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(PART ii) 



SDfce fttoertftoe |3re00, CambriDge 




Copyright, 1884, by F. J. CHILD. 

TAe Riverside Prea, Cambridge! 
Printed by H. 0. Houghton and Company. 


I HAVE again to express my obligations and my gratitude to many who have aided in the 
collecting and editing of these Ballads. 

To Sir HUGH HUME CAMPBELL, for the use of two considerable manuscript volumes of 
Scottish Ballads. 

To Mr. ALLAKDYCE, of Edinburgh, for a copy of the Skene Ballads, and for a generous 
permission to print such as I required, in advance of a possible publication on his part. 

To Mr. MANSFIELD, of Edinburgh, for the use of the Pitcairn manuscripts. 

To Mrs. ROBERTSON, for the use of Note-Books of the late Dr. JOSEPH ROBERTSON, and to 
Mr. MURDOCH, of Glasgow, Mr. LUGTON, of Kelso, Mrs. ALEXANDER FORBES, of Edin 
burgh, and Messrs. G. L. KITTREDGE and G. M. RICHARDSON, former students of Harvard 
College, for various communications. 

To Dr. REINHOLD KOHLER'S unrivalled knowledge of popular fiction, and his equal liber 
ality, I am indebted for valuable notes, which will be found in the Additions at the end of this 

The help of my friend Dr. THEODOR YETTER has enabled me to explore portions of the 
Slavic ballad-field which otherwise must have been neglected. 

lent me a ready assistance in literary emergencies. 

The interest and cooperation of Mr. FURNIVALL and Mr. MACMATH have been continued to 
me without stint or weariness. 

It is impossible, while recalling and acknowledging acts of courtesy, good will, and friend 
ship, not to allude, with one word of deep personal grief, to the irreparable loss which all 
who are concerned with the study of popular tradition have experienced in the death of SVEND 

F. J. C. 

June, 1884 



29. THE BOY AND THE MANTLE . . . . . . 257 



32. KING HENRY . . . . . . . . 297 

33. KEMPT KAY . . . .. . . .,... . . . . - . . . .300 

34. KEMP OWYNE . 306 

35. ALLISON GROSS . . . . . 313 


37. THOMAS KYMER ... . . . ^ . . . ... . 317 

38. THE WEE WEE MAN . . . . . . . . . . ...'.. 329 

39. TAM LLN . . ... ...... . . . . .335 


41. HIND ETIN . . . . . . . ' . . .. . . . . . 360 


43. THE BROOMFLELD HILL ... . . 390 

44. THE TWA MAGICIANS . . . . . . . . 399 

45. KING JOHN AND THE BISHOP .....' 403 


47. PROUD LADY MARGARET . .. . . . . . . . . . 425 

48. YOUNG ANDREW . . . . . . . * . . . . 432 

49. THE TWA BROTHERS . . . .....:. . . 435 

50. THE BONNY HIND .... 444 

51. LIZIE WAN . . ." ... .447 


53. YOUNG BEICHAN r. .454 



Percy MS., p. 284. Hales & Furnivall, II, 304. 

THIS ballad and the two which follow it 
are clearly not of the same rise, and not meant 
for the same ears, as those which go before. 
They would come down by professional rather 
than by domestic tradition, through minstrels 
rather than knitters and weavers. They suit 
the hall better than the bower, the tavern or 
public square better than the cottage, and 
would not go to the spinning-wheel at all. An 
exceedingly good piece of minstrelsy ' The 
Boy and the Mantle' is, too; much livelier 
than most of the numerous variations oil the 
somewhat overhandled theme.* 

Of these, as nearest related, the fabliau or 
"romance" of Le Mantel Mautaillie', * Cort 
Mantel,' must be put first : Montaiglon et 
Raynaud, Recueil General des Fabliaux, III, 1, 
from four manuscripts, three of the thirteenth 
century, one of the fourteenth ; and previously 
by Michel, from the three older manuscripts, 

* After I had finished what I had to say in the way of 
introduction to this ballad, there appeared the study of the 
Trinkhorn- and Mantelsage, by Otto Warnatsch : Der Man 
tel, Bruchstiick eines Lanzeletromans, etc., Breslau, 1883. 
To this very thorough piece of work, in which the rela 
tions of the multiform versions of the double-branched story 
are investigated with a care that had never before been at 
tempted, I naturally have frequent occasion to refer, and by 
its help I have supplied some of my deficiencies, indicating 
always the place by the author's name. 

t The Bibliotheque des Romans, 1777, Fevrier, pp. 112- 
115, gives an abstract of a small printed piece in prose, there 
assigned to the beginning of the sixteenth century, which, 
as Warnatsch observes, p. 72, must have been a different 
thing from the tale given by Legrand, inasmuch as it brings 
in Lancelot and Gawain as suppressing the jests of Kay and 

} The custom of Arthur not to eat till he had heard of 
some adventure or strange news was confined to those days 
when he held full court, according to Perceval le Gallois, II, 
217, 15,664-71, and the Roman de Perceval, fol. Ixxviii. 
It is mentioned, with the same limitations, I suppose, in the 
Roman de Lancelot, III, fol. Ixxxii, and we learn from this 


in Wolf, Ueber die Lais, p. 324. A rendering 
of the fabliau in prose, existing in a single 
manuscript, was several times printed in the 
sixteenth century : given in Legrand, ed. Re- 
nouard, I, 126, and before, somewhat modern 
ized, by Caylus, ' Les Manteaux,' CEuvres Ba- 
dines, VI, 435.f 

The story in ' Cort Mantel ' goes thus. Ar 
thur was holding full court at Pentecost, never 
more splendidly. Not only kings, dukes, and 
counts were there, but the attendance of all 
young bachelors had been commanded, and he 
that had a bele amie was to bring her. The 
court assembled on Saturday, and on Sunday 
all the world went to church. After service 
the queen took the ladies to her apartments, 
till dinner should be ready. But it was Ar 
thur's wont not to dine that day until he had 
had or heard-of some adventure ; $ dinner was 
kept waiting ; and it was therefore with great 

last romance, I, fol. xxxvi, that Arthur was accustomed to 
hold a court and wear his crown five times in the year, at 
Easter, Ascension-day, Pentecost, All Saints, and Christmas. 
The Roman de Merlin, II, lvi b , or, as cited by Southey, 
II, 48, 49, says that " King Arthur, after his first dinner at 
Logres, when he brought home his bride, made a vow that 
while he wore a crown he never would seat himself at table 
till some adventure had occurred." In Malory's King Ar 
thur, Kay reminds the king that this had been the old cus 
tom of his court at Pentecost. Arthur is said to observe this 
custom on Christmas, "vpon such a dere day," in Sir Ga- 
wayn and the Green Knight, Madden, p. 6, vv 90-99. Mes- 
sire Gauvain says " a feste ne mangast, devant," etc., p. 2, 
w 18-21. Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival does not 
limit the custom to high holidays, ed. Bartsch, I, 331, vv 875- 
79 ; and see Riddarasogur, Parcevals Saga, etc., ed. Kolbing, 
p. 26. Neither does Wigalois, vv 247-51, or a fragment of 
Daniel von Bliihenthal, Symbolae ad literaturam Teutonicam, 
p. 465, cited by Benecke, Wigalois, p. 436 f, or the Faroe 
Galians kvasSi, Kolbing, in Germania, XX, 397. See Mad- 
den's Syr Gawayne, which has furnished much of this note, 
pp 310-12; Southey's King Arthur, II, 203, 462. Robin 
Hood imitates Arthur : see the beginning of the Little Gest. 



