dans deux [oeufs]?\n\nThe King and the Abbot is preserved, in modern German tradition, in this\nform. An emperor, riding by a cloister, reads the inscription, We are\ntwo farthings poorer than the emperor, and live free of cares. Wait a\nbit, says the emperor, and I will give you some cares. He sends for the\nabbot, and says, Answer these three questions in three days, or I will\ndepose you. The questions are, How deep is the sea? How many stars in\nthe sky? How far from good luck to bad? The shepherd of the monastery\ngives the answers, and is told, as in several cases before, If you are\nthe abbot, abbot you shall be. J. W. Wolf, Hessische Sagen, p. 166, No\n262, II. 'Gustav Adolf und der Abt von Benediktbeuern,' in Sepp's\nAltbayerischer Sagenschatz, p. 554, No 153, is another form of the same\nstory, with a substitution of How far is it to heaven? for the first\nquestion, and the answers are given by a kitchie-boy.[385] In 'Hans ohne\nSorgen,' Meier, Deutsche Volksm\u00e4rchen aus Schwaben, p. 305, the\nquestions are, How far is it to heaven? How deep is the sea? How many\nleaves has a linden? and the shepherd again undertakes the\nanswers.[386] 'Der M\u00fcller ohne Sorgen,' M\u00fcllenhoff, p. 153, 208, is a\nmutilated variation of these. The abbot disappears, and the questions\nare put to the miller, who answers for himself. The second question is\nHow much does the moon weigh? and the answer, Four quarters; if you\ndon't believe it, you must weigh for yourself.\n\nWe meet the miller _sans souci_ again in a Danish tale, which otherwise\nagrees entirely with our ballad. The questions are answered by the rich\nmiller's herdsman: Grundtvig, Gamle danske Minder, 1854, p. 112, No 111.\n\nA Croatian version of the story is given by Valyavets, 'Frater i turski\ncar,' p. 262. The Turkish tsar is disposed to expel all monks from his\ndominions, but determines first to send for an abbot to try his calibre.\nThe abbot is too much frightened to go, and his cook, as in Foligno and\nTimoneda, takes his place. The questions are, Where is the centre of the\nworld? What is God doing now? What am I thinking? The first and third\nare disposed of in the usual way. When called to answer the second, the\ncook said, You can't see through the ceiling: we must go out into the\nfield. When they came to the field, the cook said again, How can I see\nwhen I am on such a small ass? Let me have your horse. The sultan\nconsented to exchange beasts, and then the cook said, God is wondering\nthat a sultan should be sitting on an ass and a monk on a horse. The\nsultan was pleased with the answers, and reasoning, If the cook is so\nclever, what must the abbot be, decided to let the monks alone.\nAfanasief, who cites this story from Valyavets (Narodnuiya russkiya\nSkazki, VIII, 460), says that he heard in the government of Voroneje a\nstory of a soldier who dressed himself as a monk and presented himself\nbefore a tsar who was in the habit of puzzling people with riddles. The\nquestions are, How many drops in the sea? How many stars in the sky?\nWhat do I think? And the answer to the last is, Thou thinkest, gosudar,\nthat I am a monk, but I am merely a soldier.[387]\n\nA few tales, out of many remaining, may be now briefly mentioned, on\naccount of variations in the setting.\n\nA prisoner is to be released if he can tell a queen how much she is\nworth, the centre of the world, and what she thinks. A peasant changes\nclothes with the prisoner, and answers _pro more_. Kurtzweiliger\nZeitvertreiber durch C. A. M. von W., 1668, p. 70 f, in K\u00f6hler, Orient\nu. Occident, I, 43.\n\nA scholar has done learning. His master says he must now answer three\nquestions, or have his head taken off. The master's brother, a miller,\ncomes to his aid. The questions are, How many ladders would reach to the\nsky? Where is the middle of the world? What is the world worth? Or,\naccording to another tradition, the two last are, How long will it take\nto go round the world? What is my thought? Campbell, Popular Tales of\nthe West Highlands, II, 391 f.\n\nEulenspiegel went to Prague, and advertised himself on the doors of the\nchurches and lecture-rooms as a great master, capable of answering\nquestions that nobody else could solve. To put him down, the rector and\nhis colleagues summoned Eulenspiegel to an examination before the\nuniversity. Five questions were given him: How much water is there in\nthe sea? How many days from Adam to now? Where is the middle of the\nworld? How far from earth to heaven? What is the breadth of the sky?\nLappenberg, Dr Thomas Murners Ulenspiegel, p. 38, No 28; Howleglas, ed.\nOuvry, p. 28.\n\nA herdboy had a great fame for his shrewd answers. The king did not\nbelieve in him, but sent for him, and said, If you can answer three\nquestions that I shall put, I will regard you as my own child, and you\nshall live in my palace. The questions are, How many drops of water are\nthere in the ocean? How many stars in the sky? How many seconds in\neternity? The Grimms, K. u. H. m\u00e4rchen, No 152, 'Das Hirtenb\u00fcblein.'\n\nThree questions are put to a counsellor of the king's, of which the\nfirst two are, Where does the sun rise? How far from heaven to earth?\nThe answers, by a shepherd, are extraordinarily feeble. J\u00fcdisches\nMaas\u00e4buch, cap. 126, cited from Helwigs J\u00fcdische Historien, No 39, in\nthe Grimms' note to Das Hirtenb\u00fcblein.\n\nThree monks, who know everything, in the course of their travels come to\na sultan's dominions, and he invites them to turn Mussulmans. This they\nagree to do if he will answer their questions. All the sultan's doctors\nare convened, but can do nothing with the monks' questions. The hodja\n(the court-fool) is sent for. The first question, Where is the middle of\nthe earth? is answered as usual. The second monk asks, How many stars\nare there in the sky? The answer is, As many as there are hairs on my\nass. Have you counted? ask the monks. Have _you_ counted? rejoins the\nfool. Answer me this, says the same monk, and we shall see if your\nnumber is right: How many hairs are there in my beard? \"As many as in my\nass's tail.\" \"Prove it.\" \"My dear man, if you don't believe me, count\nyourself; or we will pull all the hairs out of both, count them, and\nsettle the matter.\" The monks submit, and become Mussulmans. Les\nplaisanteries de Nasr-eddin Hodja, traduites du turc par J. A.\nDecourdemanche, No 70, p. 59 ff.\n\nThe Turkish emperor sends word to Kaiser Leopold that unless the emperor\ncan answer three questions he shall come down upon him with all his\nTurks. The counsellors are summoned, but there is no help in them. The\ncourt-fool offers to get his master out of the difficulty, if he may\nhave the loan of crown and sceptre. When the fool comes to\nConstantinople, there lies the sultan in the window, and calls out, Are\nyou the emperor, and will you answer my questions? Where does the world\nend? \"Here, where my horse is standing.\" How far is it to heaven? \"One\nday's journey, and no inn on the road.\" What is God thinking of now? \"He\nis thinking that I am one fool and you another.\" J. W. Wolf, Hessische\nSagen, p. 165, No 262I.[388]\n\nFor the literature, see especially the Grimms' Kinder und Hausm\u00e4rchen,\nnotes to No 152; R. K\u00f6hler in Orient und Occident, I, 439-41;\nOesterley's note to Pauli's Schimpf und Ernst, No 55, p. 479.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTranslated, after Percy's Reliques, II, 302, 1765, by Bodmer, II, III;\nby Doenniges, p. 152; by Ritter, Archiv f\u00fcr das Studium der neueren\nSprachen, XXII, 222. Retold by B\u00fcrger, 'Der Kaiser und der Abt,'\nG\u00f6ttinger Musenalmanach f\u00fcr 1785, p. 177.\n\n\nA\n\n Percy MS., p. 184. Hales and Furnivall, I, 508.\n\n 1\n Off an ancient story Ile tell you anon,\n Of a notable prince _tha_t was called K_in_g Iohn,\n In England was borne, with maine and with might;\n Hee did much wrong and mainteined litle right.\n\n 2\n This noble prince was vexed in veretye,\n For he was angry w_i_th the Bishopp of Canterbury;\n Ffor his house-keeping and his good cheere,\n Th\u00e9 rode post for him, as you shall heare.\n\n 3\n They rode post for him verry hastilye;\n The k_in_g sayd the bishopp kept a better house then hee:\n A hundred men euen, as I [have heard] say,\n The bishopp kept in his house eu_er_ye day,\n And fifty gold chaines, w_i_thout any doubt,\n In veluett coates waited the bishopp about.\n\n 4\n The bishopp, he came to the court anon,\n Before his prince _tha_t was called K_ing_ Iohn.\n As soone as the bishopp the k_ing_ did see,\n 'O,' q_uo_th the k_ing_, 'bishopp, thow art welcome to mee.\n There is noe man soe welcome to towne\n As thou _tha_t workes treason against my crowne.'\n\n 5\n 'My leege,' q_uo_th the bishopp, 'I wold it were knowne\n I spend, yo_u_r grace, nothing but _tha_t _tha_t's my owne;\n I trust yo_u_r grace will doe me noe deare\n For spending my owne trew gotten geere.'\n\n 6\n 'Yes,' q_uo_th the k_ing_, 'bishopp, thou must needs dye,\n Eccept thou can answere mee questions three;\n Thy head shalbe smitten quite from thy bodye,\n And all thy liuing remayne vnto mee.\n\n 7\n 'First,' q_uo_th the k_ing_, 'tell me in this steade,\n W_i_th this crowne of gold heere vpon my head,\n Amongst my nobilitye, w_i_th ioy and much mirth,\n Lett me know w_i_thin one pennye what I am worth.\n\n 8\n 'Secondlye, tell me without any dowbt\n How soone I may goe the whole world about;\n And thirdly, tell mee or eu_er_ I stinte,\n What is the thing, bishopp, _tha_t I doe thinke.\n Twenty dayes pardon thoust haue trulye,\n And come againe and answere mee.'\n\n 9\n The bishopp bade the k_ing_ god night att a word;\n He rode betwixt Cambridge and Oxenford,\n But neu_er_ a doctor there was soe wise\n Cold shew him these questions or enterprise.\n\n 10\n Wherew_i_th the bishopp was nothing gladd,\n But in his hart was heauy and sadd,\n And hyed him home to a house in the countrye,\n To ease some p_ar_t of his melanchollye.\n\n 11\n His halfe-brother dwelt there, was feirce and fell,\n Noe better but a shepard to the bishoppe himsell;\n The shepard came to the bishopp anon,\n Saying, My Lord, you are welcome home!\n\n 12\n 'What ayles you,' q_uo_th the shepard,' _tha_t you are soe sadd,\n And had wonte to haue beene soe merry and gladd?'\n 'Nothing,' q_uo_th the bishopp, 'I ayle att this time;\n Will not thee availe to know, brother mine.'\n\n 13\n 'Brother,' q_uo_th the shepeard, 'you haue heard itt,\n _Tha_t a ffoole may teach a wisemane witt;\n Say me therfore whatsoeu_er_ you will,\n And if I doe you noe good, Ile doe you noe ill.'\n\n 14\n Q_uo_th the bishop: I haue beene att the court anon,\n Before my prince is called K_ing_ Iohn,\n And there he hath charged mee\n Against his crowne with traitorye.\n\n 15\n If I cannott answer his misterye,\n Three questions hee hath p_ro_pounded to mee,\n He will haue my land soe faire and free,\n And alsoe the head from my bodye.\n\n 16\n The first question was, to tell him in _tha_t stead,\n W_i_th the crowne of gold vpon his head,\n Amongst his nobilitye, w_i_th ioy and much mirth,\n To lett him know w_i_thin one penye what hee is worth.\n\n 17\n And secondlye, to tell him w_i_th-out any doubt\n How soone he may goe the whole world about;\n And thirdlye, to tell him, or ere I stint,\n What is the thinge _tha_t he does thinke.\n\n 18\n 'Brother,' q_uo_th the shepard, 'you are a man of learninge;\n What neede you stand in doubt of soe small a thinge?\n Lend me,' q_uo_th the shepard, 'yo_u_r ministers apparrell,\n Ile ryde to the court and answere yo_u_r quarrell.\n\n 19\n 'Lend me yo_u_r serving men, say me not nay,\n W_i_th all yo_u_r best horsses _tha_t ryd on the way;\n Ile to the court, this matter to stay;\n Ile speake w_i_th K_ing_ Iohn and heare what heele say.'\n\n 20\n The bishopp w_i_th speed p_re_pared then\n To sett forth the shepard with horsse and man;\n The shepard was liuely w_i_thout any doubt;\n I wott a royall companye came to the court.\n\n 21\n The shepard hee came to the court anon\n Before [his] prince _tha_t was called K_ing_ Iohn.\n As soone as the k_ing_ the shepard did see,\n 'O,' q_uo_th the king, 'bishopp, thou art welcome to me.'\n The shepard was soe like the bishopp his brother,\n The k_ing_ cold not know the one from the other.\n\n 22\n Q_uo_th the k_ing_, Bishopp, thou art welcome to me\n If thou can answer me my questions three.\n Said the shepeard, If it please yo_u_r grace,\n Show mee what the first quest[i]on was.\n\n 23\n 'First,' q_uo_th the k_ing_, 'tell mee in this stead,\n W_i_th the crowne of gold vpon my head,\n Amongst my nobilitye, w_i_th ioy and much mirth,\n W_i_thin one pennye what I am worth.'\n\n 24\n Q_uo_th the shepard, To make yo_u_r grace noe offence,\n I thinke you are worth nine and twenty pence;\n For our L_ord_ Iesus, _tha_t bought vs all,\n For thirty pence was sold into thrall\n Amongst the cursed Iewes, as I to you doe showe;\n But I know Christ was one penye better then you.\n\n 25\n Then the k_ing_ laught, and swore by St Andrew\n He was not thought to bee of such a small value.\n 'Secondlye, tell mee w_i_th-out any doubt\n How soone I may goe the world round about.'\n\n 26\n Saies the shepard, It is noe time with yo_u_r grace to scorne,\n But rise betime w_i_th the sun in the morne,\n And follow his course till his vprising,\n And then you may know w_i_thout any leasing.\n\n 27\n And this [to] yo_u_r grace shall proue the same,\n You are come to the same place from whence you came;\n [In] twenty-four houres, w_i_th-out any doubt,\n Yo_u_r grace may the world goe round about;\n The world round about, euen as I doe say,\n If w_i_th the sun you can goe the next way.\n\n 28\n 'And thirdlye tell me or eu_er_ I stint,\n What is the thing, bishoppe, _tha_t I doe thinke.'\n '_Tha_t shall I doe,' q_uo_th the shepeard; 'for veretye,\n You thinke I am the bishopp of Canterburye.'\n\n 29\n 'Why, art not thou? the truth tell to me;\n For I doe thinke soe,' q_uo_th the k_ing_, 'by St Marye.'\n 'Not soe,' q_uo_th the shepeard; 'the truth shalbe knowne,\n I am his poore shepeard; my brother is att home.'\n\n 30\n 'Why,' q_uo_th the k_ing_, 'if itt soe bee,\n Ile make thee bishopp here to mee.'\n 'Noe, Sir,' q_uo_th the shepard, 'I pray you be still,\n For Ile not bee bishop but against my will;\n For I am not fitt for any such deede,\n For I can neither write nor reede.'\n\n 31\n 'Why then,' q_uo_th the k_ing_, 'Ile giue thee cleere\n A pattent of three hundred pound a yeere;\n _Tha_t I will giue thee franke and free;\n Take thee _tha_t, shepard, for coming to me.\n\n 32\n 'Free p_ar_don Ile giue,' the k_ing_s grace said,\n 'To saue the bishopp, his land and his head;\n W_i_th him nor thee Ile be nothing wrath;\n Here is the p_ar_don for him and thee both.'\n\n 33\n Then the shepard he had noe more to say,\n But tooke the p_ar_don and rode his way:\n When he came to the bishopps place,\n The bishopp asket anon how all things was.\n\n 34\n 'Brother,' q_uo_th the shepard, 'I haue well sped,\n For I haue saued both yo_u_r land and yo_u_r head;\n The k_ing_ with you is nothing wrath,\n For heere is the p_ar_don for you and mee both.'\n\n 35\n Then the bishopes hart was of a merry cheere:\n 'Brother, thy paines Ile quitt them cleare;\n For I will giue thee a patent to thee and to thine\n Of fifty pound a yeere, land good and fine.'\n\n 36\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n 'I will to thee noe longer croche nor creepe,\n Nor Ile serue thee noe more to keepe thy sheepe.'\n\n 37\n Whereeu_er_ wist you shepard before,\n _Tha_t had in his head witt such store\n To pleasure a bishopp in such a like case,\n To answer three questions to the k_ing_s grace?\n Whereeu_er_ wist you shepard gett cleare\n Three hundred and fifty pound a yeere?\n\n 38\n I neu_er_ hard of his fellow before,\n Nor I neu_er_ shall: now I need to say noe more.\n I neu_er_ knew shepeard _tha_t gott such a liuinge\n But David, the shepeard, _tha_t was a k_ing_.\n\n\nB\n\n Broadside, printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in\n Pye-corner (1672-95).\n\n 1\n I'll tell you a story, a story anon,\n Of a noble prince, and his name was King John;\n For he was a prince, and a prince of great might,\n He held up great wrongs, he put down great right.\n Derry down, down hey, derry down\n\n 2\n I'll tell you a story, a story so merry,\n Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury,\n And of his house-keeping and high renown,\n Which made him resort to fair London town.\n\n 3\n 'How now, father abbot? 'T is told unto me\n That thou keepest a far better house than I;\n And for [thy] house-keeping and high renown,\n I fear thou has treason against my crown.'\n\n 4\n 'I hope, my liege, that you owe me no grudge\n For spending of my true-gotten goods:'\n 'If thou dost not answer me questions three,\n Thy head shall be taken from thy body.\n\n 5\n 'When I am set so high on my steed,\n With my crown of gold upon my head,\n Amongst all my nobility, with joy and much mirth,\n Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.\n\n 6\n 'And the next question you must not flout,\n How long I shall be riding the world about;\n And the third question thou must not shrink,\n But tell to me truly what I do think.'\n\n 7\n 'O these are hard questions for my shallow wit,\n For I cannot answer your grace as yet;\n But if you will give me but three days space,\n I'll do my endeavor to answer your grace.'\n\n 8\n 'O three days space I will thee give,\n For that is the longest day thou hast to live.\n And if thou dost not answer these questions right,\n Thy head shall be taken from thy body quite.'\n\n 9\n And as the shepherd was going to his fold,\n He spy'd the old abbot come riding along:\n 'How now, master abbot? You'r welcome home;\n What news have you brought from good King John?'\n\n 10\n 'Sad news, sad news I have thee to give,\n For I have but three days space for to live;\n If I do not answer him questions three,\n My head will be taken from my body.\n\n 11\n 'When he is set so high on his steed,\n With his crown of gold upon his head,\n Amongst all his nobility, with joy and much mirth,\n I must tell him to one penny what he is worth.\n\n 12\n 'And the next question I must not flout,\n How long he shall be riding the world about;\n And the third question I must not shrink,\n But tell him truly what he does think.'\n\n 13\n 'O master, did you never hear it yet,\n That a fool may learn a wiseman wit?\n Lend me but your horse and your apparel,\n I'll ride to fair London and answer the quarrel.'\n\n 14\n 'Now I am set so high on my steed,\n With my crown of gold upon my head,\n Amongst all my nobility, with joy and much mirth,\n Now tell me to one penny what I am worth.'\n\n 15\n 'For thirty pence our Saviour was sold,\n Amongst the false Jews, as you have been told,\n And nine and twenty's the worth of thee,\n For I think thou are one penny worser than he.'\n\n 16\n 'And the next question thou mayst not flout;\n How long I shall be riding the world about.'\n 'You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,\n Until the next morning he rises again,\n And then I am sure you will make no doubt\n But in twenty-four hours you'l ride it about.'\n\n 17\n 'And the third question you must not shrink,\n But tell me truly what I do think.'\n 'All that I can do, and 't will make you merry;\n For you think I'm the Abbot of Canterbury,\n But I'm his poor shepherd, as you may see,\n And am come to beg pardon for he and for me.'\n\n 18\n The king he turned him about and did smile,\n Saying, Thou shalt be the abbot the other while:\n 'O no, my grace, there is no such need,\n For I can neither write nor read.'\n\n 19\n 'Then four pounds a week will I give unto thee\n For this merry jest thou hast told unto me;\n And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home,\n Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n _Not divided into stanzas in the MS._\n\n 3^3, 3^5, 6^2, 8^5, 15^2, 22^2, 24^4, 27^3, 31^2, 37^4.\n _Arabic numerals are expressed in letters._\n\n 14^1. thy court.\n\n 24^2. worth 29 pence.\n\n 31^2. patten.\n\n 31^4. caming.\n\n 35^4. 50_{:}^11.\n\n 37^6. 350_{:}^11.\n\n#B.#\n\n 5^1, 11^1, 14^1. on my [his] steed so high.\n\n 7^1. my sh ow.\n\n 11^1. sat.\n\n 12^3. thou must.\n\n 19^4. K. John.\n\n\n[376] A New Ballad of King John and the Abbot of Canterbury. To the Tune\nof The King and the Lord Abbot. With allowance. Ro. L'Estrange. Printed\nfor P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pye-corner.\n\n[377] The King and the Bishop, or,\n\n Unlearned Men hard matters out can find\n When Learned Bishops Princes eyes do blind.\n\nTo the Tune of Chievy Chase. Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J.\nWright (1655-80). Printed for J. Wright, Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T.\nPassenver.\n\nThe Old Abbot and King Olfrey. To the tune of the Shaking of the Sheets.\nPrinted by and for A. M., and sold by the booksellers of London.\n\nJ. Wright's date is 1650-82, T. Passinger's, 1670-82. Chappell.\n\n[378] Printed by J. M. for C. D., at the Stationers Armes within\nAldgate. C. D. is, no doubt, C. Dennison, who published 1685-89. See\nChappell, The Roxburghe Ballads, I, xix.\n\n[379] Among these, St Bittel for St Andrew of #A# 26, with the note,\n\"meaning probably St Botolph:\" why \"probably\"?\n\n[380] This story serves as a gloss on 2 Chronicles, ii, 13, 14, where\nHiram sends Solomon a cunning Tyrian, skilful to find out every device\nwhich shall be put to him by the cunning men of Jerusalem. The Queen of\nSheba's hard questions to Solomon, not specified in 1 Kings, x, 1-13,\nwere, according to tradition, of the same general character as the\nIndian ones spoken of at p. 12. See Hertz, Die R\u00e4tsel der K\u00f6nigin von\nSaba, Zeitschrift f\u00fcr deutsches Altertum, XXVII, 1 ff.\n\n[381] These are proper riddles, and of a kind still current in popular\ntradition. See, e. g., Svend Vonved, Grundtvig, I, 237 f. There are\nthirty-five, before the last, in the oldest text, given, with a\ntranslation, by Vigfusson and Powell, Corpus Poeticum Boreale, 'King\nHeidrek's Riddles,' I, 86 ff.\n\n[382] Sacchetti's life extended beyond 1400, or perhaps beyond 1410.\n\n[383] The form of the third question is slightly varied at first \u00bfCu\u00e1l\nes el error en que yo estoy pensando? But when put to the herdsman the\nquestion is simply \u00bfEn qu\u00e9 estoy yo pensando? I was pointed to this\nstory by Seidemann, in Archiv f\u00fcr Litteraturgeschichte, IX, 423.\nTrueba's C. P. forms vol. 19 of Brockhaus's Coleccion de Autores\nEspa\u00f1oles.\n\n[384] The editor of the Grand Parangon, at p. xiii, cites from an older\nsource an anecdote of a king insisting upon being told how much he ought\nto bring if offered for sale. While his courtiers are giving flattering\nreplies, a fool leaps forward and says, Twenty-nine deniers, and no\nmore; for if you were worth thirty, that would be autant que le\ntout-puissant Dieu valut, quant il fut vendu. The king took this answer\nto heart, and repented of his vanities. So an emperor is converted by\nthis reply from a man-at-arms, Van den verwenden Keyser, Jan van\nHollant, c. 1400, Willems, Belgisch Museum, X, 57; Thijm, p. 145. The\nlike question and answer, as a riddle, in a German MS. of the fifteenth\ncentury, and in Questions \u00e9nigmatiques, Lyon, 1619; K\u00f6hler, in\nWeimarisches Jahrbuch, V, 354 ff.\n\n[385] In Prussia Frederick the Great plays the part of Gustavus. Sepp,\np. 558.\n\n[386] Another Swabian story, in Meier, No 28, p. 99, is a mixed form.\nThe Duke of Swabia reads \"Hans sans cares\" over a miller's house-door,\nand says, \"Bide a wee: if you have no cares, I will give you some.\" The\nduke, to give the miller a taste of what care is, says he must solve\nthis riddle or lose his mill: Come to me neither by day nor by night,\nneither naked nor clothed, neither on foot nor on horseback. The miller\npromises his man his daughter in marriage and the mill in succession, if\nhe will help him out of his dilemma. The man at once says, Go on\nMid-week, for Mid-week is no day (Mitt-woch ist ja gar kein Tag, wie\nSonn-tag, Mon-tag), neither is it night; and if you are to be neither\nclothed nor bare, put on a fishing-net; and if you are to go neither on\nfoot nor on horseback, ride to him on an ass. All but the beginning of\nthis is derived from the cycle of 'The Clever Wench:' see No 2.\nHaltrich, Deutsche Volksm\u00e4rchen in Siebenb\u00fcrgen, No 45, which is also of\nthis cycle, has taken up a little of 'Hans ohne Sorgen.' A church has an\ninscription, Wir leben ohne Sorgen. This vexes the king, who says as\nbefore, Just wait, and I will give you reason for cares, p. 244, ed.\n1856.\n\n[387] These two stories were communicated to me by Mr Ralston.\n\n[388] In the beginning there is a clear trace of the Oriental tales of\n'The Clever Lass' cycle.\n\n\n\n\n46\n\nCAPTAIN WEDDERBURN'S COURTSHIP\n\n #A. a.# 'I'll no ly neist the wa,' Herd's MS., I, 161.\n #b.# 'She'll no ly neist [the] wa,' the same, II, 100.\n\n #B. a.# 'The Earl of Rosslyn's Daughter,' Kinloch MSS, I,\n 83. #b.# 'Lord Roslin's Daughter,' Lord Roslin's\n Daughter's Garland, p. 4. #c.# 'Lord Roslin's Daughter,'\n Buchan's MSS, II, 34. #d.# 'Captain Wedderburn's\n Courtship,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 159. #e.#\n Harris MS., fol. 19 b, No 14. #f.# Notes and Queries, 2d\n S., IV, 170.\n\n #C.# 'The Laird of Roslin's Daughter,' Sheldon's\n Minstrelsy of the English Border, p. 232.\n\n\nA copy of this ballad was printed in The New British Songster, a\nCollection of Songs, Scots and English, with Toasts and Sentiments for\nthe Bottle, Falkirk, 1785: see Motherwell, p. lxxiv.[389] Few were more\npopular, says Motherwell, and Jamieson remarks that 'Captain\nWedderburn' was equally in vogue in the north and the south of Scotland.\n\nJamieson writes to the Scots Magazine, 1803, p. 701: \"Of this ballad I\nhave got one whole copy and part of another, and I remember a good deal\nof it as I have heard it sung in Morayshire when I was a child.\" In his\nPopular Ballads, II, 154, 1806, he says that the copy which he prints\nwas furnished him from Mr Herd's MS. by the editor of the Border\nMinstrelsy, and that he had himself supplied a few readings of small\nimportance from his own recollection. There is some inaccuracy here. The\nversion given by Jamieson is rather #B#, with readings from #A#.\n\nWe have had of the questions six, #A# 11, 12, What is greener than the\ngrass? in No 1, #A# 15, #C# 13, #D# 5; What's higher than the tree? in\n#C# 9, #D# 1; What's war than a woman's wiss? (\"than a woman _was_\") #A#\n15, #C# 13, #D# 5; What's deeper than the sea? #A# 13, #B# 8, #C# 9, #D#\n1. Of the three dishes, #A# 8, 9, we have the bird without a gall in Ein\nSpil von den Freiheit, Fastnachtspiele aus dem 15^n Jhdt, II, 558, v.\n23,[390] and the two others in the following song, from a manuscript\nassigned to the fifteenth century, and also preserved in several forms\nby oral tradition:[391] Sloane MS., No 2593, British Museum; Wright's\nSongs and Carols, 1836, No 8; as printed for the Warton Club, No xxix,\np. 33.\n\n I have a \u021dong suster fer be\u021dondyn the se,\n Many be the drowryis that che sente me.\n\n Che sente me the cherye, withoutyn ony ston,\n And so che dede [the] dowe, withoutyn ony bon.\n\n Sche sente me the brere, withoutyn ony rynde,\n Sche bad me love my lemman withoute longgyng.\n\n How xuld ony cherye be withoute ston?\n And how xuld ony dowe ben withoute bon?\n\n How xuld any brere ben withoute rynde?\n How xuld y love myn lemman without longyng?\n\n Quan the cherye was a flour, than hadde it non ston;\n Quan the dowe was an ey, than hadde it non bon.\n\n Quan the brere was onbred, than hadde it non rynd;\n Quan the mayden ha\u021dt that che lovit, che is without longyng.\n\n'Captain Wedderburn's Courtship,' or 'Lord Roslin's Daughter,'[392] is a\ncounterpart of the ballad in which a maid wins a husband by guessing\nriddles. (See Nos 1 and 2, and also the following ballad, for a lady who\n_gives_ riddles.) The ingenious suitor, though not so favorite a\nsubject as the clever maid, may boast that he is of an old and\ncelebrated family. We find him in the Gesta Romanorum, No 70; Oesterley,\np. 383, Madden's English Versions, No 35, p. 384. A king had a beautiful\ndaughter, whom he wished to dispose of in marriage; but she had made a\nvow that she would accept no husband who had not achieved three tasks:\nto tell her how many feet long, broad, and deep were the four elements;\nto change the wind from the north; to take fire into his bosom, next the\nflesh, without harm. The king issued a proclamation in accordance with\nthese terms. Many tried and failed, but at last there came a soldier who\nsucceeded. To answer the first question he made his servant lie down,\nand measured him from head to foot. Every living being is composed of\nthe four elements, he said, and I find not more than seven feet in them.\nA very easy way was hit on for performing the second task: the soldier\nsimply turned his horse's head to the east, and, since wind is the life\nof every animal, maintained that he had changed the wind. The king was\nevidently not inclined to be strict, and said, Clear enough. Let us go\non to the third. Then, by the aid of a stone which he always carried\nabout him, the soldier put handfuls of burning coals into his bosom\nwithout injury. The king gave his daughter to the soldier.\n\nAn extraordinary ballad in Sakellarios's _\u039a\u03c5\u03c0\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1\u03ba\u03b1_ III, 15, No 6,\n'The Hundred Sayings,' subjects a lover to a severe probation of\nriddles. (Liebrecht has given a full abstract of the story in Gosche's\nArchiv, II, 29.) A youth is madly enamored of a king's daughter, but,\nthough his devotion knows no bound, cannot for a long time get a word\nfrom her mouth, and then only disdain. She shuts herself up in a tower.\nHe prays for a heat that may force her to come to the window, and that\nshe may drop her spindle, and he be the only one to bring it to her. The\nheavens are kind: all this comes to pass, and she is fain to beg him to\nbring her the spindle. She asks, Can you do what I say? Shoulder a\ntower? make a stack of eggs? trim a date-tree, standing in a great\nriver?[393] All this he can do. She sends him away once and again to\nlearn various things; last of all, the hundred sayings that lovers use.\nHe presents himself for examination. \"One?\" \"There is one only God: may\nhe help me!\" \"Two?\" \"Two doves with silver wings are sporting together:\nI saw how they kissed,\" etc. \"Three?\" \"Holy Trinity, help me to love the\nmaid!\" \"Four?\" \"There is a four-pointed cross on thy smock, and it\nimplores God I may be thy mate:\" and so he is catechised through all the\nunits and tens.[394] Then the lady suddenly turns about, concedes\neverything, and proposes that they shall go to church: but the man says,\nIf I am to marry all my loves, I have one in every town, and wife and\nchildren in Constantinople. They part with reciprocal scurrilities.\n\nUsually when the hand of a princess is to be won by the performance of\ntasks, whether requiring wit, courage, the overcoming of magic arts, or\nwhat not, the loss of your head is the penalty of failure. (See the\npreface to the following ballad.) Apollonius of Tyre, of Greek original,\nbut first found in a Latin form, is perhaps the oldest riddle-story of\nthis description. Though its age has not been determined, the tale has\nbeen carried back even to the end of the third or the beginning of the\nfourth century, was a great favorite with the Middle Ages, and is kept\nonly too familiar by the play of Pericles.\n\nMore deserving of perpetuation is the charming Persian story of Prince\nCalaf, in P\u00e9tis de La Croix's 1001 Days (45^e-82^e jour), upon which\nCarlo Gozzi founded his play of \"La Turandot,\" now best known through\nSchiller's translation. Tourandocte's riddles are such as we should call\nlegitimate, and are three in number. \"What is the being that is found in\nevery land, is dear to all the world, and cannot endure a fellow?\" Calaf\nanswers, The sun. \"What mother swallows the children she has given birth\nto, as soon as they have attained their growth?\" The sea, says Calaf,\nfor the rivers that flow into it all came from it. \"What is the tree\nthat has all its leaves white on one side and black on the other?\" This\ntree, Calaf answers, is the year, which is made up of days and\nnights.[395]\n\nA third example of this hazardous wooing is the story of The Fair One of\nthe Castle, the fourth in the Persian poem of The Seven Figures (or\nBeauties), by Nisami of Gendsch (\u2020 1180). A Russian princess is shut\nup in a castle made inaccessible by a talisman, and every suitor must\nsatisfy four conditions: he must be a man of honor, vanquish the\nenchanted guards, take away the talisman, and obtain the consent of her\nfather. Many had essayed their fortune, and their heads were now arrayed\non the pinnacles of the castle.[396] A young prince had fulfilled the\nfirst three conditions, but the father would not approve his suit until\nhe had solved the princess's riddles. These are expressed symbolically,\nand answered in the same way. The princess sends the prince two pearls\nfrom her earring: he at once takes her meaning,--life is like two drops\nof water,--and returns the pearls with three diamonds, to signify that\njoy--faith, hope, and love--can prolong life. The princess now sends him\nthree jewels in a box, with sugar. The prince seizes the idea,--life is\nblended with sensuous desire,--and pours milk on the sugar, to intimate\nthat as milk dissolves sugar, so sensuous desire is quenched by true\nlove. After four such interchanges, the princess seals her consent with\na device not less elegant than the others.[397]\n\nA popular tale of this class is current in Russia, with this variation:\nthat the hard-hearted princess requires her lovers to give her riddles,\nand those who cannot pose her lose their heads. Foolish Iv\u00e1n, the\nyoungest of three brothers, adventures after many have failed. On his\nway to the trial he sees a horse in a cornfield and drives it out with a\nwhip, and further on kills a snake with a lance, saying in each case,\nHere's a riddle! Confronted with the princess, he says to her, As I came\nto you, I saw by the roadside what was good; and in the good was good;\nso I set to work, and with what was good I drove the good from the good.\nThe good fled from the good out of the good. The princess pleads a\nheadache, and puts off her answer till the next day, when Iv\u00e1n gives her\nhis second enigma: As I came to you, I saw on the way what was bad, and\nI struck the bad with a bad thing, and of what was bad the bad died. The\nprincess, unable to solve these puzzles, is obliged to accept foolish\nIv\u00e1n. (Afanasief, Skazki, II, 225 ff, No 20, in Ralston's Songs of the\nRussian People, p. 354 f.) Closely related to this tale, and still\nnearer to one another, are the Grimms' No 22, 'Das R\u00e4thsel' (see, also,\nthe note in their third volume), and the West Highland story, 'The\nRidere (Knight) of Riddles,' Campbell, No 22, II, 27. In the former, as\nin the Russian tale, it is the princess that must be puzzled before she\nwill yield her hand; in the latter, an unmatchable beauty is to be had\nby no man who does not put a question which her father cannot solve.\n\nHere may be put three drolleries, all clearly of the same origin, in\nwhich a fool wins a princess by nonplussing her: 'The Three Questions,'\nHalliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, p. 32; a \"schwank\" of the\nfourteenth century, by Heinz der Kellner, von der Hagen's\nGesammtabenteuer, No 63, III, 179 (there very improperly called\nTurandot); 'Spurningen,' Asbj\u00f8rnson og Moe, Norske Folkeeventyr, No 4,\nDasent, Popular Tales from the Norse, p. 148. According to the first of\nthese, the king of the East Angles promises his clever daughter to any\none who can answer three of her questions (in the other versions, more\ncorrectly, _silence_ her). Three brothers, one of them a natural, set\nout for the court, and, on the way, Jack finds successively an egg, a\ncrooked hazel-stick, and a nut, and each time explodes with laughter.\nWhen they are ushered into the presence, Jack bawls out, What a troop of\nfair ladies! \"Yes,\" says the princess, \"we are fair ladies, for we carry\nfire in our bosoms.\" \"Then roast me an egg,\" says Jack, pulling out the\negg from his pocket. \"How will you get it out again?\" asks the princess?\n\"With a crooked stick,\" says Jack, producing the same. \"Where did that\ncome from?\" says the princess. \"From a nut,\" answers Jack, pulling out\nthe nut. And so, as the princess is silenced, the fool gets her in\nmarriage.[398]\n\nEven nowadays riddles play a noteworthy part in the marriages of Russian\npeasants. In the government Pskof, as we are informed by Khudyakof, the\nbridegroom's party is not admitted into the bride's house until all the\nriddles given by the party of the bride have been answered; whence the\nsaying or proverb, to the behoof of bridegrooms, Choose comrades that\ncan guess riddles. In the village of Davshina, in the Yaroslav\ngovernment, the bridegroom's best man presents himself at the bride's\nhouse on the wedding-day, and finding a man, called the bride-seller,\nsitting by the bride, asks him to surrender the bride and vacate his\nplace. \"Fair and softly,\" answers the seller; \"you will not get the\nbride for nothing; make us a bid, if you will. And how will you trade?\nwill you pay in riddles or in gold?\" If the best man is prepared for the\nemergency, as we must suppose he always would be, he answers, I will pay\nin riddles. Half a dozen or more riddles are now put by the seller, of\nwhich these are favorable specimens: Give me the sea, full to the brim,\nand with a bottom of silver. The best man makes no answer in words, but\nfills a bowl with beer and lays a coin at the bottom. Tell me the thing,\nnaked itself, which has a shift over its bosom. The best man hands the\nseller a candle. Finally the seller says, Give me something which the\nmaster of this house lacks. The best man then brings in the bridegroom.\nThe seller gives up his seat, and hands the best man a plate, saying,\nPut in this what all pretty girls like. The best man puts in what money\nhe thinks proper, the bridesmaids take it and quit the house, and the\nbridegroom's friends carry off the bride.\n\nSo, apparently in some ballad, a maid gives riddles, and will marry only\nthe man who will guess them.\n\n By day like a hoop,\n By night like a snake;\n Who reads my riddle,\n I take him for mate. (A belt.)\n\n No 1103 of Khudyakof.[399]\n\nIn Radloff's Songs and Tales of the Turkish tribes in East Siberia, I,\n60, a father, wanting a wife for his son, applies to another man, who\nhas a marriageable daughter. The latter will not make a match unless the\nyoung man's father will come to him with pelt and sans pelt, by the road\nand not by the road, on a horse and yet not on a horse: see 8 ff of this\nvolume. The young man gives his father proper instructions, and wins his\nwife.\n\nA Lithuanian mother sends her daughter to the wood to fetch \"winter May\nand summer snow.\" She meets a herdsman, and asks where she can find\nthese. The herdsman offers to teach her these riddles in return for her\nlove, and she complying with these terms, gives her the answers: The\nevergreen tree is winter May, and sea-foam is summer snow. Beitr\u00e4ge zur\nKunde Preussens, I, 515 (Rhesa), and Ausland, 1839, p. 1230.\n\nThe European tales, excepting the three drolleries (and even they are\nperhaps to be regarded only as parodies of the others), must be of\nOriental derivation; but the far north presents us with a similar story\nin the lay of Alv\u00edss, in the elder Edda. The dwarf Alv\u00edss comes to claim\nFreya for his bride by virtue of a promise from the gods. Thor[400] says\nthat the bride is in his charge, and that he was from home when the\npromise was made: at any rate, Alv\u00edss shall not have the maid unless he\ncan answer all the questions that shall be put him. Thor then requires\nAlv\u00edss to give him the names of earth, heaven, moon, sun, etc., ending\nwith barley and the poor creature small beer, in all the worlds; that\nis, in the dialect of the gods, of mankind, giants, elves, dwarfs, etc.\nAlv\u00edss does this with such completeness as to extort Thor's admiration,\nbut is craftily detained in so doing till after sunrise, when Thor\ncries, You are taken in! Above ground at dawn! and the dwarf turns to\nstone.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTranslated, in part, after Aytoun, by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p.\n107.\n\n\nA\n\n #a.# Herd's MS., I, 161. #b.# The same, II, 100.\n\n 1\n The laird of Bristoll's daughter was in the woods walking,\n And by came Captain Wetherbourn, a servant to the king;\n And he said to his livery man, Wer 't not against the law,\n I would tak her to mine ain bed, and lay her neist the wa.\n\n 2\n 'I'm into my father's woods, amongst my father's trees,\n O kind sir, let mee walk alane, O kind sir, if you please;\n The butler's bell it will be rung, and I'll be mist awa;\n I'll lye into mine ain bed, neither at stock nor wa.'\n\n 3\n 'O my bonny lady, the bed it's not be mine,\n For I'll command my servants for to call it thine;\n The hangings are silk satin, the sheets are holland sma,\n And we's baith lye in ae bed, but you's lye neist the wa.\n\n 4\n 'And so, my bonny lady,--I do not know your name,--\n But my name's Captain Wetherburn, and I'm a man of fame;\n Tho your father and a' his men were here, I would na stand in awe\n To tak you to mine ain bed, and lay you neist the wa.\n\n 5\n 'Oh my bonny, bonny lady, if you'll gie me your hand,\n You shall hae drums and trumpets to sound at your command;\n Wi fifty men to guard you, sae weel their swords can dra,\n And wee's baith lye in ae bed, but you's lye neist the wa.'\n\n 6\n He's mounted her upon a steid, behind his gentleman,\n And he himself did walk afoot, to had his lady on,\n With his hand about her midle sae jimp, for fear that she should fa;\n She man lye in his bed, but she'll not lye neist the wa.\n\n 7\n He's taen her into Edinburgh, his landlady cam ben:\n 'And monny bonny ladys in Edinburgh hae I seen,\n But the like of this fine creature my eyes they never sa;'\n 'O dame bring ben a down-bed, for she's lye neist the wa.'\n\n 8\n 'Hold your tongue, young man,' she said, 'and dinna trouble me,\n Unless you get to my supper, and that is dishes three;\n Dishes three to my supper, tho I eat nane at a',\n Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.\n\n 9\n 'You maun get to my supper a cherry but a stane,\n And you man get to my supper a capon but a bane,\n And you man get a gentle bird that flies wanting the ga,\n Before I lye in your bed, but I'll not lye neist the wa.'\n\n 10\n 'A cherry whan in blossom is a cherry but a stane;\n A capon when he's in the egg canna hae a bane;\n The dow it is a gentle bird that flies wanting the ga;\n And ye man lye in my bed, between me and the wa.'\n\n 11\n 'Hold your tongue, young man,' she said, 'and dinna me perplex,\n Unless you tell me questions, and that is questions six;\n Tell me them as I shall ask them, and that is twa by twa,\n Before I lye in your bed, but I'll not lye neist the wa.\n\n 12\n 'What is greener than the grass, what's higher than the tree?\n What's war than a woman's wiss, what's deeper than the sea?\n What bird sings first, and whereupon the dew down first does fa?\n Before I lye in your bed, but I'll not lye neist the wa.'\n\n 13\n 'Virgus is greener than the grass, heaven's higher than the tree;\n The deil's war than a woman's wish, hell's deeper than the sea;\n The cock sings first, on the Sugar Loaf the dew down first does fa;\n And ye man lye in my bed, betweest me and the wa.'\n\n 14\n 'Hold your tongue, young man,' she said, 'I pray you give it oer,\n Unless you tell me questions, and that is questions four;\n Tell me them as I shall ask them, and that is twa by twa,\n Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.\n\n 15\n 'You man get to me a plumb that does in winter grow;\n And likewise a silk mantle that never waft gaed thro;\n A sparrow's horn, a priest unborn, this night to join us twa,\n Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.'\n\n 16\n 'There is a plumb in my father's yeard that does in winter grow;\n Likewise he has a silk mantle that never waft gaed thro;\n A sparrow's horn, it may be found, there's ane in every tae,\n There's ane upo the mouth of him, perhaps there may be twa.\n\n 17\n 'The priest is standing at the door, just ready to come in;\n Nae man could sae that he was born, to lie it is a sin;\n For a wild boar bored his mother's side, he out of it did fa;\n And you man lye in my bed, between me and the wa.'\n\n 18\n Little kent Grizey Sinclair, that morning when she raise,\n 'T was to be the hindermost of a' her single days;\n For now she's Captain Wetherburn's wife, a man she never saw,\n And she man lye in his bed, but she'll not lye neist the wa.\n\n\nB\n\n #a.# Kinloch MSS, I, 83, from Mary Barr's recitation. #b.#\n Lord Roslin's Daughter's Garland. #c.# Buchan's MSS, II,\n 34. #d.# Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 159. #e.# Harris\n MS., fol. 19 b, No 14, from Mrs Harris's recitation. #f.#\n Notes and Queries, 2d S., IV, 170, \"as sung among the\n peasantry of the Mearns,\" 1857.\n\n 1\n The Lord of Rosslyn's daughter gaed through the wud her lane,\n And there she met Captain Wedderburn, a servant to the king.\n He said unto his livery-man, Were 't na agen the law,\n I wad tak her to my ain bed, and lay her at the wa.\n\n 2\n 'I'm walking here my lane,' she says, 'amang my father's trees;\n And ye may lat me walk my lane, kind sir, now gin ye please.\n The supper-bell it will be rung, and I'll be missd awa;\n Sae I'll na lie in your bed, at neither stock nor wa.'