satisfaction that the knights saw a handsome 
and courteous varlet arrive, who must certainly 
bring news ; news that was not to be good to 
all, though some would be pleased (cf. stanza 
5 of the ballad). A maid had sent him from 
a very distant country to ask a boon of the 
king. He was not to nrfme the boon or the 
lady till he had the king's promise ; but what 
he asked was no harm. The king having 
said that he would grant what was asked, 
the varlet took from a bag a beautiful mantle, 
of fairy workmanship. This mantle would fit 
no dame or damsel who had in any way mis 
behaved towards husband or lover ; it would 
be too short or too long ; and the boon was 
that the king should require all the ladies of 
the court to put it on. 

The ladies were still waiting dinner, un 
conscious of what was coming. Gawain was 
sent to require their presence, and he simply 
told them that the magnificent mantle was to 
be given to the one it best fitted. The king 
repeated the assurance, and the queen, who 
wished much to win the mantle, was the first 
to try it on. It proved too short. Ywain sug 
gested that a young lady who stood near the 
queen should try. This she readily did, and 
what was short before was shorter still. Kay, 
who had been making his comments unguard 
edly, now divulged the secret, and after that 
nobody cared to have to do with the mantle. 
The king said, We may as well give it back ; 
but the varlet insisted on having the king's 
promise. There was general consternation 
and bad humor. 

Kay called his mistress, and very confi 
dently urged her to put on the mantle. She 
demurred, on the ground that she might give 
offence by forwardness ; but this roused sus 
picion in Kay, and she had no resource but 
to go on. The mantle was again lamentably 
short. Bruns and Ydier let loose some gibes. 
Kay bade them wait; he had hopes for them. 
Gawain's amie next underwent the test, then 
Ywain's, then Perceval's. Still a sad disap- 

* ' Quar je vous aim tant bonement, 
Que je ne voudroie savoir 
Vostre mesfet por nul avoir. 
Miex en veuil je estre en doutance. 

pointment. Many were the curses on the man 
tle that would fit nobody, and on him that 
brought it. Kay takes the unlucky ladies, 
one after the other, to sit with his mistress. 

At this juncture Kay proposes that they 
shall have dinner, and continue the experi 
ment by and by. The varlet is relentless ; 
but Kay has the pleasure of seeing Ydier dis 
comfited. And so they go on through the 
whole court, till the varlet says that he fears 
he shall be obliged to carry his mantle away 
with him. But first let the chambers be 
searched ; some one may be in hiding who 
may save the credit of the court. The king 
orders a search, and they find one lady, not 
in hiding, but in her bed, because she is not 
well. Being told that she must come, she 
presents herself as soon as she can dress, 
greatly to the vexation of her lover, whose 
name is Carados Briebras. The varlet ex 
plains to her the quality of the mantle, and 
Carados, in verses very honorable to his heart, 
begs that she will not put it on if she has 
any misgivings.* The lady says very meekly 
that she dare not boast being better than other 
people, but, if it so please her lord, she will 
willingly don the mantle. This she does, and 
in sight of all the barons it is neither too short 
nor too long. " It was well we sent for her," 
says the varlet. " Lady, your lover ought to 
be delighted. I have carried this mantle to 
many courts, and of more than a thousand 
who have put it on you are the only one 
that has escaped disgrace. I give it to you, 
and well you deserve it." The king confirms 
the gift, and no one can gainsay. 

A Norse prose translation of the French 
fabliau was executed by order of the Nor 
wegian king, Hakon Hakonarson, whose reign 
covers the years 1217-68. Of this translation, 
' Mottuls Saga,' a fragment has come down 
which is as old as 1300 ; there are also por 
tions of a manuscript which is assigned to 
about 1400, and two transcripts of this latter, 
made when it was complete, besides other less 

For tot le royaume de France, 

N'en voudroie je estre cert ; 

Quar qui sa bone amie pert 

Molt a perdu, ce m'est avis.' 818-25. 



important copies. This translation, which is 
reasonably close and was made from a good 
exemplar, has been most excellently edited by 
Messrs Cederschiold and Wulff, Versions nor- 
diques du Fabliau Le Mantel Mautaillie", Lund, 
1877, p. 1.* It presents no divergences from 
the story as just given which are material 

Not so with the ' Skikkju Rimur,' or Man 
tle Rhymes, an Icelandic composition of the 
fifteenth century, in three parts, embracing 
in all one hundred and eighty-five four-line 
stanzas : Cederschiold and Wulff, p. 51. In 
these the story is told with additions, which 
occur partially in our ballad. The mantle is 
of white velvet. Three elf-women had been 
not less than fifteen years in weaving it, and 
it seemed both yellow and gray, green and 
black, red and blue : n, 22, 23, 26. Our Eng 
lish minstrel describes these variations of color 
as occurring after Guenever had put the man 
tle on : stanzas 11, 12. Again, there are 
among the Pentecostal guests a king and 
queen of Dwarf Land ; a beardless king of 
Small-Maids Land, with a queen eight years 
old ; and a King Felix, three hundred years 
old, with a beard to the crotch, and a wife, tall 
and fat, to whom he has been two centuries 
married, all these severally attended by 
generous retinues of pigmies, juveniles, and 
seniors : I, 28-35 ; in, 41. Felix is of course 
the prototype of the old knight pattering over 
a creed in stanzas 21-24 of the ballad, and he 
will have his representative in several other 
pieces presently to be spoken of. In the end 
Arthur sends all the ladies from his court in 

* See also Brynjiilfsson, Saga af Tristram ok Isond, samt 
Mottuls Saga, Udtog, pp 318-26, Copenhagen, 1878. There 
is a general presumption that the larger part of the works 
translated for King Hakon were derived from England. 
C. & W., p. 47. 

t That is, the current one. The Samson saga professes 
to supply the earlier history. Samson's father is another 
Arthur, king of England. An abstract of so much of the 
saga as pertains to the Mantle is given by Cederschiold and 
, Wulff, p. 90 f. Warnatsch, p. 73 f, shows that the Rimur 
and Samson had probably a common source, independent of 
the Mottulssaga. 

} By Warnatsch, who gives the text with the correspond 
ing passages of the fabliau in a parallel column, pp 8-54 : 
the argument for Heinrich's authorship, pp 85-105. 'Der 
Mantel' had been previously printed, in ^Haupt and Hoff- 

disgrace, and his knights to the wars ; we will 
get better wives, he says : rn, 74, 75. 

The land of Small-Maids and the long-lived 
race are mentioned in a brief geographical 
chapter (the thirteenth) of that singular gal 
limaufry the saga of Samson the Fair, but not 
in connection with a probation by the mantle, 
though this saga has appropriated portions of 
the story. Here the mantle is one which four 
fairies have worked at for eighteen years, as a 
penalty for stealing from the fleece of a very 
remarkable ram ; and it is of this same fleece, 
described as being of all hues, gold, silk, ok 
kolors, that the mantle is woven. It would 
hold off from an unchaste woman and fall off 
from a thief. Quintalin, to ransom his life, 
undertakes to get the mantle for Samson. Its 
virtue is tried at two weddings, the second 
being Samson's ; and on this last occasion Val- 
entina, Samson's bride, is the only woman who 
can put it on. The mantle is given to Valen- 
tina, as in the fabliau to Carados's wife, but 
nevertheless we L hear later of its being pre 
sented by Samson to another lady, who, a 
good while after, was robbed of the same by 
a pirate, and the mantle carried to Africa. 
From Africa it was sent to our Arthur by a 
lady named Elida, " and hence the saga of the 
mantle." f Bjorner, Nordiska Kampa Dater, 
cc 12, 14, 15, 21, 22, 24. 

There is also an incomplete German ver 
sion of the fabliau, now credibly shown to be 
the work of Heinrich von dem Tiirlin, dating 
from the earliest years of the thirteenth cen 
tury 4 Though the author has <$eeiLt, freely 
with his original, there are indications that 

mann's Altdeutsche Blatter, II, 217, and by Miillenhoff in 
his Altdeutsche Sprachproben, p. 125. Of this poem, which 
Warnatsch, pp 105-110, holds to be a fragment of a lost 
romance of Lanzelet, written before the ' Crone/ only 994 
verses are left. Deducting about a hundred of introduction, 
there are some 782 German against some 314 French verses, 
an excess which is owing, no doubt, largely to insertions 
and expansions on the part of Heinrich, but 'in some measure 
to the existing texts of the fabliau having suffered abridg 
ment. The whole matter of the church service, with the 
going and coming, is dispatched in less than a dozen verses 
in the French, but occupies more than seventy in German, 
and just here we read in the French : 

Ci ne vueil je plus demorer, 

Ni de noient fere lone conte, 

Si con 1'estoire le raconte. 



this, like the Mottulssaga, was founded upon 
some version of the fabliau which is not now 
extant. One of these is an agreement be 
tween vv 574-6 and the sixth stanza of our 
ballad. The mantle, in English, is enclosed 
between two nut-shells ; * in German, the bag 
from which it is taken is hardly a span wide. 
In the Mottulssaga, p. 9, 1. 6, the mantle 
comes from a puss, a small bag hanging on 
the belt ; in Ulrich von Zatzikhoven's Lan- 
zelet, from ein maezigez teschelin, and in the 
latter case the mantle instantaneously expands 
to full size (Warnatsch) ; it is also of all 
colors known to man, w 5807-19. Again, 
when Guenever had put on the mantle, st. 10 
of our ballad, " it was from the top to the toe 
as sheeres had itt shread." So in * Der Man 
tel,' vv 732, 733 : 

Unde [= unten] het man in zerizzen, 
Oder mit mezzern zesnitten.f 

The Lanzelet of Ulrich von Zatzikhoven, 
dating from the first years of the thirteenth 
century, with peculiarities of detail and a 
partially new set of names, presents the out 
line of the same story. A sea-fairy sends a 
maid to Arthur with a magnificent gift, which 

But possibly the last verse should be taken with what fol 

* In Hahn, Griechische Marchen, No 70, II, 60 f, a walnut 
contains a dress with the earth and its flowers displayed on 
it, an almond one with the heaven and its stars, a hazel-nut 
one with the sea and its fishes. No 7, I, 99, a walnut con 
tains a complete costume exhibiting heaven with its stars, a 
hazel-nut another with the sea and its waves. No 67, II, 
33, an almond encloses a woman's dress with heaven and 
its stars on it, a hazel-nut a suit for her husband. In the 
Grimms' No 113, three walnuts contain successively each a 
finer dress than the other, II, 142 f, ed. 1857. There are 
three similar nuts in Haltrich, No 43, and in Volksmarchen 
aus Venetien, Jahrbuch fiir r. n. e. Lit, VII, 249, No 12. 
Ulrich's mantle is worked with all manner of beasts, birds, 
and sea monsters, on earth or under, and betwixt earth and 
heaven : Lanzelet, 5820-27. 

t I cite the text according to Warnatsch. Warnatsch 
thinks it worth noticing that it is the queen only, in Mantel 
771 f, as in our ballad, st. 14, that curses the maker of the 
mantle ; not, as in the fablian, the gentlemen whose feelings 
were so much tried. These, like the queen in the ballad, ont 
maudit le mantel, et celui qui li aporta. 

| Not even for Ginovere hiibsch unde guot, or Enite diu 
reine. The queen has always been heedful of her acts, and 
has never done anything wrong : doch ist siu an den ge- 
denken missevarn, Heaven knows how. Ulrich is very feeble 

is, however, conditioned upon his granting a 
boon. Arthur assents, and the maid takes, 
from a small bag which she wears at her gir 
dle, a mantle, which is of all colors that man 
ever saw or heard of, and is worked with 
every manner of beast, fowl, and strange fish. 
The king's promise obliges him to make all 
the court ladies don the mantle, she to have it 
whom it perfectly fits. More than two hun 
dred try, and there is no absolute fit.J But 
Iblis, Lanzelet's wife, is not present : she is 
languishing on account of his absence on a 
dangerous adventure. She is sent for, and by 
general agreement the mantle is, on her, the 
best-fitting garment woman ever wore. Ed. 
Hahn, vv 5746-6135. 