\n\n 3\n He said, My pretty lady, I pray lend me your hand,\n And ye'll hae drums and trumpets always at your command;\n And fifty men to guard ye wi, that weel their swords can draw;\n Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed, and ye'll lie at the wa.\n\n 4\n 'Haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray let go my hand;\n The supper-bell it will be rung, nae langer maun I stand.\n My father he'll na supper tak, gif I be missd awa;\n Sae I'll na lie in your bed, at neither stock nor wa.'\n\n 5\n 'O my name is Captain Wedderburn, my name I'll neer deny,\n And I command ten thousand men, upo yon mountains high.\n Tho your father and his men were here, of them I'd stand na awe,\n But should tak ye to my ain bed, and lay ye neist the wa.'\n\n 6\n Then he lap aff his milk-white steed, and set the lady on,\n And a' the way he walkd on foot, he held her by the hand;\n He held her by the middle jimp, for fear that she should fa;\n Saying, I'll tak ye to my ain bed, and lay thee at the wa.\n\n 7\n He took her to his quartering-house, his landlady looked ben,\n Saying, Monie a pretty ladie in Edinbruch I've seen;\n But sic 'na pretty ladie is not into it a':\n Gae, mak for her a fine down-bed, and lay her at the wa.\n\n 8\n 'O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray ye lat me be,\n For I'll na lie in your bed till I get dishes three;\n Dishes three maun be dressd for me, gif I should eat them a',\n Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.\n\n 9\n ''T is I maun hae to my supper a chicken without a bane;\n And I maun hae to my supper a cherry without a stane;\n And I maun hae to my supper a bird without a gaw,\n Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.'\n\n 10\n 'Whan the chicken's in the shell, I am sure it has na bane;\n And whan the cherry's in the bloom, I wat it has na stane;\n The dove she is a genty bird, she flees without a gaw;\n Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed, and ye'll be at the wa.'\n\n 11\n 'O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray ye give me owre,\n For I'll na lie in your bed, till I get presents four;\n Presents four ye maun gie me, and that is twa and twa,\n Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.\n\n 12\n ''T is I maun hae some winter fruit that in December grew;\n And I maun hae a silk mantil that waft gaed never through;\n A sparrow's horn, a priest unborn, this nicht to join us twa,\n Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.'\n\n 13\n 'My father has some winter fruit that in December grew;\n My mither has a silk mantil the waft gaed never through;\n A sparrow's horn ye soon may find, there's ane on evry claw,\n And twa upo the gab o it, and ye shall get them a'.\n\n 14\n 'The priest he stands without the yett, just ready to come in;\n Nae man can say he eer was born, nae man without he sin;\n He was haill cut frae his mither's side, and frae the same let fa;\n Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed, and ye'se lie at the wa.'\n\n 15\n 'O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray don't me perplex,\n For I'll na lie in your bed till ye answer questions six:\n Questions six ye maun answer me, and that is four and twa,\n Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.\n\n 16\n 'O what is greener than the gress, what's higher than thae trees?\n O what is worse than women's wish, what's deeper than the seas?\n What bird craws first, what tree buds first, what first does on them\n fa?\n Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.'\n\n 17\n 'Death is greener than the gress, heaven higher than thae trees;\n The devil's waur than women's wish, hell's deeper than the seas;\n The cock craws first, the cedar buds first, dew first on them does fa;\n Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed, and ye'se lie at the wa.'\n\n 18\n Little did this lady think, that morning whan she raise,\n That this was for to be the last o a' her maiden days.\n But there's na into the king's realm to be found a blither twa,\n And now she's Mrs. Wedderburn, and she lies at the wa.\n\n\nC\n\n Sheldon's Minstrelsy of the English Border, p. 232, as\n recited \"by a lady of Berwick on Tweed, who used to sing\n it in her childhood, and had learnt it from her nurse.\"\n\n 1\n The laird of Roslin's daughter walked thro the wood her lane,\n And by came Captain Wedderburn, a servant to the Queen;\n He said unto his serving man, Wer 't not agaynst the law,\n I would tak her to my ain house as lady o my ha.\n\n 2\n He said, My pretty ladye, I pray give me your hand;\n You shall have drums and trumpets always at your command;\n With fifty men to guard you, that well their swords can draw,\n And I'll tak ye to my ain bed, and lay you next the wa.\n\n 3\n 'I'm walking in my feyther's shaws:' quo he, My charming maid,\n I am much better than I look, so be you not afraid;\n For I serve the queen of a' Scotland, and a gentil dame is she;\n So we'se be married ere the morn, gin ye can fancy me.\n\n 4\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n 'The sparrow shall toot on his horn, gif naething us befa,\n And I'll mak you up a down-bed, and lay you next the wa.\n\n 5\n 'Now hold away from me, kind sir, I pray you let me be;\n I wont be lady of your ha till you answer questions three:\n Questions three you must answer me, and that is one and twa,\n Before I gae to Woodland's house, and be lady o your ha.\n\n 6\n 'You must get me to my supper a chicken without a bone;\n You must get me to my supper a cherry without a stone;\n You must get me to my supper a bird without a ga,\n Before I go to Woodland's house and be lady of your ha.'\n\n 7\n 'When the cherry is in the bloom, I'm sure it has no stone;\n When the chicken's in the shell, I'm sure it has nae bone;\n The dove she is a gentil bird, and flies without a ga;\n So I've answered you your questions three, and you're lady of my ha.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 8\n 'Questions three you must answer me: What's higher than the trees?\n And what is worse than woman's voice? What's deeper than the seas?'\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 9\n He answered then so readily: Heaven's higher than the trees;\n The devil's worse than woman's voice; hell's deeper than the seas;\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 10\n 'One question still you must answer me, or you I laugh to scorn;\n Go seek me out an English priest, of woman never born;'\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 11\n 'Oh then,' quo he, 'my young brother from mother's side was torn,\n And he's a gentil English priest, of woman never born;'\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 12\n Little did his lady think, that morning when she raise,\n It was to be the very last of all her mayden days;\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n#A. a.#\n\n 2^4. I lye.\n\n 4^{3,4} _and 5^{3,4} have been interchanged_.\n\n 5^4. lye you.\n\n #b.# lay.\n\n 7^1. teen.\n\n 17^1. priest was.\n\n 17^2. it was.\n\n 17^3. boned (?)\n\n _#b# has ~bored~._\n\n _#b# is a copy of #a#, but with the long lines broken up\n into two, and some slight variations._\n\n #b.#\n\n 3^4. And we'll.\n\n 5^1. _Omits_ if.\n\n 6^3. _Omits_ sae jimp.\n\n 11^2. and they are questions.\n\n 12^2. wish.\n\n 13^4. betwixt.\n\n#B.#\n\n _In stanzas of four short lines._\n\n #a.#\n\n 16^2, 17^2. _Var._ women's vice.\n\n 17^1. _Var._ Poison is greener.\n\n 17^2. _Var._ There's nathing waur.\n\n #b.#\n\n Lord Roslin's Daughter's Garland. Containing three\n excellent new songs.\n\n I. The Drunkard Reformed.\n II. The Devil and the Grinder.\n III. Lord Roslin's Daughter.\n\n Licensed and entered according to order.\n\n 1^1, walks throw.\n\n 1^2. And by came.\n\n 1^3, servant man.\n\n 1^4, 3^4, 6^4, 7^4, 10^4, 14^4, 18^4. next the wa.\n\n 17^4. neist.\n\n 2^3, 4^3. missd you know.\n\n 3^4. And we'll ... and thou's ly next.\n\n 4^2. will I.\n\n 4^4. So I not.\n\n 5^{1,2}.\n Then said the pretty lady, I pray tell me your name.\n My name is Captain Wedderburn, a servant to the king.\n\n 5^3. of him I'd not stand in aw.\n\n 6^1. He lighted off.\n\n 6^2. And held her by the milk-white hand even as they rode\n along.\n\n 6^3. so jimp.\n\n 6^4. So I'll take.\n\n 7^1. lodging house.\n\n 7^3. But such a pretty face as thine in it I never saw.\n\n 7^4. make her up a down-bed.\n\n 8^2. will not go to your bed till you dress me.\n\n 8^3. three you must do to me.\n\n 9^1. O I must have ... a cherry without a stone.\n\n 9^2. a chicken without a bone.\n\n 10^{1,2}.\n When the cherry is into the bloom I am sure it hath no stone,\n And when the chicken's in the shell I'm sure it hath no bone.\n\n 10^3. it is a gentle.\n\n 11^2. I will not go till ... till you answer me questions.\n\n 11^3. Questions four you must tell me.\n\n 12^1. You must get to me.\n\n 12^2. That the wraft was neer ca'd.\n\n 12^{3,4} _and 16^{3,4} (and consequently 13^{3,4},\n 17^{3,4}) are wrongly interchanged in #b#, mixing up\n ferlies and questions._\n\n #a# 12^{3,4}, 13^{3,4}, 14, 15, 16^{1,2}, 16^{3,4},\n 17^{1,2}, 17^{3,4}==#b# 15^{3,4}, 16^{3,4}, 17, 14,\n 15^{1,2}, 12^{3,4}, 16^{1,2}, 13^{3,4}.\n\n 13^2. the wraft was neer ca'd throw.\n\n 13^{3,4}. A sparrow's horn you well may get, there's one\n on ilka pa.\n\n 14^1. standing at the door.\n\n 14^3. A hole cut in his mother's side, he from the same\n did fa.\n\n 16^2. And what ... women's voice.\n\n 16^3. What bird sings best, and wood buds first, that dew\n does on them fa.\n\n 17^1. sky is higher.\n\n 17^2. worse than women's voice.\n\n 17^3. the dew does on them fa.\n\n 18^2. the last night.\n\n 18^3. now they both lie in one bed.\n\n _#c# closely resembling #b#, the variations from #b# are\n given._\n\n #c.#\n\n 1. came _omitted_, _v._ 2; unto, _v._ 3.\n\n 2. into your bed, _v._ 4.\n\n 3. guard you ... who well, _v._ 3; into ... thou'lt, _v._\n 4.\n\n 5^{1,2}. Then says, _v._ 1.\n\n 6. lighted from ... this lady, _v._ 1; middle jimp, _v._\n 3.\n\n 7. pretty fair, _v._ 2; as this, _v._ 3.\n\n 8. dress me, _v._ 3.\n\n 9. unto, _vv_ 1,2; O I must, _v._ 2.\n\n 10. in the bloom, _v._ 1; we both shall ly in, _v._ 4.\n\n 11. will give oer, _v._ 1; to your ... you tell me, _v._\n 2.\n\n 12. You must get to me ... that waft, _v._ 2; bird sings\n first ... on them does, _v._ 3.\n\n 13. sings first, _v._ 3.\n\n 14. in your ... you tell me, _v._ 2; I'll ly in, _v._ 4.\n\n 15. What is ... woman's, _v._ 2; I'll ly in, _v._ 4.\n\n 16.\n\n Death's greener than the grass, hell's deeper than the seas,\n The devil's worse than woman's voice, sky's higher than the\n trees, _vv_ 1,2; every paw, _v._ 3; thou shalt, _v._ 4.\n\n 18. the lady ... rose, _v._ 1; It was to be the very last,\n _v._ 2; they ly in ae, _v._ 4.\n\n #d.#\n\n _Follows the broadside (#b#, #c#) through the first nine\n stanzas, with changes from Jamieson's \"~own\n recollection,~\" or invention, and one from #A#. 10 has\n certainly arbitrary alterations. The remaining eight\n stanzas are the corresponding ones of #A# treated freely.\n The comparison here is with #b#, readings from #A# in\n 11-18 not being noticed._\n\n 1^3, serving men.\n\n 2^3. _~mist awa~, from #A#; so in 4^3, a stanza not in\n #A#._\n\n 5^3. I'd have nae awe.\n\n 6^1. He lighted aff ... this lady.\n\n 6^3. middle jimp.\n\n 6^4. To tak her to his ain.\n\n 7^3. sic a lovely face as thine.\n\n 7^4. Gae mak her down.\n\n 8^3. maun dress to me.\n\n 9^1. It's ye maun get.\n\n 9^{2,3}. And ye maun get.\n\n 10^1. It's whan the cherry is in the flirry.\n\n 10^2. in the egg.\n\n 10^3. And sin the flood o Noah the dow she had nae ga.\n\n #A, B d#, 11, 12^{1,2}, 13^{1,2}, 14, 15^{1,2},\n 16^{1,2}==#B b, c#, 14, 15^{1,2}, 16^{1,2}, 11, 12^{1,2},\n 13^{1,2}.\n\n 11^1. and gie your fleechin oer.\n\n 11^2. Unless you'll find me ferlies, and that is ferlies\n four.\n\n 11^3. Ferlies four ye maun find me.\n\n 11^4. Or I'll never lie.\n\n 12^2. And get to me.\n\n 12^3. doth first down.\n\n 12^4. Ye sall tell afore I lay me down between you and the\n wa.\n\n 13^2. has an Indian gown that waft.\n\n 13^3. on cedar top the dew.\n\n 14^2. that gait me perplex.\n\n 14^3. three times twa.\n\n 15^1. the greenest grass.\n\n 15^2. war nor an ill woman's wish.\n\n 16^3. horn is quickly found ... on every claw.\n\n 16^4. There's ane upon the neb of him.\n\n 17^3. A wild bore tore his mither's side.\n\n 18^3. now there's nae within the realm, I think.\n\n #e#\n\n _has stanzas 1, 5 (?), 9, 12, 10, 13, 14 of #a#, the first\n two imperfect. The last line of each stanza is changed, no\n doubt for delicacy's sake, to ~I will tak you wi me, I\n tell you, aye or na~, or the like_.\n\n 1.\n The Earl o Roslin's dochter gaed out to tak the air;\n She met a gallant gentleman, as hame she did repair;\n . . . . . . .\n I will tak you wi me, I tell you, aye or no.\n\n 5(?).\n I am Captain Wedderburn, a servant to the king.\n . . . . . . .\n I will tak you wi me, I tell you, aye or no.\n\n 9^1. I maun hae to my supper a bird without a bone.\n\n 9^3. An I maun hae a gentle bird that flies.\n\n 9^4. Before that I gae with you, I tell you, aye or na.\n\n 10^1. When the bird is in the egg.\n\n 10^2. in the bud ... I'm sure.\n\n 10^3. it is a gentle bird.\n\n 12^2, 13^2. a gey mantle ... neer ca'ed.\n\n 13^3. sune sall get.\n\n 14^1. is standing at.\n\n 14^2. say that he was ... a sin.\n\n #f.#\n\n _Stanzas 9, 10 only._\n\n 9^1. 'T is I maun hae to my supper a bird without a bone.\n\n 9^2. withouten stone.\n\n 9^3. withouten ga.\n\n 10^1. When the bird is in the shell, I'm sure.\n\n 10^2. I'm sure.\n\n 10^3. a gentle ... withouten ga.\n\n#C.#\n\n _Printed in stanzas of four short lines._\n\n\n[389] This book has been pursued by me for years, with the co\u00f6peration\nof many friends and agents, but in vain.\n\n[390] Followed by Virgil's riddle, Ecl. iii, 104-5, Where is the sky but\nthree spans broad?\n\n[391] Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, p. 150; Halliwell's\nNursery Rhymes, No 375; Notes and Queries, 3d Ser., IX, 401; 4th Ser.,\nIII, 501, 604; Macmillan's Magazine, V, 248, by T. Hughes. The first of\nthese runs:\n\n I have four sisters beyond the sea,\n Para-mara, dictum, domine\n And they did send four presents to me.\n Partum, quartum, paradise, tempum,\n Para-mara, dictum, domine\n\n The first it was a bird without eer a bone,\n The second was a cherry without eer a stone.\n\n The third it was a blanket without eer a thread,\n The fourth it was a book which no man could read.\n\n How can there be a bird without eer a bone?\n How can there be a cherry without eer a stone?\n\n How can there be a blanket without eer a thread?\n How can there be a book which no man can read?\n\n When the bird's in the shell, there is no bone;\n When the cherry's in the bud, there is no stone.\n\n When the blanket's in the fleece, there is no thread;\n When the book's in the press, no man can read.\n\nThe Minnesinger dames went far beyond our laird's daughter in the way of\nrequiring \"ferlies\" from their lovers. Der Tanhuser and Boppe represent\nthat their ladies would be satisfied with nothing short of their turning\nthe course of rivers; bringing them the salamander, the basilisk, the\ngraal, Paris's apple; giving them a sight of Enoch and Elijah in the\nbody, a hearing of the sirens, etc. Von der Hagen, Minnesinger, II, 91\nf, 385 f.\n\n[392] There were, no doubt, Grissels enough in the very distinguished\nfamily of the Sinclairs of Roslin to furnish one for this ballad. I see\ntwo mentioned among the Sinclairs of Herdmanstoun. Even a Wedderburn\nconnection, as I am informed, is not absolutely lacking. George Home of\nWedderburn (\u2020 1497), married the eldest daughter of John Sinclair of\nHerdmanstoun: Douglas's Peerage of Scotland, ed. Wood, 1813, II, 174.\n\n[393] The difficulty here is the want of a _\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c3\u03c4\u03c9_, from which\nto climb the tree.\n\n[394] These number-riddles or songs are known to every nation of Europe.\nE. g., Chambers' Popular Rhymes of Scotland, p. 44, ed. 1870, from\nBuchan's MSS, I, 280:\n\n O what will be our ane, boys?\n O what will be our ane, boys?\n My only ane, she walks alane,\n And evermair has dune, boys, etc.\n\nSee K\u00f6hler in Orient u. Occident, II, 558-9. A dragon, in Hahn's\nGriechische u. Albanesische M\u00e4rchen, II, 210, gives Penteklimas ten of\nthese number-riddles: if he answers them he is to have a fine castle; if\nnot, he is to be eaten. An old woman answers for him: \"One is God, two\nare the righteous, etc.; ten is your own word, and now burst, dragon!\"\nThe dragon bursts, and Penteklimas inherits his possessions.\n\n[395] Gozzi retains the first and third riddles, Schiller only the\nthird. By a happy idea, new riddles were introduced at the successive\nperformances of Schiller's play. Turandot appears as a traditional tale\nin Schneller's M\u00e4rchen u. Sagen aus W\u00e4lschtirol, No 49, p. 132, \"I tre\nIndovinelli.\"\n\n[396] The castle with walls and gate thus equipped, or a palisade of\nstakes each crowned with a head, is all but a commonplace in such\nadventures. This grim stroke of fancy is best in 'La mule sanz frain,'\nwhere there are four hundred stakes, _all but one_ surmounted with a\nbloody head: M\u00e9on, Nouveau Recueil, 1, 15, vv 429-37. For these parlous\nprincesses, of all sorts, see Grundtvig, 'Den farlige Jomfru,' IV, 43\nff, No 184.\n\n[397] Von Hammer, Geschichte der sch\u00f6nen Redek\u00fcnste Persiens, p. 116,\npreviously cited by von der Hagen, Gesammtabenteuer, III, lxii.\n\n[398] The German schwank affixes the forfeit of the head to failure. In\nthe Norwegian the unsuccessful brothers get off with a thrashing. The\nfire in the English, found also in the German, recalls the third task in\nthe Gesta Romanorum.\n\n[399] Khudyakof, in the Ethnographical Collection of the Russian\nGeographical Society, Etnografitcheskiy Sbornik, etc., VI, 9, 10, 8.\nRalston, The Songs of the Russian People, p. 353.\n\n[400] Vigfusson objects to Thor being the interlocutor, though that is\nthe name in the MS., because cunning does not suit Thor's blunt\ncharacter, and proposes Odin instead. \"May be the dwarf first met Thor\n(Wingthor), whereupon Woden (Wingi) came up.\" Corpus Poeticum Boreale,\nI, 81.\n\n\n\n\n47\n\nPROUD LADY MARGARET\n\n #A.# 'Proud Lady Margaret,' Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 275,\n ed. 1803.\n\n #B. a.# 'The Courteous Knight,' Buchan's Ballads of the\n North of Scotland, I, 91; Motherwell's MS., p. 591. #b.#\n Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. lxxxi.\n\n #C.# 'The Jolly Hind Squire,' Buchan's MSS, II, 95.\n\n #D.# 'The Knicht o Archerdale,' Harris MS., fol. 7, No 3.\n\n #E.# 'Fair Margret,' A. Laing, Ancient Ballads and Songs,\n MS., 1829, p. 6.\n\n\n#A# was communicated to Scott \"by Mr Hamilton, music-seller, Edinburgh,\nwith whose mother it had been a favorite.\" Two stanzas and one line were\nwanting, and were supplied by Scott \"from a different ballad, having a\nplot somewhat similar.\" The stanzas were 6 and 9. #C# was printed from\nthe MS., with a few changes, under the title of 'The Bonny Hind Squire,'\nby Dixon, in Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 42,\nand from Dixon in Bell's Early Ballads, p. 183. Christie, Traditional\nBallad Airs, I, 28, says the ballad was called 'Jolly Janet' by the old\npeople in Aberdeenshire.\n\n#A-D# are plainly compounded of two ballads, the conclusion being\nderived from #E#. The lady's looking oer her castle wa, her putting\nriddles, and her having gard so mony die, make the supposition far from\nincredible that the Proud Lady Margaret of the first part of the ballad\nmay originally have been one of the cruel princesses spoken of in the\npreface to 'Captain Wedderburn's Courtship,' p. 417. But the corrupt\ncondition of the texts of #A-D# forbids any confident opinion.\n\nA dead mistress similarly admonishes her lover, in a ballad from\nBrittany, given in Amp\u00e8re, Instructions relatives aux Po\u00e9sies populaires\nde la France, p. 36.\n\n \"Non, je ne dors ni ne soumeille,\n Je sis dans l'enfer \u00e0 br\u00fbler.\n\n \"Aupr\u00e8s de moi reste une place,\n C'est pour vous, Piar', qu'on l'a gard\u00e9e.\"\n\n \"Ha! dites-moi plustot, ma Jeanne,\n Comment fair' pour n'y point aller?\"\n\n \"Il faut aller \u00e0 la grand-messe,\n Et aux v\u00eapres, sans y manquer.\n\n \"Faut point aller aux fileries,\n Comm' vous aviez d'accoutum\u00e9.\n\n \"Ne faut point embrasser les filles\n Sur l' bout du coffre au pied du lect.\"\n\nSo Beaurepaire, \u00c9tude, p. 53; Puymaigre, 'La Damn\u00e9e,' Chants populaires,\nI, 115; V. Smith, Chants du Velay et du Forez, Romania, IV, 449 f, 'La\nConcubine;' and Luzel, \"Celui qui alla voir sa maitresse en enfer,\" I,\n44, 45. In this last, a lover, whose mistress has died, goes into a\nmonastery, where he prays continually that he may see her again. The\ndevil presents himself in the likeness of a young man, and on condition\nof being something gently considered takes him to hell. He sees his\nmistress sitting in a fiery chair (cf. #B#, 30, 31), devoured by\nserpents night and day, and is informed that fasts and masses on his\npart will only make things worse. Like Dives, she sends word to her\nsister not to do as she has done. Some of these traits are found also in\none or another of the French versions.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTranslated by Doenniges, p. 6, after Scott, and by Knortz, Schottische\nBalladen, No 1, after Aytoun, II, 62.\n\n\nA\n\n Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 275, ed. 1803. Communicated \"by\n Mr Hamilton, music-seller, Edinburgh, with whose mother it\n had been a favorite.\"\n\n 1\n 'T was on a night, an evening bright,\n When the dew began to fa,\n Lady Margaret was walking up and down,\n Looking oer her castle wa.\n\n 2\n She looked east and she looked west,\n To see what she could spy,\n When a gallant knight came in her sight,\n And to the gate drew nigh.\n\n 3\n 'You seem to be no gentleman,\n You wear your boots so wide;\n But you seem to be some cunning hunter,\n You wear the horn so syde.'\n\n 4\n 'I am no cunning hunter,' he said,\n 'Nor neer intend to be;\n But I am come to this castle\n To seek the love of thee.\n And if you do not grant me love,\n This night for thee I'll die.'\n\n 5\n 'If you should die for me, sir knight,\n There's few for you will meane;\n For mony a better has died for me,\n Whose graves are growing green.\n\n 6\n ['But ye maun read my riddle,' she said,\n 'And answer my questions three;\n And but ye read them right,' she said,\n 'Gae stretch ye out and die.]\n\n 7\n 'Now what is the flower, the ae first flower,\n Springs either on moor or dale?\n And what is the bird, the bonnie bonnie bird,\n Sings on the evening gale?'\n\n 8\n 'The primrose is the ae first flower\n Springs either on moor or dale,\n And the thristlecock is the bonniest bird\n Sings on the evening gale.'\n\n 9\n ['But what's the little coin,' she said,\n 'Wald buy my castle bound?\n And what's the little boat,' she said,\n 'Can sail the world all round?']\n\n 10\n 'O hey, how mony small pennies\n Make thrice three thousand pound?\n Or hey, how mony salt fishes\n Swim a' the salt sea round?'\n\n 11\n 'I think you maun be my match,' she said,\n 'My match and something mair;\n You are the first eer got the grant\n Of love frae my father's heir.\n\n 12\n 'My father was lord of nine castles,\n My mother lady of three;\n My father was lord of nine castles,\n And there's nane to heir but me.\n\n 13\n 'And round about a' thae castles\n You may baith plow and saw,\n And on the fifteenth day of May\n The meadows they will maw.'\n\n 14\n 'O hald your tongue, Lady Margaret,' he said,\n 'For loud I hear you lie;\n Your father was lord of nine castles,\n Your mother was lady of three;\n Your father was lord of nine castles,\n But ye fa heir to but three.\n\n 15\n 'And round about a' thae castles\n You may baith plow and saw,\n But on the fifteenth day of May\n The meadows will not maw.\n\n 16\n 'I am your brother Willie,' he said,\n 'I trow ye ken na me;\n I came to humble your haughty heart,\n Has gard sae mony die.'\n\n 17\n 'If ye be my brother Willie,' she said,\n 'As I trow weel ye be,\n This night I'll neither eat nor drink,\n But gae alang wi thee.'\n\n 18\n 'O hold your tongue, Lady Margaret,' he said,\n 'Again I hear you lie;\n For ye've unwashen hands and ye've unwashen feet,\n To gae to clay wi me.\n\n 19\n 'For the wee worms are my bedfellows,\n And cauld clay is my sheets,\n And when the stormy winds do blow,\n My body lies and sleeps.'\n\n\nB\n\n #a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, 1, 91;\n Motherwell's MS., p. 591. #b.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy,\n Introduction, p. lxxxi.\n\n 1\n There was a knight, in a summer's night,\n Appeard in a lady's hall,\n As she was walking up and down,\n Looking oer her castle wall.\n\n 2\n 'God make you safe and free, fair maid,\n God make you safe and free!'\n 'O sae fa you, ye courteous knight,\n What are your wills wi me?'\n\n 3\n 'My wills wi you are not sma, lady,\n My wills wi you nae sma,\n And since there's nane your bower within,\n Ye'se hae my secrets a'.\n\n 4\n 'For here am I a courtier,\n A courtier come to thee,\n And if ye winna grant your love,\n All for your sake I'll dee.'\n\n 5\n 'If that ye dee for me, sir knight,\n Few for you will make meen;\n For mony gude lord's done the same,\n Their graves are growing green.'\n\n 6\n 'O winna ye pity me, fair maid,\n O winna ye pity me?\n O winna ye pity a courteous knight,\n Whose love is laid on thee?'\n\n 7\n 'Ye say ye are a courteous knight,\n But I think ye are nane;\n I think ye're but a millar bred,\n By the colour o your claithing.\n\n 8\n 'You seem to be some false young man,\n You wear your hat sae wide;\n You seem to be some false young man,\n You wear your boots sae side.'\n\n 9\n 'Indeed I am a courteous knight,\n And of great pedigree;\n Nae knight did mair for a lady bright\n Than I will do for thee.\n\n 10\n 'O I'll put smiths in your smithy,\n To shoe for you a steed,\n And I'll put tailors in your bower,\n To make for you a weed.\n\n 11\n 'I will put cooks in your kitchen,\n And butlers in your ha,\n And on the tap o your father's castle\n I'll big gude corn and saw.'\n\n 12\n 'If ye be a courteous knight,\n As I trust not ye be,\n Ye'll answer some o the sma questions\n That I will ask at thee.\n\n 13\n 'What is the fairest flower, tell me,\n That grows in mire or dale?\n Likewise, which is the sweetest bird\n Sings next the nightingale?\n Or what's the finest thing,' she says,\n 'That king or queen can wile?'\n\n 14\n 'The primrose is the fairest flower\n That grows in mire or dale;\n The mavis is the sweetest bird\n Next to the nightingale;\n And yellow gowd's the finest thing\n That king or queen can wale.\n\n 15\n 'Ye hae asked many questions, lady,\n I've you as many told;'\n 'But how many pennies round\n Make a hundred pounds in gold?\n\n 16\n 'How many of the small fishes\n Do swim the salt seas round?\n Or what's the seemliest sight you'll see\n Into a May morning?'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 17\n 'Berry-brown ale and a birken speal,\n And wine in a horn green;\n A milk-white lace in a fair maid's dress\n Looks gay in a May morning.'\n\n 18\n 'Mony's the questions I've askd at thee,\n And ye've answerd them a';\n Ye are mine, and I am thine,\n Amo the sheets sae sma.\n\n 19\n 'You may be my match, kind sir,\n You may be my match and more;\n There neer was ane came sic a length\n Wi my father's heir before.\n\n 20\n 'My father's lord o nine castles,\n My mother she's lady ower three,\n And there is nane to heir them all,\n No never a ane but me;\n Unless it be Willie, my ae brother,\n But he's far ayont the sea.'\n\n 21\n 'If your father's laird o nine castles,\n Your mother lady ower three,\n I am Willie your ae brother,\n Was far beyond the sea.'\n\n 22\n 'If ye be Willie, my ae brother,\n As I doubt sair ye be,\n But if it's true ye tell me now,\n This night I'll gang wi thee.'\n\n 23\n 'Ye've ower ill washen feet, Janet,\n And ower ill washen hands,\n And ower coarse robes on your body,\n Alang wi me to gang.\n\n 24\n 'The worms they are my bed-fellows,\n And the cauld clay my sheet,\n And the higher that the wind does blaw,\n The sounder I do sleep.\n\n 25\n 'My body's buried in Dumfermline,\n And far beyond the sea,\n But day nor night nae rest coud get,\n All for the pride o thee.\n\n 26\n 'Leave aff your pride, jelly Janet,' he says,\n 'Use it not ony mair;\n Or when ye come where I hae been\n You will repent it sair.\n\n 27\n 'Cast aff, cast aff, sister,' he says,\n 'The gowd lace frae your crown;\n For if ye gang where I hae been,\n Ye'll wear it laigher down.\n\n 28\n 'When ye're in the gude church set,\n The gowd pins in your hair,\n Ye take mair delight in your feckless dress\n Than ye do in your morning prayer.\n\n 29\n 'And when ye walk in the church-yard,\n And in your dress are seen,\n There is nae lady that sees your face\n But wishes your grave were green.\n\n 30\n 'You're straight and tall, handsome withall,\n But your pride owergoes your wit,\n But if ye do not your ways refrain,\n In Pirie's chair ye'll sit.\n\n 31\n 'In Pirie's chair you'll sit, I say,\n The lowest seat o hell;\n If ye do not amend your ways,\n It's there that ye must dwell.'\n\n 32\n Wi that he vanishd frae her sight,\n Wi the twinkling o an eye;\n Naething mair the lady saw\n But the gloomy clouds and sky.\n\n\nC\n\n Buchan's MSS, II, 95.\n\n 1\n Once there was a jolly hind squire\n Appeard in a lady's ha,\n And aye she walked up and down,\n Looking oer her castle wa.\n\n 2\n 'What is your wills wi me, kind sir?\n What is your wills wi me?'\n 'My wills are [not] sma wi thee, lady,\n My wills are [not] sma wi thee.\n\n 3\n 'For here I stand a courtier,\n And a courtier come to thee,\n And if ye will not grant me your love,\n For your sake I will die.'\n\n 4\n 'If you die for my sake,' she says,\n 'Few for you will make moan;\n Many better's died for my sake,\n Their graves are growing green.\n\n 5\n 'You appear to be some false young man,\n You wear your hat so wide;\n You appear to be some false young man,\n You wear your boots so side.\n\n 6\n 'An asking, asking, sir,' she said,\n 'An asking ye'll grant me:'\n 'Ask on, ask on, lady,' he said,\n 'What may your asking be?'\n\n 7\n 'What's the first thing in flower,' she said,\n 'That springs in mire or dale?\n What's the next bird that sings,' she says,\n 'Unto the nightingale?\n Or what is the finest thing,' she says,\n 'That king or queen can wile?'\n\n 8\n 'The primrose is the first in flower\n That springs in mire or dale;\n The thristle-throat is the next that sings\n Unto the nightingale;\n And yellow gold is the finest thing\n That king or queen can wile.\n\n 9\n 'You have asked many questions, lady,\n I've you as many told;'\n 'But how many pennies round\n Make a hundred pounds in gold?\n\n 10\n 'How many small fishes\n Do swim the salt seas round?\n Or what's the seemliest sight you'll see\n Into a May morning?\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 11\n 'There's ale into the birken scale,\n Wine in the horn green;\n There's gold in the king's banner\n When he is fighting keen.'\n\n 12\n 'You may be my match, kind sir,' she said,\n 'You may be my match and more;\n There neer was one came such a length\n With my father's heir before.\n\n 13\n 'My father's lord of nine castles,\n No body heir but me.'\n 'Your father's lord of nine castles,\n Your mother's lady of three;\n\n 14\n 'Your father's heir of nine castles,\n And you are heir to three;\n For I am William, thy ae brother,\n That died beyond the sea.'\n\n 15\n 'If ye be William, my ae brother,\n This night, O well is me!\n If ye be William, my ae brother,\n This night I'll go with thee.'\n\n 16\n 'For no, for no, jelly Janet,' he says,\n 'For no, that cannot be;\n You've oer foul feet and ill washen hands\n To be in my company.\n\n 17\n 'For the wee wee worms are my bedfellows,\n And the cold clay is my sheet,\n And the higher that the winds do blow,\n The sounder I do sleep.\n\n 18\n 'Leave off your pride, jelly Janet,' he says,\n 'Use it not any more;\n Or when you come where I have been\n You will repent it sore.\n\n 19\n 'When you go in at yon church door,\n The red gold on your hair,\n More will look at your yellow locks\n Than look on the Lord's prayer.\n\n 20\n 'When you go in at yon church door,\n The red gold on your crown;\n When you come where I have been,\n You'll wear it laigher down.'\n\n 21\n The jolly hind squire, he went away\n In the twinkling of an eye,\n Left the lady sorrowful behind,\n With many bitter cry.\n\n\nD\n\n Harris's MS., fol. 7, No 3. From Mrs Harris's recitation.\n\n 1\n There cam a knicht to Archerdale,\n His steed was winder sma,\n An there he spied a lady bricht,\n Luikin owre her castle wa.\n\n 2\n 'Ye dinna seem a gentle knicht,\n Though on horseback ye do ride;\n Ye seem to be some sutor's son,\n Your butes they are sae wide.'\n\n 3\n 'Ye dinna seem a lady gay,\n Though ye be bound wi pride;\n Else I'd gane bye your father's gate\n But either taunt or gibe.'\n\n 4\n He turned aboot his hie horse head,\n An awa he was boun to ride,\n But neatly wi her mouth she spak:\n Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.\n\n 5\n 'Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,\n Tell me mair o your tale;\n Tell me some o that wondrous lied\n Ye've learnt in Archerdale.\n\n 6\n 'What gaes in a speal?' she said,\n 'What in a horn green?\n An what gaes on a lady's head,\n Whan it is washen clean?'\n\n 7\n 'Ale gaes in a speal,' he said,\n 'Wine in a horn green;\n An silk gaes on a lady's head,\n Whan it is washen clean.'\n\n 8\n Aboot he turned his hie horse head,\n An awa he was boun to ride,\n When neatly wi her mouth she spak:\n Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.\n\n 9\n 'Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,\n Tell me mair o your tale;\n Tell me some o that unco lied\n You've learnt in Archerdale.\n\n 10\n 'Ye are as like my ae brither\n As ever I did see;\n But he's been buried in yon kirkyaird\n It's mair than years is three.'\n\n 11\n 'I am as like your ae brither\n As ever ye did see;\n But I canna get peace into my grave,\n A' for the pride o thee.\n\n 12\n 'Leave pride, Janet, leave pride, Janet,\n Leave pride an vanitie;\n If ye come the roads that I hae come,\n Sair warned will ye be.\n\n 13\n 'Ye come in by yonder kirk\n Wi the goud preens in your sleeve;\n When you're bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,\n You'll gie them a' thier leave.\n\n 14\n 'Ye come in to yonder kirk\n Wi the goud plaits in your hair;\n When you're bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,\n You will them a' forbear.'\n\n 15\n He got her in her mither's bour,\n Puttin goud plaits in her hair;\n He left her in her father's gairden,\n Mournin her sins sae sair.\n\n\nE\n\n Alex. Laing, Ancient Ballads and Songs, etc., etc., from\n the recitation of old people. Never published. 1829. P. 6.\n\n 1\n Fair Margret was a young ladye,\n An come of high degree;\n Fair Margret was a young ladye,\n An proud as proud coud be.\n\n 2\n Fair Margret was a rich ladye,\n The king's cousin was she;\n Fair Margaret was a rich ladye,\n An vain as vain coud be.\n\n 3\n She war'd her wealth on the gay cleedin\n That comes frae yont the sea,\n She spent her time frae morning till night\n Adorning her fair bodye.\n\n 4\n Ae night she sate in her stately ha,\n Kaimin her yellow hair,\n When in there cum like a gentle knight,\n An a white scarf he did wear.\n\n 5\n 'O what's your will wi me, sir knight,\n O what's your will wi me?\n You're the likest to my ae brother\n That ever I did see.\n\n 6\n 'You're the likest to my ae brother\n That ever I hae seen,\n But he's buried in Dunfermline kirk,\n A month an mair bygane.'\n\n 7\n 'I'm the likest to your ae brother\n That ever ye did see,\n But I canna get rest into my grave,\n A' for the pride of thee.\n\n 8\n 'Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,\n Leave pride an vanity;\n Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,\n Sair altered ye maun be.\n\n 9\n 'O ye come in at the kirk-door\n Wi the gowd plaits in your hair;\n But wud ye see what I hae seen,\n Ye maun them a' forbear.\n\n 10\n 'O ye come in at the kirk-door\n Wi the gowd prins i your sleeve;\n But wad ye see what I hae seen,\n Ye maun gie them a' their leave.\n\n 11\n 'Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,\n Leave pride an vanity;\n Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,\n Sair altered ye maun be.'\n\n 12\n He got her in her stately ha,\n Kaimin her yellow hair,\n He left her on her sick sick bed,\n Sheding the saut saut tear.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#B#\n\n _15^{3,4}, 16^{1,2}, #C# 9^{3,4}, 10^{1,2} are rightly\n answers, not questions: cf. #A# 9, 10. #D# 6 furnishes the\n question answered in #B# 17._\n\n#B. b.#\n\n _Motherwell begins at st. 25._\n\n 27^2. gowd band.\n\n 28^1, 29^1. kirk.\n\n 30^2. owergangs.\n\n 32^2. In the.\n\n 32^3. And naething.\n\n#C.#\n\n _~Kind Squire~ in the title, and ~kind~ in 1^1, 21^1; I\n suppose by mistake of my copyist._\n\n 16^3. You're (?).\n\n 17^2. the clay cold.\n\n#E.#\n\n 8^3, 11^3. E'er.\n\n\n\n\n48\n\nYOUNG ANDREW\n\n Percy MS., p. 292. Hales and Furnivall, II, 328.\n\n\n'Young Andrew' is known only from the Percy manuscript. The story\nrecalls both 'Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight,' No 4, and 'The Fair\nFlower of Northumberland,' No 9. The lady, Helen, 25^3, is bidden to\ntake, and does take, gold with her in stanzas 5-7, as in No 4, English\n#E# 2, 3, #D# 7, Danish #A# 12, #E# 7, 9, #I# 5, #L# 5, 6, and nearly\nall the Polish copies, and again in No 9, #A# 14. She is stripped of her\nclothes and head-gear in 8-17, as in No 4, English #C-E#, German #G#,\n#H#, and many of the Polish versions. These are destined by Young Andrew\nfor his lady (\"that dwells so far in a strange country\") in 10, 12, 14,\nas by Ulinger for his sister, and by Adelger for his mother, in German\n#G# 18, #H# 15. In 15 the lady entreats Young Andrew to leave her her\nsmock; so in No 4, Polish #L# 8, \"You brought me from home in a green\ngown; take me back in a shift of tow,\" and #R# 13, \"You took me away in\nred satin; let me go back at least in a smock.\" 18 has the choice\nbetween dying and going home again which is presented in 'Lady Isabel,'\nPolish #AA# 4, #H# 10, #R# 11, and implied in 'The Fair Flower of\nNorthumberland,' #D# 2-5; in #A# 25 of this last the choice is between\ndying and being a paramour. In 20, 21, the lady says, \"If my father ever\ncatches you, you're sure to flower a gallows-tree,\" etc.; in No 4,\nPolish #J# 5, \"If God would grant me to reach the other bank, you know,\nwretch, what death you would die.\" The father is unrelenting in this\nballad, v. 26, and receives his daughter with severity in 'The Fair\nFlower of Northumberland,' #B# 13, #C# 13. The conclusion of 'Young\nAndrew' is mutilated and hard to make out. He seems to have been pursued\nand caught, as John is in the Polish ballads, #O#, #P#, #T#, etc., of No\n4. Why he was not promptly disposed of, and how the wolf comes into the\nstory, will probably never be known.\n\n\n 1\n As I was cast in my ffirst sleepe,\n A dreadffull draught in my mind I drew,\n Ffor I was dreamed of a yong man,\n Some men called him yonge Andrew.\n\n 2\n The moone shone bright, and itt cast a ffayre light,\n Sayes shee, Welcome, my honey, my hart, and my sweete!\n For I haue loued thee this seuen long yeere,\n And our chance itt was wee cold neuer meete.\n\n 3\n Then he tooke her in his armes two,\n And kissed her both cheeke and chin,\n And twise or thrise he pleased this may\n Before they tow did p_ar_t in twinn.\n\n 4\n Saies, Now, good s_i_r, you haue had yo_u_r will,\n You can demand no more of mee;\n Good s_i_r, remember what you said before,\n And goe to the church and marry mee.\n\n 5\n 'Ffaire maid, I cannott doe as I wold;\n . . . . . . .\n Goe home and fett thy fathers redd gold,\n And I'le goe to the church and marry thee.\n\n 6\n This ladye is gone to her ffathers hall,\n And well she knew where his red gold lay,\n And counted fforth five hundred pound,\n Besides all other iuells and chaines:\n\n 7\n And brought itt all to younge Andrew,\n Itt was well counted vpon his knee;\n Then he tooke her by the lillye white hand,\n And led her vp to an hill soe hye.\n\n 8\n Shee had vpon a gowne of blacke veluett,\n (A pittyffull sight after yee shall see:)\n 'Put of thy clothes, bonny wenche,' he sayes,\n 'For noe ffoote further thoust gang w_i_th mee.'\n\n 9\n But then shee put of her gowne of veluett,\n W_i_th many a salt teare from her eye,\n And in a kirtle of ffine breaden silke\n Shee stood beffore young Andrews eye.\n\n 10\n Sais, O put off thy kirtle of silke,\n Ffor some and all shall goe with mee;\n And to my owne lady I must itt beare,\n Who I must needs loue better then thee.\n\n 11\n Then shee put of her kirtle of silke,\n W_i_th many a salt teare still ffrom her eye;\n In a peticoate of scarlett redd\n Shee stood before young Andrewes eye.\n\n 12\n Saies, O put of thy peticoate,\n For some and all of itt shall goe w_i_th mee;\n And to my owne lady I will itt beare,\n W_hi_ch dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye.\n\n 13\n But then shee put of her peticoate,\n W_i_th many a salt teare still from her eye,\n And in a smocke of braue white silke\n Shee stood before young Andrews eye.\n\n 14\n Saies, O put of thy smocke of silke,\n For some and all shall goe w_i_th mee;\n Vnto my owne ladye I will itt beare,\n _Tha_t dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye.\n\n 15\n Sayes, O remember, young Andrew,\n Once of a woman you were borne;\n And ffor _tha_t birth _tha_t Marye bore,\n I pray you let my smocke be vpon!\n\n 16\n 'Yes, ffayre ladye, I know itt well,\n Once of a woman I was borne;\n Yett ffor noe birth _tha_t Mary bore,\n Thy smocke shall not be left here vpon.'\n\n 17\n But then shee put of her head-geere ffine;\n Shee hadd billaments worth a hundred pound;\n The hayre _tha_t was vpon this bony wench head\n Couered her bodye downe to the ground.\n\n 18\n Then he pulled forth a Scottish brand,\n And held itt there in his owne right hand;\n Saies, Whether wilt thou dye vpon my swords point, ladye,\n Or thow wilt goe naked home againe?\n\n 19\n 'Liffe is sweet,' then, 's_i_r,' said shee,\n 'Therfore I pray you leaue mee w_i_th mine;\n Before I wold dye on yo_u_r swords point,\n I had rather goe naked home againe.\n\n 20\n 'My ffather,' shee sayes, 'is a right good erle\n As any remaines in his countrye;\n If euer he doe yo_u_r body take,\n Yo_u_'r sure to fflower a gallow tree.\n\n 21\n 'And I haue seuen brethren,' shee sayes,\n 'And they are all hardy men and bold;\n Giff euer th\u00e9 doe yo_u_r body take,\n You must neuer gang quicke ou_er_ the mold.'\n\n 22\n 'If yo_u_r ffather be a right good erle\n As any remaines in his owne countrye,\n Tush! he shall neuer my body take,\n I'le gang soe ffast ouer the sea.\n\n 23\n 'If you haue seuen brethren,' he sayes,\n 'If they be neu_er_ soe hardy or bold,\n Tush! they shall neu_er_ my body take,\n I'le gang soe ffast into the Scottish mold.'\n\n 24\n Now this ladye is gone to her fathers hall,\n When euery body their rest did take;\n But the Erle w_hi_ch was her ffather\n Lay waken for his deere daughters sake.\n\n 25\n 'But who is _tha_t,' her ffather can say,\n '_Tha_t soe priuilye knowes the pinn?'\n 'It's Hellen, yo_u_r owne deere daughter, ffather,\n I pray you rise and lett me in.'\n\n 26\n . . . . . . .\n 'Noe, by my hood!' q_uo_th her ffather then,\n 'My [house] thoust neuer come w_i_thin,\n W_i_thout I had my red gold againe.'\n\n 27\n 'Nay, yo_u_r gold is gone, ffather!' said shee,\n . . . . . . .\n 'Then naked thou came into this world,\n And naked thou shalt returne againe.'\n\n 28\n 'Nay! God fforgaue his death, father,' shee sayes,\n 'And soe I hope you will doe mee;'\n 'Away, away, thou cursed woman,\n I pray God an ill death thou may dye!'\n\n 29\n Shee stood soe long quacking on the ground\n Till her hart itt burst in three;\n And then shee ffell dead downe in a swoond,\n And this was the end of this bonny ladye.\n\n 30\n Ithe morning, when her ffather gott vpp,\n A pittyffull sight there he might see;\n His owne deere daughter was dead, w_i_thout clothes,\n The teares they trickeled fast ffrom his eye.\n\n 31\n . . . . . . .\n Sais, Fye of gold, and ffye of ffee!\n For I sett soe much by my red gold\n _Tha_t now itt hath lost both my daughter and mee!'\n\n 32\n . . . . . . .\n But after this time he neere dought good day,\n But as flowers doth fade in the frost,\n Soe he did wast and weare away.\n\n 33\n But let vs leaue talking of this ladye,\n And talke some more of young Andrew;\n Ffor ffalse he was to this bonny ladye,\n More pitty _tha_t he had not beene true.\n\n 34\n He was not gone a mile into the wild forrest,\n Or halfe a mile into the hart of Wales,\n But there they cought him by such a braue wyle\n _Tha_t hee must come to tell noe more tales.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\n 35\n . . . . . . .\n Ffull soone a wolfe did of him smell,\n And shee came roaring like a beare,\n And gaping like a ffeend of hell.\n\n 36\n Soe they ffought together like two lyons,\n And fire betweene them two glashet out;\n Th\u00e9 raught eche other such a great rappe,\n _Tha_t there young Andrew was slaine, well I wott.\n\n 37\n But now young Andrew he is dead,\n But he was neuer buryed vnder mold,\n For ther as the wolfe devoured him,\n There lyes all this great erles gold.\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1^3. of one.\n\n 3^3. 2.^{se}, 3.^{se}.\n\n 7^4. to one. 17^2. 100_{:}^li.\n\n 19^1. My liffe.\n\n 25^2. _tha_t pinn.\n\n 30^3. _~any~ follows ~without~, but is crossed out_.\n\n 30^4. they teares.\n\n 33^4. itt had.\n\n _Arabic numbers are in several cases expressed in\n letters._\n\n\n\n\n49\n\nTHE TWA BROTHERS\n\n #A.# Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 56, No 19.\n\n #B.# 'The Cruel Brother,' Motherwell's MS., p. 259. From\n the recitation of Mrs McCormick.\n\n #C.# 'The Twa Brithers,' Motherwell's MS., p. 649. From\n the recitation of Mrs Cunningham.\n\n #D.# 'The Twa Brothers, or, The Wood o Warslin,'\n Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 59. From the recitation of\n Mrs Arrott.\n\n #E.# 'The Twa Brothers,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 60.\n\n #F.# 'The Two Brothers,' Buchan's MSS, I, 57; Motherwell's\n MS., p. 662.\n\n #G. a.# 'John and William,' taken down from the singing of\n little girls in South Boston. #b.# From a child in New\n York. Both communicated by Mr W. W. Newell.\n\n\nAll the Scottish versions were obtained within the first third of this\ncentury, and since then no others have been heard of. It is interesting\nto find the ballad still in the mouths of children in American\ncities,--in the mouths of the poorest, whose heritage these old things\nare.[401] The American versions, though greatly damaged, preserve the\nnames John and William, which all the other copies have.\n\n#B# and #C# are considerably corrupted. It need hardly be mentioned that\nthe age of the boys in the first two stanzas of #B# does not suit the\nstory. According to #C# 8, 15, the mother had cursed John, before he\nleft home, with a wish that he might never return; and in #C# 9, John\nsends word to his true-love that he is in his grave for her dear sake\nalone. These points seem to have been taken from some copy of 'Willie\nand May Margaret,' or 'The Drowned Lovers.' The conclusion of both #B#\nand #C# belongs to 'Sweet William's Ghost.' #C# 18 may be corrected by\n#B# 10, though there is an absurd jumble of pipes and harp in the\nlatter. The harp, in a deft hand, effects like wonders in many a ballad:\ne. g., 'Harpens Kraft,' Grundtvig, II, 65, No 40; even a pipe in #C#\n14-16 of the same.\n\n#D#, #E#, #F#, #G# supplement the story with more or less of the ballad\nof 'Edward:' see p. 168.\n\nJamieson inquires for this ballad in the Scots Magazine for October,\n1803, p. 701, at which time he had only the first stanza and the first\nhalf of the third. He fills out the imperfect stanza nearly as in the\ncopy which he afterwards printed:\n\n But out an Willie's taen his knife,\n And did his brother slay.\n\nOf the five other Scottish versions, all except #B# make the deadly\nwound to be the result of accident, and this is, in Motherwell's view, a\npoint essential. The other reading, he says, is at variance with the\nrest of the story, and \"sweeps away the deep impression this simple\nballad would otherwise have made upon the feelings: for it is almost\nunnecessary to mention that its touching interest is made to centre in\nthe boundless sorrow and cureless remorse of him who had been the\nunintentional cause of his brother's death, and in the solicitude which\nthat high-minded and generous spirit expresses, even in the last agonies\nof nature, for the safety and fortunes of the truly wretched and unhappy\nsurvivor.\" But the generosity of the dying man is plainly greater if his\nbrother has killed him in an outburst of passion; and what is gained\nthis way will fully offset the loss, if any, which comes from the\nfratricide having cause for \"cureless remorse\" as well as boundless\nsorrow. Motherwell's criticism, in fact, is not quite intelligible.\n(Minstrelsy, p. 61.)\n\nThe variation in the story is the same as that between the English\n'Cruel Brother' and the German 'Graf Friedrich:' in the former the bride\nis killed by her offended brother; in the latter it is the bridegroom's\nsword slipping from its sheath that inflicts the mortal hurt.\n\nMotherwell was inclined to believe, and Kirkpatrick Sharpe was\nconvinced, that this ballad was founded upon an event that happened near\nEdinburgh as late as 1589, that of one of the Somervilles having been\nkilled by his brother's pistol accidentally going off. Sharpe afterward\nfound a case of a boy of thirteen killing a young brother in anger at\nhaving his hair pulled. This most melancholy story, the particulars of\nwhich are given in the last edition of the Ballad Book, p. 130, note\nxix, dates nearly a hundred years later, 1682. Only the briefest mention\nneed be made of these unusually gratuitous surmises.\n\nKirkland, in #D#, was probably suggested by the kirkyard of other\nversions, assisted, possibly, by a reminiscence of the Kirkley in 'Robin\nHood's Death and Burial;' for it will be observed that stanzas 8, 9 of\n#D# come pretty near to those in which Robin Hood gives direction for\nhis grave; #F# 9, 10, #B# 5, 6 less near.[402]\n\nCunningham has entitled a romance of his, upon the theme of 'The Two\nBrothers' (which, once more, he ventures to print nearly in the state in\nwhich he once had the pleasure of hearing it sung), 'Fair Annie of\nKirkland:' Songs of Scotland, II, 16.\n\nThe very pathetic passage in which the dying youth directs that father,\nmother, and sister shall be kept in ignorance of his death, and then,\nfeeling how vain the attempt to conceal the fact from his true-love will\nbe, bids that she be informed that he is in his grave and will never\ncome back, is too truly a touch of nature to be found only here.\nSomething similar occurs in 'Mary Hamilton,' where, however, the\ncircumstances are very different:\n\n 'And here's to the jolly sailor lad\n That sails upon the faeme!\n And let not my father nor mother get wit\n But that I shall come again.\n\n 'And here's to the jolly sailor lad\n That sails upon the sea!\n But let not my father nor mother get wit\n O the death that I maun dee.'\n\nIn a fine Norse ballad (see 'Brown Robyn's Confession,' further on) a\nman who is to be thrown overboard to save a ship takes his leave of the\nworld with these words:\n\n 'If any of you should get back to land,\n And my foster-mother ask for me,\n Tell her I'm serving in the king's court,\n And living right merrily.\n\n 'If any of you should get back to land,\n And my true-love ask for me,\n Bid her to marry another man,\n For I am under the sea.'\n\nA baron, who has been mortally wounded in a duel, gives this charge to\nhis servant:\n\n 'Faites mes compliments \u00e0 ma femme,\n Mais ne lui dites pas que j'ai \u00e9t\u00e9 tu\u00e9;\n Mais dites lui que je serai all\u00e9 \u00e0 Paris,\n Pour saluer le roi Louis.\n\n 'Dites que je serai all\u00e9 \u00e0 Paris,\n Pour saluer le roi Louis,\n Et que j'ai achet\u00e9 un nouveau cheval,\n Le petit c\u0153ur de mon cheval \u00e9tait trop gai.'\n\n (Le Seigneur de Rosmadec, Luzel, I, 368/369, 374/375.)\n\nIn like manner a dying klepht: \"If our comrades ask about me, tell them\nnot that I have died: say only that I have married in strange lands;\nhave taken the flat stone for mother-in-law, the black earth for my\nwife, the black worms for brothers-in-law.\" Zambelios, p. 606, No 11,\nFauriel, I, 51, Passow, p. 118, No 152; and again, Zambelios, p. 672, No\n94, Passow, p. 113, No 146. In the Danish 'Elveskud,' Grundtvig, II,\n115, No 47, B* 18, Ole would simply have the tragic truth kept from his\nbride:\n\n 'Hearken, Sir Ole, of mickle pride,\n How shall I answer thy young bride?'\n\n 'You must say I am gone to the wood,\n To prove horse and hounds, if they be good.'\n\nSuch questions and answers as we have in #D# 20, #E# 17, #F# 24, are of\nthe commonest occurrence in popular poetry, and not unknown to the\npoetry of art. Ballads of the 'Edward' class end generally or always in\nthis way: see p. 168. We have again the particular question and answer\nwhich occur here in 'Lizie Wan' and in one version of 'The Trooper and\nFair Maid,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 158. The question may be:\nWhen will you come back? When shall you cease to love me? When shall we\nbe married? etc.; and the answer: When apple-trees grow in the seas;\nwhen fishes fly and seas gang dry; when all streams run together; when\nall swift streams are still; when it snows roses and rains wine; when\nall grass is rue; when the nightingale sings on the sea and the cuckoo\nis heard in winter; when poplars bear cherries and oaks roses; when\nfeathers sink and stones swim; when sand sown on a stone germinates,\netc., etc. See Virgil, Ecl. i, 59-63; Ovid, Met. xiii, 324-27; Wolf,\nUeber die Lais, p. 433; 'Svend Vonved,' Grundtvig, I, 240, No 18, #A#,\n#D#; Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, 'Lord Jamie Douglas,' I,\n232 f, Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. vii, Kinloch, Finlay, etc.;\nPills to Purge Melancholy, V, 37; 'Der verwundete Knabe,' 'Die\nverwundete Dame,' Mittler, Nos 49-53, Erk's Liederhort, pp 111-115,\nWunderhorn, IV, 358-63, Longard, p. 39, No 18, Pr\u00f6hle, Welt. u. geist.\nVolkslieder, p. 12, No 6; Meinert, pp 28, 60, 73; Uhland, p. 127, No 65;\nWunderhorn (1857), II, 223, Reifferscheid, p. 23, Liederhort, p. 345,\nErk, Neue Sammlung, ii, 39, Kretzschmer, I, 143; Zuccalmaglio, pp 103,\n153, 595; Peter, Volksth\u00fcmliches aus \u00d6st.-schlesien, I, 274; Ditfurth,\nII, 9, No 10; Fiedler, p. 187; Des Turcken Vassnachtspiel, Tieck's\nDeutsches Theater, I, 8; Uhland, Zur Geschichte der Dichtung, III, 216\nff; Tigri, Canti popolari toscani (1860), pp 230-242, Nos 820, 822, 823,\n832, 836-40, 857, 858, 862, 868; Visconti, Saggio dei Canti p. della\nProvincia di Marritima e Campagna, p. 21, No 18; Nino, Saggio di Canti\np. sabinesi, p. 28 f, p. 30 f; Pitr\u00e8, Saggi di Critica letteraria, p.\n25; Braga, Cantos p. do Archipelago a\u00e7oriano, p. 220; M\u00f6ckesch,\nRom\u00e4nische Dichtungen, p. 6 f, No 2; Passow, p. 273 f, Nos 387, 388; B.\nSchmidt, Griechische M\u00e4rchen, etc., p. 154, No 10, and note, p. 253;\nMorosi, Studi sui Dialetti greci della Terra d'Otranto, p. 30, lxxv, p.\n32, lxxix; Pellegrini, Canti p. dei Greci di Cargese, p. 21; De Rada,\nRapsodie d'un Poema albanese, p. 29; Haupt u. Schmaler, Volkslieder der\nWenden, I, 76, No 47, I, 182, No 158, I, 299, No 300; Altmann,\nBalalaika, Russische Volkslieder, p. 233, No 184; Golovatsky, Narodnyya\nPiesni galitzskoy i ugorskoy Rusi, II, 585, No 18, III, i, 12, No 9;\nMaximovitch, Sbornik ukrainskikh Pyesen, p. 7, No 1, p. 107, No 30;\nDozon, Chansons p. bulgares, p. 283, No 57; Bodenstedt, Die poetische\nUkraine, p. 46, No 14; Jordan, Ueber kleinrussische Volkspoesie, Bl\u00e4tter\nf\u00fcr lit. Unterhaltung, 1840, No 252, p. 1014 (Uhland); Rhesa, Ueber\nlitthauische Volkspoesie, in Beitr\u00e4ge zur Kunde Preussens, I, 523;\nAigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, pp 147, 149: etc.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 168;\nAfzelius, III, 7; Grimm, Drei altschottische Lieder, p. 5; Talvi,\nCharakteristik, p. 567; Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. L. der Vorzeit, p.\n91. Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 4, translates Aytoun, I, 193.\n\n\nA\n\n Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 56, No 19.\n\n 1\n There were twa brethren in the north,\n They went to the school thegither;\n The one unto the other said,\n Will you try a warsle afore?\n\n 2\n They warsled up, they warsled down,\n Till Sir John fell to the ground,\n And there was a knife in Sir Willie's pouch,\n Gied him a deadlie wound.\n\n 3\n 'Oh brither dear, take me on your back,\n Carry me to yon burn clear,\n And wash the blood from off my wound,\n And it will bleed nae mair.'\n\n 4\n He took him up upon his back,\n Carried him to yon burn clear,\n And washd the blood from off his wound,\n But aye it bled the mair.\n\n 5\n 'Oh brither dear, take me on your back,\n Carry me to yon kirk-yard,\n And dig a grave baith wide and deep,\n And lay my body there.'\n\n 6\n He's taen him up upon his back,\n Carried him to yon kirk-yard,\n And dug a grave baith deep and wide,\n And laid his body there.\n\n 7\n 'But what will I say to my father dear,\n Gin he chance to say, Willie, whar's John?'\n 'Oh say that he's to England gone,\n To buy him a cask of wine.'\n\n 8\n 'And what will I say to my mother dear,\n Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?'\n 'Oh say that he's to England gone,\n To buy her a new silk gown.'\n\n 9\n 'And what will I say to my sister dear,\n Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?'\n 'Oh say that he's to England gone,\n To buy her a wedding ring.'\n\n 10\n 'But what will I say to her you loe dear,\n Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?'\n 'Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair,\n And home again will never come.'\n\n\nB\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 259. From Widow McCormick, January\n 19, 1825.\n\n 1\n There was two little boys going to the school,\n And twa little boys they be,\n They met three brothers playing at the ba,\n And ladies dansing hey.\n\n 2\n 'It's whether will ye play at the ba, brither,\n Or else throw at the stone?'\n 'I am too little, I am too young,\n O brother let me alone.'\n\n 3\n He pulled out a little penknife,\n That was baith sharp and sma,\n He gave his brother a deadly wound\n That was deep, long and sair.\n\n 4\n He took the holland sark off his back,\n He tore it frae breast to gare,\n He laid it to the bloody wound,\n That still bled mair and mair.\n\n 5\n 'It's take me on your back, brother,' he says,\n 'And carry me to yon kirk-yard,\n And make me there a very fine grave,\n That will be long and large.\n\n 6\n 'Lay my bible at my head,' he says,\n 'My chaunter at my feet,\n My bow and arrows by my side,\n And soundly I will sleep.\n\n 7\n 'When you go home, brother,' he says,\n 'My father will ask for me;\n You may tell him I am in Saussif town,\n Learning my lesson free.\n\n 8\n 'When you go home, brother,' he says,\n 'My mother will ask for me;\n You may tell her I am in Sausaf town,\n And I'll come home merrily.\n\n 9\n 'When you go home, brother,' he says,\n 'Lady Margaret will ask for me;\n You may tell her I'm dead and in grave laid,\n And buried in Sausaff toun.'\n\n 10\n She put the small pipes to her mouth,\n And she harped both far and near,\n Till she harped the small birds off the briers,\n And her true love out of the grave.\n\n 11\n 'What's this? what's this, lady Margaret?' he says,\n 'What's this you want of me?'\n 'One sweet kiss of your ruby lips,\n That's all I want of thee.'\n\n 12\n 'My lips they are so bitter,' he says,\n 'My breath it is so strong,\n If you get one kiss of my ruby lips,\n Your days will not be long.'\n\n\nC\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 649. From the recitation of Mrs\n Cunningham, Ayr.\n\n 1\n There were twa brithers at ae scule;\n As they were coming hame,\n Then said the ane until the other\n 'John, will ye throw the stane?'\n\n 2\n 'I will not throw the stane, brither,\n I will not play at the ba;\n But gin ye come to yonder wood\n I'll warsle you a fa.'\n\n 3\n The firsten fa young Johnie got,\n It brought him to the ground;\n The wee pen-knife in Willie's pocket\n Gied him a deadly wound.\n\n 4\n 'Tak aff, tak aff my holland sark,\n And rive it frae gore to gore,\n And stap it in my bleeding wounds,\n They'll aiblins bleed noe more.'\n\n 5\n He pouit aff his holland sark,\n And rave it frae gore to gore,\n And stapt it in his bleeding wounds,\n But ay they bled the more.\n\n 6\n 'O brither, tak me on your back,\n And bear me hence away,\n And carry me to Chester kirk,\n And lay me in the clay.'\n\n 7\n 'What will I say to your father,\n This night when I return?'\n 'Tell him I'm gane to Chester scule,\n And tell him no to murn.'\n\n 8\n 'What will I say to your mother,\n This nicht whan I gae hame?'\n 'She wishd afore I cam awa\n That I might neer gae hame.'\n\n 9\n 'What will I say to your true-love,\n This nicht when I gae hame?'\n 'Tell her I'm dead and in my grave,\n For her dear sake alane.'\n\n 10\n He took him upon his back\n And bore him hence away,\n And carried him to Chester kirk,\n And laid him in the clay.\n\n 11\n He laid him in the cauld cauld clay,\n And he cuirt him wi a stane,\n And he's awa to his fathers ha,\n Sae dowilie alane.\n\n 12\n 'You're welcome, dear son,' he said,\n 'You're welcome hame to me;\n But what's come o your brither John,\n That gade awa wi thee?'\n\n 13\n 'Oh he's awa to Chester scule,\n A scholar he'll return;\n He bade me tell his father dear\n About him no to murn.'\n\n 14\n 'You're welcome hame, dear son,' she said,\n 'You're welcome hame to me;\n But what's come o your brither John,\n That gade awa wi thee?'\n\n 15\n 'He bade me tell his mother dear,\n This nicht when I cam hame,\n Ye wisht before he gade awa,\n That he might neer return.'\n\n 16\n Then next came up his true-love dear,\n And heavy was her moan;\n 'You're welcome hame, dear Will,' she said,\n 'But whare's your brither John?'\n\n 17\n 'O lady, cease your trouble now,\n O cease your heavy moan;\n He's dead and in the cauld cauld clay,\n For your dear sake alone.'\n\n 18\n She ran distraught, she wept, she sicht,\n She wept the sma brids frae the tree,\n She wept the starns adoun frae the lift,\n She wept the fish out o the sea.\n\n 19\n 'O cease your weeping, my ain true-love,\n Ye but disturb my rest;'\n 'Is that my ain true lover John,\n The man that I loe best?'\n\n 20\n ''T is naething but my ghaist,' he said,\n 'That's sent to comfort thee;\n O cease your weeping, my true-love,\n And 't will gie peace to me.'\n\n\nD\n\n Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 59. From the recitation of\n Mrs W. Arrott, of Aberbrothick.\n\n 1\n 'O will ye gae to the school, brother?\n Or will ye gae to the ba?\n Or will ye gae to the wood a-warslin,\n To see whilk o's maun fa?'\n\n 2\n 'It's I winna gae to the school, brother,\n Nor will I gae to the ba;\n But I will gae to the wood a-warslin,\n And it is you maun fa.'\n\n 3\n They warstled up, they warstled down,\n The lee-lang simmer's day;\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 4\n 'O lift me up upon your back,\n Tak me to yon wall fair;\n You'll wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,\n And syne they'll bleed nae mair.\n\n 5\n 'And ye'll tak aff my hollin sark,\n And riv 't frae gair to gair;\n Ye'll stap it in my bluidy wounds,\n And syne they'll bleed nae mair.'\n\n 6\n He's liftit his brother upon his back,\n Taen him to yon wall fair;\n He's washed his bluidy wounds oer and oer,\n But ay they bled mair and mair.\n\n 7\n And he's taen aff his hollin sark,\n And riven 't frae gair to gair;\n He's stappit it in his bluidy wounds,\n But ay they bled mair and mair.\n\n 8\n 'Ye'll lift me up upon your back,\n Tak me to Kirkland fair;\n Ye'll mak my greaf baith braid and lang,\n And lay my body there.\n\n 9\n 'Ye'll lay my arrows at my head,\n My bent bow at my feet,\n My sword and buckler at my side,\n As I was wont to sleep.\n\n 10\n 'Whan ye gae hame to your father,\n He'll speer for his son John:\n Say, ye left him into Kirkland fair,\n Learning the school alone.\n\n 11\n 'When ye gae hame to my sister,\n She'll speer for her brother John:\n Ye'll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,\n The green grass growin aboon.\n\n 12\n 'Whan ye gae hame to my true-love,\n She'll speer for her lord John:\n Ye'll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,\n But hame ye fear he'll never come.'\n\n 13\n He's gane hame to his father;\n He speered for his son John:\n 'It's I left him into Kirkland fair,\n Learning the school alone.'\n\n 14\n And whan he gaed hame to his sister,\n She speered for her brother John:\n 'It's I left him into Kirkland fair,\n The green grass growin aboon.'\n\n 15\n And whan he gaed home to his true-love,\n She speerd for her lord John:\n 'It's I left him into Kirkland fair,\n And hame I fear he'll never come.'\n\n 16\n 'But whaten bluid's that on your sword, Willie?\n Sweet Willie, tell to me;'\n 'O it is the bluid o my grey hounds,\n They wadna rin for me.'\n\n 17\n 'It's nae the bluid o your hounds, Willie,\n Their bluid was never so red;\n But it is the bluid o my true-love,\n That ye hae slain indeed.'\n\n 18\n That fair may wept, that fair may mournd,\n That fair may mournd and pin'd:\n 'When every lady looks for her love,\n I neer need look for mine.'\n\n 19\n 'O whaten a death will ye die, Willie?\n Now, Willie, tell to me;'\n 'Ye'll put me in a bottomless boat,\n And I'll gae sail the sea.'\n\n 20\n 'Whan will ye come hame again, Willie?\n Now, Willie, tell to me;'\n 'Whan the sun and moon dances on the green,\n And that will never be.'\n\n\nE\n\n Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 60.\n\n 1\n There were twa brothers at the scule,\n And when they got awa,\n 'It's will ye play at the stane-chucking,\n Or will ye play at the ba,\n Or will ye gae up to yon hill head,\n And there we'll warsel a fa?'\n\n 2\n 'I winna play at the stane-chucking,\n Nor will I play at the ba;\n But I'll gae up to yon bonnie green hill,\n And there we'll warsel a fa.'\n\n 3\n They warsled up, they warsled down,\n Till John fell to the ground;\n A dirk fell out of William's pouch,\n And gave John a deadly wound.\n\n 4\n 'O lift me upon your back,\n Take me to yon well fair,\n And wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,\n And they'll neer bleed nae mair.'\n\n 5\n He's lifted his brother upon his back,\n Taen him to yon well fair;\n He's wash'd his bluidy wounds oer and oer,\n But they bleed ay mair and mair.\n\n 6\n 'Tak ye aff my holland sark,\n And rive it gair by gair,\n And row it in my bluidy wounds,\n And they'll neer bleed nae mair.'\n\n 7\n He's taken aff his holland sark,\n And torn it gair by gair;\n He's rowit it in his bluidy wounds,\n But they bleed ay mair and mair.\n\n 8\n 'Tak now aff my green cleiding,\n And row me saftly in,\n And tak me up to yon kirk-style,\n Whare the grass grows fair and green.'\n\n 9\n He's taken aff the green cleiding,\n And rowed him saftly in;\n He's laid him down by yon kirk-style,\n Whare the grass grows fair and green.\n\n 10\n 'What will ye say to your father dear,\n When ye gae hame at een?'\n 'I'll say ye're lying at yon kirk-style,\n Whare the grass grows fair and green.'\n\n 11\n 'O no, O no, my brother dear,\n O you must not say so;\n But say that I'm gane to a foreign land,\n Whare nae man does me know.'\n\n 12\n When he sat in his father's chair,\n He grew baith pale and wan:\n 'O what blude's that upon your brow?\n O dear son, tell to me;'\n 'It is the blude o my gude gray steed,\n He wadna ride wi me.'\n\n 13\n 'O thy steed's blude was neer sae red,\n Nor eer sae dear to me:\n O what blude's this upon your cheek?\n O dear son, tell to me;'\n 'It is the blude of my greyhound,\n He wadna hunt for me.'\n\n 14\n 'O thy hound's blude was neer sae red,\n Nor eer sae dear to me:\n O what blude's this upon your hand?\n O dear son, tell to me;'\n 'It is the blude of my gay goss-hawk,\n He wadna flee for me.'\n\n 15\n 'O thy hawk's blude was neer sae red,\n Nor eer sae dear to me:\n O what blude's this upon your dirk?\n Dear Willie, tell to me;'\n 'It is the blude of my ae brother,\n O dule and wae is me!'\n\n 16\n 'O what will ye say to your father?\n Dear Willie, tell to me;'\n 'I'll saddle my steed, and awa I'll ride,\n To dwell in some far countrie.'\n\n 17\n 'O when will ye come hame again?\n Dear Willie, tell to me;'\n 'When sun and mune leap on yon hill,\n And that will never be.'\n\n 18\n She turnd hersel right round about,\n And her heart burst into three:\n 'My ae best son is deid and gane,\n And my tother ane I'll neer see.'\n\n\nF\n\n Buchan's MSS, I, 57; Motherwell's MS., p. 662.\n\n 1\n There were twa brothers in the east,\n Went to the school o Ayr;\n The one unto the other did say,\n Come let us wrestle here.\n\n 2\n They wrestled up and wrestled down,\n Till John fell to the ground;\n There being a knife in Willie's pocket,\n Gae John his deadly wound.\n\n 3\n 'O is it for my gold, brother?\n Or for my white monie?\n Or is it for my lands sae braid,\n That ye hae killed me?'\n\n 4\n 'It is not for your gold,' he said,\n 'Nor for your white monie;\n It is by the hand o accident\n That I hae killed thee.'\n\n 5\n 'Ye'll take the shirt that's on my back,\n Rive it frae gair to gair,\n And try to stop my bloody wounds,\n For they bleed wonderous sair.'\n\n 6\n He's taen the shirt was on his back,\n Reave it frae gare to gare,\n And tried to stop his bleeding wounds,\n But still they bled the mair.\n\n 7\n 'Ye'll take me up upon your back,\n Carry me to yon water clear,\n And try to stop my bloody wounds,\n For they run wonderous sair.'\n\n 8\n He's taen him up upon his back,\n Carried him to yon water clear,\n And tried to stop his bleeding wounds,\n But still they bled the mair.\n\n 9\n 'Ye'll take me up upon your back,\n Carry me to yon church-yard;\n Ye'll dig a grave baith wide and deep,\n And then ye'll lay me there.\n\n 10\n 'Ye'll put a head-stane at my head,\n Another at my feet,\n Likewise a sod on my breast-bane,\n The souner I may sleep.\n\n 11\n 'Whenever my father asks of thee,\n Saying, What's become of John?\n Ye'll tell frae me, I'm ower the sea,\n For a cargo of good wine.\n\n 12\n 'And when my sweetheart asks of thee,\n Saying, What's become of John?\n Ye'll tell frae me, I'm ower the sea,\n To buy a wedding gown.\n\n 13\n 'And when my sister asks of thee,\n Saying, William, where is John?\n Ye'll tell frae me, I'm ower the sea,\n To learn some merry sang.\n\n 14\n 'And when my mother asks of thee,\n Saying, William, where is John?\n Tell her I'm buried in green Fordland,\n The grass growing ower my tomb.'\n\n 15\n He's taen him up upon his back,\n Carried him to yon church-yard,\n And dug a grave baith wide and deep,\n And he was buried there.\n\n 16\n He laid a head-stane at his head,\n Another at his feet,\n And laid a green sod on his breast,\n The souner he might sleep.\n\n 17\n His father asked when he came hame,\n Saying, 'William, where is John?'\n Then John said, 'He is ower the sea,\n To bring you hame some wine.'\n\n 18\n 'What blood is this upon you, William,\n And looks sae red on thee?'\n 'It is the blood o my grey-hound,\n He woudna run for me.'\n\n 19\n 'O that's nae like your grey-hound's blude,\n William, that I do see;\n I fear it is your own brother's blood\n That looks sae red on thee.'\n\n 20\n 'That is not my own brother's blude,\n Father, that ye do see;\n It is the blood o my good grey steed,\n He woudna carry me.'\n\n 21\n 'O that is nae your grey steed's blude,\n William, that I do see;\n It is the blood o your brother John,\n That looks sae red on thee.'\n\n 22\n 'It's nae the blood o my brother John,\n Father, that ye do see;\n It is the blude o my good grey hawk,\n Because he woudna flee.'\n\n 23\n 'O that is nae your grey hawk's blood,\n William, that I do see:'\n 'Well, it's the blude o my brother,\n This country I maun flee.'\n\n 24\n 'O when will ye come back again,\n My dear son, tell to me?'\n 'When sun and moon gae three times round,\n And this will never be.'\n\n 25\n 'Ohon, alas! now William, my son,\n This is bad news to me;\n Your brother's death I'll aye bewail,\n And the absence o thee.'\n\n\nG\n\n #a.# Taken down lately from the singing of little girls in\n South Boston. #b.# Two stanzas, from a child in New York,\n 1880. Communicated by Mr W. W. Newell.\n\n 1\n As John and William were coming home one day,\n One Saturday afternoon,\n Says John to William, Come and try a fight,\n Or will you throw a stone?\n Or will you come down to yonder, yonder town\n Where the maids are all playing ball, ball, ball,\n Where the maids are all playing ball?\n\n 2\n Says William to John, I will not try a fight,\n Nor will I throw a stone,\n Nor will I come down to yonder town,\n Where the maids are all playing ball.\n\n 3\n So John took out of his pocket\n A knife both long and sharp,\n And stuck it through his brother's heart,\n And the blood came pouring down.\n\n 4\n Says John to William, Take off thy shirt,\n And tear it from gore to gore,\n And wrap it round your bleeding heart,\n And the blood will pour no more.'\n\n 5\n So John took off his shirt,\n And tore it from gore to gore,\n And wrapped it round his bleeding heart,\n And the blood came pouring more.\n\n 6\n 'What shall I tell your dear father,\n When I go home to-night?'\n 'You'll tell him I'm dead and in my grave,\n For the truth must be told.'\n\n 7\n 'What shall I tell your dear mother,\n When I go home to-night?'\n 'You'll tell her I'm dead and in my grave,\n For the truth must be told.'\n\n 8\n 'How came this blood upon your knife?\n My son, come tell to me;'\n 'It is the blood of a rabbit I have killed,\n O mother, pardon me.'\n\n 9\n 'The blood of a rabbit couldnt be so pure,\n My son, come tell to me:'\n 'It is the blood of a squirrel I have killed,\n O mother, pardon me.'\n\n 10\n 'The blood of a squirrel couldnt be so pure,\n My son, come tell to me:'\n 'It is the blood of a brother I have killed,\n O mother, pardon me.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A.#\n\n 1^2. _Var._ to the chase.\n\n 10^3. \"As to Kirk-land, my copy has only kirk-yard, till\n the last verse, where land has been added from\n conjecture.\" _Sharpe's Ballad-Book, p. 56._\n\n#D.#\n\n 1^3, 2^3. o Warslin.\n\n#F.#\n\n 13^3. tell me free.\n\n _Motherwell has Scotticised the spelling._\n\n 9^4. _Motherwell has_ leave.\n\n 11^1, 12^1, 13^1, 14^1. _Motherwell_, speirs at thee.\n\n 23^3. _Motherwell has_ my ae brother.\n\n#G. b.#\n\n 1.\n Jack and William was gone to school,\n One fine afternoon;\n Jack says to William, Will you try a fight?\n Do not throw no stones.\n\n 2.\n Jack took out his little penknife,\n The end of it was sharp,\n He stuck it through his brother's heart,\n And the blood was teeming down.\n\n\n[401] Mr Newell says: \"I have heard it sung at a picnic, by a whole\ncarful of little girls. The melody is pretty. These children were of the\npoorest class.\"\n\n[402] \"The house of Inchmurry, formerly called Kirkland, was built of\nold by the abbot of Holyrood-house for his accommodation when he came to\nthat country, and was formerly the minister's manse.\" Statistical\nAccount of Scotland, XIII, 506, cited by Jamieson, I, 62. There are\nstill three or four Kirklands in Scotland and the north of England.\n\n\n\n\n50\n\nTHE BONNY HIND\n\n 'The Bonny Hyn,' Herd's MSS, I, 224; II, fol. 65, fol. 83.\n\n\nThis piece is transcribed three times in Herd's manuscripts, with a note\nprefixed in each instance that it was copied from the mouth of a\nmilkmaid in 1771. An endorsement to the same effect on the last\ntranscript gives the date as 1787, no doubt by mistake. Scott had only\nMS. I in his hands, which accidentally omits two stanzas (13, 14), and\nhe printed this defective copy with the omission of still another (4):\nMinstrelsy, II, 298, ed. 1802; III, 309, ed. 1833. Motherwell supplies\nthese omitted stanzas, almost in Herd's very words, in the Introduction\nto his collection, p. lxxxiv, note 99. He remarks, p. 189, that tales of\nthis kind abound in the traditionary poetry of Scotland. The two ballads\nwhich follow, Nos 51, 52, are of the same general description.\n\nIn the first half of the story 'The Bonny Hind' comes very near to the\nfine Scandinavian ballad of 'Margaret,' as yet known to be preserved\nonly in F\u00e4r\u00f6e and Icelandic. The conclusions differ altogether. Margaret\nin the F\u00e4r\u00f6e ballad, 'Margretu kv\u00e6\u00f0i,' F\u00e6r\u00f6iske Kv\u00e6der, Hammershaimb, No\n18, is the only daughter of the Norwegian king Magnus, and has been put\nin a convent. After two or three months she longs to see her father's\nhouse again. On her way thither she is assaulted by a young noble with\nextreme violence: to whom she says,\n\n Now you have torn off all my clothes, and done me sin and shame,\n I beg you, before God most high, tell me what is your name.\n\nMagnus, he answers, is his father, and Gertrude his mother, and he\nhimself is Olaf, and was brought up in the woods. By this she recognizes\nthat he is her own brother. Olaf begs her to go back to the convent,\nand say nothing, bearing her sorrow as she may. This she does. But every\nautumn the king makes a feast, and invites to it all the nuns in the\ncloister. Margaret is missed, and asked for. Is she sick or dead? Why\ndoes she not come to the feast, like other merry dames? The wicked\nabbess answers, Your daughter is neither sick nor dead; she goes with\nchild, like other merry dames. The king rides off to the cloister,\nencounters his daughter, and demands who is the father of her child. She\nreplies that she will sooner die than tell. The king leaves her in\nwrath, but returns presently, resolved to burn the convent, and Margaret\nin it, Olaf comes from the wood, tired and weary, sees the cloister\nburning, and quenches the flames with his heart's blood.\n\nThe Icelandic ballad, 'Margr\u00e8tar kv\u00e6\u00f0i,' \u00cdslenzk Fornkv\u00e6\u00f0i, Grundtvig\nand Sigur\u00f0sson, No 14, has the same story. It is, however, the man who\nbrings on the discovery by asking the woman's parentage. The editors\ninform us that the same subject is treated in an unprinted Icelandic\nballad, less popular as to style and stanza, in the Arne Magnussen\ncollection, 154.\n\nThe story of Kullervo, incorporated in what is called the national epic\nof the Finns, the Kalevala, has striking resemblances with the ballads\nof the Bonny Hind class. While returning home in his sledge from a\nsomewhat distant errand, Kullervo met three times a girl who was\ntravelling on snow-shoes, and invited her to get in with him. She\nrejected his invitation with fierceness, and the third time he pulled\nher into the sledge by force. She angrily bade him let her go, or she\nwould dash the sledge to pieces; but he won her over by showing her rich\nthings. The next morning she asked what was his race and family; for it\nseemed to her that he must come of a great line. \"No,\" he said, \"neither\nof great nor small. I am Kalervo's unhappy son. Tell me of what stock\nart thou.\" \"Of neither great nor small,\" she answered. \"I am Kalervo's\nunhappy daughter.\" She was, in fact, a long-lost sister of Kullervo's,\nwho, when a child, had gone to the wood for berries, and had never found\nher way home. She had wept the first day and the second; the third and\nfourth, the fifth and sixth, she had tried every way to kill herself.\nShe broke out in heart-piercing lamentations:\n\n 'O that I had died then, wretched!\n O that I had perished, weak one!\n Had not lived to hear these horrors,\n Had not lived this shame to suffer!'\n\nSo saying she sprang from the sledge into the river, and found relief\nunder the waters.\n\nKullervo, mad with anguish, went home to his mother, and told her what\nhad happened. He asked only how he might die,--by wolf or bear, by whale\nor sea-pike. His mother vainly sought to soothe him. He consented to\nlive only till the wrongs of his parents had been revenged. His mother\ntried to dissuade him even from seeking a hero's death in fight.\n\n 'If thou die in battle, tell me,\n What protection shall remain then\n For the old age of thy father?'\n 'Let him die in any alley,\n Lay his life down in the house-yard.'\n 'What protection shall remain then\n For the old age of thy mother?'\n 'Let her die on any straw-truss;\n Let her stifle in the stable.'\n 'Who shall then be left thy brother,\n Who stand by him in mischances?'\n 'Let him pine away in the forest,\n Let him drop down on the common.'\n 'Who shall then be left thy sister,\n Who stand by her in mischances?'\n 'When she goes to the well for water,\n Or to the washing, let her stumble.'\n\nKullervo had his fill of revenge. Meanwhile father, brother, sister, and\nmother died, and he came back to his home to find it empty and cold. A\nvoice from his mother's grave seemed to direct him to go to the wood for\nfood: obeying it, he came again to the polluted spot, where grass or\nflowers would not grow any more. He asked his sword would it like to\nfeed on guilty flesh and drink wicked blood. The sword said, Why should\nI not like to feed on guilty flesh and drink wicked blood, I that feed\non the flesh of the good and drink the blood of the sinless? Kullervo\nset the sword hilt in the earth, and threw himself on the point.\n(Kalewala, \u00fcbertragen von Schiefner, runes 35, 36.)\n\nThe dialogue between Kullervo and his mother is very like a passage in\nanother Finnish rune, 'Werinen Pojka,' 'The Bloody Son,' Schr\u00f6ter,\nFinnische Runen, 124, ed. 1819; 150, ed. 1834. This last is a form of\nthe ballad known in Scottish as 'Edward,' No 13, or of 'The Twa\nBrothers,' No 49. Something similar is found in 'Lizie Wan,' No 51.\n\nThe passage 5-7 is a commonplace that may be expected to recur under the\nsame or analogous circumstances, as it does in 'Tam Lin,' #D#, 'The\nKnight and Shepherd's Daughter,' 'The Maid and the Magpie,' and in one\nversion of 'The Broom of Cowdenknows.' These are much less serious\nballads, and the tone of stanza 5, which so ill befits the distressful\nsituation, is perhaps owing to that stanza's having been transferred\nfrom some copy of one of these. It might well change places with this,\nfrom 'The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter,' #A#:\n\n Sith you have had your will of me,\n And put me to open shame,\n Now, if you are a courteous knight,\n Tell me what is your name.\n\nMuch better with the solemn adjuration in the F\u00e4r\u00f6e 'Margaret,' or even\nthis in 'Ebbe Galt,' Danske Viser, No 63, 8:\n\n Now you have had your will of me,\n To both of us small gain,\n By the God that is above all things,\n I beg you tell your name.\n\n\n Herd's MSS, II, fol. 65. \"Copied from the mouth of a\n milkmaid, by W. L. in 1771.\"\n\n 1\n O may she comes, and may she goes,\n Down by yon gardens green,\n And there she spied a gallant squire\n As squire had ever been.\n\n 2\n And may she comes, and may she goes,\n Down by yon hollin tree,\n And there she spied a brisk young squire,\n And a brisk young squire was he.\n\n 3\n 'Give me your green manteel, fair maid,\n Give me your maidenhead;\n Gif ye winna gie me your green manteel,\n Gi me your maidenhead.'\n\n 4\n He has taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And softly laid her down,\n And when he's lifted her up again\n Given her a silver kaim.\n\n 5\n 'Perhaps there may be bairns, kind sir,\n Perhaps there may be nane;\n But if you be a courtier,\n You'll tell to me your name.'\n\n 6\n 'I am nae courtier, fair maid,\n But new come frae the sea;\n I am nae courtier, fair maid,\n But when I court 'ith thee.\n\n 7\n 'They call me Jack when I'm abroad,\n Sometimes they call me John;\n But when I'm in my father's bower\n Jock Randal is my name.'\n\n 8\n 'Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny lad,\n Sae loud's I hear ye lee!\n Ffor I'm Lord Randal's yae daughter,\n He has nae mair nor me.'\n\n 9\n 'Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny may,\n Sae loud's I hear ye lee!\n For I'm Lord Randal's yae yae son,\n Just now come oer the sea.'\n\n 10\n She's putten her hand down by her spare,\n And out she's taen a knife,\n And she has putn't in her heart's bluid,\n And taen away her life.\n\n 11\n And he's taen up his bonny sister,\n With the big tear in his een,\n And he has buried his bonny sister\n Amang the hollins green.\n\n 12\n And syne he's hyed him oer the dale,\n His father dear to see:\n 'Sing O and O for my bonny hind,\n Beneath yon hollin tree!'\n\n 13\n 'What needs you care for your bonny hyn?\n For it you needna care;\n There's aught score hyns in yonder park,\n And five score hyns to spare.\n\n 14\n 'Four score of them are siller-shod,\n Of thae ye may get three;'\n 'But O and O for my bonny hyn,\n Beneath yon hollin tree!'\n\n 15\n 'What needs you care for your bonny hyn?\n For it you need na care;\n Take you the best, gi me the warst,\n Since plenty is to spare.'\n\n 16\n 'I care na for your hyns, my lord,\n I care na for your fee;\n But O and O for my bonny hyn,\n Beneath the hollin tree!'\n\n 17\n 'O were ye at your sister's bower,\n Your sister fair to see,\n Ye'll think na mair o your bonny hyn\n Beneath the hollin tree.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\n * * * * *\n\n 'The Bonny Heyn,' I, 224.\n\n 3^2. _Should be ~It's not for you a weed~. Motherwell._\n\n 4^3. _The third copy omits ~when~._\n\n 4^{3, 4}. he lifted, He gae her. _Motherwell._\n\n 5^{1, 2}. _The second copy has ~they~._\n\n 6^4. _All have ~courteth~. Scott prints ~wi' thee, with\n thee~._\n\n 7^3. _The third copy has ~tower~._\n\n 10^{3, 4}.\n She's soakt it in her red heart's blood,\n And twin'd herself of life. _Motherwell._\n\n 13, 14. _The first copy omits these stanzas._\n\n\n\n\n51\n\nLIZIE WAN\n\n #A. a.# 'Lizie Wan,' Herd's MSS, I, 151; II, 78. #b.#\n Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 91.\n\n #B.# 'Rosie Ann,' Motherwell's MS., p. 398.\n\n\n#A#, first printed in Herd's Scottish Songs, ed. 1776, is here given\nfrom his manuscript copy. #B# is now printed for the first time.\n\n#A# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og Skotske Folkeviser, No 50,\nwho subjoins a Danish ballad, 'Liden Ellen og hendes Broder,' of similar\ncharacter. Of this the editor had three versions, differing but little,\nand all of slight poetical value, and he prints one which was committed\nto writing some sixty or seventy years ago, with some readings from the\nothers. Liden Jensen, having killed Liden Ellen in a wood, pretends to\nhis mother that she has gone off with some knights. He is betrayed by\nblood on his clothes, confesses the truth, and is condemned to be\nburned. 'Herr Axel,' Arwidsson's Swedish collection, No 46, I, 308,\nunder similar circumstances, kills Stolts Kirstin's two children, is\nasked by his mother why his hands are bloody, pretends to have slain a\nhind in the wood, and has his head struck off by order of his father.\n\n'Herr Peder og hans S\u00f6ster,' an unpublished Danish ballad, of which\nGrundtvig obtained a single traditional version, has also a slight\nresemblance to 'Lizie Wan.' Kirsten invites Sir Peter to her bed. He\ndeclines for various reasons, which she refutes. She discovers him to be\nher brother by her needle-work in his shirt. He draws his knife and\nstabs her. \"This was also a pitiful sight, the twin children playing in\nthe mother's bosom.\" Compare Kristensen, II, No 74 #A#, #D#, #E#, at the\nend.\n\nThe conclusion, #A# 11-12, #B# 10-17, resembles that of 'The Twa\nBrothers,' No 49, but is poetically much inferior.\n\n\nA\n\n Herd's MSS, I, 151; stanzas 1-6, II, p. 78. Herd's\n Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 91.\n\n 1\n Lizie Wan sits at her father's bower-door,\n Weeping and making a mane,\n And by there came her father dear:\n 'What ails thee, Lizie Wan?'\n\n 2\n 'I ail, and I ail, dear father,' she said,\n 'And I'll tell you a reason for why;\n There is a child between my twa sides,\n Between my dear billy and I.'\n\n 3\n Now Lizie Wan sits at her father's bower-door,\n Sighing and making a mane,\n And by there came her brother dear:\n 'What ails thee, Lizie Wan?'\n\n 4\n 'I ail, I ail, dear brither,' she said,\n 'And I'll tell you a reason for why;\n There is a child between my twa sides,\n Between you, dear billy, and I.'\n\n 5\n 'And hast thou tald father and mother o that?\n And hast thou tald sae o me?'\n And he has drawn his gude braid sword,\n That hang down by his knee.\n\n 6\n And he has cutted aff Lizie Wan's head,\n And her fair body in three,\n And he's awa to his mothers bower,\n And sair aghast was he.\n\n 7\n 'What ails thee, what ails thee, Geordy Wan?\n What ails thee sae fast to rin?\n For I see by thy ill colour\n Some fallow's deed thou hast done.'\n\n 8\n 'Some fallow's deed I have done, mother,\n And I pray you pardon me;\n For I've cutted aff my greyhound's head;\n He wadna rin for me.'\n\n 9\n 'Thy greyhound's bluid was never sae red,\n O my son Geordy Wan!\n For I see by thy ill colour\n Some fallow's deed thou hast done.'\n\n 10\n 'Some fallow's deed I hae done, mother,\n And I pray you pardon me;\n For I hae cutted aff Lizie Wan's head\n And her fair body in three.'\n\n 11\n 'O what wilt thou do when thy father comes hame,\n O my son Geordy Wan?'\n 'I'll set my foot in a bottomless boat,\n And swim to the sea-ground.'\n\n 12\n 'And when will thou come hame again,\n O my son Geordy Wan?'\n 'The sun and the moon shall dance on the green\n That night when I come hame.'\n\n\nB\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 398. From the recitation of Mrs\n Storie, Lochwinnich.\n\n 1\n Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,\n Greitin and making grit mane,\n When down by cam her father, saying,\n What ails thee Rosie Ann?\n\n 2\n 'A deal, a deal, dear father,' she said,\n 'Great reason hae I to mane,\n For there lyes a little babe in my side,\n Between me and my brither John.'\n\n 3\n Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,\n Weeping and making great mane,\n And wha cam doun but her mither dear,\n Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?\n\n 4\n 'A deal, a deal, dear mither,' she said,\n 'Great reason hae I to mane,\n For there lyes a little babe in my side,\n Between me and my brither John.'\n\n 5\n Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,\n Greiting and making great mane,\n And wha came doun but her sister dear,\n Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?\n\n 6\n 'A deal, a deal, dear sister,' she said,\n 'Great reason hae I to mane,\n For there lyes a little babe in my side,\n Between me and my brither John.'\n\n 7\n Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,\n Weeping and making great mane,\n And wha cam doun but her fause, fause brither,\n Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?\n\n 8\n 'A deal, a deal, dear brither,' she said,\n 'Great reason hae I to cry,\n For there lyes a little babe in my side,\n Between yoursell and I.'\n\n 9\n 'Weel ye hae tauld father, and ye hae tauld mither,\n And ye hae tauld sister, a' three;'\n Syne he pulled out his wee penknife,\n And he cut her fair bodie in three.\n\n 10\n 'O what blude is that on the point o your knife,\n Dear son, come tell to me?'\n 'It is my horse's, that I did kill,\n Dear mother and fair ladie.'