The adventure of the Mantle is very briefly 
reported to Gawain, when on his way with 
Ydain to Arthur, by a youth who had just 
come from the court, in terms entirely accord 
ing with the French fabliau, in Messire Gau- 
vain, ou La Vengeance de Raguidel, by the 
trouv^re Raoul, ed. Hippeau, p. 135 ff, w 
3906-55, and in the Dutch Lancelot, ed. 
Jonckbloet, Part II, p. 85, vv 12,500-527, 
poems of the thirteenth century. The one 
lady whom the mantle fits is in the latter 

A remark is here in place which will be still more appli 
cable to some of the tests that are to be spoken of further 
on. Both the French fabliau and the English ballad give to 
the mantle the power of detecting the woman that has once 
done amiss, a de rien messerre. We naturally suppose that 
we understand what is meant. The trial in the fabliau is 
so conducted as to confirm our original conception of the 
nature of the inquest, and so it is, in the case of Arthur's 
queen, Kay's lady, and the old knight's wife, in the ballad. 
But when we come to the charmingly pretty passage about 
Cradock's wife, what are we to think 1 Is the mantle in a 
teasing mood, or is it exhibiting its real quality ? If once 
to have kissed Cradock's mouth before marriage is once 
to have done amiss, Heaven keep our Mirandas and our Per- 
ditas, and Heaven forgive our Juliets and our Rosalinds ! 
("Les dames et demoiselles, pour etre baisees devant leur 
noces, il n'est pas la coutume de France," we know, bnt 
this nice custom could hardly have had sway in England. 
Is then this passage rendered from something in French that 
is lost?) But the mantle, in the ballad, after indulging its 
humor or its captiousness for a moment, does Cradock's wife 
full justice. The mantle, if uncompromising as to acts, at 
least does not assume to bring thoughts under its jurisdic 
tion. Many of the probations allow themselves this range, 
and as no definite idea is given of what is charged, no one 
need be shocked, or perhaps disturbed, by the number of 
convictions. The satire loses zest, and the moral effect is 
not improved. 



Carados vrindinne, in the other 1'amie Car- 
aduel Briefbras. 

The Scalachronica, by Sir Thomas Gray of 
Heton, a chronicle of England and Scotland, 
1066-1362, begun in 1355, gives the analysis 
of many romances, and that of the adventure 
of the Mantle in this form. There was sent 
to Arthur's court the mantle of Karodes, 
which was of such virtue that it would fit no 
woman who was not willing that her husband 
should know both her act and her thought.* 
This was the occasion of much mirth, for the 
mantle was either too short, or too long, or 
too tight, for all the ladies except Karodes' 
wife. And it was said that this mantle was 
sent by the father of Karodes, a magician, to 
prove the goodness of his son's wife.f 

Two fifteenth-century German versions of 
the Mantle story give it a shape of their own. 
In Fastnachtspiele aus dem fiinfzehnten Jahr- 
hundert, II, 665, No 81, ' Der Luneten Man 
tel,' the amiable Lunet, so well and favorably 
known in romances, takes the place of the 
English boy and French varlet. The story 
has the usual course. The mantle is unsuc 
cessfully tried by Arthur's queen, by the wife 
of the Greek emperor, and by the queen of 
Lorraine. The king of Spain, who announces 
himself as the oldest man present, is willing 
to excuse his wife, who is the youngest of the 
royal ladies. She says, If we lack lands and 

/ / ' 

gold, " so sei wir doch an eren reich," offers 
herself to the test with the fearlessness of in 
nocence, and comes off clear, to the delight of 
her aged spouse. A meistergesang, Bruns, 

Beitrage zur kritischen Bearbeitung alter 
Handschriften, p. 143, J ' Lanethen Mantel,' 
again awards the pi'ize to the young wife of 
a very old knight. Laneth, a clean maid, 
who is Arthur's niece, having made herself 
poor by her bounty, is cast off by her uncle's 
wife and accused of loose behavior. She 
makes her trouble known to a dwarf, a good 
friend of her father's, and receives from him a 
mantle to take to Arthur's court : if anybody 
huffs her, she is to put it to use. The queen 
opens upon Laneth, as soon as she appears, 
with language not unlike that which she em 
ploys of Cradock's wife in stanzas 33, 34 of 
the ballad. The mantle is offered to any lady 
that it will fit. In front it comes to the 
queen's knee, and it drags on the ground be 
hind. Three hundred and fifty knights' la 
dies fare as ill as the sovereign. 

The Dean of Lismore's collection of Gaelic 
poetry, made in the early part of the sixteenth 
century, contains a ballad, obscure in places, 
but clearly presenting the outlines of the Eng 
lish ballad or French fabliau. || Finn, Diar- 
maid, and four other heroes are drinking, with 
their six wives. The women take too much, 
and fall to boasting of their chastity. While 
they are so engaged, a maid approaches who is 
clad in a seamless robe of pure white. She sits 
down by Finn, and he asks her what is the 
virtue of the garment. She replies that her 
seamless robe will completely cover none but 
the spotless wife. Conan, a sort of Kay, says, 
Give it to my wife at once, that we may learn 
the truth of what they have been saying. 

* Nul femme que [ne] vouloit lesser sauoir a soun marry 
soun fet et pense. T. Wright, in Archseologia Cambrensis, 
January, 1863, p. 10. Mr Wright gives one of the texts of 
Cort Mantel, with an English translation. We are further 
told, in Scalachronica, that this mantle was afterwards made 
into a chasuble, and that it is " to this day " preserved at 
Glastonbury. Three versions of the fabliau testify that 
Carados and his amie deposited the mantle in a Welsh ab 
bey. The Skikkju Eimur say that the lady presented it to 
the cloister of Cologne ; the Mottulssaga has simply a mon 
astery (and, indeed, the mantle, as described by some, must 
have had a vocation that way from the beginning). " Item, 
in the castel of Douer ye may see Gau,wayn's skull and Cra- 
dok's mantel : " Caxton, in his preface to Kyng Arthur, 
1485, I, ii, in Southey's ed. ; cited by Michel, Tristan, II, 
181, and from him by Warnatsch. 

t For this enchanter see Le Livre de Karados in Perceval 

le Gallois, ed. Potvin, II, 118 ff. It is not said in the printed 
copy that he sent the mantle [horn]. 

t Another copy, assigned to the end of the 14th century, 
from the Kolmar MS., Bartsch, p. 373, No LXIX (War 

Warnatsch shows, p. 75 f, that the fastnachtspiel must 
have been made up in part from some version of the Mantle 
story which was also the source of the meisterlied, and in 
part from a meisterlied of the Horn, which will be men 
tioned further on. 

|| The Dean of Lismore's Book, edited by Kev. Thomas 
M'Lauchlan, p. 72 of the translation, ^ of the original. Re 
peated in Campbell's Heroic Gaelic Ballads, p. 138 f, ' The 
Maid of the White Mantle.' Mr Campbell remarks : " This 
ballad, or the story of it, is known in Irish writings. It is 
not remembered in Scotland now." Mr Wright cites this 
poem, Archaeologia Cambrensis, p. 14 f, 39 f. 