\n\n 11\n 'The blude o your horse was neer sae red,\n Dear son, come tell to me:'\n 'It is my grandfather's, that I hae killed,\n Dear mother and fair ladie.'\n\n 12\n 'The blude o your grandfather was neer sae fresh,\n Dear son, come tell to me:'\n 'It is my sister's, that I did kill,\n Dear mother and fair ladie.'\n\n 13\n 'What will ye do when your father comes hame,\n Dear son, come tell to me?'\n 'I'll set my foot on yon shipboard,\n And I hope she'll sail wi me.'\n\n 14\n 'What will ye do wi your bonny bonny young wife,\n Dear son, come tell to me?'\n 'I'll set her foot on some other ship,\n And I hope she'll follow me.'\n\n 15\n 'And what will ye do wi your wee son,\n Dear son, come tell to me?'\n 'I'll leave him wi you, my dear mother,\n To keep in remembrance of me.'\n\n 16\n 'What will ye do wi your houses and lands,\n Dear son, come tell to me?'\n 'I'll leave them wi you, my dear mother,\n To keep my own babie.'\n\n 17\n 'And whan will you return again,\n Dear son, come tell to me?'\n 'When the sun and the mune meet on yon hill,\n And I hope that'll neer be.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n#B.#\n\n _Written without division into stanzas._\n\n\n\n\n52\n\nTHE KING'S DOCHTER LADY JEAN\n\n #A. a.# 'The King's Dochter Lady Jean,' Motherwell's MS.,\n p. 657. #b.# 'Lady Jean,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy,\n Appendix, p. xxi.\n\n #B.# Motherwell's MS., p. 275; the first six lines in\n Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 189 f.\n\n #C.# 'Castle Ha's Daughter,' Buchan's Ballads of the North\n of Scotland, I, 241.\n\n #D.# 'Bold Burnet's Daughter.' #a.# Buchan's MSS, I, 120.\n #b.# The same, II, 141.\n\n\n#B# is the ballad referred to, and partly cited, in Motherwell's preface\nto 'The Broom blooms bonnie and says it is fair,' Minstrelsy, p. 189.\nThis copy has been extremely injured by tradition; so much so as not to\nbe intelligible in places except by comparison with #A#. The act\ndescribed in stanza 9 should be done by the king's daughter's own hand;\nstanza 12 should be addressed by her to her sister; stanza 13 is\ncomposed of fragments of two. #C# and #D# have suffered worse, for they\nhave been corrupted and vulgarized.\n\nAt the beginning there is resemblance to 'Tam Lin' and to 'Hind Etin.'\n\n\nA\n\n #a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 657. From the recitation of Mrs\n Storie, Lochwinnich. #b.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy,\n Appendix, p. xxi, No XXIII, one stanza.\n\n 1\n The king's young dochter was sitting in her window,\n Sewing at her silken seam;\n She lookt out o the bow-window,\n And she saw the leaves growing green, my luve,\n And she saw the leaves growing green.\n\n 2\n She stuck her needle into her sleeve,\n Her seam down by her tae,\n And she is awa to the merrie green-wood,\n To pu the nit and slae.\n\n 3\n She hadna pu't a nit at a',\n A nit but scarcely three,\n Till out and spak a braw young man,\n Saying, How daur ye bow the tree?\n\n 4\n 'It's I will pu the nit,' she said,\n 'And I will bow the tree,\n And I will come to the merrie green wud,\n And na ax leive o thee.'\n\n 5\n He took her by the middle sae sma,\n And laid her on the gerss sae green,\n And he has taen his will o her,\n And he loot her up agen.\n\n 6\n 'Now syn ye hae got your will o me,\n Pray tell to me your name;\n For I am the king's young dochter,' she said,\n 'And this nicht I daurna gang hame.'\n\n 7\n 'Gif ye be the king's young dochter,' he said,\n 'I am his auldest son;\n I wish I had died on some frem isle,\n And never had come hame!\n\n 8\n 'The first time I came hame, Jeanie,\n Thou was na here nor born;\n I wish my pretty ship had sunk,\n And I had been forlorn!\n\n 9\n 'The neist time I came hame, Jeanie,\n Thou was sittin on the nourice knee;\n And I wish my pretty ship had sunk,\n And I had never seen thee!\n\n 10\n 'And the neist time I came hame, Jeanie,\n I met thee here alane;\n I wish my pretty ship had sunk,\n And I had neer come hame!'\n\n 11\n She put her hand down by her side,\n And doun into her spare,\n And she pou't out a wee pen-knife,\n And she wounded hersell fu sair.\n\n 12\n Hooly, hooly rase she up,\n And hooly she gade hame,\n Until she came to her father's parlour,\n And there she did sick and mane.\n\n 13\n 'O sister, sister, mak my bed,\n O the clean sheets and strae,\n O sister, sister, mak my bed,\n Down in the parlour below.'\n\n 14\n Her father he came tripping down the stair,\n His steps they were fu slow;\n 'I think, I think, Lady Jean,' he said,\n 'Ye're lying far ower low.'\n\n 15\n 'O late yestreen, as I came hame,\n Down by yon castil wa,\n O heavy, heavy was the stane\n That on my briest did fa!'\n\n 16\n Her mother she came tripping doun the stair,\n Her steps they were fu slow;\n 'I think, I think, Lady Jean,' she said,\n 'Ye're lying far ower low.'\n\n 17\n 'O late yestreen, as I cam hame,\n Down by yon castil wa,\n O heavy, heavy was the stane\n That on my breast did fa!'\n\n 18\n Her sister came tripping doun the stair,\n Her steps they were fu slow;\n 'I think, I think, Lady Jean,' she said,\n 'Ye're lying far ower low.'\n\n 19\n 'O late yestreen, as I cam hame,\n Doun by yon castil wa,\n O heavy, heavy was the stane\n That on my breast did fa!'\n\n 20\n Her brither he cam trippin doun the stair,\n His steps they were fu slow;\n He sank into his sister's arms,\n And they died as white as snaw.\n\n\nB\n\n Motherwell's MS., p. 275; the first six lines in\n Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 189. From Margery Johnston.\n\n 1\n Lady Margaret sits in her bow-window,\n Sewing her silken seam;\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 2\n She's drapt the thimble at her tae,\n And her scissars at her heel,\n And she's awa to the merry green-wood,\n To see the leaves grow green.\n\n 3\n She had scarsely bowed a branch,\n Or plucked a nut frae the tree,\n Till up and starts a fair young man,\n And a fair young man was he.\n\n 4\n 'How dare ye shake the leaves?' he said,\n 'How dare ye break the tree?\n How dare ye pluck the nuts,' he said,\n 'Without the leave of me?'\n\n 5\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n 'Oh I know the merry green wood's my ain,\n And I'll ask the leave of nane.'\n\n 6\n He gript her by the middle sae sma,\n He gently sat her down,\n While the grass grew up on every side,\n And the apple trees hang down.\n\n 7\n She says, Young man, what is your name?\n For ye've brought me to meikle shame;\n For I am the king's youngest daughter,\n And how shall I gae hame?\n\n 8\n 'If you're the king's youngest daughter,\n It's I'm his auldest son,\n And heavy heavy is the deed, sister,\n That you and I have done.'\n\n 9\n He had a penknife in his hand,\n Hang low down by his gair,\n And between the long rib and the short one\n He woundit her deep and sair.\n\n 10\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n And fast and fast her ruddy bright blood\n Fell drapping on the ground.\n\n 11\n She took the glove off her right hand,\n And slowly slipt it in the wound,\n And slowly has she risen up,\n And slowly slipped home.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 12\n 'O sister dear, when thou gaes hame\n Unto thy father's ha,\n It's make my bed baith braid and lang,\n Wi the sheets as white as snaw.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 13\n 'When I came by the high church-yard\n Heavy was the stain that bruised my heel,\n ... that bruised my heart,\n I'm afraid it shall neer heal.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\n\nC\n\n Buchan's Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland, I,\n 241.\n\n 1\n As Annie sat into her bower,\n A thought came in her head,\n That she would gang to gude greenwood,\n Across the flowery mead.\n\n 2\n She hadna pu'd a flower, a flower,\n Nor broken a branch but twa,\n Till by it came a gentle squire,\n Says, Lady, come awa.\n\n 3\n There's nane that comes to gude greenwood\n But pays to me a tein,\n And I maun hae your maidenhead,\n Or than your mantle green.\n\n 4\n 'My mantle's o the finest silk,\n Anither I can spin;\n But gin you take my maidenhead,\n The like I'll never fin.'\n\n 5\n He's taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass-green sleeve,\n There laid her low in gude greenwood,\n And at her spierd nae leave.\n\n 6\n When he had got his wills o her,\n His wills as he had taen,\n She said, If you rightly knew my birth,\n Ye'd better letten alane.\n\n 7\n 'Is your father a lord o might?\n Or baron o high degree?\n Or what race are ye sprung frae,\n That I should lat ye be?'\n\n 8\n 'O I am Castle Ha's daughter,\n O birth and high degree,\n And if he knows what ye hae done,\n He'll hang you on a tree.'\n\n 9\n 'If ye be Castle Ha's daughter,\n This day I am undone;\n If ye be Castle Ha's daughter,\n I am his only son.'\n\n 10\n 'Ye lie, ye lie, ye jelly hind squire,\n Sae loud as I hear you lie,\n Castle Ha, he has but ae dear son,\n And he is far beyond the sea.'\n\n 11\n 'O I am Castle Ha's dear son,\n A word I dinna lie;\n Yes, I am Castle Ha's dear son,\n And new come oer the sea.\n\n 12\n ''Twas yesterday, that fatal day,\n That I did cross the faem;\n I wish my bonny ship had sunk,\n And I had neer come hame.'\n\n 13\n Then dowie, dowie, raise she up,\n And dowie came she hame,\n And stripped aff her silk mantle,\n And then to bed she's gane.\n\n 14\n Then in it came her mother dear,\n And she steps in the fleer:\n 'Win up, win up, now fair Annie,\n What makes your lying here?'\n\n 15\n 'This morning fair, as I went out,\n Near by yon castle wa,\n Great and heavy was the stane\n That on my foot did fa.'\n\n 16\n 'Hae I nae ha's, hae I nae bowers,\n Towers, or mony a town?\n Will not these cure your bonny foot,\n Gar you gae hale and soun?'\n\n 17\n 'Ye hae ha's, and ye hae bowers,\n And towers, and mony a town,\n But nought will cure my bonny foot,\n Gar me gang hale and soun.'\n\n 18\n Then in it came her father dear,\n And he trips in the fleer:\n 'Win up, win up, now fair Annie,\n What makes your lying here?'\n\n 19\n 'This morning fair, as I went out,\n Near by yon castle wa,\n Great and heavy was the stane\n That on my foot did fa.'\n\n 20\n 'Hae I nae ha's, hae I nae bowers,\n And towers, and mony a town?\n Will not these cure your bonny foot,\n Gar you gang hale and soun?'\n\n 21\n 'O ye hae ha's, and ye hae bowers,\n And towers, and mony a town,\n But nought will cure my bonny foot,\n Gar me gang hale and soun.'\n\n 22\n Then in it came her sister Grace;\n As she steps in the fleer,\n 'Win up, win up, now fair Annie,\n What makes your lying here?\n\n 23\n 'Win up, and see your ae brother,\n That's new come ower the sea;'\n 'Ohon, alas!' says fair Annie,\n 'He spake ower soon wi me.'\n\n 24\n To her room her brother's gane,\n Stroked back her yellow hair,\n To her lips his ain did press,\n But words spake never mair.\n\n\nD\n\n #a.# Buchan's MSS, I, 120. #b.# The same, II, 141.\n\n 1\n The lady's taen her mantle her middle about,\n Into the woods she's gane,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 2\n She hadna poud a flower o gude green-wood,\n O never a flower but ane,\n Till by he comes, an by he gangs,\n Says, Lady, lat alane.\n\n 3\n For I am forester o this wood,\n And I hae power to pine\n Your mantle or your maidenhead,\n Which o the twa ye'll twine.\n\n 4\n 'My mantle is o gude green silk,\n Another I can card an spin;\n But gin ye tak my maidenhead,\n The like I'll never fin.'\n\n 5\n He's taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And by the grass-green sleeve,\n And laid her low at the foot o a tree,\n At her high kin spierd nae leave.\n\n 6\n 'I am bold Burnet's ae daughter,\n You might hae lat me be:'\n 'And I'm bold Burnet's ae dear son,\n Then dear! how can this dee?'\n\n 7\n 'Ye lie, ye lie, ye jolly hind squire,\n So loud's I hear you lie!\n Bold Burnet has but ae dear son,\n He's sailing on the sea.'\n\n 8\n 'Yesterday, about this same time,\n My bonny ship came to land;\n I wish she'd sunken in the sea,\n And never seen the strand!\n\n 9\n 'Heal well this deed on me, lady,\n Heal well this deed on me!'\n 'Although I would heal it neer sae well,\n Our God above does see.'\n\n 10\n She's taen her mantle her middle about,\n And mourning went she hame,\n And a' the way she sighd full sair,\n Crying, Am I to blame!\n\n 11\n Ben it came her father dear,\n Stout stepping on the flear:\n 'Win up, win up, my daughter Janet,\n And welcome your brother here.'\n\n 12\n Up she's taen her milk-white hand,\n Streakd by his yellow hair,\n Then turnd about her bonny face,\n And word spake never mair.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#A. b.#\n\n 1^2. fine silken.\n\n 1^3. She luikit out at her braw bower window.\n\n#B.#\n\n 1^{1,2} _and 2 are joined in the MS._\n\n 5^{1,4} _joined with 4. 5^4. ~no leave of thee~, an\n emendation by Motherwell, for rhyme._\n\n 9^4. He struck: _an emendation_.\n\n 10^{3,4} _are joined with 9._\n\n 13^3. That bruised by heart.\n\n _After 13 is written_ A stanza wanting.\n\n#D.#\n\n _The first three stanzas are not properly divided in #a#,\n and in #b# the first fourteen lines not divided at all._\n\n #a.#\n\n 11^2. An stepping.\n\n 7^1. _~kind squire~ in both copies._\n\n #b.#\n\n 5^4. kin's.\n\n 9^1. Heal well, heal well on me, Lady Janet.\n\n 11^2. Stout stepping.\n\n 12^3. She turned.\n\n\n\n\n53\n\nYOUNG BEICHAN\n\n #A.# 'Young Bicham,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 13, c. 1783.\n\n #B.# 'Young Brechin,' Glenriddell MSS, XI, 80, 1791.\n\n #C.# 'Young Bekie.' #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 11, c.\n 1783. #b.# Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 127.\n\n #D.# 'Young Beachen,' Skene MSS, p. 70, 1802-1803.\n\n #E.# 'Young Beichan and Susie Pye,' Jamieson's Popular\n Ballads, II, 117.\n\n #F.# 'Susan Pye and Lord Beichan,' Pitcairn's MSS, III,\n 159.\n\n #G.# Communicated by Mr Alex. Laing, of Newburgh-on-Tay.\n\n #H.# 'Lord Beichan and Susie Pye,' Kinloch's Ancient\n Scottish Ballads, p. 260.\n\n #I.# Communicated by Mr David Loudon, Morham, Haddington.\n\n #J.# Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, 'Adversaria,' p. 85.\n\n #K.# Communicated by Mr David Loudon.\n\n #L.# The Loving Ballad of Lord Bateman. Illustrated by\n George Cruikshank, 1839.\n\n #M.# 'Young Bondwell,' Buchan's MSS, I, 18. J. H. Dixon,\n Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 1.\n\n #N.# 'Susan Py, or Young Bichen's Garland.' #a.# Falkirk,\n printed by T. Johnston, 1815. #b.# Stirling, M. Randall.\n\n\n#A#, #B#, #D#, #F#, and the fragment #G# now appear for the first time\nin print, and the same is true of #I#, #J#, #K#, which are of less\naccount. #C a# is here given according to the manuscript, without\nJamieson's \"collations.\" Of #E# and #C b# Jamieson says: This ballad and\nthat which succeeds it are given from copies taken from Mrs Brown's\nrecitation,[403] collated with two other copies procured from Scotland;\none in MS.; another, very good, one printed for the stalls; a third, in\nthe possession of the late Reverend Jonathan Boucher, of Epsom, taken\nfrom recitation in the north of England; and a fourth, about one third\nas long as the others, which the editor picked off an old wall in\nPiccadilly. #L#, the only English copy, was derived from the singing of\na London vagrant. It is, says Dixon, the common English broadsheet\n\"turned into the dialect of Cockaigne.\"[404] #M# was probably a\nbroadside or stall copy, and is certainly of that quality, but preserves\na very ancient traditional feature.\n\n#D# and #M#, besides the name Linne, have in common a repetition of the\nsong, a trait which we also find in one version of 'The Heir of\nLinne;'[405] see Dixon's Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient\nBallads, p. 30, stanzas 2-6, Percy Society, vol. XVII.\n\nIn Bell's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England,\np. 68, it is remarked that #L#, \"the only ancient form in which the\nballad has existed in print,\" is one of the publications mentioned in\none of Thackeray's catalogues of broadsides. The 'Bateman,' in\nThackeray's list, is the title of an entirely different ballad, 'A\nWarning for Maidens, or Young Bateman,' reprinted from the Roxburghe\ncollection by W. Chappell, III, 193.\n\n\"Young Beichan\" is a favorite ballad, and most deservedly. There are\nbeautiful repetitions of the story in the ballads of other nations, and\nit has secondary affinities with the extensive cycle of 'Hind Horn,' the\nparts of the principal actors in the one being inverted in the other.\n\nThe hero's name is mostly Beichan, with slight modifications like Bekie,\n#C#, Bicham, #A#, Brechin, #B#; in #L#, Bateman; in #M#, Bondwell. The\nheroine is Susan Pye in ten of the fourteen versions; Isbel in #C#;\nEssels, evidently a variety of Isbel, in #M#, which has peculiar\nrelations with #C#; Sophia in #K#, #L#.\n\nBeichan is London born in #A#, #D#, [#E#], #H#, #I#, #N#, English born\nin #B#; London city is his own, #A# 6, #B# 7, #F# 7, or he has a hall\nthere, #I# 7, #N# 27 f.; half Northumberland belongs to him, #L#; he is\nlord of the towers of Line, #D# 9, #C# 5, #M# 5, which are in London,\n#D# 15 f, but are transferred by reciters to the water of Tay, #M# 29,\nand to Glasgow, or the vicinity, #H# 20. #H#, though it starts with\ncalling him London born, speaks of him thereafter as a Scottish lord,\n12, 18, 31.[406]\n\nBeichan has an Englishman's desire strange countries for to see, #A#,\n#D#, [#E#], #I#, #L#, #N#. In #C#, #M# he goes abroad, Quentin Durward\nfashion, not to gratify his taste for travel, but to serve for meat and\nfee. #F# makes him go to the Holy Land, without specifying his motive,\nbut we may fairly suppose it religious. #C# sends him no further than\nFrance, and #M# to an unnamed foreign land. He becomes the slave of a\nMoor or Turk, #A#, #B#, #D#, #H#, #I#, #L#, #N#, or a \"Prudent,\" #F#,\nwho treats him cruelly. They bore his shoulders and put in a \"tree,\" and\nmake him draw carts, like horse or ox, #A#, #B#, #D#, [#E#], #H#; draw\nplough and harrow, #F#, plough and cart, #N#; or tread the wine-press,\n#I#. This is because he is a staunch Christian, and would never bend a\nknee to Mahound or Termagant, #E#, or onie of their stocks, #H#, or\ngods, #I#. They cast him into a dungeon, where he can neither hear nor\nsee, and he is nigh perishing with hunger. This, also, is done in #H# 5,\non account of his perseverance in Christianity; but in #C#, #M# he is\nimprisoned for falling in love with the king's daughter, or other lovely\nmay.\n\nFrom his prison Beichan makes his moan (not to a stock or a stone, but\nto the Queen of Heaven, #D# 4). His hounds go masterless, his hawks flee\nfrom tree to tree, his younger brother will heir his lands, and he shall\nnever see home again, #E#, #H#. If a lady [earl] would borrow him, he\nwould run at her stirrup; if a widow [auld wife] would borrow him, he\nwould become her son; and if a maid would borrow him, he would wed her\nwith a ring, #C#, #D#, #M#, #B#.[407] The only daughter of the Moor,\nTurk, or king (of a 'Savoyen,' #B# 5, perhaps a corruption of Saracen),\nalready interested in the captive, or immediately becoming so upon\nhearing Beichan's song, asks him if he has lands and means at home to\nmaintain a lady that should set him free, and is told that he has ample\nestates, all of which he would bestow on such a lady, #A#, #B#, #E#,\n#F#, #H#, #L#, #N#. She steals the keys and delivers the prisoner, #C#,\n#D#, #E#, #I#, #J#, #L#, #M#, #N#; refreshes him with bread and wine\n[wine], #A#, #D#, #E#, #F#, #J# 4, #K# 3, #B#, #H#, #L#; supplies him\nwith money, #C# 9, #H# 15, #M# 12, #N# 14, and with a ship, #F# 9, #H#\n18, #L# 9; to which #C#, #M# add a horse and hounds [and hawks, #M#].\nShe bids him mind on the lady's love that freed him out of pine, #A# 8,\n#D# 12, [#E# 13], #M# 14, #N# 15, and in #E# 16 breaks a ring from her\nfinger, and gives half of it to Beichan to assist his memory. There is a\nsolemn vow, or at least a clear understanding, that they are to marry\nwithin seven years, #A# 9, #B# 9, #E# 12 f., #H# 17, 19, #L# 8, #N# 11\n[three years, #C# 11].\n\nWhen seven years are at an end, or even before, Susan Pye feels a\nlonging, or a misgiving, which impels her to go in search of the object\nof her affections, and she sets her foot on good shipboard, and turns\nher back on her own country, #A# 10, #B# 10, #D# 15, #L# 10, #N#\n23.[408] #C# and #M# preserve here a highly important feature which is\nwanting in the other versions. Isbel, or Essels, is roused from her\nsleep by the Billy Blin, #C# 14, by a woman in green, a fairy, #M# 15,\nwho makes known to her that that very day, or the morn, is Bekie's\n[Bondwell's] wedding day. She is directed to attire herself and her\nmaids very splendidly, and go to the strand; a vessel will come sailing\nto her, and they are to go on board. The Billy Blin will row her over\nthe sea, #C# 19; she will stroke the ship with a wand, and take God to\nbe her pilot, #M# 19. Thus, by miraculous intervention, she arrives at\nthe nick of time.\n\nBeichan's fickleness is not accounted for in most of the versions. He\nsoon forgot his deliverer and courted another, he was young, and thought\nnot upon Susan Pye, say #H#, #N#. #C#, on the contrary, tells us that\nBeichan had not been a twelvemonth in his own country, when he was\nforced to marry a duke's daughter or lose all his land. #E# and #K#\nintimate that he acts under constraint; the wedding has lasted three and\nthirty days, and he will not bed with his bride for love of one beyond\nthe sea, #E# 21, #K# 1.[409]\n\nOn landing, Susan Pye falls in with a shepherd feeding his flock, #E#,\n#K# [a boy watering his steeds, #M#]. She asks, Whose are these sheep,\nthese kye, these castles? and is told they are Lord Beichan's, #G#. She\nasks the news, and is informed that there is a wedding in yonder hall\nthat has lasted thirty days and three, #E#, #K#, or that there is to be\na wedding on the morn, #M#; it seems to be a matter generally known,\n#N#. In other versions she comes directly to Young Beichan's hall, and\nis first informed by the porter, #A#, #B#, #F#, #H#, #L#, or the fact is\nconfirmed by the porter, #E#, #M#, #N#; she hears the music within, and\ndivines, #C#. She bribes the porter to bid the bridegroom come and\nspeak to her, #A#, #B#, #C#, #D#, #J#, #N#; send her down bread and\nwine, and not forget the lady who brought him out of prison, #B#, #F#,\n#H#, #J#, #K#, #L#. In #E# 26 she sends up her half ring to the\nbridegroom [a ring in #N# 40, but not till Beichan has declined to come\ndown].\n\nThe porter falls on his knee and informs his master that the fairest and\nrichest lady that eyes ever saw is at the gate [ladies, #C#, #M#]. The\nbride, or the bride's mother more commonly, reproves the porter for his\ngraceless speech; he might have excepted the bride, or her mother, or\nboth: \"Gin she be braw without, we's be as braw within.\" But the porter\nis compelled by truth to persist in his allegation; fair as they may be,\nthey were never to compare with yon lady, #B#, #D#, #E#, #H#, #M#.\nBeichan takes the table with his foot and makes the cups and cans to\nflee, #B# 18, #D# 23, #F# 28, #G# 3, #H# 47, #J# 5, #N# 42;[410] he\nexclaims that it can be none but Susie Pye, #A#, #B#, #D#, #G#, #H#, #I#\n[Burd Isbel, #C#], and clears the stair, fifteen steps, thirty steps, in\nthree bounds, #A# 19, #D# 24, #N# 43. His old love reproaches him for\nhis forgetfulness, #A#, #C#, #D#, #M#, #N#;[411] she asks back her faith\nand troth, #B# 21. Beichan bids the forenoon bride's mother take back\nher daughter: he will double her dowry, #A# 22, #D# 27, #E# 39; she came\non horseback, she shall go back in chariots, coaches, three, #B# 22, #D#\n27[412] [#H# 49, in chariot free]. He marries Susie Pye, having her\nbaptized by the name of Lady Jean, #A#, #B#, #D#, [#E#], #F#, #I#,\n#J#.[413]\n\nThis story of Beichan, or Bekie, agrees in the general outline, and also\nin some details, with a well-known legend about Gilbert Beket, father of\nSt Thomas. The earlier and more authentic biographies lack this\nparticular bit of romance, but the legend nevertheless goes back to a\ndate not much later than a century after the death of the saint, being\nfound in a poetical narrative preserved in a manuscript of about\n1300.[414]\n\nWe learn from this legend that Gilbert Beket, in his youth, assumed the\ncross and went to the Holy Land, accompanied only by one Richard, his\nservant. They \"did their pilgrimage\" in holy places, and at last, with\nother Christians, were made captive by the Saracens and put in strong\nprison. They suffered great hardship and ignominy in the service of the\nSaracen prince Admiraud. But Gilbert found more grace than the rest; he\nwas promoted to serve the prince at meat (in his chains), and the prince\noften would ask him about England and the English faith. Admiraud's only\ndaughter fell in love with Gilbert, and when she saw her time, in turn\nasked him the like questions. Gilbert told her that he was born in\nLondon; told her of the belief of Christians, and of the endless bliss\nthat should be their meed. The maid asked him if he was ready to die\nfor his Lord's love, and Gilbert declared that he would, joyfully. When\nthe maid saw that he was so steadfast, she stood long in thought, and\nthen said, I will quit all for love of thee, and become Christian, if\nthou wilt marry me. Gilbert feared that this might be a wile; he replied\nthat he was at her disposition, but he must bethink himself. She went on\nloving him, the longer the more. After this Gilbert and the rest broke\nprison and made their way to the Christians. The prince's daughter,\nreduced to desperation by love and grief, left her heritage and her kin,\nsparing for no sorrow, peril, or contempt that might come to her, not\nknowing whither to go or whether he would marry her when found, and went\nin quest of Gilbert. She asked the way to England, and when she had come\nthere had no word but London to assist her further. She roamed through\nthe streets, followed by a noisy and jeering crowd of wild boys and what\nnot, until one day by chance she stopped by the house in which Gilbert\nlived. The man Richard, hearing a tumult, came out to see what was the\nmatter, recognized the princess, and ran to tell his master.[415]\nGilbert bade Richard take the lady to the house of a respectable woman\nnear by, and presently went to see her. She swooned when she saw him.\nGilbert was nothing if not discreet: he \"held him still,\" as if he had\nnothing in mind. But there was a conference of six bishops just then at\nSt. Paul's, and he went and told them his story and asked advice. One of\nthe six prophetically saw a divine indication that the two were meant to\nbe married, and all finally recommended this if the lady would become\nChristian. Brought before the bishops, she said, Most gladly, if he will\nespouse me; else I had not left my kin. She was baptized[416] with great\nceremony, and the marriage followed.\n\nThe very day after the wedding Gilbert was seized with such an\novermastering desire to go back to the Holy Land that he wist not what\nto do. But his wife was thoroughly converted, and after a struggle with\nherself she consented, on condition that Beket should leave with her the\nman Richard, who knew her language. Gilbert was gone three years and a\nhalf, and when he came back Thomas was a fine boy.\n\nThat our ballad has been _affected_ by the legend of Gilbert Beket is\naltogether likely. The name Bekie is very close to Beket, and several\nversions, #A#, #D#, #H#, #I#, #N#, set out rather formally with the\nannouncement that Bekie was London born, like the Latin biographies and\nthe versified one of Garnier de Pont Sainte Maxence. Our ballad, also,\nin some versions, has the Moor's daughter baptized, a point which of\ncourse could not fail in the legend. More important still is it that the\nhero of the English ballad goes home and forgets the woman he has left\nin a foreign land, instead of going away from home and forgetting the\nlove he has left there. But the ballad, for all that, is not derived\nfrom the legend. Stories and ballads of the general cast of 'Young\nBeichan' are extremely frequent.[417] The legend lacks some of the main\npoints of these stories, and the ballad, in one version or another, has\nthem, as will be seen by referring to what has been said under 'Hind\nHorn,' pp 194 ff. Bekie and Beket go to the East, like Henry and\nReinfrit of Brunswick, the Noble Moringer, the good Gerhard, Messer\nTorello, the Sire de Cr\u00e9qui, Alexander of Metz, and others. Like the\nlarger part of these, they are made prisoners by the Saracens. He will\nnot bow the knee to Mahound; neither will the Sire de Cr\u00e9qui, though he\ndie for it.[418] Beichan is made to draw cart, plough, harrow, like a\nbeast. So Henry of Brunswick in a Swedish and a Danish ballad,[419] and\nAlexander von Metz, or the Graf von Rom, in his most beautiful and\ntouching story.[420] Henry of Brunswick is set free by a \"heathen\" lady\nin the Danish ballad. In one version of Beichan, #E#, the lady on\nparting with her love breaks her ring and gives him one half, as Henry,\nor his wife, Reinfrit, Gerhard, Cr\u00e9qui, and others do. At this point in\nthe story the woman pursues the man, and parts are inverted. Susan Pye\nis warned that Beichan is to be married the next day, in #C# by a\nBilly-Blin, in #M# by a woman in green, or fairy, and is conveyed to\nBeichan's castle or hall with miraculous despatch, just as Henry and\nothers are warned, and are transported to their homes by devil, angel,\nor necromancer. In #E# and #N# the old love is identified by a half ring\nor ring, as in so many of the stories of the class of Henry the Lion.\n\nNorse, Spanish, and Italian ballads preserve a story essentially the\nsame as that of 'Young Beichan.'\n\n#Scandinavian.#\n\n#Danish.# 'Stolt Ellensborg,' Grundtvig, IV, 238, No 218, nine versions,\n#A-G#, from manuscripts of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, #H#,\n#I#, from recent tradition. #B# is previously printed (with alterations)\nin Levninger, 'Jomfrue Ellensborg,' I, 66, No 12, Danske Viser, III,\n268, No 213; I, 'Stalt Ellen henter sin F\u00e6stemand' is in Kristensen, I,\n89, No 36. Of the older texts, #A#, #B#, #C# are absolutely pure and\ntrue to tradition, #D-G# retouched or made over.\n\n#Icelandic#, of the seventeenth century, Grundtvig, as above, p. 259,\n#M#.\n\n#Swedish#, from Cavallius and Stephens' collection, Grundtvig, p. 255,\n#K#.\n\n#F\u00e4r\u00f6e#, taken down in 1827, Grundtvig, p. 256, #L#.\n\n#Norwegian#, 'Herre Per i Riki,' Landstad, p. 596, No 76, #N#.\n\nThe variations of these twelve versions are insignificant. The names\nHerr Peder den Rige and Ellensborg [Ellen] are found in nearly all. It\ncomes into Sir Peter's mind that he ought to go to Jerusalem to expiate\nhis sins, and he asks his betrothed, Ellensborg, how long she will wait\nfor him. She will wait eight years, and marry no other, though the king\nshould woo her [seven, #L#; nine, #M#, \"If I do not come then, break the\nengagement;\" eight, and not more, #N#]. The time passes and Peter does\nnot come back. Ellensborg goes to the strand. Traders come steering in,\nand she is asked to buy of their ware,--sendal, linen, and silk green as\nleek. She cares not for these things; have they not seen her sister's\nson [brother], for whom she is grieving to death? They know nothing of\nher sister's son, but well they know Sir Peter the rich: he has\nbetrothed a lady in the \u00d8ster-king's realm;[421] a heathen woman, \"and\nyou never came into his mind,\" #E# 13; he is to be married to-morrow,\n#K# 6. A wee swain tells her, #M# 14, 16, that he sits in Austurr\u00edki\ndrinking the ale of forgetfulness, and will never come home; he shall\nnot drink long, says she. Ellensborg asks her brother to undertake a\nvoyage for her; he will go with her if she will wait till summer; rather\nthan wait till summer she will go alone, #A#, #D#, #G#. She asks\nfraternal advice about going in search of her lover, #A#, #E#, the\nadvice of her uncles, #I#; asks the loan of a ship, #B#, #C#, #F#, #H#,\n#N#. She is told that such a thing would be a shame; she had better take\nanother lover; the object is not worth the trouble; the voyage is bad\nfor a man and worse for a woman. Her maids give her advice that is more\nto her mind, #E#, but are as prudent as the rest in the later #I#. She\nattires herself like a knight, clips her maids' hair, #B#, #H#, #I#,\n#L#, #M#, and puts them into men's clothes, #D#, #L#; sets herself to\nsteer and the maids to row, #A-G#, #L#.[422]\n\nThe voyage is less than two months, #B#, #C#, #E#; less than three\nmonths, #I#; quite three months, #L#. It is the first day of the bridal\nwhen she lands, #B# 22, #E# 24, #N# 14; in #B# Ellensborg learns this\nfrom a boy who is walking on the sand. Sword at side, she enters the\nhall where Peter is drinking his bridal. Peter, can in hand, rises and\nsays, Bless your eyes, my sister's son; welcome to this strange land. In\n#B# he asks, How are my father and mother? and she tells him that his\nfather lies dead on his bier, his mother in sick-bed. In #L#, waiting\nfor no greeting, she says, Well you sit at the board with your wife! Are\nall lords wont thus to keep their faith? The bride's mother, #D#, #G#,\nthe heathen bride, #E#, an unnamed person, probably the bride, #A#, #B#,\n#F#, #N#, says, That is not your sister's son, but much more like a\nwoman; her hair is like spun gold, and braided up under a silk cap.\n\n#A# tells us, and so #F#, #G#, that it was two months before Ellensborg\ncould speak to Peter privately. Then, on a Yule day, when he was going\nto church, she said, It does not occur to you that you gave me your\ntroth. Sir Peter stood as if women had shorn his hair, and recollected\nall as if it had been yesterday. In #B-E#, #H#, #I#, #L#, #M#, #N#, this\nincident has, perhaps, dropped out. In these immediately, as in #A#,\n#F#, #G#, after this interview, Sir Peter, recalled to his senses or to\nhis fidelity, conceives the purpose of flying with Ellensborg. Good\npeople, he says, knights and swains, ladies and maids, follow my bride\nto bed, while I take my sister's son over the meads, through the wood,\n#B-E#, #H#, #I#, #N#. In #A#, #F#, Sir Peter asks the bride how long she\nwill bide while he takes his nephew across the kingdom; in #G# begs the\nboon that, since his sister's son is going, he may ride with him, just\naccompany him to the strand and take leave of him; in #L#, #M#, hopes\nshe will not be angry if he convoys his nephew three days on his way.\n(It is at this point in #C#, #H#, #I#, #L#, that the bride says it is no\nsister's son, but a woman.) The bride remarks that there are knights and\nswains enow to escort his sister's son, and that he might more fitly\nstay where he is, but Sir Peter persists that he will see his nephew off\nin person.\n\nSir Peter and Ellensborg go aboard the ship, he crying, You will see me\nno more! When they are at sea Ellensborg lets out her hair, #A#, #B#,\n#C#, #H#; she wishes that the abandoned bride may now feel the grief\nwhich she herself had borne for years. The proceeding is less covert in\n#I#, #L#, #M# than in the other versions.\n\nAs Ellensborg and Peter are making for the ship in #D# 30, 31 (and #G#\n36, 37, borrowed from #D#), she says, Tell me, Sir Peter, why would you\ndeceive me so? Sir Peter answers that he never meant to deceive her; it\nwas the lady of \u00d8sterland that did it; she had changed his mind. A\nmagical change is meant. This agrees with what is said in #A# 24, 25\n(also #F#, #G#), that when Ellensborg got Peter alone to herself, and\nsaid, You do not remember that you plighted your troth to me, everything\ncame back to him as if it had happened yesterday. And again in the F\u00e4r\u00f6e\ncopy, #L# 49, Ellensborg, from the prow, cries to Ingibj\u00f6rg on the\nstrand, Farewell to thee with thy _elf-ways_, vi\u00f0 t\u00edtt elvargangi! I\nhave taken to myself my true love that I lent thee so long; implying\nthat Sir Peter had been detained by Circean arts, by a sleepy drench of\n\u00f3minnis \u00f6l, or ale of forgetfulness, Icelandic #M# 14, which, in the\nlight of the other ballads, is to be understood literally, and not\nfiguratively. The feature of a man being made, by magical or other\nmeans, to forget a first love who had done and suffered much for him,\nand being suddenly restored to consciousness and his original\npredilection, is of the commonest occurrence in traditional tales.[423]\n\nOur English ballad affords no other positive trace of external\ninterference with the hero's will than the far-fetched allegation in #C#\nthat the choice before him was to accept a duke's daughter or forfeit\nhis lands. The explanation of his inconstancy in #H#, #N#, that young\nmen ever were fickle found, is vulgar, and also insufficient, for\nBeichan returns to his old love _per saltum_, like one from whose eyes\nscales have fallen and from whose back a weight has been taken, not\ntamely, like a facile youth that has swerved. #E# and #K#, as already\nsaid, distinctly recognize that Beichan was not acting with free mind,\nand, for myself, I have little doubt that, if we could go back far\nenough, we should find that he had all along been faithful at heart.\n\n#Spanish.# #A.# 'El Conde Sol,' Duran, Romancero, I, 180, No 327, from\ntradition in Andalusia, by the editor; Wolf and Hofmann, Primavera, II,\n48, No 135. In this most beautiful romance the County Sol, named general\nin great wars between Spain and Portugal, and leaving a young wife\ndissolved in tears, tells her that she is free to marry if he does not\ncome back in six years. Six pass, and eight, and more than ten, yet the\ncounty does not return, nor does there come news of him. His wife\nimplores and obtains leave of her father to go in search of her husband.\nShe traverses France and Italy, land and sea, and is on the point of\ngiving up hope, when one day she sees a herdsman pasturing cows. Whose\nare these cows? she asks. The County Sol's, is the answer. And whose\nthese wheat-fields, these ewes, these gardens, and that palace? whose\nthe horses I hear neigh? The County Sol's, is the answer in each\ncase.[424] And who that lady that a man folds in his arms? The lady is\nbetrothed to him and the county is to marry her. The countess changes\nher silken robe for the herdsman's sackcloth, and goes to ask an alms at\nthe county's gate. Beyond all hope, the county comes out himself to\nbring it. \"Whence comest thou, pilgrim?\" he asks. She was born in Spain.\n\"How didst thou make thy way hither?\" She came to seek her husband,\nfooting the thorns by land, risking the perils of the sea; and when she\nfound him he was about to marry, he had forgotten his faithful wife.\n\"Pilgrim, thou art surely the devil, come to try me.\" \"No devil,\" she\nsaid, \"but thy wife indeed, and therefore come to seek thee.\" Upon this,\nwithout a moment's tarrying, the county ordered his horse, took up his\nwife, and made his best speed to his native castle. The bride he would\nhave taken remained unmarried, for those that put on others' robes are\nsure to be stripped naked.\n\n#B.# 'Gerineldo,' taken down in Asturias by Amador de los Rios, Jahrbuch\nf\u00fcr romanische u. englische Literatur, III, 290, 1861, and the same year\n(Nigra) in Revista Iberica, I, 51; a version far inferior to #A#, and\ndiffering in no important respect as to the story.\n\n#C.# 'La boda interrumpida,' Mil\u00e1, Romancerillo Catalan, p. 221, No 244,\nseven copies, A-G, none good. A, which is about one third Castilian,\nrelates that war is declared between France and Portugal, and the son of\nConde Burgos made general. The countess his wife does nothing but weep.\nThe husband tells her to marry again if he does not come back in seven\nyears. More than seven years are gone, and the lady's father asks why\nshe does not marry. \"How can I,\" she replies, \"if the count is living?\nGive me your blessing, and let me go in search of him.\" She goes a\nhundred leagues on foot, in the disguise of a pilgrim. Arrived at a\npalace she sees pages pass, and asks them for whom a horse is intended.\nIt is for Count Burgos's son, who marries that night. She asks to be\ndirected to the young count, is told that she will find him in the hall,\nenters, and begs an alms, as coming from Italy and without a penny. The\nyoung man says, If you come from Italy, what is the news? Is Conde\nBueso's wife living? The pilgrim desires some description of the lady.\nIt seems that she wore a very costly petticoat on her wedding-day. The\npilgrim takes off _her glove_ and shows her ring; she also takes off and\nshows the expensive petticoat. There is great weeping in that palace,\nfor first wives never can be forgotten. Don Bueso and the pilgrim clap\nhands and go home.\n\n#Italian: Piedmontese.# #A.# 'Moran d'Inghilterra,' communicated to\nRivista Contemporanea, XXXI, 3, 1862, by Nigra, who gives the variations\nof four other versions. The daughter of the sultan is so handsome that\nthey know not whom to give her to, but decide upon Moran of England. The\nfirst day of his marriage he did nothing but kiss her, the second he\nwished to leave her, and the third he went off to the war. \"When shall\nyou return?\" asked his wife. \"If not in seven years, marry.\" She waited\nseven years, but Moran did not come. His wife went all over England on\nhorseback, and came upon a cowherd. \"Whose cows are these?\" she asked.\nThey were Moran's. \"Has Moran a wife?\" This is the day when he is to\nmarry, and if she makes haste she will be in time for the wedding. She\nspurs her horse, and arrives in season. They offer her to drink in a\ngold cup. She will drink from no cup that is not her own; she will not\ndrink while another woman is there; she will not drink till she is\nmistress. Moran throws his arms round her neck, saying, Mistress you\never have been and still shall be.\n\n#B.# 'Morando,' Ferraro, Canti popolari monferrini, p. 42, No 32, from\nAlessandria. Murando d'Inghilterra, of the king's household, fell in\nlove with the princess, for which the king sent him off. The lady\nknocked at his door, and asked when he would come back. In seven years,\nwas the answer, and if not she was to marry. The princess stole a\nhundred scudi from her father, frizzled her hair French fashion, bought\na fashionable suit, and rode three days and nights without touching\nground, eating, or drinking. She came upon a laundryman, and asked who\nwas in command there. Murando. She knocked at the door, and Murando\nasked, Have you come to our wedding? She would come to the dance. At the\ndance she was recognized by the servants. Murando asked, How came you\nhere? \"I rode three days and three nights without touching ground,\neating, or drinking.\" This is my wife, said Murando; and the other lady\nhe bade return to her father.\n\nIt is possible that this ballad may formerly have been known in France.\nNothing is left and known that shows this conclusively, but there is an\napproach to the Norse form in a fragment which occurs in several widely\nseparated localities. A lover goes off in November, promising his love\nto return in December, but does not. A messenger comes to bid the lady,\nin his name, seek another lover, for he has another love. \"Is she fairer\nthan I, or more powerful?\" She is not fairer, but more powerful: she\nmakes rosemary flower on the edge of her sleeve, changes the sea into\nwine and fish into flesh. Bujeaud, I, 203. In 'La Femme Abandonn\u00e9e,'\nPuymaigre, I, 72, the lover is married to a Fleming:\n\n Elle fait venir le soleil\n A minuit dans sa chambre,\n Elle fait bouiller la marmite\n Sans feu et sans rente.\n\nIn a Canadian version, 'Entre Paris et Saint-Denis,' Gagnon, p. 303, the\ndeserted woman is a king's daughter, and the new love,\n\n Ell' fait neiger, ell' fait gr\u00ealer,\n Ell' fait le vent qui vente.\n Ell' fait reluire le soleil\n A minuit dans sa chambre.\n Ell' fait pousser le romarin\n Sur le bord de la manche.\n\nPuymaigre notes that there is a version very near to the Canadian in the\nsixth volume of Po\u00e9sies populaires de la France, cinqui\u00e8me recueil,\nArdennes, No 2.[425]\n\nA broadside ballad, 'The Turkish Lady,' 'The Turkish Lady and the\nEnglish Slave,' printed in Logan's Pedlar's Pack, p. 16, Christie, I,\n247, from singing, and preserved also in the Kinloch MSS, V, 53, I, 263,\nfrom Elizabeth Beattie's recitation, simply relates how a Turkish\npirate's daughter fell in love with an Englishman, her slave, offered to\nrelease him if he would turn Turk, but chose the better part of flying\nwith him to Bristol, and becoming herself a Christian brave.\n\nSir William Stanley, passing through Constantinople, is condemned to die\nfor his religion. A lady, walking under the prison walls, hears his\nlament, and begs his life of the Turk. She would make him her husband,\nand bring him to adore Mahomet. She offers to set the prisoner free if\nhe will marry her, but he has a wife and children on English ground. The\nlady is sorry, but generously gives Stanley five hundred pounds to carry\nhim to his own country. Sir William Stanley's Garland, Halliwell's\nPalatine Anthology, pp 277 f.\n\nTwo Magyars have been shut up in a dungeon by the sultan, and have not\nseen sun, moon, or stars for seven years. The sultan's daughter hears\ntheir moan, and offers to free them if they will take her to Hungary.\nThis they promise to do. She gets the keys, takes money, opens the\ndoors, and the three make off. They are followed; one of the Magyars\nkills all the pursuers but one, who is left to carry back the news. It\nis now proposed that there shall be a duel to determine who shall have\nthe lady. She begs them rather to cut off her head than to fight about\nher. Szil\u00e1gyi Niklas says he has a love at home, and leaves the sultan's\ndaughter to his comrade, Hagym\u00e1si L\u00e1szl\u00f3. Aigner, Ungarische\nVolksdichtungen, p. 93: see p. 107 of this volume.