The robe shrinks into folds, and Conan is so 
angry that he seizes his spear and kills his 
wife.* Diarm aid's wife tries, and the robe 
clings about her hair ; Oscar's, and it does not 
reach to her middle ; Maighinis, Finn's wife, 
and it folds around her ears. MacRea's wife 
only is completely covered. The 'daughter 
of Deirg,' certainly a wife of Finn, and here 
seemingly to be identified with Maighinis, 
claims the robe : she has done nothing to be 
ashamed of; she has erred only with Finn. 
Finn curses her and womankind, " because of 
her who came that day." 

The probation by the Horn runs parallel 
with that by the Mantle, with which it is 
combined in the English ballad. Whether 
this or that is the anterior creation it is not 
possible to say, though the ' Lai du Corn * is, 
beyond question, as Ferdinand Wolf held, of a 
more original stamp, fresher and more in the 
popular vein than the fabliau of the Mantle, as 
we have it.f The ' Lai du Corn,' preserved in 
a single not very early manuscript (Digby 86, 
Bodleian Library, " of the second half of the 
thirteenth or beginning of the fourteenth cen 
tury "), may well belong, where Wolf puts it, 
in the middle of the twelfth. Robert Bikez, 
the jongleur who composed it, attributes the 
first authorship to " Garadue," the hero, and 
says that he himself derived the story from 
the oral communication of an abbe*. Arthur 
has assembled thirty thousand knights at a 
feast at Pentecost, and each of them is paired 
with a lady. Before dinner there arrives a don- 
zel, with an ivory horn adorned with four gold 
bands and rich jewels. This horn has been 
sent Arthur by Mangounz, king of Moraine. 
The youth is told to take his place before the 
king, who promises to knight him after din 
ner and give him a handsome present the next 

day; but he laughingly excuses himself, on 
the ground that it is not proper for a squire to 
eat at a knight's table, and retires. Arthur 
sees that there is an inscription on the horn, 
and desires that his "chapelein" may read it. 
Everybody is eager to hear, but some repent 
afterwards. The horn was made by a fairy, 
who endued it with this quality, that no man 
should drink of it without spilling, if his wife 
had not been true in act and thought. Even 
the queen hung her head, and so di'd all the 
barons that had wives. The maids jested, and 
looked at their lovers with " Now we shall 
see." Arthur was offended, but ordered Kay 
to fill. The king drank and spilled ; seized a 
knife, and was about to strike the queen, but 
was withheld by his knights. Gawain gal 
lantly came to the queen's vindication. " Be 
not such a churl," he said, " for there is no 
married woman but has her foolish thought." 
The queen demanded an ordeal by fire : if a 
hair of her were burned, she would be torn by 
horses. She confessed that the horn was in 
so far right that she had once given a ring 
to a youth who had killed a giant that had 
accused Gawain of treason, etc. She thought 
this youth would be a desirable addition to the 
court. Arthur was not convinced : he would 
make everybody try the horn now, king, duke, 
and count, for he would not be the only one to 
be shamed. Eleven kings, thirty counts, all 
who essay, spill : they are very angry, and bid 
the devil take him who brought and him who 
sent the horn. When Arthur saw this, he be 
gan to laugh : he regarded the horn as a great 
present, he said, and he would part with it to 
nobody except the man that could drink out of 
it. The queen blushed so prettily that he kissed 
her three times, and asked her pardon for his 
bad humor. The queen said, Let everybody 

* Cf. Arthur in the Lai da Corn and Fraw Tristerat 
Horn, a little further on. 

t Wolf at first speaks of the lai as being made over into 
the fabliau, in regular court style, ganz nach hofischer Weise, 
about the middle of the 13th century ; then goes on to say 
that even if the author of the fabliau followed another ver 
sion of the story, he must have known the jongleur's poem, 
because he has repeated some of the introductory lines of 
the lai. This excellent scholar happened, for once, not to 
observe that the first fourteen lines of the lai, excepting the 

fourth, which is questionable, are in a longer metre than the 
rest of the poem, in eights and sevens, not sixes, and the 
first three of the lai, which agree with the first three of the 
fabliau, in the eight-syllable verse of the latter ; so that it 
was not the author of the fabliau that borrowed. Warnatsch 
(who has also made this last remark) has noted other agree 
ments between lai and fabliau, p. 61. Both of these ac 
knowledge their derivation from an earlier dit, estoire, not 
having which we shall find it hard to determine by which 
and from what the borrowing was done. 



take the horn, small and great. There was a 
knight who was the happiest man in all the 
court, the least a braggart, the most mannerly, 
and the most redoubtable after Gawain. His 
name was Garadue, and he had a wife, mout 
leal, who was a fairy for beauty, and surpassed 
by none but the queen. Garadue looked at 
her. She did not change color. " Drink," she 
said ; " indeed, you are at fault to hesitate." 
She would never have husband but him : for 
a woman should be a dove, and accept no sec 
ond mate. Garadue was naturally very much 
pleased : he sprang to his feet, took the horni 
and, crying Wassail ! to the king, drank out 
every drop. Arthur presented him with Ciren- 
cester, and, for his wife's sake, with the horn, 
which was exhibited there on great days. 

The romance of Perceval le Gallois, by 
Chrestien de Troyes and others (second half 
of the twelfth century), describes Arthur, 
like the fabliau, as putting off dinner till he 
should hear of some strange news or adven 
ture. A knight rides into the hall, with an 
ivory horn, gold-banded and richly jewelled, 
hanging from his neck, and presents it to the 
king. Have it filled with pure water, says 
the bearer, and the water will turn to the best 
wine in the world, enough for all who are 
present. " A rich present ! " exclaims Kay. 
But no knight whose wife or love has be 
trayed him shall drink without spilling. " Or 
empire vostre presens," says Kay. The king 
has the horn filled, and does not heed Guen- 
ever, who begs him not to drink, for it is 
some enchantment, to shame honest folk. 
" Then I pray God," says the queen, " that if 
you try to drink you may be wet." The king 
essays to drink, and Guenever has her prayer. 
Kay has the same luck, and all the knights,* 
till the horn comes to Carados (Brisie"-Bras). 
Carados, as in the lai, hesitates ; his wife 
(Guinon, Guimer) looks at him, and says, 
Drink ! He spills not a drop. Guenever and 

* Montpellier MS. 

t Perceval exhibits agreements, both as to phrase and 
matter, now with the lai, now with the fabliau, and this 
phenomenon will occur again and again. This suggests the 
likelihood of a source which combined traits of both lai and 
fabliau : Warnatsch, pp 62-64. 

| So amended by Zingerle from Syrneyer lant. A third 

many a dame hate nothing so much as her. 
Perceval le Gallois, ed. Potvin, II, 216 ff, 
vv 15,640-767. f 

The story of ' Le Livre de Carados,' in Per 
ceval, is given in abridgment by the author 
of Le Roman du Renard contrefait, writing 
in the second half of the fourteenth century : 
Tarbe", Poe~tes de Champagne anteVieurs au 
si^cle de Francois I er , Histoire de Quarados 
Brun-Bras, p. 79 ff. The horn here becomes 
a cup. 