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#C b# is translated by Lo\u00e8ve-Veimars, p. 330; #E# by Cesare Cant\u00f9,\nDocumenti alla Storia Universale, Torino, 1858, Tomo V^o, Parte III^a,\np. 796; #E#, as retouched by Allingham, by Knortz, L. u. R.\nAlt-Englands, p. 18.\n\n\nA\n\n Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 13.\n\n 1\n In London city was Bicham born,\n He longd strange countries for to see,\n But he was taen by a savage Moor,\n Who handld him right cruely.\n\n 2\n For thro his shoulder he put a bore,\n An thro the bore has pitten a tree,\n An he's gard him draw the carts o wine,\n Where horse and oxen had wont to be.\n\n 3\n He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep,\n Where he coud neither hear nor see;\n He's shut him up in a prison strong,\n An he's handld him right cruely.\n\n 4\n O this Moor he had but ae daughter,\n I wot her name was Shusy Pye;\n She's doen her to the prison-house,\n And she's calld Young Bicham one word by.\n\n 5\n 'O hae ye ony lands or rents,\n Or citys in your ain country,\n Coud free you out of prison strong,\n An coud mantain a lady free?'\n\n 6\n 'O London city is my own,\n An other citys twa or three,\n Coud loose me out o prison strong,\n An coud mantain a lady free.'\n\n 7\n O she has bribed her father's men\n Wi meikle goud and white money,\n She's gotten the key o the prison doors,\n An she has set Young Bicham free.\n\n 8\n She's gi'n him a loaf o good white bread,\n But an a flask o Spanish wine,\n An she bad him mind on the ladie's love\n That sae kindly freed him out o pine.\n\n 9\n 'Go set your foot on good ship-board,\n An haste you back to your ain country,\n An before that seven years has an end,\n Come back again, love, and marry me.'\n\n 10\n It was long or seven years had an end\n She longd fu sair her love to see;\n She's set her foot on good ship-board,\n An turnd her back on her ain country.\n\n 11\n She's saild up, so has she doun,\n Till she came to the other side;\n She's landed at Young Bicham's gates,\n An I hop this day she sal be his bride.\n\n 12\n 'Is this Young Bicham's gates?' says she,\n 'Or is that noble prince within?'\n 'He's up the stairs wi his bonny bride,\n An monny a lord and lady wi him.'\n\n 13\n 'O has he taen a bonny bride,\n An has he clean forgotten me!'\n An sighing said that gay lady,\n I wish I were in my ain country!\n\n 14\n But she's pitten her han in her pocket,\n An gin the porter guineas three;\n Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter,\n An bid the bridegroom speak to me.\n\n 15\n O whan the porter came up the stair,\n He's fa'n low down upon his knee:\n 'Won up, won up, ye proud porter,\n An what makes a' this courtesy?'\n\n 16\n 'O I've been porter at your gates\n This mair nor seven years an three,\n But there is a lady at them now\n The like of whom I never did see.\n\n 17\n 'For on every finger she has a ring,\n An on the mid-finger she has three,\n An there's as meikle goud aboon her brow\n As woud buy an earldome o lan to me.'\n\n 18\n Then up it started Young Bicham,\n An sware so loud by Our Lady,\n 'It can be nane but Shusy Pye,\n That has come oer the sea to me.'\n\n 19\n O quickly ran he down the stair,\n O fifteen steps he has made but three;\n He's tane his bonny love in his arms,\n An a wot he kissd her tenderly.\n\n 20\n 'O hae you tane a bonny bride?\n An hae you quite forsaken me?\n An hae ye quite forgotten her\n That gae you life an liberty?'\n\n 21\n She's lookit oer her left shoulder\n To hide the tears stood in her ee;\n 'Now fare thee well, Young Bicham,' she says,\n 'I'll strive to think nae mair on thee.'\n\n 22\n 'Take back your daughter, madam,' he says,\n 'An a double dowry I'll gi her wi;\n For I maun marry my first true love,\n That's done and suffered so much for me.'\n\n 23\n He's take his bonny love by the han,\n And led her to yon fountain stane;\n He's changd her name frae Shusy Pye,\n An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.\n\n\nB\n\n Glenriddell MSS, XI, 80.\n\n 1\n In England was Young Brechin born,\n Of parents of a high degree;\n The selld him to the savage Moor,\n Where they abused him maist cruellie.\n\n 2\n Thro evry shoulder they bord a bore,\n And thro evry bore they pat a tree;\n They made him draw the carts o wine,\n Which horse and owsn were wont to drie.\n\n 3\n The pat him into prison strong,\n Where he could neither hear nor see;\n They pat him in a dark dungeon,\n Where he was sick and like to die.\n\n 4\n 'Is there neer an auld wife in this town\n That'll borrow me to be her son?\n Is there neer a young maid in this town\n Will take me for her chiefest one?'\n\n 5\n A Savoyen has an only daughter,\n I wat she's called Young Brichen by;\n 'O sleepst thou, wakest thou, Brichen?' she says,\n 'Or who is't that does on me cry?\n\n 6\n 'O hast thou any house or lands,\n Or hast thou any castles free,\n That thou wadst gi to a lady fair\n That out o prison wad bring thee?'\n\n 7\n 'O lady, Lundin it is mine,\n And other castles twa or three;\n These I wad gie to a lady fair\n That out of prison wad set me free.'\n\n 8\n She's taen him by the milk-white hand,\n And led him to a towr sae hie,\n She's made him drink the wine sae reid,\n And sung to him like a mavosie.\n\n 9\n O these two luvers made a bond,\n For seven years, and that is lang,\n That he was to marry no other wife,\n And she's to marry no other man.\n\n 10\n When seven years were past and gane,\n This young lady began to lang,\n And she's awa to Lundin gane,\n To see if Brechin's got safe to land.\n\n 11\n When she came to Young Brechin's yett,\n She chappit gently at the gin;\n 'Is this Young Brechin's yett?' she says,\n 'Or is this lusty lord within?'\n 'O yes, this is Lord Brechin's yett,\n And I wat this be his bridal een.'\n\n 12\n She's put her hand in her pocket,\n And thrawin the porter guineas three;\n 'Gang up the stair, young man,' she says,\n 'And bid your master come down to me.\n\n 13\n 'Bid him bring a bite o his ae best bread,\n And a bottle o his ae best wine,\n And neer forget that lady fair\n That did him out o prison bring.'\n\n 14\n The porter tripped up the stair,\n And fell low down upon his knee:\n 'Rise up, rise up, ye proud porter,\n What mean you by this courtesie?'\n\n 15\n 'O I hae been porter at your yett\n This thirty years and a' but three;\n There stands the fairest lady thereat\n That ever my twa een did see.\n\n 16\n 'On evry finger she has a ring,\n On her mid-finger she has three;\n She's as much gold on her horse's neck\n As wad by a earldom o land to me.\n\n 17\n 'She bids you send o your ae best bread,\n And a bottle o your ae best wine,\n And neer forget the lady fair\n That out o prison did you bring.'\n\n 18\n He's taen the table wi his foot,\n And made the cups and cans to flee:\n 'I'll wager a' the lands I hae\n That Susan Pye's come oer the sea.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 19\n Then up and spak the bride's mother:\n 'And O an ill deid may ye die!\n If ye didna except the bonny bride,\n Ye might hae ay excepted me.'\n\n 20\n 'O ye are fair, and fair, madam,\n And ay the fairer may ye be!\n But the fairest day that eer ye saw,\n Ye were neer sae fair as yon lady.'\n\n 21\n O when these lovers two did meet,\n The tear it blinded baith their ee;\n 'Gie me my faith and troth,' she says,\n 'For now fain hame wad I be.'\n\n 22\n 'Tak hame your daughter, madam,' he says,\n 'She's neer a bit the war o me;\n Except a kiss o her bonny lips,\n Of her body I am free;\n She came to me on a single horse,\n Now I'll send her hame in chariots three.\n\n 23\n He's taen her by the milk-white hand,\n And he's led her to a yard o stane;\n He's changed her name frae Susan Pye,\n And calld her lusty Lady Jane.\n\n\nC\n\n #a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. II. #b.# Jamieson's Popular\n Ballads, II, 127.\n\n 1\n Young Bekie was as brave a knight\n As ever saild the sea;\n An he's doen him to the court of France,\n To serve for meat and fee.\n\n 2\n He had nae been i the court of France\n A twelvemonth nor sae long,\n Til he fell in love with the king's daughter,\n An was thrown in prison strong.\n\n 3\n The king he had but ae daughter,\n Burd Isbel was her name;\n An she has to the prison-house gane,\n To hear the prisoner's mane.\n\n 4\n 'O gin a lady woud borrow me,\n At her stirrup-foot I woud rin;\n Or gin a widow wad borrow me,\n I woud swear to be her son.\n\n 5\n 'Or gin a virgin woud borrow me,\n I woud wed her wi a ring;\n I'd gi her ha's, I'd gie her bowers,\n The bonny towrs o Linne.'\n\n 6\n O barefoot, barefoot gaed she but,\n An barefoot came she ben;\n It was no for want o hose an shoone,\n Nor time to put them on.\n\n 7\n But a' for fear that her father dear\n Had heard her making din:\n She's stown the keys o the prison-house dor\n An latten the prisoner gang.\n\n 8\n O whan she saw him, Young Bekie,\n Her heart was wondrous sair!\n For the mice but an the bold rottons\n Had eaten his yallow hair.\n\n 9\n She's gien him a shaver for his beard,\n A comber till his hair,\n Five hunder pound in his pocket,\n To spen, an nae to spair.\n\n 10\n She's gien him a steed was good in need,\n An a saddle o royal bone,\n A leash o hounds o ae litter,\n An Hector called one.\n\n 11\n Atween this twa a vow was made,\n 'Twas made full solemnly,\n That or three years was come an gane,\n Well married they shoud be.\n\n 12\n He had nae been in 's ain country\n A twelvemonth till an end,\n Till he's forcd to marry a duke's daughter,\n Or than lose a' his land.\n\n 13\n 'Ohon, alas!' says Young Beckie,\n 'I know not what to dee;\n For I canno win to Burd Isbel,\n And she kensnae to come to me.'\n\n 14\n O it fell once upon a day\n Burd Isbel fell asleep,\n An up it starts the Belly Blin,\n An stood at her bed-feet.\n\n 15\n 'O waken, waken, Burd Isbel,\n How [can] you sleep so soun,\n Whan this is Bekie's wedding day,\n An the marriage gain on?\n\n 16\n 'Ye do ye to your mither's bowr,\n Think neither sin nor shame;\n An ye tak twa o your mither's marys,\n To keep ye frae thinking lang.\n\n 17\n 'Ye dress yoursel in the red scarlet,\n An your marys in dainty green,\n An ye pit girdles about your middles\n Woud buy an earldome.\n\n 18\n 'O ye gang down by yon sea-side,\n An down by yon sea-stran;\n Sae bonny will the Hollans boats\n Come rowin till your han.\n\n 19\n 'Ye set your milk-white foot abord,\n Cry, Hail ye, Domine!\n An I shal be the steerer o 't,\n To row you oer the sea.'\n\n 20\n She's tane her till her mither's bowr,\n Thought neither sin nor shame,\n An she took twa o her mither's marys,\n To keep her frae thinking lang.\n\n 21\n She dressd hersel i the red scarlet,\n Her marys i dainty green,\n And they pat girdles about their middles\n Woud buy an earldome.\n\n 22\n An they gid down by yon sea-side,\n An down by yon sea-stran;\n Sae bonny did the Hollan boats\n Come rowin to their han.\n\n 23\n She set her milk-white foot on board,\n Cried, Hail ye, Domine!\n An the Belly Blin was the steerer o 't,\n To row her oer the sea.\n\n 24\n Whan she came to Young Bekie's gate,\n She heard the music play;\n Sae well she kent frae a' she heard,\n It was his wedding day.\n\n 25\n She's pitten her han in her pocket,\n Gin the porter guineas three;\n 'Hae, tak ye that, ye proud porter,\n Bid the bride-groom speake to me.'\n\n 26\n O whan that he cam up the stair,\n He fell low down on his knee:\n He haild the king, an he haild the queen,\n An he haild him, Young Bekie.\n\n 27\n 'O I've been porter at your gates\n This thirty years an three;\n But there's three ladies at them now,\n Their like I never did see.\n\n 28\n 'There's ane o them dressd in red scarlet,\n And twa in dainty green,\n An they hae girdles about their middles\n Woud buy an earldome.'\n\n 29\n Then out it spake the bierly bride,\n Was a' goud to the chin;\n 'Gin she be braw without,' she says,\n 'We's be as braw within.'\n\n 30\n Then up it starts him, Young Bekie,\n An the tears was in his ee:\n 'I'll lay my life it's Burd Isbel,\n Come oer the sea to me.'\n\n 31\n O quickly ran he down the stair,\n An whan he saw 't was shee,\n He kindly took her in his arms,\n And kissd her tenderly.\n\n 32\n 'O hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie,\n The vow ye made to me,\n Whan I took you out o the prison strong,\n Whan ye was condemnd to die?\n\n 33\n 'I gae you a steed was good in need,\n An a saddle o royal bone,\n A leash o hounds o ae litter,\n An Hector called one.'\n\n 34\n It was well kent what the lady said,\n That it wasnae a lee,\n For at ilka word the lady spake,\n The hound fell at her knee.\n\n 35\n 'Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear,\n A blessing gae her wi,\n For I maun marry my Burd Isbel,\n That's come oer the sea to me.'\n\n 36\n 'Is this the custom o your house,\n Or the fashion o your lan,\n To marry a maid in a May mornin,\n An send her back at even?'\n\n\nD\n\n Skene MSS, p. 70. North of Scotland, 1802-3.\n\n 1\n Young Beachen was born in fair London,\n And foreign lands he langed to see;\n He was taen by the savage Moor,\n An the used him most cruellie.\n\n 2\n Through his showlder they pat a bore,\n And through the bore the pat a tree;\n They made him trail their ousen carts,\n And they used him most cruellie.\n\n 3\n The savage Moor had ae daughter,\n I wat her name was Susan Pay;\n An she is to the prison house,\n To hear the prisoner's moan.\n\n 4\n He made na his moan to a stocke,\n He made na it to a stone,\n But it was to the Queen of Heaven\n That he made his moan.\n\n 5\n 'Gin a lady wad borrow me,\n I at her foot wad run;\n An a widdow wad borrow me,\n I wad become her son.\n\n 6\n 'But an a maid wad borrow me,\n I wad wed her wi a ring;\n I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,\n An of the high towers of Line.'\n\n 7\n 'Sing oer yer sang, Young Beachen,' she says,\n 'Sing oer yer sang to me;'\n 'I never sang that sang, lady,\n But I wad sing to thee.\n\n 8\n 'Gin a lady wad borrow me,\n I at her foot wad run;\n An a widdow wad borrow me,\n I wad become her son.\n\n 9\n 'But an a maid wad borrow me,\n I wad wed her wi a ring;\n I wad make her lady of haas and bowers,\n An of the high towers of Line.'\n\n 10\n Saftly, [saftly] gaed she but,\n An saftlly gaed she ben,\n It was na for want of hose nor shoon,\n Nor time to pet them on.\n\n 11\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n An she has staen the keys of the prison,\n An latten Young Beachen gang.\n\n 12\n She gae him a leaf of her white bread,\n An a bottle of her wine,\n She bad him mind on the lady's love\n That freed him out of pine.\n\n 13\n She gae him a steed was guid in need,\n A saddle of the bane,\n Five hundred pown in his pocket,\n Bad him gae speeding hame.\n\n 14\n An a leash of guid grayhounds,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 15\n Whan seven lang years were come and gane,\n Shusie Pay thought lang,\n An she is on to fair London,\n As fast as she could gang.\n\n 16\n Whan she cam to Young Beachen's gate,\n . . . . . . .\n 'Is Young Beachan at hame,\n Or is he in this countrie?'\n\n 17\n 'He is at hame, is hear,' they said,\n . . . . . . .\n An sighan says her Susie Pay,\n Has he quite forgotten me?\n\n 18\n On every finger she had a ring,\n On the middle finger three;\n She gae the porter ane of them:\n 'Get a word o your lord to me.'\n\n 19\n He gaed up the stair,\n Fell low down on his knee:\n 'Win up, my proud porter,\n What is your will wi me?'\n\n 20\n 'I hae been porter at yer gate\n This thirty year and three;\n The fairst lady is at yer gate\n Mine eyes did ever see.'\n\n 21\n Out spak the bride's mither,\n An a haghty woman was she:\n 'If ye had na eccepted the bonny bride,\n Ye might well ha eccepted me.'\n\n 22\n 'No disparagement to you, madam,\n Nor none unto her Grace;\n The sole of your lady's foot\n Is fairer than her face.'\n\n 23\n He's gaen the table wi his foot,\n And couped it wi his knee:\n 'I wad my head and a' my land\n 'T is Susie Pay, come oer the sea.'\n\n 24\n The stair was thirty steps,\n I wat he made them three;\n He took her in his arms twa:\n 'Susie Pay, ye'r welcome to me.'\n\n 25\n 'Gie me a shive of your white bread,\n An a bottle of your wine;\n Dinna ye mind on the lady's love\n That freed ye out of pine?'\n\n 26\n He took her ...\n Down to yon garden green,\n An changed her name fra Susie Pay,\n An called her bonny Lady Jean.\n\n 27\n 'Yer daughter came here on high horse-back,\n She sal gae hame in coaches three,\n An I sall double her tocher our,\n She's nane the war o me.'\n\n 28\n 'It's na the fashion o our countrie,\n Nor yet o yer nane,\n To wed a maid in the morning,\n An send her hame at een.'\n\n 29\n 'It's na the fashion o my countrie,\n Nor is it of my nane,\n But I man mind on the lady's love\n That freed me out of pine.'\n\n\nE\n\n Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 117, compounded from #A#,\n a manuscript and a stall copy from Scotland, a recited\n copy from the north of England, and a short version picked\n off a wall in London. (The parts which repeat #A# are in\n smaller type.)\n\n | 1\n | In London was Young Beichan born,\n | He longed strange countries for to see,\n | But he was taen by a savage Moor,\n | Who handled him right cruellie.\n\n 2\n For he viewed the fashions of that land,\n Their way of worship viewed he,\n But to Mahound or Termagant\n Would Beichan never bend a knee.\n\n | 3\n | So in every shoulder they've putten a bore,\n | In every bore they've putten a tree,\n | And they have made him trail the wine\n | And spices on his fair bodie.\n\n | 4\n | They've casten him in a dungeon deep,\n | Where he could neither hear nor see,\n | For seven years they kept him there,\n | Till he for hunger's like to die.\n\n | 5\n | This Moor he had but ae daughter,\n | Her name was called Susie Pye,\n | And every day as she took the air,\n | Near Beichan's prison she passed by.\n\n 6\n O so it fell upon a day\n She heard Young Beichan sadly sing:\n 'My hounds they all go masterless,\n My hawks they flee from tree to tree,\n My younger brother will heir my land,\n Fair England again I'll never see!'\n\n 7\n All night long no rest she got,\n Young Beichan's song for thinking on;\n She's stown the keys from her father's head,\n And to the prison strong is gone.\n\n 8\n And she has opend the prison doors,\n I wot she opend two or three,\n Ere she could come Young Beichan at,\n He was locked up so curiouslie.\n\n 9\n But when she came Young Beichan before,\n Sore wonderd he that may to see;\n He took her for some fair captive:\n 'Fair Lady, I pray, of what countrie?'\n\n 10\n 'O have ye any lands,' she said,\n 'Or castles in your own countrie,\n That ye could give to a lady fair,\n From prison strong to set you free?'\n\n 11\n 'Near London town I have a hall,\n With other castles two or three;\n I'll give them all to the lady fair\n That out of prison will set me free.'\n\n 12\n 'Give me the truth of your right hand,\n The truth of it give unto me,\n That for seven years ye'll no lady wed,\n Unless it be along with me.'\n\n 13\n 'I'll give thee the truth of my right hand,\n The truth of it I'll freely gie,\n That for seven years I'll stay unwed,\n For the kindness thou dost show to me.'\n\n | 14\n | And she has brib'd the proud warder\n | Wi mickle gold and white monie,\n | She's gotten the keys of the prison strong,\n | And she has set Young Beichan free.\n\n | 15\n | She's gien him to eat the good spice-cake,\n | She's gien him to drink the blood-red wine,\n | She's bidden him sometimes think on her,\n | That sae kindly freed him out of pine.\n\n 16\n She's broken a ring from her finger,\n And to Beichan half of it gave she:\n 'Keep it, to mind you of that love\n The lady bore that set you free.\n\n | 17\n | 'And set your foot on good ship-board,\n | And haste ye back to your own countrie,\n | And before that seven years have an end,\n | Come back again, love, and marry me.'\n\n | 18\n | But long ere seven years had an end,\n | She longd full sore her love to see,\n For ever a voice within her breast\n Said, 'Beichan has broke his vow to thee:'\n | So she's set her foot on good ship-board,\n | And turnd her back on her own countrie.\n\n 19\n She sailed east, she sailed west,\n Till to fair England's shore she came,\n Where a bonny shepherd she espied,\n Feeding his sheep upon the plain.\n\n 20\n 'What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd?\n What news hast thou to tell to me?'\n 'Such news I hear, ladie,' he says,\n 'The like was never in this countrie.\n\n 21\n 'There is a wedding in yonder hall,\n Has lasted these thirty days and three;\n Young Beichan will not bed with his bride,\n For love of one that's yond the sea.'\n\n 22\n She's put her hand in her pocket,\n Gien him the gold and white monie:\n 'Hae, take ye that, my bonny boy,\n For the good news thou tellst to me.'\n\n 23\n When she came to Young Beichan's gate,\n She tirled softly at the pin;\n So ready was the proud porter\n To open and let this lady in.\n\n | 24\n | 'Is this Young Beichan's hall,' she said,\n | 'Or is that noble lord within?'\n | 'Yea, he's in the hall among them all,\n | And this is the day o his weddin.'\n\n | 25\n | 'And has he wed anither love?\n | And has he clean forgotten me?'\n | And sighin said that gay ladie,\n | I wish I were in my own countrie!\n\n | 26\n | And she has taen her gay gold ring,\n | That with her love she brake so free;\n | Says, Gie him that, ye proud porter,\n | And bid the bridegroom speak to me.\n\n | 27\n | When the porter came his lord before,\n | He kneeled down low on his knee:\n | 'What aileth thee, my proud porter,\n | Thou art so full of courtesie?'\n\n | 28\n | 'I've been porter at your gates,\n | It's thirty long years now and three;\n | But there stands a lady at them now,\n | The like o her did I never see.\n\n | 29\n | 'For on every finger she has a ring,\n | And on her mid-finger she has three,\n | And as meickle gold aboon her brow\n | As would buy an earldom to me.'\n\n 30\n It's out then spak the bride's mother,\n Aye and an angry woman was shee:\n 'Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,\n And twa or three of our companie.'\n\n 31\n 'O hold your tongue, thou bride's mother,\n Of all your folly let me be;\n She's ten times fairer nor the bride,\n And all that's in your companie.\n\n 32\n 'She begs one sheave of your white bread,\n But and a cup of your red wine,\n And to remember the lady's love\n That last relievd you out of pine.'\n\n 33\n 'O well-a-day!' said Beichan then,\n 'That I so soon have married thee!\n | For it can be none but Susie Pye,\n | That sailed the sea for love of me.'\n\n | 34\n | And quickly hied he down the stair;\n | Of fifteen steps he made but three;\n | He's taen his bonny love in his arms,\n | And kist and kist her tenderlie.\n\n | 35\n | 'O hae ye taen anither bride?\n | And hae ye quite forgotten me?\n | And hae ye quite forgotten her\n | That gave you life and libertie?'\n\n 36\n She looked oer her left shoulder,\n To hide the tears stood in her ee:\n 'Now fare thee well, Young Beichan,' she says,\n 'I'll try to think no more on thee.'\n\n 37\n 'O never, never, Susie Pye,\n For surely this can never be,\n Nor ever shall I wed but her\n That's done and dreed so much for me.'\n\n 38\n Then out and spak the forenoon bride:\n 'My lord, your love it changeth soon;\n This morning I was made your bride,\n And another chose ere it be noon.'\n\n 39\n O hold thy tongue, thou forenoon bride,\n Ye're neer a whit the worse for me,\n And whan ye return to your own countrie,\n A double dower I'll send with thee.'\n\n 40\n He's taen Susie Pye by the white hand,\n And gently led her up and down,\n And ay as he kist her red rosy lips,\n 'Ye're welcome, jewel, to your own.'\n\n | 41\n | He's taen her by the milk-white hand,\n | And led her to yon fountain stane;\n | He's changed her name from Susie Pye,\n | And he's call'd her his bonny love, Lady Jane.\n\n\nF\n\n Pitcairn's MSS, III, 159, 1817-25. From the recitation of\n Widow Stevenson, aged seventy-three: \"East Country.\"\n\n 1\n In the lands where Lord Beichan was born,\n Amang the stately steps of stane,\n He wore the goud at his left shoulder,\n But to the Holy Land he's gane.\n\n 2\n He was na lang in the Holy Land,\n Amang the Prudents that was black,\n He was na lang in the Holy Land,\n Till the Prudent did Lord Beichan tak.\n\n 3\n The gard him draw baith pleugh and harrow,\n And horse and oxen twa or three;\n They cast him in a dark dungeon,\n Whare he coud neither hear nor see.\n\n 4\n The Prudent had a fair daughter,\n I wot they ca'd her Susy Pye,\n And all the keys in that city\n Hang at that lady by and bye.\n\n 5\n It once fell out upon a day\n That into the prison she did gae,\n And whan she cam to the prison door,\n She kneeled low down on her knee.\n\n 6\n 'O hae ye ony lands, Beichan,\n Or hae ye ony castles hie,\n Whar ye wad tak a young thing to,\n If out of prison I wad let thee?'\n\n 7\n 'Fair London's mine, dear lady,' he said,\n 'And other places twa or three,\n Whar I wad tak a young thing to,\n If out of prison ye wad let me.'\n\n 8\n O she has opened the prison door,\n And other places twa or three,\n And gien him bread, and wine to drink,\n In her own chamber privately.\n\n 9\n O then she built a bonny ship,\n And she has set it on the main,\n And she has built a bonny ship,\n It's for to tak Lord Beichan hame.\n\n 10\n O she's gaen murning up and down,\n And she's gaen murnin to the sea,\n Then to her father she has gane in,\n Wha spak to her right angrily.\n\n 11\n 'O do ye mourn for the goud, daughter,\n Or do ye mourn for the whyte monie?\n Or do ye mourn for the English squire?\n I wat I will gar hang him hie.'\n\n 12\n 'I neither mourn for the goud, father,\n Nor do I for the whyte monie,\n Nor do I for the English squire;\n And I care na tho ye hang him hie.\n\n 13\n 'But I hae promised an errand to go,\n Seven lang miles ayont the sea,\n And blythe and merry I never will be\n Untill that errand you let me.'\n\n 14\n 'That errand, daughter, you may gang,\n Seven long miles beyond the sea,\n Since blythe and merry you'll neer be\n Untill that errand I'll let thee.'\n\n 15\n O she has built a bonny ship,\n And she has set it in the sea,\n And she has built a bonny ship,\n It's all for to tak her a long journie.\n\n 16\n And she's sailed a' the summer day,\n I wat the wind blew wondrous fair;\n In sight of fair London she has come,\n And till Lord Beichan's yett she walked.\n\n 17\n Whan she cam till Lord Beichan's yett,\n She rappit loudly at the pin:\n 'Is Beichan lord of this bonny place?\n I pray ye open and let me in.\n\n 18\n 'And O is this Lord Beichan's yett,\n And is the noble lord within?'\n 'O yes, it is Lord Beichan's yett,\n He's wi his bride and mony a ane.'\n\n 19\n 'If you'll gang up to Lord Beichan,\n Tell him the words that I tell thee;\n It will put him in mind of Susy Pye,\n And the Holy Land, whareer he be.\n\n 20\n 'Tell him to send one bite of bread,\n It's and a glass of his gude red wine,\n Nor to forget the lady's love\n That loosed him out of prison strong.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 21\n 'I hae been porter at your yett,\n I'm sure this therty lang years and three,\n But the fairest lady stands thereat\n That evir my twa eyes did see.\n\n 22\n 'On ilka finger she has a ring,\n And on the foremost she has three;\n As muckle goud is on her head\n As wad buy an earldom of land to thee.\n\n 23\n 'She bids you send a bite of bread,\n It's and a glass of your gude red wine,\n Nor to forget the lady's love\n That let you out of prison strong.'\n\n 24\n It's up and spak the bride's mother,\n A weight of goud hung at her chin:\n 'There is no one so fair without\n But there are, I wat, as fair within.'\n\n 25\n It's up and spak the bride hersel,\n As she sat by the gude lord's knee:\n 'Awa, awa, ye proud porter,\n This day ye might hae excepted me.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 26\n 'Tak hence, tak hence your fair daughter,\n Tak hame your daughter fair frae me;\n For saving one kiss of her bonny lips,\n I'm sure of her body I am free.\n\n 27\n 'Awa, awa, ye proud mither,\n It's tak your daughter fair frae me;\n For I brought her home with chariots six,\n And I'll send her back wi coaches three.'\n\n 28\n It's he's taen the table wi his fit,\n And syne he took it wi his knee;\n He gard the glasses and wine so red,\n He gard them all in flinders flee.\n\n 29\n O he's gane down the steps of stairs,\n And a' the stately steps of stane,\n Until he cam to Susy Pye;\n I wat the tears blinded baith their eyne.\n\n 30\n He led her up the steps of stairs,\n And a' the stately steps of stane,\n And changed her name from Susy Pye,\n And ca'd her lusty Lady Jane.\n\n 31\n 'O fye, gar cooks mak ready meat,\n O fye, gar cooks the pots supply,\n That it may be talked of in fair London,\n I've been twice married in ae day.'\n\n\nG\n\n Communicated by Mr Alexander Laing, of Newburg-on-Tay, as\n derived from the recitation of Miss Walker.\n\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n 'O wha's aught a' yon flock o sheep,\n An wha's aught a' yon flock o kye?\n An wha's aught a' yon pretty castles,\n That you sae often do pass bye?'\n\n 2\n 'They're a' Lord Beekin's sheep,\n They're a' Lord Beekin's kye;\n They're a' Lord Beekin's castles,\n That you sae often do pass bye.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n He's tane [the] table wi his feet,\n Made cups an candlesticks to flee:\n 'I'll lay my life 't is Susy Pie,\n Come owr the seas to marry me.'\n\n\nH\n\n Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 260.\n\n 1\n Young Beichan was in London born,\n He was a man of hie degree;\n He past thro monie kingdoms great,\n Until he cam unto Grand Turkie.\n\n 2\n He viewd the fashions of that land,\n Their way of worship viewed he,\n But unto onie of their stocks\n He wadna sae much as bow a knee:\n\n 3\n Which made him to be taken straight,\n And brought afore their hie jurie;\n The savage Moor did speak upricht,\n And made him meikle ill to dree.\n\n 4\n In ilka shoulder they've bord a hole,\n And in ilka hole they've put a tree;\n They've made him to draw carts and wains,\n Till he was sick and like to dee.\n\n 5\n But Young Beichan was a Christian born,\n And still a Christian was he;\n Which made them put him in prison strang,\n And cauld and hunger sair to dree,\n And fed on nocht but bread and water,\n Until the day that he mot dee.\n\n 6\n In this prison there grew a tree,\n And it was unco stout and strang,\n Where he was chained by the middle,\n Until his life was almaist gane.\n\n 7\n The savage Moor had but ae dochter,\n And her name it was Susie Pye,\n And ilka day as she took the air,\n The prison door she passed bye.\n\n 8\n But it fell ance upon a day,\n As she was walking, she heard him sing;\n She listend to his tale of woe,\n A happy day for Young Beichan!\n\n 9\n 'My hounds they all go masterless,\n My hawks they flee frae tree to tree,\n My youngest brother will heir my lands,\n My native land I'll never see.'\n\n 10\n 'O were I but the prison-keeper,\n As I'm a ladie o hie degree,\n I soon wad set this youth at large,\n And send him to his ain countrie.'\n\n 11\n She went away into her chamber,\n All nicht she never closd her ee;\n And when the morning begoud to dawn,\n At the prison door alane was she.\n\n 12\n She gied the keeper a piece of gowd,\n And monie pieces o white monie,\n To tak her thro the bolts and bars,\n The lord frae Scotland she langd to see;\n She saw young Beichan at the stake,\n Which made her weep maist bitterlie.\n\n 13\n 'O hae ye got onie lands,' she says,\n 'Or castles in your ain countrie?\n It's what wad ye gie to the ladie fair\n Wha out o prison wad set you free?'\n\n 14\n 'It's I hae houses, and I hae lands,\n Wi monie castles fair to see,\n And I wad gie a' to that ladie gay,\n Wha out o prison wad set me free.'\n\n 15\n The keeper syne brak aff his chains,\n And set Lord Beichan at libertie;\n She filld his pockets baith wi gowd,\n To tak him till his ain countrie.\n\n 16\n She took him frae her father's prison,\n And gied to him the best o wine,\n And a brave health she drank to him:\n 'I wish, Lord Beichan, ye were mine!\n\n 17\n 'It's seven lang years I'll mak a vow,\n And seven lang years I'll keep it true;\n If ye'll wed wi na ither woman,\n It's I will wed na man but you.'\n\n 18\n She's tane him to her father's port,\n And gien to him a ship o fame:\n 'Farewell, farewell, my Scottish lord,\n I fear I'll neer see you again.'\n\n 19\n Lord Beichan turnd him round about,\n And lowly, lowly loutit he:\n 'Ere seven lang years come to an end,\n I'll tak you to mine ain countrie.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n\n 20\n Then whan he cam to Glasgow town,\n A happy, happy man was he;\n The ladies a' around him thrangd,\n To see him come frae slaverie.\n\n 21\n His mother she had died o sorrow,\n And a' his brothers were dead but he;\n His lands they a' were lying waste,\n In ruins were his castles free.\n\n 22\n Na porter there stood at his yett,\n Na human creature he could see,\n Except the screeching owls and bats,\n Had he to bear him companie.\n\n 23\n But gowd will gar the castles grow,\n And he had gowd and jewels free,\n And soon the pages around him thrangd,\n To serve him on their bended knee.\n\n 24\n His hall was hung wi silk and satin,\n His table rung wi mirth and glee,\n He soon forgot the lady fair\n That lowsd him out o slaverie.\n\n 25\n Lord Beichan courted a lady gay,\n To heir wi him his lands sae free,\n Neer thinking that a lady fair\n Was on her way frae Grand Turkie.\n\n 26\n For Susie Pye could get na rest,\n Nor day nor nicht could happy be,\n Still thinking on the Scottish lord,\n Till she was sick and like to dee.\n\n 27\n But she has builded a bonnie ship,\n Weel mannd wi seamen o hie degree,\n And secretly she stept on board,\n And bid adieu to her ain countrie.\n\n 28\n But whan she cam to the Scottish shore,\n The bells were ringing sae merrilie;\n It was Lord Beichan's wedding day,\n Wi a lady fair o hie degree.\n\n 29\n But sic a vessel was never seen;\n The very masts were tappd wi gold,\n Her sails were made o the satin fine,\n Maist beautiful for to behold.\n\n 30\n But whan the lady cam on shore,\n Attended wi her pages three,\n Her shoon were of the beaten gowd,\n And she a lady of great beautie.\n\n 31\n Then to the skipper she did say,\n 'Can ye this answer gie to me?\n Where are Lord Beichan's lands sae braid?\n He surely lives in this countrie.'\n\n 32\n Then up bespak the skipper bold,\n For he could speak the Turkish tongue:\n 'Lord Beichan lives not far away;\n This is the day of his wedding.'\n\n 33\n 'If ye will guide me to Beichan's yetts,\n I will ye well reward,' said she;\n Then she and all her pages went,\n A very gallant companie.\n\n 34\n When she cam to Lord Beichan's yetts,\n She tirld gently at the pin;\n Sae ready was the proud porter\n To let the wedding guests come in.\n\n 35\n 'Is this Lord Beichan's house,' she says,\n 'Or is that noble lord within?'\n 'Yes, he is gane into the hall,\n With his brave bride and monie ane.'\n\n 36\n 'Ye'll bid him send me a piece of bread,\n Bot and a cup of his best wine;\n And bid him mind the lady's love\n That ance did lowse him out o pyne.'\n\n 37\n Then in and cam the porter bold,\n I wat he gae three shouts and three:\n 'The fairest lady stands at your yetts\n That ever my twa een did see.'\n\n 38\n Then up bespak the bride's mither,\n I wat an angry woman was she:\n 'You micht hae excepted our bonnie bride,\n Tho she'd been three times as fair as she.'\n\n 39\n 'My dame, your daughter's fair enough,\n And aye the fairer mot she be!\n But the fairest time that eer she was,\n She'll na compare wi this ladie.\n\n 40\n 'She has a gowd ring on ilka finger,\n And on her mid-finger she has three;\n She has as meikle gowd upon her head\n As wad buy an earldom o land to thee.\n\n 41\n 'My lord, she begs some o your bread,\n Bot and a cup o your best wine,\n And bids you mind the lady's love\n That ance did lowse ye out o pyne.'\n\n 42\n Then up and started Lord Beichan,\n I wat he made the table flee:\n 'I wad gie a' my yearlie rent\n 'T were Susie Pye come owre the sea.'\n\n 43\n Syne up bespak the bride's mother,\n She was never heard to speak sae free:\n 'Ye'll no forsake my ae dochter,\n Tho Susie Pye has crossd the sea?'\n\n 44\n 'Tak hame, tak hame, your dochter, madam,\n For she is neer the waur o me;\n She cam to me on horseback riding,\n And she sall gang hame in chariot free.'\n\n 45\n He's tane Susie Pye by the milk-white hand,\n And led her thro his halls sae hie:\n 'Ye're now Lord Beichan's lawful wife,\n And thrice ye're welcome unto me.'\n\n 46\n Lord Beichan prepard for another wedding,\n Wi baith their hearts sae fu o glee;\n Says, 'I'll range na mair in foreign lands,\n Sin Susie Pye has crossd the sea.\n\n 47\n 'Fy! gar a' our cooks mak ready,\n And fy! gar a' our pipers play,\n And fy! gar trumpets gae thro the toun,\n That Lord Beichan's wedded twice in a day!'\n\n\nI\n\n Communicated by Mr David Louden, as recited by Mrs Dodds,\n Morham, Haddington, the reciter being above seventy in\n 1873.\n\n 1\n In London was Young Bechin born,\n Foreign nations he longed to see;\n He passed through many kingdoms great,\n At length he came unto Turkie.\n\n 2\n He viewed the fashions of that land,\n The ways of worship viewed he,\n But unto any of their gods\n He would not so much as bow the knee.\n\n 3\n On every shoulder they made a bore,\n In every bore they put a tree,\n Then they made him the winepress tread,\n And all in spite of his fair bodie.\n\n 4\n They put him into a deep dungeon,\n Where he could neither hear nor see,\n And for seven years they kept him there,\n Till for hunger he was like to die.\n\n 5\n Stephen, their king, had a daughter fair,\n Yet never a man to her came nigh;\n And every day she took the air,\n Near to his prison she passed by.\n\n 6\n One day she heard Young Bechin sing\n A song that pleased her so well,\n No rest she got till she came to him,\n All in his lonely prison cell.\n\n 7\n 'I have a hall in London town,\n With other buildings two or three,\n And I'll give them all to the ladye fair\n That from this dungeon shall set me free.'\n\n 8\n She stole the keys from her dad's head,\n And if she oped one door ay she opened three,\n Till she Young Bechin could find out,\n He was locked up so curiouslie.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 9\n 'I've been a porter at your gate\n This thirty years now, ay and three;\n There stands a ladye at your gate,\n The like of her I neer did see.\n\n 10\n 'On every finger she has a ring,\n On the mid-finger she has three;\n She's as much gold about her brow\n As would an earldom buy to me.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 11\n He's taen her by the milk-white hand,\n He gently led her through the green;\n He changed her name from Susie Pie,\n An he's called her lovely Ladye Jean.\n\n\nJ\n\n Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, \"Adversaria,\" p. 85. From\n tradition.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n She's taen the keys frae her fadder's coffer,\n Tho he keeps them most sacredlie,\n And she has opend the prison strong,\n And set Young Beichan at libertie.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 2\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n 'Gae up the countrie, my chile,' she says,\n 'Till your fadder's wrath be turned from thee.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n She's put her han intill her purse,\n And gave the porter guineas three;\n Says, 'Tak ye that, ye proud porter,\n And tell your master to speak wi me.\n\n 4\n 'Ye'll bid him bring a shower o his best love,\n But and a bottle o his wine,\n And do to me as I did to him in time past,\n And brought him out o muckle pine.'\n\n 5\n He's taen the table wi his foot,\n And he has keppit it wi his knee:\n 'I'll wager my life and a' my lan,\n It's Susan Pie come ower the sea.\n\n 6\n 'Rise up, rise up, my bonnie bride,\n Ye're neither better nor waur for me;\n Ye cam to me on a horse and saddle,\n But ye may gang back in a coach and three.'\n\n\nK\n\n Communicated by Mr David Louden, as obtained from Mrs\n Dickson, Rentonhall.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n 'There is a marriage in yonder hall,\n Has lasted thirty days and three;\n The bridegroom winna bed the bride,\n For the sake of one that's owre the sea.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 2\n 'What news, what news, my brave young porter?\n What news, what news have ye for me?'\n 'As beautiful a ladye stands at your gate\n As eer my two eyes yet did see.'\n\n 3\n 'A slice of bread to her get ready,\n And a bottle of the best of wine;\n Not to forget that fair young ladye\n Who did release thee out of close confine.'\n\n 4\n Lord Bechin in a passion flew,\n And rent himself like a sword in three,\n Saying, 'I would give all my father's riches\n If my Sophia was 'cross the sea.'\n\n 5\n Up spoke the young bride's mother,\n Who never was heard to speak so free,\n Saying, 'I hope you'll not forget my only daughter,\n Though your Sophia be 'cross the sea.'\n\n 6\n 'I own a bride I've wed your daughter,\n She's nothing else the worse of me;\n She came to me on a horse and saddle,\n She may go back in a coach and three.'\n\n\nL\n\n The Loving Ballad of Lord Bateman. Illustrated by George\n Cruikshank. 1839.\n\n 1\n Lord Bateman was a noble lord,\n A noble lord of high degree;\n He shipped himself all aboard of a ship,\n Some foreign country for to see.\n\n 2\n He sailed east, he sailed west,\n Until he came to famed Turkey,\n Where he was taken and put to prison,\n Until his life was quite weary.\n\n 3\n All in this prison there grew a tree,\n O there it grew so stout and strong!\n Where he was chained all by the middle,\n Until his life was almost gone.\n\n 4\n This Turk he had one only daughter,\n The fairest my two eyes eer see;\n She steel the keys of her father's prison,\n And swore Lord Bateman she would let go free.\n\n 5\n O she took him to her father's cellar,\n And gave to him the best of wine;\n And every health she drank unto him\n Was, 'I wish, Lord Bateman, as you was mine.'\n\n 6\n 'O have you got houses, have you got land,\n And does Northumberland belong to thee?\n And what would you give to the fair young lady\n As out of prison would let you go free?'\n\n 7\n 'O I've got houses and I've got land,\n And half Northumberland belongs to me;\n And I will give it all to the fair young lady\n As out of prison would let me go free.'\n\n 8\n 'O in seven long years, I'll make a vow\n For seven long years, and keep it strong,\n That if you'll wed no other woman,\n O I will wed no other man.'\n\n 9\n O she took him to her father's harbor,\n And gave to him a ship of fame,\n Saying, Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bateman,\n I fear I never shall see you again.\n\n 10\n Now seven long years is gone and past,\n And fourteen days, well known to me;\n She packed up all her gay clothing,\n And swore Lord Bateman she would go see.\n\n 11\n O when she arrived at Lord Bateman's castle,\n How boldly then she rang the bell!\n 'Who's there? who's there?' cries the proud young porter,\n 'O come unto me pray quickly tell.'\n\n 12\n 'O is this here Lord Bateman's castle,\n And is his lordship here within?'\n 'O yes, O yes,' cries the proud young porter,\n 'He's just now taking his young bride in.'\n\n 13\n 'O bid him to send me a slice of bread,\n And a bottle of the very best wine,\n And not forgetting the fair young lady\n As did release him when close confine.'\n\n 14\n O away and away went this proud young porter,\n O away and away and away went he,\n Until he come to Lord Bateman's chamber,\n When he went down on his bended knee.\n\n 15\n 'What news, what news, my proud young porter?\n What news, what news? Come tell to me:'\n 'O there is the fairest young lady\n As ever my two eyes did see.\n\n 16\n 'She has got rings on every finger,\n And on one finger she has got three;\n With as much gay gold about her middle\n As would buy half Northumberlee.\n\n 17\n 'O she bids you to send her a slice of bread,\n And a bottle of the very best wine,\n And not forgetting the fair young lady\n As did release you when close confine.'\n\n 18\n Lord Bateman then in passion flew,\n And broke his sword in splinters three,\n Saying, I will give half of my father's land,\n If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.\n\n 19\n Then up and spoke this young bride's mother,\n Who never was heard to speak so free;\n Saying, You'll not forget my only daughter,\n If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea.\n\n 20\n 'O it's true I made a bride of your daughter,\n But she's neither the better nor the worse for me;\n She came to me with a horse and saddle,\n But she may go home in a coach and three.'\n\n 21\n Lord Bateman then prepared another marriage,\n With both their hearts so full of glee,\n Saying, I will roam no more to foreign countries,\n Now that Sophia has crossed the sea.\n\n\nM\n\n Buchan's MSS, I, 18. J.H. Dixon, Scottish Traditional\n Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 1.\n\n | 1\n | Young Bonwell was a squire's ae son,\n | And a squire's ae son was he;\n | He went abroad to a foreign\n | land, To serve for meat and fee.\n\n | 2\n | He hadna been in that country\n | A twalmonth and a day,\n | Till he was cast in prison strong,\n | For the sake of a lovely may.\n\n | 3\n | 'O if my father get word of this,\n | At hame in his ain country,\n | He'll send red gowd for my relief,\n | And a bag o white money.\n\n | 4\n | 'O gin an earl woud borrow me,\n | At his bridle I woud rin;\n | Or gin a widow woud borrow me,\n | I'd swear to be her son.\n\n | 5\n | 'Or gin a may woud borrow me,\n | I'd wed her wi a ring,\n | Infeft her wi the ha's and bowers\n | O the bonny towers o Linne.'\n\n | 6\n | But it fell ance upon a day\n | Dame Essels she thought lang,\n | And she is to the jail-house door,\n | To hear Young Bondwell's sang.