A meistergesang, entitled ' Dis ist Frauw 
Tristerat Horn von Saphoien,' and found in 
the same fifteenth-century manuscript as Der 
Lanethen Mantel, Bruns, as before, p. 139, 
preserves many features of the lai. While 
Arthur is at table with seven other kings and 
their wives, a damsel comes, bringing an ivory 
horn, with gold letters about the rim, a pres 
ent from Frau Tristerat of Savoy. The king 
sends for a clerk to read the inscription, and 
declares he will begin the experiment. The 
damsel prudently retires. Arthur is thoroughly 
wet, and on the point of striking the queen, 
but is prevented by a knight. The seven 
kings then take the horn, one after the other. 
Six of them fare like Arthur. The king of 
Spain looks at his wife, fearing shame. She 
encourages him to drink, saying, as in the 
other meistergesang, If we are poor in goods, 
we are rich in honor. Arthur presents him 
with the horn, and adds cities and lands. An 
other copy of this piece was printed by Zin 
gerle, in Germania, V, 101, ' Das goldene 
Horn.' The queen is aus der Syrenen lant.J 

A fastnachtspiel gives substantially the 
same form to the story : Keller, Nachlese, No 
127, p. 183. Arthur invites seven kings and 
queens to his court. His wife wishes him to 
ask his sister, the Queen of Cyprus, also ; but 
she has offended him, and he cannot be pre 
vailed upon to do it. The Queen of Cyprus 
sends the horn to Arthur by her maid as a gift 

copy is cited as in the Kolmar MS., No 806, Bartsch, 
Meisterlieder der Kolmarer Handschrift, p. 74 (Warnatsch). 
A remarkable agreement between the French lai, 94, 97, 99- 
102, and Wigamur 2623-30 convinces Warnatsch that the 
source of this meisterlied must have been a Middle High 
German rendering of some form of the Drinking-horn Test 
closely resembling the lai. See Warnatsch, p. 66. 



from a queen who is to be nameless, and in ful 
filling her charge the messenger describes her 
lady simply as a sea princess. The inscrip 
tion is read aloud by one of Arthur's knights. 
The King of Spain carries off the honors, and 
receives in gift, besides the horn, a ducal crown, 
and gold to boot. Arthur resolves that the 
horn shall be forgotten, and no grudge borne 
against the women, and proposes a dance, 
which he leads off with his wife.* 

We have Arthur joining in a dance under 
nearly the same circumstances in an English 
" bowrd " found in a MS. of about the middle 
of the fifteenth century (Ashmolean Museum, 
No 61) .The king has a bugle horn; which al 
ways stands before him, and often amuses him 
self by experimenting with it. Those who can 
not drink without spilling are set at a table 
by themselves, with willow garlands on their 
heads, and served with the best. Upon the oc 
casion of a visit from the Duke of Gloucester, 
the king, wishing to entertain his guest with 
an exhibition of the property of the horn, 
says he will try all who are present. He be 
gins himself, as he was wont to do, but this 
time spills. He takes the mishap merrily, and 
says he may now join in a dance which the 
" freyry " were to have after meat. 4 The 
Cok wolds Daunce,' Hartshorne's Ancient Met 
rical Tales, p. 209 ; Karajan, Friihlingsgabe 
[Schatzgriiber], p. 17 ; Hazlitt, Remains of 
Early Popular Poetry, I, 38.f 

Heinrich von dem Tiirlin narrates the epi 

sode of the probation by the Horn with many 
variations of his own, among them the im 
portant one of subjecting the women to the 
test as well as the men.| In his Crcme, put 
at 1200-10, a misshapen, dwarfish knight, 
whose skin is overgrown with scales, riding 
on a monster who is fish before and dolphin 
behind, with wings on its legs, presents him 
self to Arthur on Christmas Day as an envoy 
from a sea king, who offers the British mon 
arch a gift on condition of his first granting 
a boon. The gift is a cup, made by a necro 
mancer of Toledo, of which no man or woman 
can drink who has been false to love, and it 
is to be the king's if there shall be anybody 
at the court who can stand the test. The 
ladies are sent for, and the messenger gives 
the cup first to them. They all spill. The 
knights follow, Arthur first ; and he, to the 
general astonishment, bears the proof, which 
no one else does except the sea king's messen 
ger. Caraduz von Caz fails with the rest. 
Diu Cr6ne, ed. Scholl, vv 466-3189. 

The prose Tristan confines the proof to the 
women, and transfers the scene to King Mark's 
court. Morgan the Fay having sent the en 
chanted horn to Arthur's court by the hands 
of a damsel, to avenge herself on Guenever, 
two knights who had a spite against Mark 
and Tristan intercept it, and cause the 
horn to be taken to King Mark, who is in 
formed that no lady that has been false to her 
lord can drink of it without spilling. Yseult 

* The king of Spain, who is again the poorest of all the 
kings, p. 206, line 32, p. 214, line 22, is addressed by Arthur 
as hia nephew, p. 207, line 11, and p. 193, line 30. Carados 
is called Arthur's nephew in Perceval (he is son of Arthur's 
niece), e. g. 15,782, and Carados, his father, is Carados de 
Vaigne, II, 117. It is said of Kalcgras's amie in the ' Man 
tle Rhymes,' in, 59, that many a lady looked down upon her. 
This may be a chance expresbion, or possibly point to the 
poverty which is attributed to the royal pair of Spain in 
Fastnachtspiele, Nos 81, 127, and in Frau Tristerat Horn. 
In Der Lanethen Mantel, Laneth is Arthur's niece, and 
poor: see p. 261. 

The fastnachtspiel has points in common with the fabliau, 
and the assumption of a source which combined features of 
both lai and fabliau is warrantable : Warnatsch, pp 66-68. 

t This is a thoroughly dissolute piece, but not ambiguous. 
It is also the most humorous of the whole series. 