\n\n | 7\n | 'Sing on, sing on, my bonny Bondwell,\n | The sang ye sang just now:'\n | 'I never sang the sang, lady,\n | But I woud war 't on you.\n\n | 8\n | 'O gin my father get word o this,\n | At hame in his ain country,\n | He'll send red gowd for my relief,\n | And a bag o white money.\n\n | 9\n | 'O gin an earl woud borrow me,\n | At his bridle I woud rin;\n | Or gin a widow would borrow me,\n | I'd swear to be her son.\n\n | 10\n | 'Or gin a may woud borrow me,\n | I woud wed her wi a ring,\n | Infeft her wi the ha's and bowers\n | O the bonny towers o Linne.'\n\n | 11\n | She's stole the keys o the jail-house door,\n | Where under the bed they lay;\n | She's opend to him the jail-house door,\n | And set Young Bondwell free.\n\n | 12\n | She gae 'm a steed was swift in need,\n | A saddle o royal ben,\n | A hunder pund o pennies round,\n | Bade him gae roav an spend.\n\n | 13\n | A couple o hounds o ae litter,\n | And Cain they ca'd the one;\n | Twa gay gos-hawks she gae likeways,\n | To keep him onthought lang.\n\n | 14\n | When mony days were past and gane,\n | Dame Essels thought fell lang,\n | And she is to her lonely bower,\n | To shorten her wi a sang.\n\n | 15\n | The sang had such a melody,\n | It lulld her fast asleep;\n | Up starts a woman, clad in green,\n | And stood at her bed-feet.\n\n | 16\n | 'Win up, win up, Dame Essels,' she says,\n | 'This day ye sleep ower lang;\n | The morn is the squire's wedding day,\n | In the bonny towers o Linne.\n\n | 17\n | 'Ye'll dress yoursell in the robes o green,\n | Your maids in robes sae fair,\n | And ye'll put girdles about their middles,\n | Sae costly, rich and rare.\n\n | 18\n | 'Ye'll take your maries alang wi you,\n | Till ye come to yon strand;\n | There ye'll see a ship, wi sails all up,\n | Come sailing to dry land.\n\n | 19\n | 'Ye'll take a wand into your hand,\n | Ye'll stroke her round about,\n | And ye'll take God your pilot to be,\n | To drown ye'll take nae doubt.'\n\n | 20\n | Then up it raise her Dame Essels,\n | Sought water to wash her hands,\n | But aye the faster that she washd,\n | The tears they trickling ran.\n\n | 21\n | Then in it came her father dear,\n | And in the floor steps he:\n | 'What ails Dame Essels, my daughter dear,\n | Ye weep sae bitterlie?\n\n | 22\n | 'Want ye a small fish frae the flood,\n | Or turtle frae the sea?\n | Or is there man in a' my realm\n | This day has offended thee?'\n\n | 23\n | 'I want nae small fish frae the flood,\n | Nor turtle frae the sea;\n | But Young Bondwell, your ain prisoner,\n | This day has offended me.'\n\n | 24\n | Her father turnd him round about,\n | A solemn oath sware he:\n | 'If this be true ye tell me now\n | High hanged he shall be.\n\n | 25\n | 'To-morrow morning he shall be\n | Hung high upon a tree:'\n | Dame Essels whisperd to hersel,\n | 'Father, ye've made a lie.'\n\n | 26\n | She dressd hersel in robes o green,\n | Her maids in robes sae fair,\n | Wi gowden girdles round their middles,\n | Sae costly, rich and rare.\n\n | 27\n | She's taen her mantle her about,\n | A maiden in every hand;\n | They saw a ship, wi sails a' up,\n | Come sailing to dry land.\n\n | 28\n | She's taen a wand intill her hand,\n | And stroked her round about,\n | And she's taen God her pilot to be,\n | To drown she took nae doubt.\n\n | 29\n | So they saild on, and further on,\n | Till to the water o Tay;\n | There they spied a bonny little boy,\n | Was watering his steeds sae gay.\n\n | 30\n | 'What news, what news, my little boy,\n | What news hae ye to me?\n | Are there any weddings in this place,\n | Or any gaun to be?'\n\n | 31\n | 'There is a wedding in this place,\n | A wedding very soon;\n | The morn's the young squire's wedding day,\n | In the bonny towers of Linne.'\n\n | 32\n | O then she walked alang the way\n | To see what coud be seen,\n | And there she saw the proud porter,\n | Drest in a mantle green.\n\n | 33\n | 'What news, what news, porter?' she said,\n | 'What news hae ye to me?\n | Are there any weddings in this place,\n | Or any gaun to be?'\n\n | 34\n | 'There is a wedding in this place,\n | A wedding very soon;\n | The morn is Young Bondwell's wedding day,\n | The bonny squire o Linne.'\n\n | 35\n | 'Gae to your master, porter,' she said,\n | 'Gae ye right speedilie;\n | Bid him come and speak wi a maid\n | That wishes his face to see.'\n\n | 36\n | The porter's up to his master gane,\n | Fell low down on his knee;\n | 'Win up, win up, my porter,' he said,\n | 'Why bow ye low to me?'\n\n | 37\n | 'I hae been porter at your yetts\n | These thirty years and three,\n | But fairer maids than's at them now\n | My eyes did never see.\n\n | 38\n | 'The foremost she is drest in green,\n | The rest in fine attire,\n | Wi gowden girdles round their middles,\n | Well worth a sheriff's hire.'\n\n | 39\n | Then out it speaks Bondwell's own bride,\n | Was a' gowd to the chin;\n | 'They canno be fairer thereout,' she says,\n | 'Than we that are therein.'\n\n | 40\n | 'There is a difference, my dame,' he said,\n | ''Tween that ladye's colour and yours;\n | As much difference as you were a stock,\n | She o the lily flowers.'\n\n | 41\n | Then out it speaks him Young Bondwell,\n | An angry man was he:\n | 'Cast up the yetts baith wide an braid,\n | These ladies I may see.'\n\n | 42\n | Quickly up stairs Dame Essel's gane,\n | Her maidens next her wi;\n | Then said the bride, This lady's face\n | Shows the porter's tauld nae lie.\n\n | 43\n | The lady unto Bondwell spake,\n | These words pronounced she:\n | O hearken, hearken, fause Bondwell,\n | These words that I tell thee.\n\n | 44\n | Is this the way ye keep your vows\n | That ye did make to me,\n | When your feet were in iron fetters,\n | Ae foot ye coudna flee?\n\n | 45\n | I stole the keys o the jail-house door\n | Frae under the bed they lay,\n | And opend up the jail-house door,\n | Set you at liberty.\n\n | 46\n | Gae you a steed was swift in need,\n | A saddle o royal ben,\n | A hunder pund o pennies round,\n | Bade you gae rove an spend.\n\n | 47\n | A couple o hounds o ae litter,\n | Cain they ca'ed the ane,\n | Twa gay gos-hawks as swift's eer flew,\n | To keep you onthought lang.\n\n | 48\n | But since this day ye've broke your vow,\n | For which ye're sair to blame,\n | And since nae mair I'll get o you,\n | O Cain, will ye gae hame?\n\n | 49\n | 'O Cain! O Cain!' the lady cried,\n | And Cain did her ken;\n | They baith flappd round the lady's knee,\n | Like a couple o armed men.\n\n | 50\n | He's to his bride wi hat in hand,\n | And haild her courteouslie:\n | 'Sit down by me, my bonny Bondwell,\n | What makes this courtesie?'\n\n | 51\n | 'An asking, asking, fair lady,\n | An asking ye'll grant me;'\n | 'Ask on, ask on, my bonny Bondwell,\n | What may your askings be?'\n\n | 52\n | 'Five hundred pounds to you I'll gie,\n | Of gowd an white monie,\n | If ye'll wed John, my ain cousin;\n | He looks as fair as me.'\n\n | 53\n | 'Keep well your monie, Bondwell,' she said,\n | 'Nae monie I ask o thee;\n | Your cousin John was my first love,\n | My husband now he's be.'\n\n | 54\n | Bondwell was married at morning ear,\n | John in the afternoon;\n | Dame Essels is lady ower a' the bowers\n | And the high towers o Linne.\n\n\nN\n\n #a.# Falkirk, printed by T. Johnston, 1815. #b.# Stirling,\n M. Randall.\n\n | 1\n | In London was Young Bichen born,\n | He longd strange lands to see;\n | He set his foot on good ship-board,\n | And he sailed over the sea.\n\n | 2\n | He had not been in a foreign land\n | A day but only three,\n | Till he was taken by a savage Moor,\n | And they used him most cruelly.\n\n | 3\n | In every shoulder they put a pin,\n | To every pin they put a tree;\n | They made him draw the plow and cart,\n | Like horse and oxen in his country.\n\n | 4\n | He had not servd the savage Moor\n | A week, nay scarcely but only three,\n | Till he has casten him in prison strong,\n | Till he with hunger was like to die.\n\n | 5\n | It fell out once upon a day\n | That Young Bichen he made his moan,\n | As he lay bound in irons strong,\n | In a dark and deep dungeon.\n\n | 6\n | 'An I were again in fair England,\n | As many merry day I have been,\n | Then I would curb my roving youth\n | No more to see a strange land.\n\n | 7\n | 'O an I were free again now,\n | And my feet well set on the sea,\n | I would live in peace in my own country,\n | And a foreign land I no more would see.'\n\n | 8\n | The savage Moor had but one daughter,\n | I wot her name was Susan Py;\n | She heard Young Bichen make his moan,\n | At the prison-door as she past by.\n\n | 9\n | 'O have ye any lands,' she said,\n | 'Or have you any money free,\n | Or have you any revenues,\n | To maintain a lady like me?'\n\n | 10\n | 'O I have land in fair England,\n | And I have estates two or three,\n | And likewise I have revenues,\n | To maintain a lady like thee.'\n\n | 11\n | 'O will you promise, Young Bichen,' she says,\n | 'And keep your vow faithful to me,\n | That at the end of seven years\n | In fair England you'll marry me?\n\n | 12\n | 'I'll steal the keys from my father dear,\n | Tho he keeps them most secretly;\n | I'll risk my life for to save thine,\n | And set thee safe upon the sea.'\n\n | 13\n | She's stolen the keys from her father,\n | From under the bed where they lay;\n | She opened the prison strong\n | And set Young Bichen at liberty.\n\n | 14\n | She's gone to her father's coffer,\n | Where the gold was red and fair to see;\n | She filled his pockets with good red gold,\n | And she set him far upon the sea.\n\n | 15\n | 'O mind you well, Young Bichen,' she says,\n | 'The vows and oaths you made to me;\n | When you are come to your native land,\n | O then remember Susan Py!'\n\n | 16\n | But when her father he came home\n | He missd the keys there where they lay;\n | He went into the prison strong,\n | But he saw Young Bichen was away.\n\n | 17\n | 'Go bring your daughter, madam,' he says,\n | 'And bring her here unto me;\n | Altho I have no more but her,\n | Tomorrow I'll gar hang her high.'\n\n | 18\n | The lady calld on the maiden fair\n | To come to her most speedily;\n | 'Go up the country, my child,' she says,\n | 'Stay with my brother two years or three.\n\n | 19\n | 'I have a brother, he lives in the isles,\n | He will keep thee most courteously\n | And stay with him, my child,' she says,\n | 'Till thy father's wrath be turnd from thee.'\n\n | 20\n | Now will we leave young Susan Py\n | A while in her own country,\n | And will return to Young Bichen,\n | Who is safe arrived in fair England.\n\n | 21\n | He had not been in fair England\n | Above years scarcely three,\n | Till he has courted another maid,\n | And so forgot his Susan Py.\n\n | 22\n | The youth being young and in his prime,\n | Of Susan Py thought not upon,\n | But his love was laid on another maid,\n | And the marriage-day it did draw on.\n\n | 23\n | But eer the seven years were run,\n | Susan Py she thought full long;\n | She set her foot on good ship-board,\n | And she has saild for fair England.\n\n | 24\n | On every finger she put a ring,\n | On her mid-finger she put three;\n | She filld her pockets with good red gold,\n | And she has sailed oer the sea.\n\n | 25\n | She had not been in fair England\n | A day, a day, but only three,\n | Till she heard Young Bichen was a bridegroom,\n | And the morrow to be the wedding-day.\n\n | 26\n | 'Since it is so,' said young Susan,\n | 'That he has provd so false to me,\n | I'll hie me to Young Bichen's gates,\n | And see if he minds Susan Py.'\n\n | 27\n | She has gone up thro London town,\n | Where many a lady she there did spy;\n | There was not a lady in all London\n | Young Susan that could outvie.\n\n | 28\n | She has calld upon a waiting-man,\n | A waiting-man who stood near by:\n | 'Convey me to Young Bichen's gates,\n | And well rewarded shals thou be.'\n\n | 29\n | When she came to Young Bichen's gate\n | She chapped loudly at the pin,\n | Till down there came the proud porter;\n | 'Who's there,' he says, 'that would be in?'\n\n | 30\n | 'Open the gates, porter,' she says,\n | 'Open them to a lady gay,\n | And tell your master, porter,' she says,\n | 'To speak a word or two with me.'\n\n | 31\n | The porter he has opend the gates;\n | His eyes were dazzled to see\n | A lady dressd in gold and jewels;\n | No page nor waiting-man had she.\n\n | 32\n | 'O pardon me, madam,' he cried,\n | 'This day it is his wedding-day;\n | He's up the stairs with his lovely bride,\n | And a sight of him you cannot see.'\n\n | 33\n | She put her hand in her pocket,\n | And therefrom took out guineas three,\n | And gave to him, saying, Please, kind sir,\n | Bring down your master straight to me.\n\n | 34\n | The porter up again has gone,\n | And he fell low down on his knee,\n | Saying, Master, you will please come down\n | To a lady who wants you to see.\n\n | 35\n | A lady gay stands at your gates,\n | The like of her I neer did see;\n | She has more gold above her eye\n | Nor would buy a baron's land to me.\n\n | 36\n | Out then spake the bride's mother,\n | I'm sure an angry woman was she:\n | 'You're impudent and insolent,\n | For ye might excepted the bride and me.'\n\n | 37\n | 'Ye lie, ye lie, ye proud woman,\n | I'm sure sae loud as I hear you lie;\n | She has more gold on her body\n | Than would buy the lands, the bride, and thee!'\n\n | 38\n | 'Go down, go down, porter,' he says,\n | 'And tell the lady gay from me\n | That I'm up-stairs wi my lovely bride,\n | And a sight of her I cannot see.'\n\n | 39\n | The porter he goes down again,\n | The lady waited patiently:\n | 'My master's with his lovely bride,\n | And he'll not win down my dame to see.'\n\n | 40\n | From off her finger she's taen a ring;\n | 'Give that your master,' she says, 'from me,\n | And tell him now, young man,' she says,\n | 'To send down a cup of wine to me.'\n\n | 41\n | 'Here's a ring for you, master,' he says,\n | 'On her mid-finger she has three,\n | And you are desird, my lord,' he says,\n | 'To send down a cup of wine with me.'\n\n | 42\n | He hit the table with his foot,\n | He kepd it with his right knee:\n | 'I'll wed my life and all my land\n | That is Susan Py, come o'er the sea!'\n\n | 43\n | He has gone unto the stair-head,\n | A step he took but barely three;\n | He opend the gates most speedily,\n | And Susan Py he there could see.\n\n | 44\n | 'Is this the way, Young Bichen,' she says,\n | 'Is this the way you've guided me?\n | I relieved you from prison strong,\n | And ill have you rewarded me.\n\n | 45\n | 'O mind ye, Young Bichen,' she says,\n | 'The vows and oaths that ye made to me,\n | When ye lay bound in prison strong,\n | In a deep dungeon of misery?'\n\n | 46\n | He took her by the milk-white hand,\n | And led her into the palace fine;\n | There was not a lady in all the palace\n | But Susan Py did all outshine.\n\n | 47\n | The day concluded with joy and mirth,\n | On every side there might you see;\n | There was great joy in all England\n | For the wedding-day of Susan Py.\n\n * * * * *\n\n#B.#\n\n 17^1. bids me.\n\n 22^{5, 6}. _Connected with 23 in MS._\n\n 22^6. send he.\n\n#C. a.#\n\n 15^2. How y you.\n\n #b.#\n\n 3^3. _omits_ house.\n\n 4^2. _omits_ foot.\n\n 7^1. _omits_ dear.\n\n 7^3. For she's ... of the prison.\n\n 7^4. And gane the dungeon within.\n\n 8^1. And when.\n\n 8^2. Wow but her heart was sair.\n\n 9^1. She's gotten.\n\n 11^1. thir twa.\n\n 13^2. I kenna.\n\n 13^4. kensnae.\n\n 14^1. fell out.\n\n 15^2. How y you.\n\n 16^1. till.\n\n 16^2. As fast as ye can gang.\n\n 16^3. tak three.\n\n 16^4. To haud ye unthocht lang.\n\n 18^1. Syne ye.\n\n 18^3. And bonny.\n\n 19^3. And I will.\n\n 20^2. As fast as she could gang.\n\n 20^3. she's taen.\n\n 20^4. To haud her unthocht lang.\n\n 22^3. And sae bonny did.\n\n 22^4. till.\n\n 24^3. And her mind misgae by.\n\n 24^4. That 't was.\n\n 25^2. markis three.\n\n 25^4. Bid your master.\n\n 27^4. did never.\n\n 29^1. and spak.\n\n 29^3. be fine.\n\n 29^4. as fine.\n\n 32^3. out of.\n\n 34^3. at the first.\n\n 35^2. gang.\n\n 36^4. Send her back a maid.\n\n#D.#\n\n _Written throughout without division into stanzas._\n\n 7. _A like repetition occurs again in the Skene MSS: see\n No 36, p. 316._\n\n 10^{1, 2}. _One line in the MS. The metre, in several\n places where it is incomplete, was doubtless made full by\n repetition: see 19^{1, 3}._\n\n 14^1. _This line thus: (~an a Leash of guid gray hounds~).\n The reciter evidently could remember only this point in\n the stanza._\n\n 16, 17.\n Whan she cam to Young Beachens gate\n Is Young Beachen at hame\n Or is he in this countrie\n He is at hame is hearly (?) said\n Him an sigh an says her Susie Pay\n Has he quite forgotten me\n\n 19^{1, 3}. _Probably sung_, the stair, the stair; win up,\n win up.\n\n 22^{3, 4}. _The latter half of the stanza must be supposed\n to be addressed to ~Young Beachen~._\n\n 26^{1, 2}. He took her down to yon gouden green.\n\n 27^4. Sh's.\n\n 29^2. my name.\n\n _After 29 a stanza belonging apparently to some other\n ballad:_\n\n Courtess kind, an generous mind,\n An winna ye answer me?\n An whan the hard their lady's word,\n Well answered was she.\n\n#E.#\n\n _6^{4-6} was introduced, with other metrical passages,\n into a long tale of '~Young Beichan and Susy Pye~,' which\n Motherwell had heard related, and of which he gives a\n specimen at p. xv. of his Introduction_: \"Well, ye must\n know that in the Moor's castle there was a massymore,\n which is a dark dungeon for keeping prisoners. It was\n twenty feet below the ground, and into this hole they\n closed poor Beichan. There he stood, night and day, up to\n his waist in puddle water; but night or day it was all one\n to him, for no ae styme of light ever got in. So he lay\n there a lang and weary while, and thinking on his heavy\n weird, he made a murnfu sang to pass the time, and this\n was the sang that he made, and grat when he sang it, for\n he never thought of ever escaping from the massymore, or\n of seeing his ain country again:\n\n 'My hounds they all run masterless,\n My hawks they flee from tree to tree;\n My youngest brother will heir my lands,\n And fair England again I'll never see.\n\n 'Oh were I free as I hae been,\n And my ship swimming once more on sea,\n I'd turn my face to fair England,\n And sail no more to a strange countrie.'\n\n \"Now the cruel Moor had a beautiful daughter, called Susy\n Pye, who was accustomed to take a walk every morning in\n her garden, and as she was walking ae day she heard the\n sough o Beichan's sang, coming as it were from below the\n ground,\" etc., etc.\n\n#F.#\n\n 3^3. dungeon (donjon).\n\n 6^1. only lands.\n\n 6^2. only castles.\n\n 8^1. Oh.\n\n 10^3. ha she has gane in: _originally_ has she gane in.\n\n 13^2. _~Many~, with ~Seven~ written over: ~Seven~ in\n 14^2._\n\n 20. _After this stanza_: Then the porter gaed up the stair\n and said.\n\n 25. _After this stanza_: Then Lord Beichan gat up, and was\n in a great wrath, and said.\n\n 31. _~ae~: indistinct, but seems to have been ~one~\n changed to ~ae~ or #a#._\n\n#H.#\n\n 4^3. _~carts and wains~ for ~carts o wine~ of #A# 2^3, #B#\n 2^3. We have ~wine~ in #H# 4^3, #I# 3^3, and ~wine~ is in\n all likelihood original._\n\n _Christie, #I#, 31, abridges this version, making \"~a few\n slight alterations from the way he had heard it sung~:\"\n these, and one or two more._\n\n 2^4. wadna bend nor bow.\n\n 7^1. The Moor he had.\n\n 25^1. But Beichan courted.\n\n#I.#\n\n 1^1. _~Bechin~ was pronounced ~Beekin~._\n\n#K.#\n\n 1. _Before this, as gloss, or remnant of a preceding\n stanza_: She came to a shepherd, and he replied.\n\n 2. _After this, in explanation_: She gave Lord Bechin a\n slice of bread and a bottle of wine when she released him\n from prison, hence the following.\n\n 3^1. to him.\n\n 4. _After this_: He had married another lady, not having\n heard from his Sophia for seven long years.\n\n#L.#\n\n \"This affecting legend is given ... precisely as I have\n frequently heard it sung on Saturday nights, outside a\n house of general refreshment (familiarly termed a\n wine-vaults) at Battle-bridge. The singer is a young\n gentleman who can scarcely have numbered nineteen\n summers.... I have taken down the words from his own mouth\n at different periods, and have been careful to preserve\n his pronunciation.\" [_Attributed to Charles Dickens._] _As\n there is no reason for indicating pronunciation here, in\n this more than in other cases, the phonetic spelling is\n replaced by common orthography. Forms of speech have,\n however, been preserved, excepting two, with regard to\n which I may have been too nice._\n\n 1^3. his-self.\n\n 5^2, 9^2. guv.\n\n#M.#\n\n 10^3. _~in~ for ~wi~ (?): ~wi~ in 5^3._\n\n 12^2, 46^2. bend. _Possibly, however, understood to be\n ~bend==leather~, instead of ~ben==bane, bone~._\n\n 13^4, 47^4. on thought.\n\n#N. a.#\n\n Susan Py, or Young Bichens Garland. Shewing how he went to\n a far country, and was taken by a savage Moor and cast\n into prison, and delivered by the Moor's daughter, on\n promise of marriage; and how he came to England, and was\n going to be wedded to another bride; with the happy\n arrival of Susan Py on the wedding day. Falkirk, Printed\n by T. Johnston, 1815.\n\n #b.#\n\n 3^4. his own.\n\n 4^2. A week, a week, but only.\n\n 7^3. own land.\n\n 7^4. And foreign lands no more.\n\n 11^1. young man.\n\n 13^2. he lay.\n\n 24^3. her trunks.\n\n 25^4. was the.\n\n 28^2. that stood hard by.\n\n 28^4. thou shalt.\n\n 29^2. She knocked.\n\n 31^4. waiting-maid.\n\n 32^2. For this is his.\n\n 34^1. up the stairs.\n\n 34^3. will you.\n\n 36^4. Ye might.\n\n 37^2. Sae loud as I hear ye lie.\n\n 39^4. And a sight of him you cannot see.\n\n 40^4. To bring.\n\n 42^3. I'll lay.\n\n 44^2. way that you've used me.\n\n 47^4. wedding of.\n\n\n[403] Mr Macmath has ascertained that Mrs Brown was born in 1747. She\nlearned most of her ballads before she was twelve years old, or before\n1759. 1783, or a little earlier, is the date when these copies were\ntaken down from her singing or recitation.\n\n[404] The Borderer's Table Book, VII, 21. Dixon says, a little before,\nthat the Stirling broadside of 'Lord Bateman' varies but slightly from\nthe English printed by Hoggett, Durham, and Pitts, Catnach, and others,\nLondon. This is not true of the Stirling broadside of 'Young Bichen:'\nsee #N b#. I did not notice, until too late, that I had not furnished\nmyself with the broadside 'Lord Bateman,' and have been obliged to turn\nback the Cruikshank copy into ordinary orthography.\n\n[405] We have this repetition in two other ballads of the Skene MSS\nbesides #D#; see p. 316 of this volume, sts 1-9; also in 'The Lord of\nLearne,' Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, I, 192 f, vv 269-304.\n\n[406] \"An old woman who died in Errol, Carse of Gowrie, about twenty\nyears ago, aged nearly ninety years, was wont invariably to sing this\nballad: 'Young Lundie was in Brechin born.' Lundie is an estate now\nbelonging to the Earl of Camperdoun, north from Dundee.\" A. Laing, note\nto #G#. That is to say, the old woman's world was Forfarshire.\n\nMr Logan had heard in Scotland a version in which the hero was called\nLord Bangol: A Pedlar's Pack, p. 15.\n\n[407] Cf. 'The Fair Flower of Northumberland,' #B# 2, #E# 2, pp 115 f.\n\n[408] She does not get away without exciting the solicitude or wrath of\nher father, #F#, #M#, #J#, #N#, and in the first two has to use\nartifice.\n\n[409] A point borrowed, it well may be, from 'Hind Horn,' #E# 5 f, #A#\n10.\n\n[410] So Torello's wife upsets the table, in Boccaccio's story: see p.\n198. One of her Slavic kinswomen jumps over four tables and lights on a\nfifth.\n\n[411] In #C# 34, #M# 49, she is recognized by one of the hounds which\nshe had given him. So Bos, seigneur de B\u00e9nac, who breaks a ring with his\nwife, goes to the East, and is prisoner among the Saracens seven years,\non coming back is recognized only by his greyhound: Magasin Pittoresque,\nVI, 56 b. It is scarcely necessary to scent the Odyssey here.\n\n[412] Ridiculously changed in #J# 6, #K# 6, #L# 20, to a coach _and_\nthree, reminding us of that master-stroke in Thackeray's ballad of\n'Little Billee,' \"a captain of a seventy-three.\" 'Little Billee,' by the\nway, is really like an old ballad, fallen on evil days and evil tongues;\nwhereas the serious imitations of traditional ballads are not the least\nlike, and yet, in their way, are often not less ludicrous.\n\n[413] In #M#, to make everything pleasant, Bondwell offers the bride\nfive hundred pounds to marry his cousin John. She says, Keep your money;\nJohn was my first love. So Bondwell is married at early morn, and John\nin the afternoon.\n\n[414] Harleian MS. 2277, from which the life of Beket, in long couplets,\nwas printed by Mr W. H. Black for the Percy Society, in 1845. The story\nof Gilbert Beket is contained in the first 150 vv. The style of this\ncomposition entirely resembles that of Robert of Gloucester, and\nportions of the life of Beket are identical with the Chronicle; whence\nMr Black plausibly argues that both are by the same hand. The account of\nBeket's parentage is interpolated into Edward Grim's Life, in Cotton MS.\nVitellius, C, XII, from which it is printed by Robertson, Materials for\nthe History of Thomas Becket, II, 453 ff. It is found in Bromton's\nChronicle, Twysden, Scriptores X, columns 1052-55, and in the First\nQuadrilogus, Paris, 1495, from which it is reprinted by Migne,\nPatrologi\u00e6 Cursus Completus, CXC, cols 346 ff. The tale has been\naccepted by many writers who would have been better historians for a\nlittle reading of romances. Angustin Thierry sees in Thomas Beket a\nSaxon contending in high place, for the interests and with the natural\nhatred of his race, against Norman Henry, just as he finds in the yeoman\nRobin Hood a leader of Saxon serfs engaged in irregular war with Norman\nRichard. But both of St Thomas's parents were Norman; the father of\nRouen, the mother of Caen. The legend was introduced by Lawrence Wade,\nfollowing John of Exeter, into a metrical life of Beket of about the\nyear 1500: see the poem in Englische Studien, III, 417, edited by\nHorstmann.\n\n[415] Richard, the proud porter of the ballads, is perhaps most like\nhimself in #M# 32 ff.\n\n[416] Neither her old name nor her Christian name is told us in this\nlegend. Gilbert Beket's wife was Matilda, according to most authorities,\nbut Ro\u00ebsa according to one: see Robertson, as above, IV, 81; Migne, cols\n278 f. Fox has made Ro\u00ebsa into Rose, Acts and Monuments, I, 267, ed.\n1641.\n\nGilbert and Rose (but Ro\u00ebsa is not Rose) recall to Hippeau, Vie de St\nThomas par Garnier de Pont Sainte Maxence, p. xxiii, Elie de Saint Gille\nand Rosamonde, whose adventures have thus much resemblance with those of\nBeket and of Bekie. Elie de Saint Gille, after performing astounding\nfeats of valor in fight with a horde of Saracens who have made a descent\non Brittany, is carried off to their land. The amiral Macabr\u00e9 requires\nElie to adore Mahomet; Elie refuses in the most insolent terms, and is\ncondemned to the gallows. He effects his escape, and finds himself\nbefore Macabr\u00e9's castle. Here, in another fight, he is desperately\nwounded, but is restored by the skill of Rosamonde, the amiral's\ndaughter, who is Christian at heart, and loves the Frank. To save her\nfrom being forced to marry the king of Bagdad, Elie fights as her\nchampion. In the end she is baptized, as a preparation for her union\nwith Elie, but he, having been present at the ceremony, is adjudged by\nthe archbishop to be gossip to her, and Elie and Rosamonde are otherwise\ndisposed of. So the French romance, but in the Norse, which, as K\u00f6lbing\nmaintains, is likely to preserve the original story here, there is no\nsuch splitting of cumin, and hero and heroine are united.\n\n[417] There is one in the Gesta Romanorum, cap. 5, \u00d6sterley, p. 278, of\nabout the same age as the Beket legend. It is not particularly\nimportant. A young man is captured by a pirate, and his father will not\nsend his ransom. The pirate's daughter often visits the captive, who\nappeals to her to exert herself for his liberation. She promises to\neffect his freedom if he will marry her. This he agrees to. She releases\nhim from his chains without her father's knowledge, and flies with him\nto his native land.\n\n[418] Nor Guarinos in the Spanish ballad, Duran, No 402, I, 265; Wolf\nand Hofmann, Primavera, II, 321. Guarinos is very cruelly treated, but\nit is his horse, not he, that has to draw carts. For the Sire de Cr\u00e9qui\nsee also Dinaux, Trouv\u00e8res, III, 161 ff (K\u00f6hler).\n\n[419] And in 'Der Herr von Falkenstein,' a variety of the story, Meier,\nDeutsche Sagen aus Schwaben, p. 319, No 362. A Christian undergoes the\nsame hardship in Sch\u00f6ppner, Sagenbuch, III, 127, No 1076. For other\ncases of the wonderful deliverance of captive knights, not previously\nmentioned by me, see Hocker, in Wolf's Zeitschrift f\u00fcr deutsche\nMythologie, I, 306.\n\n[420] A meisterlied of Alexander von Metz, of the second half of the\nfifteenth century, K\u00f6rner, Historische Volkslieder, p. 49; the ballad\n'Der Graf von Rom,' or 'Der Graf im Pfluge,' Uhland, p. 784, No 299,\nprinted as early as 1493; De Historie van Florentina, Huysvrouwe van\nAlexander van Mets, 1621, van den Bergh, De nederlandsche Volksromans,\np. 52. And see Goedeke, Deutsche Dichtung im Mittelalter, pp 569, 574;\nUhland, Schriften zur Geschichte der Dichtung, IV, 297-309; Danske\nViser, V, 67.\n\n[421] \u00d8ster-kongens rige, \u00d8sterige, \u00d8sterland, Austrr\u00edki, understood by\nGrundtvig as Gar\u00f0ar\u00edki, the Scandinavian-Russian kingdom of the tenth\nand eleventh centuries. Austrr\u00edki is used vaguely, but especially of the\neast of Europe, Russia, Austria, sometimes including Turkey (Vigfusson).\n\n[422] In Swedish #K#, as she pushes off from land, she exclaims:\n\n 'Gud Fader i Himmelens rike\n Skall vara min styresman!'\n\nCf. #M# 28:\n\n And she's tuen God her pilot to be.\n\n[423] See 'The Red Bull of Norroway,' Chambers, Popular Rhymes of\nScotland, 1870, p. 99; 'Mesterm\u00f8,' Asbj\u00f8rnsen og Moe, No 46; 'Hass-Fru,'\nCavallius och Stephens, No 14; Powell, Icelandic Legends, Second Series,\np. 377; the Grimms, Nos 56, 113, 186, 193; Pentamerone, II, 7, III, 9;\nGonzenbach, Nos 14, 54, 55, and K\u00f6hler's note; Hahn, Griechische u.\nAlbanesische M\u00e4rchen, No 54; Carleton, Traits and Stories of the Irish\nPeasantry, 10th ed., I, 23; Campbell, West Highland Tales, I, 25, No 2,\nand K\u00f6hler's notes in Orient u. Occident, II, 103-114, etc., etc.\n\n[424] This passage leads the editors of Primavera to remark, II, 52,\nthat 'El Conde Sol' shows distinct traits of 'Le Chat Bott\u00e9.' Similar\nquestions are asked in English #G#, the other Spanish versions, and the\nItalian, and in nearly all the Greek ballads referred to on pp 199, 200;\nalways under the same circumstances, and to bring about the discovery\nwhich gives the turn to the story. The questions in 'Le Chat Bott\u00e9' are\nintroduced for an entirely different purpose, and cannot rationally\nsuggest a borrowing on either side. The hasty note would certainly have\nbeen erased by the very distinguished editors upon a moment's\nconsideration.\n\n[425] Puymaigre finds also some resemblance in his 'Petite Rosalie,' I,\n74: see his note.\n\n\n\n\nADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS\n\n\n1. Riddles Wisely Expounded.\n\nP. 1 b. #A.# Add: M\u00fcndel, Els\u00e4ssische Volkslieder, p. 27, No 24. Second\nline from the bottom, for seven read ten.\n\n2 a. Add: #H.# J. H. Schmitz, Sitten u. s. w. des Eifler Volkes, I, 159;\nfive pairs of riddles and no conclusion. (K\u00f6hler.) #I.# Alfred M\u00fcller,\nVolkslieder aus dem Erzgebirge, p. 69; four pairs of riddles, and no\nconclusion. #J.# Lemke, Volksth\u00fcmliches in Ostpreussen, p. 152; seven\nriddles guessed, \"nun bin ich Deine Frau.\"\n\n2 b. (The Russian riddle-ballad.) So a Kosak: \"I give thee this riddle:\nif thou guess it, thou shalt be mine; if thou guess it not, ill shall it\ngo with thee.\" The riddle, seven-fold, is guessed. Metlinskiy, Narodnyya\nyuzhnorusskiya Pyesni, pp 363 f. Cf. Snegiref, Russkie prostonarodnye\nPrazdniki, II, 101 f.\n\n2 b, note. For Kaden substitute Casetti e Imbriani, C. p. delle\nProvincie meridionali, I, 197 f. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n\n2. The Elfin Knight.\n\n#P.# 6 b. #J.# Read: Central New York; and again in #J#, p. 19 a. Add:\n#M.# Notes and Queries, 4th Series, III, 605.\n\n7 a, note. Another ballad with a burden-stem is a version of\n'Klosterrovet,' #C#, MSS of 1610, and later, communicated to me by Svend\nGrundtvig.\n\n7 b. Add: #O.# 'Ehestandsaussichten' [Norrenberg], Des D\u00fclkener Fiedlers\nLiederbuch, 1875, p. 88, No 99. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n8-12. Jagi\u0107, in Archiv f\u00fcr slavische Philologie, 'Aus dem\ns\u00fcdslavischen M\u00e4rchenschatz,' V, 47-50, adds five Slavic stories of the\nwench whose ready wit helps her to a good marriage, and K\u00f6hler, in notes\nto Jagi\u0107, pp 50 ff, cites, in addition to nearly all those which I\nhave mentioned, one Slavic, one German, five Italian, one French, one\nIrish, one Norwegian, besides very numerous tales in which there is a\npartial agreement. Wollner, in Leskien and Brugman's Litauische\nVolkslieder und M\u00e4rchen, p. 573, cites Slavic parallels to No 34, of\nwhich the following, not previously noted, and no doubt others, are\napposite to this ballad: Afanasief, VI, 177, No 42, a, b; Trudy, II,\n611-614, No 84, 614-616, No 85; Dragomanof, p. 347, No 29; Sadok Baracz,\np. 33; Kolberg, Lud, VIII, 206; Kulda, II, 68.\n\n14 a, line 4. The Baba-Yaga, a malignant female spirit, has the ways of\nthe Rusalka and the Vila, and so the Wendish P\u0161ezpolnica, the\n'Mittagsfrau,' and the Serpolnica: Afanasief, II, 333; Veckenstedt,\nWendische Sagen, p. 107, No 14, p. 108 f, No 19, p. 109 f, No 4. The Red\nEtin puts questions, too, in the Scottish tale, Chambers, Popular\nRhymes, 1870, p. 92. There is certainly no occasion to scruple about elf\nor elf-knight. Line 16 f. The same in Snegiref, IV. 8.\n\n14 b. For the legend of St Andrew, etc., see, further, Gering, \u00cdslendzk\n\u00c6ventyri, I, 95, No 24, 'Af biskupi ok puka,' and K\u00f6hler's references,\nII, 80 f. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n15 a. #A, B.# Dr Davidson informs me that the introductory stanza, or\nburden-stem, exists in the form:\n\n Her plaidie awa, her plaidie awa,\n The win blew the bonnie lassie's plaidie awa.\n\n16 a. #C.# This version is in Kinloch MSS, VII, 163. _3 is wanting._\n\n 6.\n Married ye sall never get nane\n Till ye mak a shirt without a seam.\n\n 7.\n And ye maun sew it seamless,\n And ye maun do it wi needle, threedless.\n\n10. _wanting._\n\n12^1. I hae a bit o land to be corn.\n\n_14 is wanting._\n\n16. loof--glove.\n\n17 _is wanting_.\n\n3, 10, 14, 17, are evidently supplied from some form of #B#.\n\n20.\n\n\nM\n\n Similar to #F-H#: Notes and Queries, 4th Series, III, 605,\n communicated by W. F., Glasgow, from a manuscript\n collection.\n\n 1\n As I went up to the top o yon hill,\n Every rose springs merry in' t' time\n I met a fair maid, an her name it was Nell.\n An she langed to be a true lover o mine\n\n 2\n 'Ye'll get to me a cambric sark,\n An sew it all over without thread or needle.\n Before that ye be, etc.\n\n 3\n 'Ye'll wash it doun in yonder well,\n Where water neer ran an dew never fell.\n\n 4\n 'Ye'll bleach it doun by yonder green,\n Where grass never grew an wind never blew.\n\n 5\n 'Ye'll dry it doun on yonder thorn,\n That never bore blossom sin Adam was born.'\n\n 6\n 'Four questions ye have asked at me,\n An as mony mair ye'll answer me.\n\n 7\n 'Ye'll get to me an acre o land\n Atween the saut water an the sea sand.\n\n 8\n 'Ye'll plow it wi a ram's horn,\n An sow it all over wi one peppercorn.\n\n 9\n 'Ye'll shear it wi a peacock's feather,\n An bind it all up wi the sting o an adder.\n\n 10\n 'Ye'll stook it in yonder saut sea,\n An bring the dry sheaves a' back to me.\n\n 11\n 'An when ye've done and finished your wark,\n Ye'll come to me, an ye'se get your sark.'\n An then shall ye be true lover o mine\n\n\n3. The Fause Knight upon the Road.\n\n#P.# 20 a. Add: #C.# 'The False Knight,' communicated by Mr Macmath, of\nEdinburgh.\n\nFor the fool getting the last word of the princess, see, further,\nK\u00f6hler, Germania, XIV, 271; Leskien u. Brugman, Litauische Volkslieder\nu. M\u00e4rchen, p. 469, No 33, and Wollner's note, p. 573.\n\n21, note. I must retract the doubly hasty remark that the Shetland\nbelief that witches may be baffled by fliting with them is a modern\nmisunderstanding.\n\nMr George Lyman Kittredge has called my attention to Apollonius of\nTyana's encounter with an _empusa_ between the Caucasus and the Indus.\nKnowing what the spectre was, Apollonius began to revile it, and told\nhis attendants to do the same, for that was the resource, in such cases,\nagainst an attack. The empusa went off with a shriek. Philostratus's\nLife of Apollonius, II, 4. Mr Kittredge referred me later to what is\nsaid by Col. Yule (who also cites Philostratus), Marco Polo, I, 183,\nthat the wise, according to Mas'udi, revile gh\u00fals, and the gh\u00fals vanish.\nMr Kittredge also cites Luther's experience: how, when he could not be\nrid of the Devil by the use of holy writ and serious words, \"so h\u00e4tte er\nihn oft mit spitzigen Worten und l\u00e4cherlichen Possen vertrieben; ...\nquia est superbus spiritus, et non potest ferre contemptum sui.\"\nTischreden, in Auswahl, Berlin, 1877, pp 152-154.\n\nSprites of the more respectable orders will quit the company of men if\nscolded: Walter Mapes, De Nugis Curialium, ed. Wright, p. 81, Alpenburg,\nDeutsche Alpensagen, p. 312, No 330. So Thetis, according to Sophocles,\nleft Peleus when he reviled her: Scholia in Apollonii Argonautica, IV,\n816. (Mannhardt, Wald- und Feldkulte, II, 60, 68.) 22.\n\n\nC\n\n Obtained by Mr Macmath from the recitation of his aunt,\n Miss Jane Webster, formerly of Airds of Kells, Stewartry\n of Kirkcudbright, Galloway, who learned it many years ago\n from the wife of Peter McGuire, then cotman at Airds.\n\n 1\n 'O whare are ye gaun?'\n Says the false knight upon the road:\n 'I am gaun to the schule,'\n Says the wee boy, and still he stood.\n\n 2\n 'Wha's aught the sheep on yonder hill?'\n 'They are my papa's and mine.'\n\n 3\n 'How many of them's mine?'\n 'A' them that has blue tails.'\n\n 4\n 'I wish you were in yonder well:'\n 'And you were down in hell.'\n\n\n4. Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight.\n\n#P.# 22 b. #D.# Add: #d.# 'The historical ballad of May Culzean,' an\nundated stall-copy.\n\n26 b. Another Dutch version (Frisian), spirited, but with gaps, is given\nby Dykstra and van der Meulen, In Doaze fol alde Snypsnaren, Frjentsjer,\n1882, p. 118, 'Jan Alberts,' 66 vv. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n#D.# Jan Alberts sings a song, and those that hear it know it not. It is\nheard by a king's daughter, who asks her mother's leave to go out for a\nwalk, and is told that it is all one where she goes or stays, if she\nkeeps her honor. Her father says the same, when she applies for his\nleave. She goes to her bedroom and dresses herself finely, dons a gold\ncrown, puts her head out of the window, and cries, Now am I Jan Alberts'\nbride. Jan Alberts takes her on his horse; they ride fast and long, with\nnothing to eat or drink for three days. She then asks Jan why he gives\nher nothing, and he answers that he shall ride to the high tree where\nhang fourteen fair maids. Arrived there, he gives her the choice of\ntree, sword, or water. She chooses the sword, bids him spare his coat,\nfor a pure maid's blood goes far, and before his coat is half off his\nhead lies behind him. The head cries, Behind the bush is a pot of\ngrease; smear my neck with it. She will not smear from a murderer's pot,\nnor blow in a murderer's horn. She mounts his horse, and rides far and\nlong. Jan Alberts' mother comes to meet her, and asks after him. She\nsays he is not far off, and is sporting with fourteen maids. Had you\ntold me this before, I would have laid you in the water, says the\nmother. The maid rides on till she comes to her father's gate. Then she\ncries to her father to open, for his youngest daughter is without. The\nfather not bestirring himself, she swims the moat, and, the door not\nbeing open, goes through the glass. The next day she dries her clothes.\n\n30 a, 37 a. There is a Low German version of the first class, #A-F#, in\nSpee, Volksth\u00fcmliches vom Niederrhein, K\u00f6ln, 1875, Zweites Heft, p. 3,\n'Sch\u00f6ndili,' 50 vv. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n#AA.# Sch\u00f6ndili's parents died when she was a child. Sch\u00f6n-Albert,\nknowing this, rides to her. She attires herself in silk, with a gold\ncrown on her hair, and he swings her on to his horse. They ride three\ndays and nights, with nothing to eat or drink. She asks whether it is\nnot meal-time; he replies that they are coming to a linden, where they\nwill eat and drink. Seven women are hanging on the tree. He gives her\nthe wale of tree, river, and sword. She chooses the sword; would be\nloath to spot his coat; whips off his head before the coat is half off.\nThe head says there is a pipe in the saddle; she thinks no good can come\nof playing a murderer's pipe. She meets first the father, then the\nmother; they think that must be Sch\u00f6n-Albert's horse. That may be, she\nsays; I have not seen him since yesterday. She sets the pipe to her\nmouth, when she reaches her father's gate, and the murderers come like\nhares on the wind.\n\n#BB.# Alfred M\u00fcller, Volkslieder aus dem Erzgebirge, p. 92, 'Sch\u00f6n\nUlrich' [und Trautendelein], 36 vv. (K\u00f6hler.) Like #T#, without the\nsong.\n\n#CC.# A. Schlosser, Deutsche Volkslieder aus Steiermark, 1881, p. 338,\nNo 309, 'Der Ritter und die Maid.' (K\u00f6hler: not yet seen by me.)\n\n#DD.# Curt M\u00fcndel, Els\u00e4ssische Volkslieder, p. 12, No 10, a fragment of\nfifteen verses. As Anna sits by the Rhine combing her hair, Heinrich\ncomes along on his horse, sees her weep, and asks why. It is not for\ngold and not for goods, but because she is to die that day. Heinrich\ndraws his sword, runs her through, and rides home. He is asked why his\nsword is red, and says he has killed two doves. They say the dove must\nbe Anna.\n\n32 b. #H#, line 10. Read: umbrunnen.\n\n39 a, line 1. Read: contributed by Hoffmann.\n\n39 a, third paragraph. Kozlowski, Lud, p. 54, No 15, furnishes a second\nand inferior but still important form of #A# (Masovian).\n\n#A b.# Ligar (afterwards Jasia, Golo) bids Kasia take all she has. She\nhas already done this, and is ready to range the world with him.\nSuddenly she asks, after they have been some time on their way, What is\nthat yonder so green? Jasia replies, Our house, to which we are going.\nThey go on further, and Kasia again inquires abruptly, What is that\nyonder so white? \"That is my eight wives, and you shall be the ninth:\nyou are to die, and will be the tenth.\" \"Where is the gold, the maidens'\ngold?\" \"In the linden, Kasia, in the linden; plenty of it.\" \"Let me not\ndie so wretchedly; let me draw your sword for once.\" She drew the sword,\nand with one stroke Jasia's head was off.\n\n39 b. To the Polish versions are further to be added: #NN#, Piosnki\nwie\u015bniacze znad Dzwiny, p. 41, No 51; #OO#, Roger, p. 78, No 138;\n#PP#, Roger, p. 69, No 125; #QQ#, ib., p. 79, No 140; #RR#, p. 81, No\n142; #SS#, p. 79, No 139. The last three are imperfect, and #QQ#, #RR#,\nhave a beginning which belongs elsewhere. Jasia suggests to Kasia to get\nthe key of the new room from her mother by pretending headache, and bids\nher take gold enough, #NN#, #OO#. They go off while her mother thinks\nthat Kasia is sleeping, #NN#, #OO#, #QQ#. They come to a wood, #NN#,\n#PP# (which is corrupt here), #SS#; first or last, to a deep stream,\n#NN#, #OO#, #QQ#, #SS#; it is red sea in #RR#, as in #J#. Jasia bids\nKasia return to her mother, #NN# (twice), #RR#; bids her take off her\nrich clothes, #OO#, to which she answers that she has not come here for\nthat. John throws her into the water, #NN#, #OO#, #QQ#, #SS#, from a\nbridge in the second and third. Her apron catches on a stake or post;\nshe begs John for help, and gets for answer, \"I did not throw you in to\nhelp you: you may go to the bottom,\" #OO#. She swims to a stake, to\nwhich she clings, and John hews her in three, #QQ#. Fishermen draw out\nthe body, and carry it to the church, #NN#, #OO#. She apostrophizes her\nhair in #QQ#, #SS#, as in #G#, #I#, #J#, and in the same absurd terms in\n#QQ# as in #J#. John is pursued and cut to pieces in #OO#, _also_ broken\non the wheel. #PP# closely resembles German ballads of the third class.\nKatie shouts three times: at her first cry the grass curls up; at the\nsecond the river overflows; the third wakes her mother, who rouses her\nsons, saying, Katie is calling in the wood. They find John with a bloody\nsword; he says he has killed a dove. They answer, No dove, but our\nsister, and maltreat him till he tells what he has done with his victim:\n\"I have hidden her under the yew-bush; now put me on the wheel.\"\n\n39 b, line 13 of the middle paragraph. Read Piosnki for Piesni, and omit\nthe quotation marks in this and the line before.\n\n40 b, line 2 (the girl's adding her hair to lengthen the cord). In the\ntale of the Sea-horse, Schiefner, Awarische Texte, Memoirs of the St\nPetersburg Academy, vol. XIX, No 6, p. 11 f, a sixty-ell rope being\nrequired to rescue a prince from a well into which he had been thrown,\nand no rope forthcoming, the daughter of a sea-king makes a rope of the\nrequired length with her hair, and with this the prince is drawn out. Dr\nReinhold K\u00f6hler, who pointed out this incident to me, refers in his\nnotes to the texts, at p. vii f, to the song of S\u00fcd\u00e4i M\u00e4rg\u00e4n, Radloff,\nII, 627-31, where S\u00fcd\u00e4i M\u00e4rg\u00e4n's wife, having to rescue her husband from\na pit, tries first his horse's tail, and finds it too short, then her\nhair, which proves also a little short. A maid is then found whose hair\nis a hundred fathoms long, and her hair being tied on to the horse's\ntail, and horse, wife, and maid pulling together, the hero is drawn out.\nFor climbing up by a maid's hair, see, further, K\u00f6hler's note to\nGonzenbach, No 53, II, 236.\n\n40 b, line 7. A message is sent to a father by a daughter in the same\nway, in Chodzko, Les Chants historiques de l'Ukraine, p. 75; cf. p. 92,\nof the same. Tristram sends messages to Isonde by linden shavings\ninscribed with runes: Sir Tristrem, ed. K\u00f6lbing, p. 56, st. 187;\nTristrams Saga, cap. 54, p. 68, ed. K\u00f6lbing; Gottfried von Strassburg,\nvv 14427-441.\n\n40 b, line 36. For #G#, #I#, read #G#, #J#.\n\n40, note [61]. In a Ruthenian ballad a girl who runs away from her\nmother with a lover tells her brothers, who have come in search of her,\nI did not leave home to go back again with you: Golovatsky, Part I, p.\n77, No 32; Part III, I, p. 17, No 4, p. 18, No 5. So, \"I have not\npoisoned you to help you,\" Part I, p. 206, No 32, p. 207, No 33.\n\n41 a, second paragraph. Golovatsky, at I, 116, No 29, has a ballad,\nfound elsewhere without the feature here to be noticed, in which a\nCossack, who is watering his horse while a maid is drawing water,\ndescribes his home as a Wonderland, like John in Polish #Q#. \"Come to\nthe Ukraine with the Cossacks,\" he says. \"Our land is not like this:\nwith us the mountains are golden, the water is mead, the grass is silk;\nwith us the willows bear pears and the girls go in gold.\" She yields;\nthey go over one mountain and another, and when they have crossed the\nthird the Cossack lets his horse graze. The maid falls to weeping, and\nasks the Cossack, Where are your golden mountains, where the water that\nis mead, the grass that is silk? He answers, No girl of sense and reason\nengages herself to a young Cossack. So in Zegota Pauli, P. l. ruskiego,\np. 29, No 26==Golovatsky, I, 117, No 30, where the maid rejoins to the\nglowing description, I have ranged the world: golden mountains I never\nsaw; everywhere mountains are of stone, and everywhere rivers are of\nwater; very like the girl in Grundtvig, 82 #B#, st. 7; 183 #A# 6, #E# 5,\n6.\n\n41 b, last paragraph. Several Bohemian versions are to be added to the\nsingle example cited from Waldau's B\u00f6hmische Granaten. This version,\nwhich is presumed to have been taken down by Waldau himself, may be\ndistinguished as #A#. #B#, Su\u0161il, Moravsk\u00e9 N\u00e1rodn\u00ed P\u00edsn\u011b, No 189,\np. 191, 'Vrah,' 'The Murderer,' is very like #A#. #C#, Su\u0161il, p. 193.\n#D#, Erben, Proston\u00e1rodni \u010desk\u00e9 P\u00edsn\u011b a \u0158\u00edkadla, p. 480, No 16,\n'Zabit\u00e9 d\u011bv\u010de,' 'The Murdered Maid.' #E#, p. 479, No 15, 'Zabit\u00e1\nsestra,' 'The Murdered Sister.' #B# has a double set of names, beginning\nwith Black George,--not the Servian, but \"king of Hungary,\"--and ending\nwith Indriasch. The maid is once called Annie, otherwise Katie. At her\nfirst call the grass becomes green; at the second the mountain bows; the\nthird the mother hears. #C# has marvels of its own. Anna entreats John\nto allow her to call to her mother. \"Call, call,\" he says, \"you will not\nreach her with your call; in this dark wood, even the birds will not\nhear you.\" At her first call a pine-tree in the forest breaks; at the\nsecond the river overflows; at the third her mother rises from the\ngrave. She calls to her sons to go to Anna's rescue, and _they_ rise\nfrom their graves. The miscreant John confesses that he has buried their\nsister in the wood. They strike off his head, and put a bat on the head,\nwith an inscription in gold letters, to inform people what his offence\nhas been. There is a gap after the seventh stanza of #D#, which leaves\nthe two following stanzas unintelligible by themselves: 8, Choose one of\nthe two, and trust nobody; 9, She made her choice, and shouted three\ntimes towards the mountains. At the first cry the mountain became green;\nat the second the mountain bowed backwards; the third the mother heard.\nShe sent her sons off; they found their neighbor John, who had cut off\ntheir sister's head. The law-abiding, and therefore modern, young men\nsay that John shall go to prison and never come out alive. In #E# the\nman, a young hunter, says, Call _five_ times; not even a wood-bird will\nhear you. Nothing is said of the first call; the second is heard by the\nyounger brother, who tells the elder that their sister must be in\ntrouble. The hunter has a bloody rifle in his hand: how he is disposed\nof we are not told. All these ballads but #C# begin with the maid\ncutting grass, and all of them have the dove that is \"no dove, but our\nsister.\"\n\nFragments of this ballad are found, #F#, in Su\u0161il, p. 112, No 113,\n'Nev\u011bsta ne\u0161t' astnice,' 'The Unhappy Bride;' #G#, p. 171, No 171,\n'Zbojce,' 'The Murderer;' and there is a variation from #B# at p. 192,\nnote 3, which is worth remarking, #H#. #F#, sts 11-14: \"Get together\nwhat belongs to you; we will go to a foreign land;\" and when they came\nto the turf, \"Look my head through.\"[426] Every hair she laid aside she\nwet with a tear. And when they came into the dark of the wood he cut her\ninto nine [three] pieces. #G.# Katie meets John in a meadow; they sit\ndown on the grass. \"Look my head through.\" She weeps, for she says there\nis a black fate impending over her; \"a black one for me, a red one for\nthee.\" He gets angry, cuts off her head, and throws her into the river,\nfor which he is hanged. #H.# He sprang from his horse, robbed the maid,\nand laughed. He set her on the grass, and bade her look his head\nthrough. Every hair she examined she dropped a tear for. \"Why do you\nweep, Katie? Is it for your crants?\" \"I am _not_ weeping for my crants,\nnor am I afraid of your sword. Let me call three times, that my father\nand mother may hear.\" Compare German #H# 10, 11; #Q# 8-10, etc., etc.\n\n42 a. These Ruthenian ballads belong with the other Slavic parallels to\nNo 4: #A#, Zegota Pauli, P. l. ruskiego, p. 21==Golovatsky, III, I, 149,\nNo 21; #B#, Golovatsky, III, I, 172, No 46. #A.# A man induces a girl to\ngo off with him in the night. They wander over one land and another, and\nthen feel need of rest. Why does your head ache? he asks of her. Are you\nhomesick? \"My head does not ache; I am not homesick.\" He takes her by\nthe white sides and throws her into the deep Donau, saying, Swim with\nthe stream; we shall not live together. She swims over the yellow sand,\ncrying, Was I not fair, or was it my fate? and he dryly answers, Fair;\nit was thy fate. In #B# it is a Jew's daughter that is wiled away. They\ngo in one wagon; another is laden with boxes [of valuables?] and\npillows, a third with gold pennies. She asks, Where is your house? Over\nthose hills, he answers. He takes her over a high bridge, and throws her\ninto the Donau, with, Swim, since you were not acquainted with our way,\nour faith!\n\n42 a. #A#, line 2. Read: Puymaigre.\n\n43 a. #D.# Add: Po\u00e9sies populaires de la France, IV, fol. 332, Chanson\nde l'Aunis, Charente Inf\u00e9rieur; but even more of the story is lost.\n\n44 a. A ballad in Casetti e Imbriani, C. p. delle Provincie meridionali,\nII, 1, begins like 'La Contadina alla Fonte' (see p. 393 a), and ends\nlike 'La Monferrina Incontaminata.' Of the same class as the last is, I\nsuppose, Nannarelli, Studio comparativo sui Canti popolari di Arlena, p.\n51, No 50 (K\u00f6hler), which I regret not yet to have seen.\n\n45 a. Portuguese #C, D#, in Alvaro Rodrigues de Azevedo, Romanceiro do\nArchipelago da Madeira, p. 57, 'Estoria do Bravo-Franco,' p. 60,\n'Gallo-frango.'\n\n47. A story from Neum\u00fcnster about one G\u00f6rtmicheel, a famous robber, in\nM\u00fcllenhoff, p. 37, No 2, blends features of 'Hind Etin,' or 'The Maid\nand the Dwarf-King,' No 41, with others found in the Magyar ballad, p.\n45 f. A handsome wench, who had been lost seven years, suddenly\nreappeared at the home of her parents. She said that she was not at\nliberty to explain where she had been, but her mother induced her to\nreveal this to a stone near the side-door, and taking up her station\nbehind the door heard all. She had been carried off by a robber; had\nlived with him seven years, and borne him seven children. The robber,\nwho had otherwise treated her well, had refused to let her visit her\nhome, but finally had granted her this permission upon her promising to\nsay nothing about him. When the time arrived for her daughter to go\nback, the mother gave her a bag of peas, which she was to drop one by\none along the way. She was kindly received, but presently the robber\nthought there was something strange in her ways. He laid his head in her\nlap, inviting her to perform the service so common in like cases. While\nshe was doing this, she could not but think how the robber had loved her\nand how he was about to be betrayed by her, and her remorseful tears\ndropped on his face. \"So you have told of me!\" cried the astute robber,\nspringing up. He cut off the children's heads and strung them on a\nwillow-twig before her eyes, and was now coming to her, when people\narrived, under the mother's conduct, who put a stop to his further\nrevenge, and took their own. See the note, M\u00fcllenhoff, p. 592 f.\n\n57 a. #D.# Insert: #d.# A stall-copy lent me by Mrs Alexander Forbes,\nLiberton, Edinburgh. (See p. 23, note \u00a7.)\n\n62 b. Insert after #c#:\n\n#d.#\n\n 1^{1,2}.\n Have ye not heard of fause Sir John,\n Wha livd in the west country?\n\n_After 2 a stanza nearly as in #b.#_\n\n5 _wanting._\n\n6^1. But he's taen a charm frae aff his arm.\n\n6^3. follow him.\n\n7^2. five hundred.\n\n7^3. the bravest horse.\n\n8^1. So merrily.\n\n8^4. Which is called Benan Bay.\n\n9, 11, _wanting._\n\n12^1. Cast aff, cast aff.\n\n12^4. To sink.\n\n13. _Nearly as in #b.#_\n\n 14.\n 'Cast aff thy coats and gay mantle,\n And smock o Holland lawn,\n For thei'r owre costly and owre guid\n To rot in the sea san.'\n\n 15.\n 'Then turn thee round, I pray, Sir John,\n See the leaf flee owre the tree,\n For it never befitted a book-learned man\n A naked lady to see.'\n\n_Sir John being a Dominican friar, according to the historical preface._\n\n 16.\n As fause Sir John did turn him round,\n To see the leaf flee owre the [tree],\n She grasped him in her arms sma,\n And flung him in the sea.\n\n 17.\n 'Now lie ye there, ye wild Sir John,\n Whar ye thought to lay me;\n Ye wad hae drownd me as naked 's I was born,\n But ye's get your claes frae me!'\n\n 18.\n Her jewels, costly, rich and rare,\n She straight puts on again;\n She lightly springs upon her horse,\n And leads his by the rein.\n\n21^3. O that's a foundling.\n\n 22.\n Then out and spake the green parrot,\n He says, Fair May Culzean,\n O what hae ye done wi yon brave knight?\n\n 23.\n 'Haud your tongue, my pretty parrot,\n An I'se be kind to thee;\n For where ye got ae handfu o groats,\n My parrot shall get three.'\n\n 25.\n 'There came a cat into my cage,\n Had nearly worried me,\n And I was calling on May Culzean\n To come and set me free.'\n\n27 _wanting_.\n\n28^3. Carleton sands.\n\n29^2. Was dashed.\n\n29^3. The golden ring.\n\n\n5. Gil Brenton.\n\n#P.# 62 a, last three lines. Read: said by Lockhart to be Miss Christian\nRutherford, his mother's half-sister.\n\n66 b, lines 2, 3. Read: 37 #G#, 38 #A#, #D#, and other versions of both.\n\n66 b, line 4. 'Bitte Mette,' Kristensen, Jyske Folkeminder, V, 57, No 7,\naffords another version.\n\n66 b, last line. For other cases of this substitution see Legrand,\nRecueil de Contes populaires grecs, p. 257, 'La Princesse et sa\nNourrice;' K\u00f6hler, Romania, XI, 581-84, 'Le conte de la reine qui tua\nson s\u00e9n\u00e9chal;' Neh-Manzer, ou Les Neuf Loges, conte, traduit du persan\npar M. Lescallier, G\u00e8nes, 1808, p. 55, 'Histoire du devin Afezzell.'\n(K\u00f6hler.) The last I have not seen.\n\n67 a, note [99], line 37. Read: a Scotch name.\n\n84 b. The same artifice is tried, and succeeds, in a case of birth\ndelayed by a man's clasping his hands round his knees, in Asbj\u00f8rnsen,\nNorske Huldre-Eventyr, I, 20, 2d ed.\n\n85 a, first paragraph. A story closely resembling Heywood's is told in\nthe Zimmerische Chronik, ed. Barack, IV, 262-64, 1882, of Heinrich von\nDierstein; Liebrecht in Germania XIV, 404. (K\u00f6hler.) As the author of\nthe chronicle remarks, the tale (Heywood's) is in the Malleus\nMaleficarum (1620, I, 158 f).\n\n85 a, third paragraph. Other cases resembling Gonzenbach, No 54, in\nPitr\u00e9, Fiabe, Novelle, etc., I, 173, No 18; Comparetti, Novelline\npopolari, No 33, p. 139. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n85, note. Add: (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n85 b. Birth is sought to be maliciously impeded in Swabia by crooking\ntogether the little fingers. Lammert, Volksmedizin in Bayern, etc., p.\n165. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n\n7. Earl Brand.\n\n#P.# 88. Add:\n\n#G.# 'Gude Earl Brand and Auld Carle Hude,' the Paisley Magazine, 1828,\np. 321, communicated by W. Motherwell.\n\n#H.# 'Auld Carle Hood, or, Earl Brand,' Campbell MSS, II, 32.\n\n#I.# 'The Douglas Tragedy,' 'Lord Douglas' Tragedy,' from an old-looking\nstall-copy, without place or date.\n\nThis ballad was, therefore, not first given to the world by Mr Robert\nBell, in 1857, but nearly thirty years earlier by Motherwell, in the\nsingle volume of the Paisley Magazine, a now somewhat scarce book. I am\nindebted for the information and for a transcript to Mr Murdoch, of\nGlasgow, and for a second copy to Mr Macmath, of Edinburgh.\n\n92 a. Add: #I.# 'Hildebrand,' Wigstr\u00f6m, Folkdiktning, II, 13. #J.#\n'Fr\u00f6ken Gyllenborg,' the same, p. 24.\n\n96 a. B\u00f6\u00f0var Bjarki, fighting with great effect as a huge bear for\nHr\u00f3lfr Kraki, is obliged to return to his ordinary shape in consequence\nof Hjalti, who misses the hero from the fight, mentioning his name: Saga\nHr\u00f3lfs Kraka, c. 50, Fornaldar S\u00f6gur, I, 101 ff. In Hj\u00e1lmt\u00e8rs ok \u00d6lvers\nSaga, c. 20, F. S. III, 506 f, H\u00f6r\u00f0r bids his comrades not call him by\nname while he is fighting, in form of a sword-fish, with a walrus, else\nhe shall die. A prince, under the form of an ox, fighting with a\nsix-headed giant, loses much of his strength, and is nigh being\nconquered, because a lad has, contrary to his prohibition, called him by\nname. Asbj\u00f8rnsen og Moe, Norske Folkeeventyr, 2d ed., p. 419. All these\nare cited by Moe, in Nordisk Tidskrift, 1879, p. 286 f. Certain kindly\ndomestic spirits renounce relations with men, even matrimonial, if their\nname becomes known: Mannhardt, Wald- und Feldkulte, I, 103.\n\n97 b. Insert: #Spanish.# Mil\u00e1, Romancerillo Catalan, 2d ed., No 206,\n#D#, p. 164: olivera y oliver\u00e1, which, when grown tall, join.\n\n#Servian.# Add: Karadshitch, I, 345, vv 225 ff, two pines, which\nintertwine. In #I# 309, No 421, they plant a rose over the maid, a vine\nover the man, which embrace as if they were Jani and Milenko. The ballad\nhas features of the Earl Brand class. (I, 239, No 341==Talvj, II, 85.)\n\n#Russian.# Hilferding, Onezhskya Byliny, col. 154, No 31, laburnum (?)\nover Basil, and cypress over Sophia, which intertwine; col. 696, No 134,\ncypress and willow; col. 1242, No 285, willow and cypress.\n\nLittle Russian (Carpathian Russians in Hungary), Golovatsky, II, 710, No\n13: John on one side of the church, Annie on the other; rosemary on his\ngrave, a lily on hers, growing so high as to meet over the church.\nAnnie's mother cuts them down. John speaks from the grave: Wicked\nmother, thou wouldst not let us _live_ together; let us rest together.\nGolovatsky, I, 186, No 8: a maple from the man's grave, white birch from\nthe woman's, which mingle their leaves.\n\n#Slovenian.# \u0160t\u00far, O n\u00e1rodnich P\u00edsn\u00edch a Pov\u011bstech Plemen\nslovansk\u00fdch, p. 51: the lovers are buried east and west, a rose springs\nfrom the man's grave, a lily from the maid's, which mingle their growth.\n\n#Wend.# Add: Haupt and Schmaler, II, 310, No 81.\n\n#Breton.# Add: Villemarqu\u00e9, Barzaz Breiz, 'Le Seigneur Nann et La F\u00e9e,'\nsee p. 379, note \u00a7, of this volume.\n\n98 a. #Armenian.# The ashes of two lovers who have been literally\nconsumed by a mutual passion are deposited by sympathetic hands in one\ngrave. Two rose bushes rise from the grave and seek to intertwine, but a\nthorn interposes and makes the union forever impossible. (The thorn is\n_creed_. The young man was a Tatar, and his religion had been an\ninsuperable obstacle in the eyes of the maid's father.) Baron von\nHaxthausen, Transkaukasia, I, 315 f. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\nA Middle High German poem from a MS. of the end of the 14th century,\nprinted in Haupt's Zeitschrift, VI, makes a vine rise from the common\ngrave of Pyramus and Thisbe and descend into it again: p. 517. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\nJ. Grimm notes several instances of this marvel (not from ballads),\nUeber Frauennamen aus Blumen, Kleinere Schriften, II, 379 f, note **.\n\n104.\n\n\nG\n\n The Paisley Magazine, June 2, 1828, p. 321, communicated\n by William Motherwell. \"Sung to a long, drawling,\n monotonous tune.\"\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n 'Gude Earl Brand, I long to see\n Faldee faldee fal deediddle a dee\n All your grey hounds running over the lea.'\n And the brave knights in the valley\n\n 2\n 'Gude lady fair, I have not a steed but one,\n But you shall ride and I shall run.'\n\n 3\n They're ower moss and they're ower mure,\n And they saw neither rich nor pure.\n\n 4\n Until that they came to auld Karl Hude;\n He's aye for ill and never for gude.\n\n 5\n 'Gude Earl Brand, if ye love me,\n Kill auld Karl Hude, and gar him die.'\n\n 6\n 'O fair ladie, we'll do better than sae:\n Gie him a penny, and let him gae.'\n\n 7\n 'Gude Earl Brand, whare hae ye been,\n Or whare hae ye stown this lady sheen?'\n\n 8\n 'She's not my lady, but my sick sister,\n And she's been at the wells of Meen.'\n\n 9\n 'If she was sick, and very sair,\n She wadna wear the red gold on her hair.\n\n 10\n 'Or if she were sick, and like to be dead,\n She wadna wear the ribbons red.'\n\n 11\n He cam till he cam to her father's gate,\n And he has rappit furious thereat.\n\n 12\n 'Where is the lady o this hall?'\n 'She's out wi her maidens, playing at the ball.'\n\n 13\n 'If you'll get me fyfteen wale wight men,\n Sae fast as I'll fetch her back again.'\n\n 14\n She's lookit ower her left collar-bane:\n 'O gude Earl Brand, we baith are taen,'\n\n 15\n 'Light down, light down, and hold my steed;\n Change never your cheer till ye see me dead.\n\n 16\n 'If they come on me man by man,\n I'll be very laith for to be taen.\n\n 17\n 'But if they come on me one and all,\n The sooner you will see me fall.'\n\n 18\n O he has killd them all but one,\n And wha was that but auld Karl Hude.\n\n 19\n And he has come on him behind,\n And put in him the deadly wound.\n\n 20\n O he has set his lady on,\n And he's come whistling all along.\n\n 21\n 'Gude Earl Brand, I see blood:'\n 'It's but the shade o my scarlet robe.'\n\n 22\n They cam till they cam to the water aflood;\n He's lighted down and he's wushen aff the blood.\n\n 23\n His mother walks the floor alone:\n 'O yonder does come my poor son.\n\n 24\n 'He is both murderd and undone,\n And all for the sake o an English loon.'\n\n 25\n 'Say not sae, my dearest mother,\n Marry her on my eldest brother.'\n\n 26\n She set her fit up to the wa,\n Faldee faldee fal deediddle adee\n She's fallen down dead amang them a'.\n And the brave knights o the valley\n\n\nH\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 32.\n\n 1\n Did you ever hear of good Earl Brand,\n Aye lally an lilly lally\n And the king's daughter of fair Scotland?\n And the braw knights o Airly\n\n 2\n She was scarce fifteen years of age\n When she came to Earl Brand's bed.\n Wi the braw knights o Airly\n\n 3\n 'O Earl Brand, I fain wad see\n Our grey hounds run over the lea.'\n Mang the braw bents o Airly\n\n 4\n 'O,' says Earl Brand, 'I've nae steads but one,\n And you shall ride and I shall run.'\n Oer the braw heights o Airly\n\n 5\n 'O,' says the lady, 'I hae three,\n And ye shall hae yeer choice for me.'\n Of the braw steeds o Airly\n\n 6\n So they lap on, and on they rade,\n Till they came to auld Carle Hood.\n Oer the braw hills o Airly\n\n 7\n Carl Hood's aye for ill, and he's no for good,\n He's aye for ill, and he's no for good.\n Mang the braw hills o Airly\n\n 8\n 'Where hae ye been hunting a' day,\n And where have ye stolen this fair may?'\n I' the braw nights sae airly\n\n 9\n 'She is my sick sister dear,\n New comd home from another sister.'\n I the braw nights sae early\n\n 10\n 'O,' says the lady, 'if ye love me,\n Gie him a penny fee and let him gae.'\n I the braw nights sae early\n\n 11\n He's gane home to her father's bower,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 12\n 'Where is the lady o this ha?'\n 'She's out wi the young maids, playing at the ba.'\n I the braw nights so early\n\n 13\n 'No,' says another, 'she's riding oer the moor,\n And a' to be Earl Brand's whore.'\n I the braw nights so early\n\n 14\n The king mounted fifteen weel armed men,\n A' to get Earl Brand taen.\n I the braw hills so early\n\n 15\n The lady looked over her white horse mane:\n 'O Earl Brand, we will be taen.'\n In the braw hills so early\n\n 16\n He says, If they come one by one,\n Ye'll no see me so soon taen.\n In the braw hills so early\n\n 17\n So they came every one but one,\n And he has killd them a' but ane.\n In the braw hills so early\n\n 18\n And that one came behind his back,\n And gave Earl Brand a deadly stroke.\n In the braw hills of Airly\n\n 19\n For as sair wounded as he was,\n He lifted the lady on her horse.\n In the braw nights so early\n\n 20\n 'O Earl Brand, I see thy heart's bluid!'\n 'It's but the shadow of my scarlet robe.'\n I the braw nights so early\n\n 21\n He came to his mother's home;\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 22\n She looked out and cryd her son was gone,\n And a' for the sake [of] an English loon.\n . . . . . . .\n\n 23\n 'What will I do wi your lady fair?'\n 'Marry her to my eldest brother.'\n The brawest knight i Airly\n\n21^1. to her.\n\n21^1, 22 _are written as one stanza_.\n\n\nI\n\n A stall-copy lent me by Mrs Alexander Forbes, Liberton,\n Edinburgh.\n\n 1\n 'Rise up, rise up, Lord Douglas,' she said,\n 'And draw to your arms so bright;\n Let it never be said a daughter of yours\n Shall go with a lord or a knight.\n\n 2\n 'Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,\n And draw to your armour so bright;\n Let it never be said a sister of yours\n Shall go with a lord or a knight.'\n\n 3\n He looked over his left shoulder,\n To see what he could see,\n And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold,\n And her father that lov'd her tenderly.\n\n 4\n 'Light down, light down, Lady Margret,' he said,\n 'And hold my steed in thy hand,\n That I may go fight with your seven brethren bold,\n And your father who's just at hand.'\n\n 5\n O there she stood, and bitter she stood,\n And never did shed a tear,\n Till once she saw her seven brethren slain,\n And her father she lovd so dear.\n\n 6\n 'Hold, hold your hand, William,' she said,\n 'For thy strokes are wondrous sore;\n For sweethearts I may get many a one,\n But a father I neer will get more.'\n\n 7\n She took out a handkerchief of holland so fine\n And wip'd her father's bloody wound,\n Which ran more clear than the red wine,\n And forked on the cold ground.\n\n 8\n 'O chuse you, chuse you, Margret,' he said,\n 'Whether you will go or bide!'\n 'I must go with you, Lord William,' she said,\n 'Since you've left me no other guide.'\n\n 9\n He lifted her on a milk-white steed,\n And himself on a dapple grey,\n With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side,\n And they slowly both rode away.\n\n 10\n Away they rode, and better they rode,\n Till they came to yonder sand,\n Till once they came to yon river side,\n And there they lighted down.\n\n 11\n They lighted down to take a drink\n Of the spring that ran so clear,\n And there she spy'd his bonny heart's blood,\n A running down the stream.\n\n 12\n 'Hold up, hold up, Lord William,' she says,\n 'For I fear that you are slain;'\n ''T is nought but the shade of my scarlet clothes,\n That is sparkling down the stream.'\n\n 13\n He lifted her on a milk-white steed,\n And himself on a dapple grey,\n With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side,\n And slowly they rode away.\n\n 14\n Ay they rode, and better they rode,\n Till they came to his mother's bower;\n Till once they came to his mother's bower,\n And down they lighted there.\n\n 15\n 'O mother, mother, make my bed,\n And make it saft and fine,\n And lay my lady close at my back,\n That I may sleep most sound.'\n\n 16\n Lord William he died eer middle o the night,\n Lady Margret long before the morrow;\n Lord William he died for pure true love,\n And Lady Margret died for sorrow.\n\n 17\n Lord William was bury'd in Lady Mary's kirk,\n The other in Saint Mary's quire;\n Out of William's grave sprang a red rose,\n And out of Margret's a briar.\n\n 18\n And ay they grew, and ay they threw,\n As they wad fain been near;\n And by this you may ken right well\n They were twa lovers dear.\n\n105 b. #D.# 10. For Kinlock (twice) read Kinloch; and read I, 330.\n\nThe stanza cited is found in Kinloch MSS, VII, 95 and 255.\n\n107 b. There is possibly a souvenir of Walter in Su\u0161il, p. 105, No\n107. A man and woman are riding on one horse in the mountains. He asks\nher to sing. Her song is heard by robbers, who come, intending to kill\nhim and carry her off. He bids her go under a maple-tree, kills twelve,\nand spares one, to carry the booty home.\n\n\n#9. The Fair Flower of Northumberland.#\n\nP. 111 a. #B b#, as prepared by Kinloch for printing, is found in\nKinloch MSS, VII, 105.\n\nAdd: #F.# 'The Fair Flower of Northumberland,' Gibb MS., No 8.\n\n117.\n\n\nF\n\n Gibb MS., No 8: 'The Fair Flower o Northumberland,' from\n Jeannie Stirling, a young girl, as learned from her\n grandmother.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n She stole the keys from her father's bed-head,\n O but her love it was easy won!\n She opened the gates, she opened them wide,\n She let him out o the prison strong.\n\n 2\n She went into her father's stable,\n O but her love it was easy won!\n She stole a steed that was both stout and strong,\n To carry him hame frae Northumberland.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n 'I'll be cook in your kitchen,\n Noo sure my love has been easy won!\n I'll serve your own lady with hat an with hand,\n For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.'\n\n 4\n 'I need nae cook in my kitchin,\n O but your love it was easy won!\n Ye'll serve not my lady with hat or with hand,\n For ye maun gae back to Northumberland.'\n\n 5\n When she gaed hame, how her father did ban!\n 'O but your love it was easy won!\n A fair Scottish girl, not sixteen years old,\n Was once the fair flower o Northumberland!'\n\n\n10. The Twa Sisters.\n\nPage 118 b. #K# is found in Kinloch MSS, VII, 256.\n\nAdd: #V.# 'Benorie,' Campbell MSS, II, 88.\n\n#W.# 'Norham, down by Norham,' communicated by Mr Thomas Lugton, of\nKelso.\n\n#X.# 'Binnorie,' Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1, 1830, p. 7,\none stanza.\n\n#Y.# Communicated to Percy by Rev. P. Parsons, April 7, 1770.\n\n119 a. Note [127], first line. Read: I, 315.\n\n120 a, first paragraph. \"A very rare but very stupid modern adaptation,\nfounded on the tradition as told in Sm\u00e5land, appeared in G\u00f6theborg,\n1836, small 8vo, pp 32: Antiquiteter i Thorskinge. Fornminnet eller\nKummel-Runan, tolkande Systersveket Br\u00f6llopps-dagen.\" The author was C.\nG. Lindblom, a Swedish priest. The first line is:\n\n \"En N\u00e4skonung bodde p\u00e5 Illvedens fj\u00e4ll.\"\n\n Professor George Stephens.\n\n120 a. Note [129], lines 3, 4. Read: and in 14, 15, calls the drowned girl\n\"the bonnie miller's lass o Binorie,\" meaning the bonnie miller o\nBinorie's lass.\n\n124 a, last paragraph. A drowned girl grows up on the sea-strand as a\nlinden with nine branches: from the ninth her brother carves a harp.\n\"Sweet the tone,\" he says, as he plays. The mother calls out through her\ntears, So sang my youngest daughter. G. Tillemann, in Livona, ein\nhistorisch-poetisches Taschenbuch, Riga u. Dorpat, 1812, p. 187, Ueber\ndie Volkslieder der Letten. Dr R. K\u00f6hler points out to me a version of\nthis ballad given with a translation by Bishop Carl Chr. Ulmann in the\nDorpater Jahrb\u00fccher, II, 404, 1834, 'Die Lindenharfe,' and another by\nPastor Karl Ulmann in his Lettische Volkslieder, \u00fcbertragen, 1874, p.\n199, No 18, 'Das Lied von der J\u00fcngsten.' In the former of these the\nbrother says, Sweet sounds my linden harp! The mother, weeping, It is\nnot the linden harp; it is thy sister's soul that has swum through the\nwater to us; it is the voice of my youngest daughter.\n\n124 b, first paragraph. In Bohemian, 'Zaklet\u00e1 dcera,' 'The Daughter\nCursed,' Erben, 1864, p. 466 (with other references); Moravian,\nSu\u0161il, p. 143, No 146. Dr R. K\u00f6hler further refers to Peter,\nVolksth\u00fcmliches aus \u00d6sterreichisch-Schlesien, I, 209, 'Die drei\nSpielleute;' Meinert, p. 122, 'Die Erle;' Vernaleken, Alpensagen, p.\n289, No 207, 'Der Ahornbaum.'\n\n125 b. Add to the citations: 'Le Sifflet enchant\u00e9,' E. Cosquin, Contes\npopulaires lorrains, No 26, Romania, VI, 565, with annotations, pp 567\nf; K\u00f6hler's Nachtr\u00e4ge in Zeitschrift f\u00fcr romanische Philologie, II, 350\nf; Engelien u. Lahn, Der Volksmund in der Mark Brandenburg, I, 105, 'Di\u00e4\n3 Br\u00fc\u00f6der;' S\u00e9billot, Litt\u00e9rature orale de la Haute-Bretagne, p. 220,\nLes Trois Fr\u00e8res, p. 226, 'Le Sifflet qui parle.' (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n132. #I.# 10^2. Read: for water.\n\n#K.# Say: Kinloch MSS, VII, 256.\n\n1^2. And I'll gie the hail o my father's land.\n\n2. The first tune that the bonnie fiddle playd, 'Hang my sister Alison,'\nit said.\n\n3. 'I wad gie you.'\n\n136 a. #R b.# Read: Lanarkshire.\n\n\nV\n\n Campbell MS., II, 88.\n\n 1\n There dwelt twa sisters in a bower,\n Benorie, O Benorie\n The youngest o them was the fairest flower.\n In the merry milldams o Benorie\n\n 2\n There cam a wooer them to woo,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 3\n He's gien the eldest o them a broach and a real,\n Because that she loved her sister weel.\n At etc.\n\n 4\n He's gien the eldest a gay penknife,\n He loved the youngest as dear as his life.\n At etc.\n\n 5\n 'O sister, O sister, will ye go oer yon glen,\n And see my father's ships coming in?'\n At etc.\n\n 6\n 'O sister dear, I darena gang,\n Because I'm feard ye throw me in.'\n The etc.\n\n 7\n 'O set your foot on yon sea stane,\n And was yeer hands in the sea foam.'\n At etc.\n\n 8\n She set her foot on yon sea stane,\n To wash her hands in the sea foam.\n At etc.\n\n 9\n . . . . . . .\n But the eldest has thrown the youngest in.\n The etc.\n\n 10\n 'O sister, O sister, lend me your hand,\n And ye'se get William and a' his land.'\n At etc.\n\n 11\n The miller's daughter cam out clad in red,\n Seeking water to bake her bread.\n At etc.\n\n 12\n 'O father, O father, gae fish yeer mill-dam,\n There's either a lady or a milk-[white] swan.'\n In etc.\n\n 13\n The miller cam out wi his lang cleek,\n And he cleekit the lady out by the feet.\n From the bonny milldam, etc.\n\n 14\n Ye wadna kend her pretty feet,\n The American leather was sae neat.\n In etc.\n\n 15\n Ye wadna kend her pretty legs,\n The silken stockings were so neat tied.\n In etc.\n\n 16\n Ye wadna kend her pretty waist,\n The silken stays were sae neatly laced.\n In etc.\n\n 17\n Ye wadna kend her pretty face,\n It was sae prettily preend oer wi lace.\n In etc.\n\n 18\n Ye wadna kend her yellow hair,\n It was sae besmeared wi dust and glar.\n In etc.\n\n 19\n By cam her father's fiddler fine,\n And that lady's spirit spake to him.\n From etc.\n\n 20\n She bad him take three taits o her hair,\n And make them three strings to his fiddle sae rare.\n At etc.\n\n 21\n 'Take two of my fingers, sae lang and sae white,\n And make them pins to your fiddle sae neat.'\n At etc.\n\n 22\n The ae first spring that the fiddle played\n Was, Cursed be Sir John, my ain true-love.\n At etc.\n\n 23\n The next spring that the fiddle playd\n Was, Burn burd Hellen, she threw me in.\n The etc.\n\n2, 3. _In the MS. thus_:\n\n There came ...\n Benorie ...\n He's gien ...\n At the merry ...\n Because that ...\n At the merry ...\n\n8, 9. _In the MS. thus_:\n\n She set ...\n Benorie ...\n To wash ...\n At the ...\n But the eldest ...\n The bonny ...\n\n_From 18 on, the burden is_\n\n O Benorie, O Benorie.\n\n\nW\n\n Communicated by Mr Thomas Lugton, of Kelso, as sung by an\n old cotter-woman fifty years ago; learned by her from her\n grandfather.\n\n 1\n Ther were three ladies playing at the ba,\n Norham, down by Norham\n And there cam a knight to view them a'.\n By the bonnie mill-dams o Norham\n\n 2\n He courted the aldest wi diamonds and rings,\n But he loved the youngest abune a' things.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n 'Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your hand,\n And pull my poor body unto dry land.\n\n 4\n 'Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your glove,\n And you shall have my own true love!'\n\n 5\n Oot cam the miller's daughter upon Tweed,\n To carry in water to bake her bread.\n\n 6\n 'Oh father, oh father, there's a fish in your dam;\n It either is a lady or a milk-white swan.'\n\n 7\n Oot cam the miller's man upon Tweed,\n And there he spied a lady lying dead.\n\n 8\n He could not catch her by the waist,\n For her silken stays they were tight laced.\n\n 9\n But he did catch her by the hand,\n And pulled her poor body unto dry land.\n\n 10\n He took three taets o her bonnie yellow hair,\n To make harp strings they were so rare.\n\n 11\n The very first tune that the bonnie harp played\n Was The aldest has cuisten the youngest away.\n\n\nX\n\n Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1, 1830, p. 7.\n\n I see a lady in the dam,\n Binnorie, oh Binnorie\n She shenes as sweet as ony swan.\n I the bonny milldams o Binnorie\n\n\nY\n\n Communicated to Percy, April 7, 1770, and April 19, 1775,\n by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, near Ashford, Kent: \"taken\n down from the mouth of the spinning-wheel, if I may be\n allowed the expression.\"\n\n 1\n There was a king lived in the North Country,\n Hey down down dery down\n There was a king lived in the North Country,\n And the bough it was bent to me\n There was a king lived in the North Country,\n And he had daughters one, two, three.\n I'll prove true to my love,\n If my love will prove true to me.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 2\n He gave the eldest a gay gold ring,\n But he gave the younger a better thing.\n\n 3\n He bought the younger a beaver hat;\n The eldest she thought much of that.\n\n 4\n 'Oh sister, oh sister, let us go run,\n To see the ships come sailing along!'\n\n 5\n And when they got to the sea-side brim,\n The eldest pushed the younger in.\n\n 6\n 'Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your hand,\n I'll make you heir of my house and land.'\n\n 7\n 'I'll neither lend you my hand nor my glove,\n Unless you grant me your true-love.'\n\n 8\n Then down she sunk and away she swam,\n Untill she came to the miller's mill-dam.\n\n 9\n The miller's daughter sat at the mill-door,\n As fair as never was seen before.\n\n 10\n 'Oh father, oh father, there swims a swan,\n Or else the body of a dead woman.'\n\n 11\n The miller he ran with his fishing hook,\n To pull the fair maid out o the brook.\n\n 12\n 'Wee'll hang the miller upon the mill-gate,\n For drowning of my sister Kate.'\n\n139a. #K.# _~I wad give you~, is the beginning of a new stanza (as seen\nabove)._\n\n141b. #S.# Read: 1^3. _MS._, Orless.\n\n\n11. The Cruel Brother.\n\nP. 141. #B, I.# Insert the title,'The Cruel Brother.'\n\nAdd: #L.# 'The King of Fairies,' Campbell MSS, II, 19.\n\n#M.# 'The Roses grow sweet aye,' Campbell MSS, II, 26.\n\n#N.# 'The Bride's Testamen,' Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1,\n1830, one stanza.\n\n142 b, second paragraph, lines 5, 6. Say: on the way kisses her arm,\nneck, and mouth.\n\nAdd, as varieties of 'Rizzardo bello:'\n\n#B.# 'Luggieri,' Contado aretino, communicated by Giulio Salvatori to\nthe Rassegna Settimanale, Rome, 1879, June 22, No 77, p. 485; reprinted\nin Romania, XI, 391, note.\n\n#C.# 'Rizz\u00f4l d'Amor,' Guerrini, Alcuni Canti p. romagnoli, p. 3, 1880.\n\n#D.# 'La Canz\u00f3ne de 'Nuc\u00e9nzie,' Pitr\u00e9 e Salomone-Marino, Archivio per\nTradizioni popolari, I, 213, 1882.\n\n143. Slavic ballads resembling 'Graf Friedrich.'\n\nMoravian, Su\u0161il, 'Ne\u0161t'astna svatba,' 'The Unhappy Wedding,' No\n89, c, d, pp 85 f. A bridegroom is bringing home his bride; his sword\nslips from the sheath and wounds the bride in the side. He binds up the\nwound, and begs her to hold out till she comes to the house. The bride\ncan eat nothing, and dies in the night. Her mother comes in the morning\nwith loads of cloth and feathers, is put off when she asks for her\ndaughter, reproaches the bridegroom for having killed her; he pleads his\ninnocence.\n\nServian. Karadshitch, I, 309, No 421, 'Jani and Milenko,' belongs to\nthis class, though mixed with portions of at least one other ballad\n('Earl Brand'). Milenko wooes the fair Jani, and is favored by her\nmother and by all her brothers but the youngest. This brother goes\nhunting, and bids Jani open to nobody while he is away, but Milenko\ncarries her off on his horse. As they are riding over a green hill, a\nbranch of a tree catches in Jani's dress. Milenko attempts to cut the\nbranch off with his knife, but in so doing wounds Jani in the head. Jani\nbinds up the wound, and they go on, and presently meet the youngest\nbrother, who hails Milenko, asks where he got the fair maid, discovers\nthe maid to be his sister, but bids her Godspeed. On reaching his\nmother's house, Milenko asks that a bed may be prepared for Jani, who is\nin need of repose. Jani dies in the night, Milenko in the morning. They\nare buried in one grave; a rose is planted over her, a grape-vine over\nhim, and these intertwine, \"as it were Jani with Milenko.\"\n\n143 b, after the first paragraph. A pallikar, who is bringing home his\nbride, is detained on the way in consequence of his whole train leaving\nhim to go after a stag. The young man, who has never seen his bride's\nface, reaches over his horse to give her a kiss; his knife disengages\nitself and wounds her. She begs him to staunch the blood with his\nhandkerchief, praying only to live to see her bridegroom's house. This\nwish is allowed her; she withdraws the handkerchief from the wound and\nexpires. Dozon, Chansons p. bulgares, 'Le baiser fatal,' p. 270, No 49.\n\n143 b, sixth line of the third paragraph. Read: 'Lord Randal.'\n\n144 a, line 4. 'Catarina de Li\u00f3;' in Mil\u00e1, Romancerillo Catalan, 2d ed.,\nNo 307, p. 291, 'Trato feroz,' seven versions.\n\nLine 15. Cf. Blad\u00e9, Po\u00e9sies p. de la Gascogne, II, 51.\n\n144 b, first paragraph. A mother, not liking her son's wife, puts before\nhim a glass of mead, and poison before the wife. God exchanges them, and\nthe son drinks the poison. The son makes his will. To his brother he\nleaves four black horses, to his sister four cows and four calves, to\nhis wife a house. \"And to me?\" the mother asks. \"To you that big stone\nand the deep Danube, because you have poisoned me and parted me from my\nbeloved.\" Su\u0161il,' Matka travi\u010dka,' pp 154, 155, No 157, two\nversions.\n\n144 b, second paragraph. 'El testamento de Amelia,' No 220, p. 185, of\nthe second edition of Romancerillo Catalan, with readings of eleven\nother copies, #A-F#, #A_{1}-F_{1}#. In #B_{1}# only have we an ill\nbequest to the mother. After leaving her mother a rosary, upon the\nmother's asking again, What for me? the dying lady says, I will leave\nyou my chopines, clogs, so that when you come downstairs they may break\nyour neck.\n\nThere are testaments in good will also in 'Elveskud,' Grundtvig, No 47,\nIV, 836 ff, #L# 14, 15, #M# 17, #O# 17-19.\n\n151.\n\n\nL\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 19.\n\n 1\n There were three ladies playing at the ba,\n With a hey and a lilly gay\n When the King o Fairies rode by them a'.\n And the roses they grow sweetlie\n\n 2\n The foremost one was clad in blue;\n He askd at her if she'd be his doo.\n\n 3\n The second of them was clad in red;\n He askd at her if she'd be his bride.\n\n 4\n The next of them was clad in green;\n He askd at her if she'd be his queen.\n\n 5\n 'Go you ask at my father then,\n And you may ask at my mother then.\n\n 6\n 'You may ask at my sister Ann,\n And not forget my brother John.'\n\n 7\n 'O I have askd at your father then,\n And I have askd at your mother then.\n\n 8\n 'And I have askd at your sister Ann,\n But I've quite forgot your brother John.'\n\n 9\n Her father led her down the stair,\n Her mother combd down her yellow hair.\n\n 10\n Her sister Ann led her to the cross,\n And her brother John set her on her horse.\n\n 11\n 'Now you are high and I am low,\n Give me a kiss before ye go.'\n\n 12\n She's lootit down to gie him a kiss,\n He gave her a deep wound and didna miss.\n\n 13\n And with a penknife as sharp as a dart,\n And he has stabbit her to the heart.\n\n 14\n 'Ride up, ride up,' says the foremost man,\n 'I think our bride looks pale an wan.'\n\n 15\n 'Ride up, ride up,' says the middle man,\n 'I see her heart's blude trinkling down.'\n\n 16\n 'Ride on, ride,' says the Fairy King,\n 'She will be dead lang ere we win hame.'\n\n 17\n 'O I wish I was at yonder cross,\n Where my brother John put me on my horse.\n\n 18\n 'I wish I was at yonder thorn,\n I wad curse the day that ere I was born.\n\n 19\n 'I wish I was at yon green hill,\n Then I wad sit and bleed my fill.'\n\n 20\n 'What will you leave your father then? '\n 'The milk-white steed that I ride on.'\n\n 21\n 'What will you leave your mother then?'\n 'My silver Bible and my golden fan.'\n\n 22\n 'What will ye leave your sister Ann?'\n 'My good lord, to be married on.'\n\n 23\n 'What will ye leave your sister Pegg?'\n 'The world wide to go and beg.'\n\n 24\n 'What will you leave your brother John? '\n 'The gallows-tree to hang him on.'\n\n 25\n 'What will you leave your brother's wife?'\n 'Grief and sorrow to end her life.'\n\n_Burden in all but 1, 2, 13, ~lilly hey~; in 16, 17, 18, ~spring\nsweetlie~; in 22, ~smell sweetlie~._\n\n\nM\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 26.\n\n 1\n There was three ladies playing at the ba,\n With a hay and a lilly gay\n A gentleman cam amang them a'.\n And the roses grow sweet aye\n\n 2\n The first of them was clad in yellow,\n And he askd at her gin she'd be his marrow.\n\n 3\n The next o them was clad in green;\n He askd at her gin she'd be his queen.\n\n 4\n The last o them [was] clad in red;\n He askd at her gin she'd be his bride.\n\n 5\n 'Have ye asked at my father dear?\n Or have ye asked my mother dear?\n\n 6\n 'Have ye asked my sister Ann?\n Or have ye asked my brother John?'\n\n 7\n 'I have asked yer father dear,\n And I have asked yer mother dear.\n\n 8\n 'I have asked yer sister Ann,\n But I've quite forgot your brother John.'\n\n 9\n Her father dear led her thro them a',\n Her mother dear led her thro the ha.\n\n 10\n Her sister Ann led her thro the closs,\n And her brother John stabbed her on her horse.\n\n 11\n 'Ride up, ride up,' says the foremost man,\n 'I think our bride looks pale and wan.'\n\n 12\n 'Ride up,' cries the bonny bridegroom,\n 'I think the bride be bleeding.'\n\n 13\n 'This is the bludy month of May,\n Me and my horse bleeds night and day.\n\n 14\n 'O an I were at yon green hill,\n I wad ly down and bleed a while.\n\n 15\n 'O gin I was at yon red cross,\n I wad light down and corn my horse.\n\n 16\n 'O an I were at yon kirk-style,\n I wad lye down and soon be weel.'\n\n 17\n When she cam to yon green hill,\n Then she lay down and bled a while.\n\n 18\n And when she cam to yon red cross,\n Then she lighted and corned her horse.\n\n 19\n 'What will ye leave your father dear?'\n 'My milk-white steed, which cost me dear.'\n\n 20\n 'What will ye leave your mother dear?'\n 'The bludy clothes that I do wear.'\n\n 21\n 'What will ye leave your sister Ann?'\n 'My silver bridle and my golden fan.'\n\n 22\n 'What will ye leave your brother John?'\n 'The gallows-tree to hang him on.'\n\n 23\n 'What will ye leave to your sister Pegg?'\n 'The wide world for to go and beg.'\n\n 24\n When she came to yon kirk-style,\n Then she lay down, and soon was weel.\n\n15^1. green cross.\n\n17^2. bleed.\n\n\nN\n\n Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1, 1830, No 4.\n\n Then out bespak the foremost priest:\n Wi a heigh ho and a lilly gay\n I think she's bleedin at the breast.\n The flowers they spring so sweetly\n\n\n12. Lord Randal.\n\nP. 151.\n\n#B.# Add: Kinloch MSS, VII, 89.\n\n#D.# Read: #a.# 'Lord Randal,' Minstrelsy, etc. #b.# 'Lord Rannal,'\nCampbell MSS, II, 269.\n\n#I.# Add: #h.# Communicated by Mr George M. Richardson. #i.#\nCommunicated by Mr George L. Kittredge.\n\n#K. b.# Insert after Popular Rhymes: 1826, p. 295. Add: #d.# 'The\nCrowdin Dou,' Kinloch MSS, I, 184.\n\nAdd: #P.# 'Lord Ronald, my son,' communicated by Mr Macmath, of\nEdinburgh.\n\n#Q.# 'Lord Randal,' Pitcairn's MSS, III, 19.\n\n#R.# 'Little wee toorin dow,' Pitcairn's MSS, III, 13, from tradition.\n\n153 a. I failed to mention, though I had duly noted them, three versions\nof 'L'Avvelenato,' which are cited by Professor D'Ancona in his Poesia\npopolare Italiana, pp 106 ff.