J Warnatsch shows that Heinrich cannot have derived 
any part of his Triukhornprobe from the Perceval of Chres- 

tien, characteristic agreements with Perceval being entirely 
wanting. There are agreements with the lai, many more 
with the fabliau ; and Heinrich's poem, so far as it is iiot of 
his own invention, he believes to be compounded from his 
own version of the fabliau and some lost version of the Horn- 
test : pp 111-114. 

The principal variations of this name, of which the 
Welsh Caradoc is assumed to be the original, are : Crad- 
docke (English ballad) ; Carados, Caradox (Cort Mantel) ; 
Kunidcs (Scalachronica) ; Caraduz (Crone, 2309, elsewhere) 
Karadas; Carigras, Kaligras (Ilimur) ; Karodeus, Cara- 
duel (Perceval, 12,466, 12,457, 12,491, but generally), Cara 
dos, -ot, or; Caraduel (Messire Gauvain, 3943); Garadue 
(Lai du Corn) ; Karadin (Mottuls Saga). Garadue probably 
= Caraduel, which, in Pcrcival twice, and once in Messire 
Gauvain, is used for Carados, through confusion with Ar 
thur's residence, Carduel, Cardoil. So Karadas is twice 
put in the Crone, 16,726, 16,743, for Karidol = Cardoil. 
Might not Karadin have been written for Karadiu ? 



spills, and the king says she deserves to die. 
But, fortunately or unfortunately, all the rest 
of the ladies save four are found to be in 
the same plight as the queen. The courtiers, 
resolved to make the best of a bad matter, 
declare that they have no confidence in the 
probation, and the king consents to treat the 
horn as a deception, and acquits his wife.* 

Ariosto has introduced the magical vessel 
made by Morgan the Fay for Arthur's be 
hoof f into Orlando Furioso. A gentleman 
tries it on his guests for ten years, and they 
all spill but Rinaldo, who declines il periglioso 
saggio : canto XLH, 70-73, 97-104 ; XLHI, 
6-44. Upon Ariosto's narrative La Fontaine 
founded the tale and the comedy of ' La Coupe 
EnchanteV Works ed. Moland, IV, 37, V, 

In a piece in the Wunderhorn, I, 389, ed. 
1819, called ' Die Ausgleichung,' and purport 
ing to be from oral tradition, but reading like 
an imitation, or at most a reconstruction, of a 
meistergesang, the cup and mantle are made 
to operate conjointly : the former to convict 
a king and his knights, the other a queen 
and her ladies, of unfaithfulness in love. Only 
the youngest of the ladies can wear the man 
tle, and only the oldest of the knights, to 
whom she is espoused, can drink from the 
cup. This knight, on being presented with 
the cup, turns into a dwarf ; the lady, on 
receiving the gift of the mantle, into a fay. 

They pour a drop of wine from the cup upon 
the mantle, and give the mantle to the queen, 
and the cup, empty, to the king. After this, 
the king and all the world can drink with 
out inconvenience, and the mantle fits every 
woman. But the stain on the mantle grows 
bigger every year, and the cup gives out a 
hollow sound like tin ! An allegory, we may 
suppose, and, so far as it is intelligible, of the 
weakest sort. 

Tegau Eurvron is spoken of in Welsh triads 
as one of the three chaste ladies, and again 
as one of the three fair ladies, of Arthur's 
court.J She is called the wife of Caradawc 
Vreichvras by various Welsh writers, and by 
her surname of " Gold-breasted " she should be 
so. If we may trust the author of The Welsh 
Bards, Tegau was the possessor of three treas 
ures or rarities " which befitted none but her 
self," a mantle, a goblet, and a knife. The 
mantle is mentioned in a triad, || and is re 
ferred to as having the variable hue attributed 
to it in our ballad and elsewhere. There are 
three things, says the triad, of which no man 
knows the color ; the peacock's expanded tail, 
the mantle of Tegau Eurvron, and the miser's 
pence. Of this mantle, Jones, in whose list of 
" Thirteen Rarities of Kingly Regalia " of the 
Island of Britain it stands eleventh, says, No 
one could put it on who had dishonored mar 
riage, nor a young damsel who had committed 
incontinence ; but it would cover a chaste 

* Tristan of Helie de Borron, I, 73 verso, in Rajna, Fonti 
dell' Orlando Furioso, p. 498 ff. So in Malory's King Ar 
thur, Southey, I, 297, Wright, II, 64. The Italian Tristan, 
La Tavola Ritonda, ed. Polidori, XLIII, pp 157-160, makes 
686 try, of whom only 13 prove to be innocent, and those in 
spite of themselves. Another account exempts 2 out of 365 : 
Nannucci, Manuale, II, 168-171. 

t Un vasello fatto da ber, qual gia, per fare accorto il suo 
fratello del fallo di Ginevra, fe Morgana : XLHI, 28 ; un bel 
nappo d'or, di fuor di gemme, XLII, 98. The Orlando con 
curs with the prose Tristan as to the malice of Morgan, but 
does not, with the Tristan, depart from prescription in mak 
ing the women drink. Warnatsch observes that the Orlando 
agrees with the Horn Fastnachtspiel, and may with it follow 
some lost version of the story : p. 69. 

Before leaving these drinking-tests, mention may be made 

of Oberon's gold cup, which, upon his passing his right hand 

three times round it and making the sign of the cross, fills 

with wine enough for all the living and the dead ; but no one 

an drink s'il n'est preudom, et nes et purs et sans pecie 


mortel : Huon de Bordeaux, ed. Guessard et Grandmaison, 
p. 109 f, vv 3652-69. 

t The Myvyrian Archaeology of Wales, II, 13, triad 54 = 
triad 103, p. 73 ; p. 17, triad 78 = triad 108, p. 73. 

See the story in Le Livre de Carados, Perceval le Gal- 
lois, Potvin, especially II, 214-16, vv 15,577-638. "The 
Rev. Evan Evans," says Percy, Reliques, III, 349, ed. 1794, 
" affirmed that the story of the Boy and the Mantle is taken 
from what is related in some of the old Welsh MSS of Te- 
gan Earfron, one of King Arthur's mistresses." This asper 
sion, which is even absurd, must have arisen from a misun 
derstanding on the part of the Bishop : no Welshman could 
so err. 

|| Myvyrian Archaeology, III, 247 a , No 10, pointed out to 
me by Professor Evans. The story of the ' Boy and the 
Mantle,' says Warton, " is recorded in many manuscript 
Welsh chronicles, as I learn from original letters of Llwyd, 
in the Ashmolean Museum : " History of English Poetry, ed. 
1871, I, 97, note 1. 



woman from top to toe : Welsh Bards, II, 49. 
The mantle certainly seems to be identified 
by what is said of its color in the (not very 
ancient) triad, and so must have the property 
attributed to it by Jones, but one would be 
glad to have had Jones cite chapter and verse 
for his description. 