\n\n#D.# The Canon Lorenzo Panciatichi refers to the ballad in a 'Cicalata\nin lode della Padella e della Frittura,' recited at the Crusca,\nSeptember 24, 1656, and in such manner as shows that it was well known.\nHe quotes the first question of the mother, \"Dove andast\u00f9 a cena,\" etc.\nTo this the son answered, he says, that he had been poisoned with a\nroast eel: and the mother asking what the lady had cooked it in, the\nreply was, In the oil pot.\n\n#E.# A version obtained by D'Ancona from the singing of a young fellow\nfrom near Pisa, of which the first four stanzas are given. Some verses\nafter these are lost, for the testament is said to supervene\nimmediately.\n\n#F.# A version from Lecco, which has the title, derived from its burden,\n'De lu cavalieri e figliu de re,' A. Trifone Nutricati Briganti, Intorno\nai Canti e Racconti popolari del Leccese p. 17. The first four stanzas\nare cited, and it appears from these that the prince had cooked the eel\nhimself, and, appropriately, in a gold pan.\n\n154 a, first paragraph. #F# is given by Meltzl, Acta Comparationis,\n1880, columns 143 f, in another dialect.\n\n154 b. #Magyar.# The original of this ballad, 'A meg\u00e9tett J\u00e1nos,'\n'Poisoned John' (as would appear, in the Szekler idiom), was discovered\nby the Unitarian bishop Kriza, of Klausenburg, and was published by him\nin J. Arany's 'Koszoru,' in 1864. It is more exactly translated by\nMeltzl in the Acta Comparationis Litterarum Universarum, 1880, VII,\ncolumns 30 f, the original immediately preceding. Aigner has omitted the\nsecond stanza, and made the third into two, in his translation. The\nSzekler has ten two-line stanzas, with the burden, Ah, my bowels are on\nfire! Ah, make ready my bed! In the second stanza John says he has eaten\na four-footed crab; in the sixth he leaves his elder brother his yoke of\noxen; in the seventh he leaves his team of four horses to his younger\nbrother. Also translated in Ungarische Revue, 1883, p. 139, by G.\nHeinrich.\n\n#B#, another Szekler version, taken down by Meltzl from the mouth of a\ngirl, is in seven two-line stanzas, with the burden, Make my bed, sweet\nmother! 'J\u00e1nos,' Acta, cols 140 f, with a German translation. John has\nbeen at his sister-in-law's, and had a stuffed chicken and a big cake.\nAt his elder sister's they gave him the back of the axe, bloody stripes.\nHe bequeaths to his elder sister remorse and sickness; to his\nsister-in-law six oxen and his wagon; to his father illness and poverty;\nto his mother kindness and beggary.\n\n156 b, second paragraph. Polish: add Roger, p. 66, No 119. Add further:\nLittle Russian, Golovatsky, Part I, pp 206, 207, 209, Nos 32, 33, 35.\nMasovian, Kozlowski, No 14, p. 52, p. 53. (Sacharof, IV,\n7==\u010celakovsk\u00fd, III, 108.)\n\n157 a, second paragraph. Kaden translates Nannarelli, p. 52. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n157 b. Italian #A# is translated by Evelyn Carrington in The Antiquary,\nIII, 156 f. #D# also by Freiligrath, II, 226, ed. Stuttgart, 1877.\n\n158 a. #B.# Found in Kinloch MSS, VII, 89. The sixth stanza is not\nthere, and was probably taken from Scott, #D#.\n\n160 a. #D.# Read: #a.# Minstrelsy, etc. #b.# Campbell MSS, II, 269.\n\n163 a. #I.# Add: #h.# By Mr George M. Richardson, as learned by a lady\nin Southern New Hampshire, about fifty years ago, from an aged aunt.\n#i.# By Mr George L. Kittredge, obtained from a lady in Exeter, N. H.\n\n164 a. #K.# Insert under #b#, after Scotland: 1826, p. 295. Add: #d.#\nKinloch MSS, I, 184.\n\n164 b. #K# 6^2. Read: head and his feet.\n\n165.\n\n\nP\n\n Communicated by Mr Macmath, of Edinburgh, as derived from\n his aunt, Miss Jane Webster, formerly of Airds of Kells,\n now (January, 1883) of Dalry, Kirkcudbrightshire, who\n learned it more than fifty years ago from Mary Williamson,\n then a nurse-maid at Airds.\n\n 1\n 'Where hae ye been a' day, Lord Ronald, my son?\n Where hae ye been a' day, my handsome young one?'\n 'I've been in the wood hunting; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.'\n\n 2\n 'O where did you dine, Lord Ronald, my son?\n O where did you dine, my handsome young one?'\n 'I dined with my sweetheart; mother, make my bed soon,\n For I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.'\n\n 3\n 'What got you to dine on, Lord Ronald, my son?\n What got you to dine on, my handsome young one?'\n 'I got eels boiled in water that in heather doth run,\n And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.'\n\n 4\n 'What did she wi the broo o them, Lord Ronald, my son?\n What did she wi the broo o them, my handsome young one?'\n 'She gave it to my hounds for to live upon,\n And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.'\n\n 5\n 'Where are your hounds now, Lord Ronald, my son?\n Where are your hounds now, my handsome young one?'\n 'They are a' swelled and bursted, and sae will I soon,\n And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.'\n\n 6\n 'What will you leave your father, Lord Ronald, my son?\n What will you leave your father, my handsome young one?'\n 'I'll leave him my lands for to live upon,\n And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.'\n\n 7\n 'What will you leave your brother, Lord Ronald, my son?\n What will you leave your brother, my handsome young one?'\n 'I'll leave him my gallant steed for to ride upon,\n And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.'\n\n 8\n 'What will you leave your sister, Lord Ronald, my son?\n What will you leave your sister, my handsome young one?'\n 'I'll leave her my gold watch for to look upon,\n And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.'\n\n 9\n 'What will you leave your mother, Lord Ronald, my son?\n What will you leave your mother, my handsome young one?'\n 'I'll leave her my Bible for to read upon,\n And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain would lie doun.'\n\n 10\n 'What will you leave your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?\n What will you leave your sweetheart, my handsome young one?'\n 'I'll leave her the gallows-tree for to hang upon,\n It was her that poisoned me;' and so he fell doun.\n\n\nQ\n\n Pitcairn's MSS, III, 19. \"This was communicated to me by\n my friend Patrick Robertson, Esq., Advocate,[427] who\n heard it sung by an old lady in the North Country; and\n though by no means enthusiastic about popular poetry, it\n struck him so forcibly that he requested her to repeat it\n slowly, so as he might write it down.\" Stanzas 2-5 \"were\n very much similar to the set in Scott's Minstrelsy,\" and\n were not taken down.\n\n 1\n 'O whare hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?\n O whare hae ye been, my handsome young man?'\n 'Oer the peat moss mang the heather, mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.'\n\n 6\n 'What leave ye to your father, Lord Randal, my son?\n What leave ye to your father, my handsome young man?'\n 'I leave my houses and land, mother, mak my bed soon,\n For I'm weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.'\n\n 7\n 'What leave ye to your brother, Lord Randal, my son?\n What leave ye to your brother, my handsome young man?'\n 'O the guid milk-white steed that I rode upon,\n For I'm weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.'\n\n 8\n 'What leave ye to your true-love, Lord Randal, my son?\n What leave ye to your true-love, my handsome young man?'\n 'O a high, high gallows, to hang her upon,\n For I'm weary, weary hunting, and fain wad lie down.'\n\n\nR\n\n Pitcairn's MSS, III, 11. \"From tradition: widow\n Stevenson.\"\n\n 1\n 'Whare hae ye been a' day, my little wee toorin dow?'\n 'It's I've been at my grandmammy's; mak my bed, mammy, now.'\n\n 2\n 'And what did ye get frae your grandmammy, my little wee toorin dow?'\n 'It's I got a wee bit fishy to eat; mak my bed, mammy, now.'\n\n 3\n 'An what did ye do wi the banes o it, my little wee toorin dow?'\n 'I gied it to my black doggy to eat; mak my bed, mammy, now.'\n\n 4\n 'An what did your little black doggy do syne, my little wee toorin\n dow?'\n 'He shot out his head, and his feet, and he died; as I do, mammy, now.'\n\n\nS\n\n Communicated to Percy by Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, near\n Ashford, Kent, April 19, 1775: taken down by a friend of\n Mr Parsons \"from the spinning-wheel, in Suffolk.\"\n\n 1\n 'Where have you been today, Randall, my son?\n Where have you been today, my only man?'\n 'I have been a hunting, mother, make my bed soon,\n For I'm sick at the heart, fain woud lie down.\n Dear sister, hold my head, dear mother, make my bed,\n I am sick at the heart, fain woud lie down.'\n\n 2\n 'What have you eat today, Randal, my son?\n What have you eat today, my only man?'\n 'I have eat an eel; mother, make,' etc.\n\n 3\n 'What was the colour of it, Randal, my son?\n What was the colour of it, my only man?'\n 'It was neither green, grey, blue nor black,\n But speckled on the back; make,' etc.\n\n 4\n 'Who gave you eels today, Randal, my son?\n Who gave you eels today, my only man?'\n 'My own sweetheart; mother, make,' etc.\n\n 5\n 'Where shall I make your bed, Randal, my son?\n Where shall I make your bed, my only man?'\n 'In the churchyard; mother, make,' etc.\n\n 6\n 'What will you leave her then, Randall, my son?\n What will you leave her then, my only man?'\n 'A halter to hang herself; make,' etc.\n\n166 #a.# Insert after #C#:\n\n#D. b.# _Disordered: #b# 1==#a# 1; #b# 2==#a# 4; #b# 3==#a# 5^{1,2} +\n#a# 2^{3,4}; #b# 4==#a# 3; #a# 2^{1,2}, 5^{3,4}, are wanting._\n\n#b.# 1^3, been at the hunting.\n\n3^2. I fear ye've drunk poison.\n\n3^3==#a# 2^3. I supd wi my auntie.\n\n4^{1,2}==#a# 3^{1,2}. your supper.\n\n_This copy may be an imperfect recollection of #a.#_\n\n166 b.\n\n#I. h.# _Four stanzas only, 1, 2, 6, 7._\n\n1^2. my own little one.\n\n1^4. at the heart ... and fain.\n\n6^1. will you leave mother.\n\n7^1. will you leave grandma.\n\n7^3. a rope.\n\n#k.# _Seven stanzas_.\n\n1^3. to see grandmother.\n\n1^4. sick at heart, and fain.\n\n2^3. Strip\u00ebd eels fried.\n\n3==#a# 6, #d# 5, #h# 3.\n\n3^{1,2}. Your grandmother has poisoned you.\n\n3^3. I know it, I know it.\n\n4==#a# 6. 4^{1,2}. would you leave mother.\n\n5==#a# 8, #b# 9, #h# 7.\n\n5^{1,2}. would you leave sister.\n\n5^3. A box full of jewels.\n\n6==#a# 7; 7==#a# 8.\n\n6^{1,2}. would you leave grandmother.\n\n6^3. A rope for to hang her.\n\n7^{1,2}. O where shall I make it.\n\n#K.# _Add after #c#:_\n\n#d.# 1^1, my bonnie wee crowdin, _and always_.\n\n2^1. frae your stepmither.\n\n2^2. She gied me a bonnie wee fish, it was baith black and blue.\n\n5^1. my ain wee dog.\n\n6^1. And whare is your ain wee dog.\n\n 6^2.\n It laid down its wee headie and deed,\n And sae maun I do nou.\n\n#Q.# \"The second, third, fourth, and fifth stanzas were very much\nsimilar to the set Lord Ronald, in Scott's Border Minstrelsy, and as Mr\nRobertson was hurried he did not take down the precise words.\" MS., p.\n21.\n\n_~Ronald~ is changed to ~Randal~ in 6, 7, but is left in 8._\n\n#R.# _Written in four-line stanzas._\n\n\n13. Edward.\n\nP. 168 a, first paragraph. Add: Swedish #E#, Aminson, Bidrag till\nS\u00f6dermanlands Kulturhistoria, III, 37, eight stanzas. Nine stanzas of\nFinnish #B# are translated by Schott, Acta Comparationis, 1878, IV, cols\n132, 133. The murder here is for wife-seduction, a peculiar and\nassuredly not original variation.\n\n168 b. #B# is translated by Adolph von Mar\u00e9es, p. 27; by Graf von\nPlaten, II, 329, Stuttgart, 1847; after Herder into Magyar, by Dr Karl\nvon Sz\u00e1sz.\n\n\n14. Babylon; or, The Bonnie Banks o Fordie.\n\nP. 172 a. #Swedish.# Professor George Stephens points me to two\nlocalized prose outlines of the story, one from Sm\u00e5land, the other from\nSk\u00e5ne; 'Truls och hans barn,' in the Svenska Fornminnesf\u00f6reningens\nTidskrift, II, 77 f.\n\n\n15. Leesome Brand.\n\nP. 179 #a.# Swedish. II. Add: #I#, 'Risa lill,' Wigstr\u00f6m, Folkdiktning,\nII, 28.\n\n180 a, lines 25, 26. Read: #A#, #G#, #M#, #X#.\n\n181 a. #German.# Add: #D#, 'Der Ritter und seine Geliebte,' Ditfurth,\nDeutsche Volks- und Gesellschaftslieder des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts, p.\n14, No 13. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n181 b. #French.# #C.# A still more corrupted copy in Po\u00e9sies populaires\nde la France, III, fol. 143, 'La fausse morte.' #D.# Fol. 215 of the\nsame volume, a very pretty ballad from P\u00e9rigord, which has lost most of\nthe characteristic incidents, but not the tragic conclusion.\n\n182 b, first paragraph. A similar scene, ending happily, in I\nComplementi della Chanson d'Huon de Bordeaux, pubblicati da A. Graf, pp\n26 ff. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n183 b, stanzas 27, 28. Compare:\n\n Modhreu l\u00e4rde sonnenn sinn:\n 'Skiuter tu diur och skiuter tu r\u00e5\u00e5;\n\n 'Skiuter tu diur och skiuter tu r\u00e5\u00e5,\n Then salige hindenn l\u00e4tt tu g\u00e5!'\n\n'Den f\u00f6rtrollade Jungfrun,' Arwidsson, II, 260, No 136, #A# I, 2.\n\n\n17. Hind Horn.\n\nP. 187. #F.# Insert the title 'Young Hyndhorn.'\n\n#G.# Insert: Kinloch MSS, VII, 117.\n\n192. Dr Davidson informs me that many years ago he heard a version of\n'Hind Horn,' in four-line stanzas, in which, as in 'Horn et Rymenhild'\nand 'Horn Childe and Maiden Rimnild,' Horn took part in a joust at the\nking's court,\n\n An young Hind Horn was abune them a'.\n\nHe remembers further only these stanzas:\n\n 'O got ye this o the sea sailin,\n Or got ye 't o the lan?\n Or got ye 't o the bloody shores o Spain,\n On a droont man's han?'\n\n 'I got na 't o the sea sailin,\n I got na 't o the lan,\n Nor yet upo the bloody shores o Spain,\n On a droont man's han.'\n\n193 b (2). Add: 'Herr Lovmand,' Kristensen, I, 136, No 52.\n\n194. A corrupt fragment of a ballad, 'Der Bettler,' in Schr\u00f6er's Ausflug\nnach Gottschee, p. 210 f (K\u00f6hler), retains features like 'Hind Horn.'\nThe beggar comes to a wedding, and sits by the stove. The bride kindly\nsays, Nobody is thinking of the beggar, and hands him a glass of wine.\nHe says, Thanks, fair bride; thou wast my first wife. Upon this the\n_bridegroom_ jumps over the table, crying, Bachelor I came, and bachelor\nwill go.\n\nThe Epirots and Albanians have a custom of betrothing or marrying,\ncommonly in early youth, and of then parting for a long period. A woman\nwas lately (1875) buried at Iannina who, as the archbishop boasted in\nthe funeral discourse, had preserved her fidelity to a husband who had\nbeen separated from her thirty years. This unhappy usage has given rise\nto a distinct class of songs. Dozon, Chansons populaires bulgares, p.\n294, note.\n\n195 b (5). The German popular rhymed tale of Henry the Lion is now known\nto have been composed by the painter Heinrich G\u00f6tting, Dresden, 1585.\nGermania, XXVI, 453, No 527.\n\n198 a, to first paragraph. For the marvellous transportation in these\nstories, see a note by Liebrecht in Jahrb\u00fccher f\u00fcr rom. u. eng.\nLiteratur, III, 147. In the same, IV, 110, Liebrecht refers to the\nlegend of Hugh of Halton, recounted by Dugdale in his Antiquities of\nWarwickshire, II, 646, ed. of 1730, and Monasticon Anglicanum, IV, 90 f,\ned. 1823 (and perhaps in Dugdale's Baronage of England, but I have not\nfound it there). Hugo is another Gerard: the two half-rings miraculously\nunite. (K\u00f6hler.) See, also, Landau on Torello, 'Der Wunderritt,' Quellen\ndes Dekameron 1884, pp 193-218.\n\n198 b, third paragraph. Other versions of 'Le Retour du Mari:' Fleury,\nLitt\u00e9rature Orale de la Basse-Normandie, p. 268; E. Legrand, Romania, X,\n374, also from Normandy.\n\nA ballad of the nature of 'Le Retour du Mari' is very popular in Poland:\nKolberg, No 22, pp 224 ff, some dozen copies; Wojcicki, I, 287;\nWojcicki, II, 311==Kolberg's #c#; Lipinski, p. 159==Kolberg's i;\nKonopka, p. 121, No 20; Koz\u0142owski, No 5, p. 35, p. 36, two copies. In\nMoravian, 'Prvn\u00ed milej\u0161\u00ed,' 'The First Love,' Su\u0161il, No 135, p.\n131. The general course of the story is that a young man has to go to\nthe war the day of his wedding or the day after. He commits his bride to\nher mother, saying, Keep her for me seven years; and if I do not then\ncome back, give her to whom you please. He is gone seven years, and,\nreturning then, asks for his wife. She has just been given to another.\nHe asks for a fiddle [pipe], and says he will go to the wedding. They\nadvise him to stay away, for there will be a disturbance. No, he will\nonly stand at the door and play. The bride jumps over four tables, and\nmakes a courtesy to him on a fifth, welcomes him and dismisses the new\nbridegroom.\n\n199 a, end of the first paragraph. I forgot to mention the version of\nCostantino, agreeing closely with Camarda's, in De Rada, Rapsodie d'un\npoema albanese raccolte nelle colonie del Napoletano, pp 61-64.\n\n200. A maid, parting from her lover for three years, divides her ring\nwith him. He forgets, and prepares to marry another woman. She comes to\nthe nuptials, and is not known. She throws the half ring into a cup,\ndrinks, and hands the cup to him. He sees the half ring, and joins it to\nhis own. This is my wife, he says. She delivered me from death. He\nannuls his marriage, and espouses the right woman. Miklosisch, Ueber\ndie Mundarten der Zigeuner, IV, M\u00e4rchen u. Lieder, 15th Tale, pp 52-55,\nat the end of a story of the class referred to at p. 401 f. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\nA personage appeared at Magdeburg in 1348 in the disguise of a pilgrim,\nasked for a cup of wine from the archbishop's table, and, in drinking,\ndropped into the cup from his mouth the seal ring of the margrave\nWaldemar, supposed to have been long dead, but whom he confessed or\navowed himself to be. Kl\u00f6den, Diplomatische Geschichte des f\u00fcr falsch\nerkl\u00e4rten Markgrafen Waldemar, p. 189 f. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\nA wife who long pursues her husband, lost to her through spells, drops a\nring into his broth at the feast for his second marriage, is recognized,\nand they are happily reunited: The Tale of the Hoodie, Campbell, West\nHighland Tales, I, 63-66.\n\nIn a pretty Portuguese ballad, which has numerous parallels in other\nlanguages, a long-absent husband, after tormenting his wife by telling\nher that she is a widow, legitimates himself by saying, Where is your\nhalf of the ring which we parted? Here is mine: 'Bella Infanta,'\nAlmeida-Garrett, II, 11, 14, Braga, Cantos p. do Archipelago A\u00e7oriano,\np. 300; 'Dona Infanta,' 'Dona Catherina,' Braga, Romanceiro Geral, pp 3\nf, 7.\n\nSee, further, for ring stories, Wesselofsky, Neue Beitr\u00e4ge zur\nGeschichte der Salomonsage, in Archiv f\u00fcr Slavische Philologie, VI, 397\nf; Hahn, Neugriechische M\u00e4rchen, No 25.\n\nThe cases in which a simple ring is the means of recognition or\nconfirmation need, of course, not be multiplied.\n\n200 a, line twenty-four. For Alesha read Alyosha.\n\n205. #G.# In Kinloch MSS, VII, 117. After \"from the recitation of my\nniece, M. Kinnear, 23 August, 1826,\" is written in pencil \"Christy\nSmith,\" who may have been the person from whom Miss Kinnear derived the\nballad, or another reciter. Changes are made in pencil, some of which\nare written over in ink, some not. The printed copy, as usual with\nKinloch, differs in some slight respects from the manuscript.\n\n\nI\n\n #a.# From the recitation of Miss Jane Webster, formerly of\n Airds of Kells, now of Dalry, both in the Stewartry of\n Kirkcudbright, December 12, 1882. #b.# From Miss Jessie\n Jane Macmath and Miss Agnes Macmath, nieces of Miss\n Webster, December 11, 1882: originally derived from an old\n nurse. Communicated by Mr Macmath, of Edinburgh.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n She gave him a gay gold ring,\n Hey lillelu and how lo lan\n But he gave her a far better thing.\n With my hey down and a hey diddle downie\n\n 2\n He gave her a silver wan,\n With nine bright laverocks thereupon.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n Young Hynd Horn is come to the lan,\n There he met a beggar man.\n\n 4\n 'What news, what news do ye betide?'\n 'Na news but Jeanie's the prince's bride.'\n\n 5\n 'Wilt thou give me thy begging weed?\n And I'll give thee my good grey steed.\n\n 6\n 'Wilt thou give me thy auld grey hair?\n And I'll give ye mine that is thrice as fair.'\n\n 7\n The beggar he got on for to ride,\n But young Hynd Horn is bound for the bride.\n\n 8\n First the news came to the ha,\n Then to the room mang the gentles a'.\n\n 9\n 'There stands a beggar at our gate,\n Asking a drink for young Hynd Horn's sake.'\n\n 10\n 'I'll ga through nine fires hot\n To give him a drink for young Hynd Horn's sake.'\n\n 11\n She gave him the drink, and he dropt in the ring;\n The lady turned baith pale an wan.\n\n 12\n 'Oh got ye it by sea, or got ye it by lan?\n Or got ye it off some dead man's han?'\n\n 13\n 'I got it not by sea, nor I got it not by lan,\n But I got it off thy milk-white han.'\n\n 14\n 'I'll cast off my dress of red,\n And I'll go with thee and beg my bread.\n\n 15\n I'll cast off my dress of brown,\n And follow you from city to town.\n\n 16\n 'I'll cast off my dress of green,\n For I am not ashamed with you to be seen.'\n\n 17\n 'You need not cast off your dress of red,\n For I can support thee on both wine and bread.\n\n 18\n 'You need not cast off your dress of brown,\n For I can keep you a lady in any town.\n\n 19\n 'You need not cast off your dress of green,\n For I can maintain you as gay as a queen.'\n\n207 b. Add: #F#. 1^3, 7^1, 9^1, 13^2, Hyndhorn.\n\n208. #I.# b. 1-3, 6, 8, 10, 14, 16-19, _wanting_.\n\n_Burden_ 2: Wi my hey-dey an my hey deedle downie.\n\n5^1. O gie to me your aul beggar weed.\n\n 11.\n She gave him the cup, and he dropped in the ring:\n O but she turned pale an wan!\n\n_Between 11 and 12_:\n\n O whaur got e that gay gold ring?\n . . . . . . .\n\n13^2. your ain fair han.\n\n 15.\n O bring to me my dress o broun,\n An I'll beg wi you frae toun tae toun.\n\n216 a. Sir Orfeo has been lately edited by Dr Oscar Zielke: Sir Orfeo,\nein englisches Feenm\u00e4rchen aus dem Mittelalter, mit Einleitung und\nAnmerkungen, Breslau, 1880.\n\n\n20. The Cruel Mother.\n\nP. 218. #D. b.# Kinloch MSS, VII, 23. Insert again at p. 221.\n\n#F. a.# Also in Motherwell's MS., p. 514. Insert again at p. 222.\n\n#I. a.# Also in Motherwell's MS., p. 475. Insert again at p. 223.\n\nAdd: #N.# 'The Loch o the Loanie,' Campbell MSS, II, 264.\n\n219 b. Add to the German versions of 'The Cruel Mother:' #M.# Pater\nAmand Baumgarten, Aus der volksm\u00e4ssigen Ueberlieferung der Heimat: IX,\nGeburt, Heirat, Tod, mit einem Anhang von Liedern, p. 140. ['Das\nausgesetzte Kind.'] #N.# A. Schlosser, Deutsche Volkslieder aus\nSteiermark, p. 336, No 306, 'Der alte Halter und das Kind' (not yet seen\nby me). (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n220 a. A ballad of Slavic origin in Nesselmann's Littauische\nVolkslieder, No 380, p. 322, resembles the German and Wendish versions\nof 'The Cruel Mother,' with a touch of 'The Maid and the Palmer.' (G. L.\nKittredge.)\n\n220 b, line 7. Read: Hausschatz.\n\n225.\n\n\nN\n\n Campbell MSS, II, 264.\n\n 1\n As I lookit oer my father's castle wa,\n All alone and alone O\n I saw two pretty babes playing at the ba.\n Down by yon green-wood sidie\n\n 2\n 'O pretty babes, gin ye were mine,'\n Hey the loch o the Loanie\n 'I would clead ye o the silk sae fine.'\n Down by that green-wood sidie\n\n 3\n 'O sweet darlings, gin ye were mine,'\n Hey the loch o the Loanie\n 'I would feed ye on the morning's milk.'\n Down by that green-wood sidie\n\n 4\n 'O mither dear, when we were thine,'\n By the loch o the Loanie\n 'Ye neither dressd us wi silk nor twine.'\n Down by this green-wood sidie\n\n 5\n 'But ye tuke out your little pen-knife,'\n By, etc.\n 'And there ye tuke yer little babes' life.'\n Down by the, etc.\n\n 6\n 'O mither dear, when this ye had done,'\n Alone by, etc.\n 'Ye unkirtled yersel, and ye wrapt us in 't.'\n Down by the, etc.\n\n 7\n 'Neist ye houkit a hole fornent the seen.'\n All alone and alone O\n 'And tearless ye stappit your little babes in'\n Down by the, etc.\n\n 8\n 'But we are in the heavens high,'\n And far frae the loch o the Loanie\n 'But ye hae the pains o hell to d[r]ie.'\n Before ye leave the green-wood sidie\n\n226 a. #C.# Cunningham, as Mr Macmath has reminded me, has made this\nstanza a part of another ballad, in Cromek's Remains, p. 223.\n\n231. #Catalan.# The Romancerillo Catalan, in the new edition, p. 10, No\n12, 'Magdalena,' gives another version, with the variations of eight\nmore copies, that of the Observaciones being now #C#.\n\n232. Add: #Italian.# Ive, Canti popolari istriani, p. 366, No 14, 'S.\nMaria Maddalena.' Mary's father, dying, left her a castle of gold and\nsilver, from which one day she saw Jesus pass. She wept a fountain of\ntears to wash his feet, and dried his feet with her tresses. Then she\nasked for a penance. She wished to go into a cave without door or\nwindows, sleep on the bare ground, eat raw herbs, and drink a _little_\nsalt water; and this she did. In 'La Maddalena,' Guerrini, Alcuni C. p.\nromagnoli, p. 7, there is no penance.\n\n\n22. St Stephen and Herod.\n\nP. 236 a. #Spanish.# Mil\u00e1's new edition, Romancerillo Catalan, No 31,\n'El romero acusado de robo,' pp 36-38, adds six copies, not differing in\nanything important. In #C#, the youth, un estudiant, n'era ros com un\nfil d'or, blanch com Santa Catarina.\n\nI may note that Thomas Becket stands by his votaries when brought to the\ngallows as effectually as St James. See Robertson, Materials, etc., I,\n369, 471, 515, 524.\n\n238. Note [195] should have been credited to R. K\u00f6hler.\n\n238 b, second paragraph. Professor George Stephens informs me that the\nmiracle of the cock is depicted, among scenes from the life of Jesus, on\nan _antependium_ of an altar, derived from an old church in Slesvig, and\nnow in the Danish Museum. Behind a large table sits a crowned woman, and\nat her left stands a crowned man, who points to a dish from which a cock\nhas started up, with beak wide open. At the queen's right stands an old\nwoman, simply clad and leaning on a staff. This picture comes between\nthe Magi announcing Christ's Birth and the Massacre of the Innocents,\nand the crowned figures are judged by Professor Stephens to be Herod and\nHerodias. Who the old woman should be it is not easy to say, but there\ncan be no connection with St James. The work is assigned to the last\npart of the fourteenth century.\n\n239. Most of the literature on the topic of the restoration of the\nroasted cock to life is collected by Dr R. K\u00f6hler and by Ferdinand Wolf,\nin Jahrb\u00fccher f\u00fcr romanische u. englische Literatur, III, 58 ff, 67 f.\nDr K\u00f6hler now adds these notes: The miracle of St James, in Hermann von\nFritslar's Heiligenleben, Pfeiffer's Deutsche Mystiker des vierzehnten\nJahrhunderts, I, 168 f; Hahn, Das alte Passional (from the Golden\nLegend), p. 223, v. 47-p. 225, v. 85; L\u00fctolf, Sagen, Br\u00e4uche und\nLegenden aus Lucern, u. s. w., p. 367, No 334; von Alpenburg, Deutsche\nAlpensagen, p. 137, No 135; Sepp, Altbayerischer Sagenschatz, pp 652 ff,\n656 f.\n\n239 b. Three stone partridges on a buttress of a church at M\u00fchlhausen\nare thus accounted for. In the early days of the Reformation a couple of\northodox divines, while waiting dinner, were discussing the prospect of\nthe infection spreading to their good city. One of them, growing warm,\ndeclared that there was as much chance of that as of the three\npartridges that were roasting in the kitchen taking flight from the\nspit. Immediately there was heard a fluttering and a cooing in the\nregion of the kitchen, the three birds winged their way from the house,\nand, lighting on the buttress of Mary Kirk, were instantly turned to\nstone, and there they are. Th\u00fcringen und der Harz, mit ihren\nMerkw\u00fcrdigkeiten, u. s. w., VI, 20 f. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n240 a. The monk Andrius has the scene between Judas and his mother as in\nCursor Mundi, and attributes to Greek writers the opinion that the\nroasted cock was the same that caused Peter's compunction. Mussafia,\nSulla legenda del legno della Croce, Sitz. Ber. der phil.-hist. Classe\nder Wiener Akad., LXIII, 206, note. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n\"About the year 1850 I was on a visit to the rector of Kilmeen, near\nClonakilty, in the county of Cork. My friend brought me to visit the\nruins of an old castle. Over the open fireplace, in the great hall there\nwas a stone, about two or three feet square, carved in the rudest\nfashion, and evidently representing our Lord's sufferings. There were\nthe cross, the nails, the hammer, the scourge; but there was one piece\nof sculpture which I could not understand. It was a sort of rude\nsemi-circle, the curve below and the diameter above, and at the junction\na figure intended to represent a bird. My friend asked me what it meant.\nI confessed my ignorance. 'That,' said he, 'is the cock. The servants\nwere boiling him for supper, but when the moment came to convict the\n_apostle_ he started up, perched on the side of the pot, and astonished\nthe assembly by his salutation of the morning.'\" Notes and Queries, 5th\nseries, IX, 412 a. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\nA heathen in West Gothland (Vestrogothia) had killed his herdsman,\nTorsten, a Christian, and was reproached for it by Torsten's wife.\nPointing to an ox that had been slaughtered, the heathen answered: Tam\nTorstenum tuum, quem sanctum et in c\u0153lis vivere existimas, plane ita\nvivum credo prout hunc bovem quem in frusta c\u00e6dendum conspicis. Mirum\ndictu, vix verba finiverat, cum e vestigio bos in pedes se erexit vivus,\nstupore omnibus qui adstabant attonitis. Quare sacellum in loco eodem\nerectum, multaque miracula, pr\u00e6sertim in pecorum curatione, patrata.\nIoannis Vastovii Vitis Aquilonia, sive Vit\u00e6 Sanctorum regni\nSveo-gothici, emend. et illustr. Er. Benzelius filius, Upsali\u00e6, 1708, p.\n59. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n240 b. Man begegnet auf alten Holzschnitten einer Abbildung von Christi\nGeburt, welche durch die dabei stehenden Thiere erkl\u00e4rt werden soll. Der\nHahn auf der Stange kr\u00e4het da: _Christus natus est!_ der Ochse br\u00fcllt\nmit \u00fcberschnappender Stimme drein: _Ubi?_ und das Lammlein bl\u00e4heret die\nAntwort: _Bethlehem!_ Rochholz, Alemannisches Kinderlied und Kinderspiel\naus der Schweiz, p. 69 f. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n241 a. Wer sind die ersten Vorbothen Gottes? Der Hahn, weil er kr\u00e4ht,\n\"Christ ist geboren.\" Der Tauber, weil er ruft, \"Wo?\" Und der\nZiegenbock, weil er schreit, \"Z' Bethlehem.\" Pater Amand Baumgarten, Aus\nder volksm\u00e4ssigen Ueberlieferung der Heimat, I, Zur volksth\u00fcmlichen\nNaturkunde, p. 94. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\nHahn: Kikeriki! Gott der Herr lebt!\n\nOchs: Wo? Wo?\n\nGeiss: M\u00e4h! zu Bethlehem!\n\nSimrock, Das deutsche Kinderbuch, 2d ed., p. 173, No 719; 3d ed., p.\n192, No 787. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\nQuando Christo nasceu disse o gallo: _Jesus-Christo e n\u00e1 ... \u00e1 ... \u00e1 ...\ndo_ (n\u00e1do). J. Leite de Vasconcellos, Tradi\u00e7\u00f4es populares de Portugal,\np. 148, No 285 b.\n\n242. Note. Add: W. Creizenach, Judas Ischarioth in Legende und Sage des\nMittelalters, in Paul and Braune's Beitr\u00e4ge, II, 177 ff.\n\n\n25. Willie's Lyke-Wake.\n\nP. 247 b. Add: #E.# 'Willie's Lyke-Wake.' #a.# Buchan's Ballads of the\nNorth of Scotland, II, 51. #b.# Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I,\n122.\n\n249 b. #Swedish.# Add: #D.# Aminson, Bidrag till S\u00f6dermanlands\nKulturhistoria, II, 18.\n\n#French.# 'Le Soldat au Convent,' Victor Smith, Vielles Chansons\nrecueillies en Velay et en Forez, p. 24, No 21, or Romania, VII, 73;\nFleury, Litt\u00e9rature Orale de la Basse Normandie, p. 310, 'La\nReligieuse;' Po\u00e9sies populaires de la France, III, fol. 289, fol. 297. A\nsoldier who has been absent some years in the wars returns to find his\nmistress in a convent; obtains permission to see her for a last time,\nputs a ring on her finger, and then \"falls dead.\" His love insists on\nconducting his funeral; the lover returns to life and carries her off.\n\n249 b. #A. Magyar#. The ballad of 'Handsome Tony' is also translated by\nG. Heinrich, in Ungarische Revue, 1883, p. 155.\n\nThe same story, perverted to tragedy at the end, in Golovatsky, II, 710,\nNo 13, a ballad of the Carpathian Russians in Hungary.\n\n250. Dr R. K\u00f6hler points out to me a German copy of #A#, #B#, #C#, which\nI had overlooked, in Schr\u00f6er, Ein Ausflug nach Gottschee, p. 266 ff,\n'Hansel june.' The mother builds a mill and a church, and then the young\nman feigns death, as before. But a very cheap tragic turn is given to\nthe conclusion when the young man springs up and kisses his love. She\nfalls dead with fright, and he declares that since she has died for him\nhe will die for her. So they are buried severally at one and the other\nside of the church, and two lily stocks are planted, which embrace \"like\ntwo real married people;\" or, a vine grows from one and a flower from\nthe other.\n\n252. This is the other form referred to at p. 247 a.\n\n\nE\n\n #a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 51.\n #b.# Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 122.\n\n 1\n 'If my love loves me, she lets me not know,\n That is a dowie chance;\n I wish that I the same could do,\n Tho my love were in France, France,\n Tho my love were in France.\n\n 2\n 'O lang think I, and very lang,\n And lang think I, I true;\n But lang and langer will I think\n Or my love o me rue.\n\n 3\n 'I will write a broad letter,\n And write it sae perfite,\n That an she winna o me rue,\n I'll bid her come to my lyke.'\n\n 4\n Then he has written a broad letter,\n And seald it wi his hand,\n And sent it on to his true love,\n As fast as boy could gang.\n\n 5\n When she looked the letter upon,\n A light laugh then gae she;\n But ere she read it to an end,\n The tear blinded her ee.\n\n 6\n 'O saddle to me a steed, father,\n O saddle to me a steed;\n For word is come to me this night,\n That my true love is dead.'\n\n 7\n 'The steeds are in the stable, daughter,\n The keys are casten by;\n Ye cannot won to-night, daughter,\n To-morrow ye'se won away.'\n\n 8\n She has cut aff her yellow locks,\n A little aboon her ee,\n And she is on to Willie's lyke,\n As fast as gang could she.\n\n 9\n As she gaed ower yon high hill head,\n She saw a dowie light;\n It was the candles at Willie's lyke,\n And torches burning bright.\n\n 10\n Three o Willie's eldest brothers\n Were making for him a bier;\n One half o it was gude red gowd,\n The other siller clear.\n\n 11\n Three o Willie's eldest sisters\n Were making for him a sark;\n The one half o it was cambric fine,\n The other needle wark.\n\n 12\n Out spake the youngest o his sisters,\n As she stood on the fleer:\n How happy would our brother been,\n If ye'd been sooner here!\n\n 13\n She lifted up the green covering,\n And gae him kisses three;\n Then he lookd up into her face,\n The blythe blink in his ee.\n\n 14\n O then he started to his feet,\n And thus to her said he:\n Fair Annie, since we're met again,\n Parted nae mair we'se be.\n\n#b.# \"Given with some changes from the way the editor has heard it\nsung.\"\n\n2^2. I trow.\n\n3^1. But I.\n\n3^3. That gin.\n\n7^3. the night.\n\n\n28. Burd Ellen and Young Tamlane.\n\nP. 256. This ballad is in Pitcairn's MSS, III, 49. It was from the\ntradition of Mrs Gammel. The last word of the burden is Machey, not\nMay-hay, as in Maidment.\n\n\n29. The Boy and the Mantle.\n\nP. 270 b. If a girl takes a pot of boiling water off the fire, and the\npot ceases to boil, this is a sign of lost modesty. Lammert,\nVolksmedizin und medizinischer Aberglaube in Bayern, u.s.w., p. 146.\n\n\n30. King Arthur and King Cornwall.\n\nP. 274. A Galien in verse has been found in the library of Sir Thomas\nPhillipps, at Cheltenham. Romania, XII, 5.\n\n\n31. The Marriage of Sir Gawain.\n\nP. 292 b, last paragraph but one. Add: 'Gorv\u00f6mb,' Arnason, II, 375,\nPowell, Icelandic Legends, Second Series, 366, 'The Paunch.' Gorv\u00f6mb, a\nmonstrous creature, in reward for great services, asks to have the\nking's brother for husband, and in bed turns into a beautiful princess.\nShe had been suffering under the spells of a step-mother.\n\n\n39. Tam Lin.\n\nP. 335. Add: #J.# 'Young Tamlane,' Kinloch MSS, V, 391.\n\n335 a. The stanzas introduced into #I a# were from \"Mr Beattie of\nMeikledale's Tamlane,\" as appears from a letter of Scott to Laidlaw,\nJanuary 21, 1803. (W. Macmath.)\n\n336 b, third paragraph. Add: Aminson, Bidrag, etc., IV, 6, No 27.\n\nFourth paragraph, line 9. Read: in it which.\n\n338 a. An old woman is rejuvenated by being burnt to bones, and the\nbones being thrown into a tub of milk: Ralston, Russian Folk-Tales, p.\n59, 'The Smith and the Demon;' Afanasief, Legendui, No 31, from Dahl's\nmanuscript collection.\n\n356. The following is perhaps the version referred to by Dr Joseph\nRobertson: see p. 335.\n\n\nJ\n\n \"A fragment of Young Tamlane,\" Kinloch MSS, V, 391. In Dr\n John Hill Burton's handwriting, and perhaps from the\n recitation of Mrs Robertson (Christian Leslie), mother of\n Dr Joseph Robertson.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 1\n 'The night, the night is Halloween,\n Tomorrow's Hallowday,\n . . . . . . .\n . . . . . . .\n\n 2\n 'The night, the night is Halloween,\n Our seely court maun ride,\n Thro England and thro Ireland both,\n And a' the warld wide.\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 3\n 'The firsten court that comes ye bye,\n You'll lout, and let them gae;\n The seconden court that comes you bye,\n You'll hail them reverently.\n\n 4\n 'The thirden court that comes you by,\n Sae weel's ye will me ken,\n For some will be on a black, a black,\n And some will be on a brown,\n But I will be on a bluid-red steed,\n And will ride neist the queen.\n\n 5\n 'The thirden court that comes you bye,\n Sae weel's ye will me ken,\n For I'll be on a bluid-red steed,\n Wi three stars on his crown.\n\n 6\n 'Ye'll tak the horse head in yer hand,\n And grip the bridle fast;\n The Queen o Elfin will gie a cry,\n \"True Tamas is stown awa!\"\n\n 7\n 'And I will grow in your twa hands\n An adder and an eel;\n But the grip ye get ye'll hold it fast,\n I'll be father to yer chiel.\n\n 8\n 'I will wax in your twa hans\n As hot as any coal;\n But if you love me as you say,\n You'll think of me and thole.\n\n 9\n 'O I will grow in your twa hands\n An adder and a snake;\n The grip ye get now hold it fast,\n And I'll be your world's mait.\n\n 10\n 'O I'll gae in at your gown sleeve,\n And out at your gown hem,\n And I'll stand up before thee then\n A freely naked man.\n\n 11\n 'O I'll gae in at your gown sleeve,\n And out at your gown hem,\n And I'll stand before you then,\n But claithing I'll hae nane.\n\n 12\n 'Ye'll do you down to Carden's Ha,\n And down to Carden's stream,\n And there you'll see our seely court,\n As they come riding hame.'\n\n * * * * * * *\n\n 13\n 'It's nae wonder, my daughter Janet,\n True Tammas ye thought on;\n An he were a woman as he's a man,\n My bedfellow he should be.'\n\n * * * * *\n\n 1\n The night, the night is Halloween,\n Tomorrow's Hallowday, our seely court maun ride,\n Thro England and thro Ireland both,\n And a' the warld wide.\n\nCf. #A# 25, 26; #D# 16; #G# 30; #I# 33, 34.\n\n8^4. think and of me thole.\n\n\n41. Hind Etin.\n\nP. 363, note. Compare, for style, the beginning of 'Hind Horn' #G#, #H#,\npp 205, 206.\n\n\n43. The Broomfield Hill.\n\nP. 393 a, first paragraph. In Gongu-R\u00f3lvs kv\u00e6\u00f0i, Hammershaimb, F\u00e6r\u00f6iske\nKv\u00e6der, No 16, p. 140, sts 99-105, Lindin remains a maid for two nights,\nand loses the name the third, but the sleep-rune or thorn which should\nexplain this does not occur.\n\n393 b, third paragraph. Add: 'Kurz gefasst,' Alfred M\u00fcller, Volkslieder\naus dem Erzgebirge, p. 90.\n\n\n45. King John and the Bishop.\n\nP. 410. Translated after Percy's Reliques also by von Mar\u00e9es, p. 7, No\n2.\n\n503 a, fifth paragraph (ring stories). Add: W. Freiherr von Tettau,\nUeber einige bis jetzt unbekannte Erfurter Drucke, u. s. w., Jahrb\u00fccher\nder k\u00f6niglichen Akademie zu Erfurt, Neue Folge, Heft VI, S. 291, at the\nend of an excellent article on Ritter Morgeners Wallfahrt. (K\u00f6hler.)\n\n\n[426] \"Cette action, si peu s\u00e9ante pour nous, est accomplie dans maint\nconte grec, allemand, etc., par des jeunes filles sur leurs amants, sur\ndes dragons par les princesses qu'ils ont enlev\u00e9es, et, m\u00eame dans une\nl\u00e9gende bulgare en vers, saint Georges re\u00e7oit le m\u00eame service de la\ndemoiselle expos\u00e9e au dragon, dont il va la d\u00e9livrer.\" Dozon, Contes\nalbanais, p. 27, note. In the Bulgarian legend referred to, Bulgarski\nnarodni p\u011bsni, by the brothers Miladinov, p. 31, the saint having\ndozed off during the operation, the young maid sheds tears, and a\nburning drop falls on the face of George, and wakes him. This recalls\nthe Magyar ballad, Moln\u00e1r Anna, see p. 46. A Cretan legend of St George\nhas the same trait: Jeannaraki, p. 2, v. 41. Even a dead lover recalled\nto the earth by his mistress, in ballads of the Lenore class, asks the\nsame service: Golovatsky, II, 708, No 12; Su\u0161il, p. 111, No 112,\n'Umrlec,' 'The Dead Man.'\n\n[427] Afterwards a judge, with the name of Lord Robertson, but\nuniversally known as Peter Robertson, celebrated for his wit and good\nfellowship as well as his law, friend of Scott, Christopher North, and\nLockhart; \"the Paper Lord, Lord Peter, who broke the laws of God, of\nman, and metre.\" Mr Macmath's note.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes\n\nThis section lists changes that have been made to the text. Minor\nchanges to format and punctuation have not been listed.\n\nPage xi, Contents: changed volume reference \"I\" to \"II\" under Additions\nand Corrections to Ballad 11 \"THE CRUEL BROTHER\" (Additions and\nCorrections: I, 496; II, 498; III, 499;...)\n\nPage xi, Contents: deleted erroneous page reference \"170,\" under\nAdditions and Corrections to Ballad 14 \"BABYLON\".\n\nPage 4, version B, stanza 6: added missing close single quotation mark\n(And what is sharper than a thorn?')\n\nPage 16, stanza 20: added missing close single quotation mark (Let the\nelphin knight do what he will.')\n\nPage 18, version G, stanza 3: added missing close single quotation mark\n(Which never bore blossom since Adam was born?')\n\nPage 37: changed \"Bokendorf\" to \"B\u00f6kendorf\" (Reifferscheid, No 18, p.\n36, from B\u00f6kendorf.)\n\nPage 39, first paragraph: \"cod by ffman\" interpreted as \"co[llecte]d by\n[Ho]ffman\".\n\nPage 84: changed \"Fornminnesforeningens\" to \"Fornminnesf\u00f6reningens\"\n(Svenska Fornminnesf\u00f6reningens Tidskrift)\n\nPage 98: changed \"Busching\" to \"B\u00fcsching\" (B\u00fcsching u. von der Hagen,\nBuch der Liebe, c. 60)\n\nPage 99: changed comma to semi-colon (Wolff, Halle, I, 76; Hausschatz)\n\nPage 102, stanza 11, line 2: removed trailing single quote mark ('I am\nafraid ye are slain;)\n\nPage 103, version E, stanza 2, line 2: added missing opening single\nquote mark ('O hold my horse by the bonnie bridle rein,)\n\nPage 138, note on version B: bracketed vertical alignment of words \"it\"\nand \"he\" presented in line (in Plain Text versions) (\"~he did it play,\n{it/he} playd~;\")\n\nPage 188: \"Hyn-horn\" (hyphenated at line break) changed to \"Hynhorn\", in\n\n But I'll give him a drink for Young Hynhorn's sake,' #B# 16,\n\nbut note that in version B, stanza 16, the name appears as two words\n\"Hyn Horn\". that\n\nPage 211, stanzas 19 and 39: a line of stars following the first line of\neach stanza has been interpreted as a missing line and rendered as the\nmore usual line of dots.\n\nPage 226: added missing closing quotation mark\n\n \"At this moment a hunter came-- ...\n\n The cradle will rock alone.'\"\n\nPage 265, footnote [236]: added missing letter \"c\" (but no one can drink\ns'il n'est preudom)\n\nPage 318: changed (\"gyff ... sayes,) to ('gyff ... sayes,') in ('gyff it\nbe als the storye sayes', v. 83)\n\nPage 374: changed \"Islenzk\" to \"\u00cdslenzk\" (These in \u00cdslenzk fornkv\u00e6\u00f0i, pp\n4-10, ...)\n\nPage 392: changed \"esterley\" to \"Oesterley\" (Iohannis de Alta Silva\nDolopathos, ed. Oesterley)\n\nPage 400: changed \"\u010celakovsky\" to \"\u010celakovsk\u00fd\" (\u010celakovsk\u00fd, p.\n75, No 6, Wenzig, Slawische Volkslieder)\n\nPage 425, footnote [390]: changed \"he\" to \"the\" (Where is the sky but\nthree spans broad?)\n\nPae 422, stanza 13: changed \"a\" to \"a'\" (and ye shall get them a'.)\n\nPage 451, ballad version A: two stanzas were numbered 18; changed second\n\"18\" to \"19\" and changed \"19\" to \"20\".\n\nPage 488, footnote [426]: added missing closing quotation mark (\"Cette\naction, ... dont il va la d\u00e9livrer.\")\n\nPage 487: substituted reference to footnote [61] for double dagger\nsymbol (40, note [61]. In a Ruthenian ballad ...)\n\nPage 488: changed stanza number \"18\" to \"16\"\n\nPage 489: changed \"Hjalmters\" to \"Hj\u00e1lmt\u00e8rs\" (Hj\u00e1lmt\u00e8rs ok \u00d6lvers Saga)\n\n 16.\n As fause Sir John did turn him round,\n To see the leaf flee owre the [tree],\n ...\n\nPage 489: substituted reference to footnote [99] for asterisk symbol\n(67 a, note [99], line 37. Read: a Scotch name.)\n\nPage 493: substituted reference to footnote [127] for asterisk symbol\n(119 a. Note [127], ...)\n\nPage 505: substituted reference to footnote [195] for double dagger\nsymbol (238. Note [195] should have been credited to ...)","title":"The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 1 (of 5)","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":342765}