There is a drinking-horn among the Thir 
teen Precious Things of the Island of Britain, 
which, like the conjurer's bottle of our day, 
will furnish any liquor that is called for, and 
a knife which will serve four-and-twenty men 
at meat " all at once." How this horn and this 
knife should befit none but the chaste and love 
ly Tegau, it is not easy to comprehend. Mean 
while the horn and the knife are not the prop 
erty of Cradock's wife, in the English ballad : 
the horn falls to Cradock of right, and the 
knife was his from the beginning. Instead of 
Tegau's mantle we have in another account 
a mantle of Arthur, which is the familiar 
cloak that allows the wearer to see everything 
without himse'lf being seen. Not much light, 
therefore, but rather considerable mist, comes 
from these Welsh traditions, of very uncertain 
date and significance. It may be that some 
body who had heard of the three Welsh rari 
ties, and of the mantle and horn as being two 
of them, supposed that the knife must have 
similar virtues with the horn and mantle, 
whence its appearance in our ballad ; but no 
proof has yet been given that the Welsh horn 
and knife had ever a power of testing chas 

Heinrich von dem Tiirlin, not satisfied with 

* The horn is No 4 in Jones's list, and No 3 in a manu 
script of Justice Bosanqnet ; the knife is 13th in Jones and 
6th in the other; the mantle of invisibility is 13th in the Bo- 
sanquet series, and, under the title of Arthur's veil or mask, 
1st in Jones. The mantle of Tegau Eurvron does not occur 
in the Bosanquet MS. Jones says, " The original Welsh 
account of the above regalia was transcribed from a tran 
script of Mr Edward Llwyd, the antiquary, who informs me 
that he copied it from an old parchment MS. I have col 
lated this with two other MSS." Not a word of dates. 
Jones's Welsh Bards, II, 47-49; Lady Charlotte Guest's 
Mabinogion, II, 353-55. 

Lady Charlotte Guest remarks that a boar's head in some 
form appears as the armorial bearing of all of Caradawc's 
name. Though most anxious to believe all that is said of 
Caradawc, I am compelled to doubt whether this goes far 
to prove that he owned the knife celebrated in the ballad. 

testing Arthur's court first with the mantle, 
and again with the horn, renews the experi 
ment with a Glove, in a couple of thousand 
lines more of tedious imitation of ' Cort Man 
tel,' f Cr6ne, 22,990-24,719. This glove ren 
ders the right side of the body invisible, when 
put on by man or woman free of blame, but 
leaves in the other case some portion of that 
side visible and bare. A great many ladies 
and knights don the glove, and all have rea 
son to regret the trial except Arthur and Ga- 

There is another German imitation of the 
fabliau of the mantle, in the form (1) of a 
farce of the fifteenth century and (2) of a 
meistergesang printed in the sixteenth. In 
these there is substituted for the mantle a 
Crown that exposes the infidelity of husbands. 

1. " Das Vasnachtspil mit der Kron." A 
" master " has been sent to Arthur's court 
with a rich crown, which the King of Abian 
wishes to present to whichever king or lord it 
shall fit, and it will fit only those who have 
not " lost their honor." The King of Orient 
begins the trial, very much against his will : 
the crown turns to ram's horns. The King 
of Cyprus is obliged to follow, though he says 
the devil is in the crown : the crown hangs 
about his neck. Appeals are made to Arthur 
that the trial may now stop, so that the knights 
may devote themselves to the object for which 
they had come together, the service and honor 
of the ladies. But here Lanet, Arthur's sister 
(so she is styled), interposes, and expresses 
a hope that no honors are intended the queen, 

t Heinrich seeks to put his wearisome invention off on 
Chrestien de Troyes. Warnatsch argues with force against 
any authorship but Heinrich's, pp 116 ff. 

| Gawain had failed in the earlier trial, though he had no 
fault in mind or body, except that he rated his favor with 
women too high: 1996-2000. 

In the first two probations a false heart is the corpus de 
licti ; something is said of^ carnal offences, but not very dis 

The scope of the glove is of the widest It takes cogniz 
ance of rede und gedanc in maids, were und gedanc in wives, und manfieit, unzuht und zaqeheit, in men. One must 
have known as little what one was convicted of as if one 
had been in the hands of the Holy Office. 

Fastnachtspiele aus dem ftinfzehnten Jahrhundert, 
Zweiter Theil, p. 654, No 80. 



for she is not worthy of them, having broken 
her faith. Arthur is very angry, and says that 
Lanet has by her injurious language forfeited 
all her lands, and shall be expelled from 
court. (Cf. Der Lanethen Mantel, p. 261.) 
A knight begs the king to desist, for he who 
heeds every tale that is told of his wife shall 
never be easy. 

2. The meistergesang ' Die Krone der Koni- 
gin von Afion.' * While his majesty of Afion 
is holding a great feast, a youth enters the 
hall bearing a splendid crown, which has such 
chaste things in it that no king can wear it 
who haunts false love. The crown had been 
secretly made by order of the queen. The 
king wishes to buy the crown at any price, but 
the youth informs him that it is to be given 
free to the man who can wear it. The king 
asks the favor of being the first to try the 
crown : when put on his head it falls down to 
his back. The King of Portugal is eager to 
be next : the crown falls upon his shoulder. 
The King of Holland at first refuses to put on 
the crown, for there was magic in it, and it 
was only meant to shame them : but he is 
obliged to yield, and the crown goes to his 
girdle. The King of Cyprus offers himself 
to the adventure : the crown falls to his loins. 
And so with eleven. But there was a " Young 
Philips," King of England, who thought he 
might carry off the prize. His wife was gray 
and old and ugly, and quite willing, on this 
account, to overlook e bisserle Falschheit, and 
told him that he might spare himself. But 
he would not be prevented ; so they put the 
crown on him, and it fitted to a hair. This 
makes an edifying pendant to ' Der Luneten 
Mantel,' p. 261. 

Still another imitation is the Magical Bridge 

in the younger Tituflel which Klingsor throws 
over the Sibra. Knights and ladies assembled 
at Arthur's court, if less than perfect,! on at 
tempting to ride over it are thrown off into 
the water, or stumble and fall on the bridge : 
ed. Hahn, p. 232 ff, st. 2337 ff. Hans Sachs 
has told this story twice, with Virgil for the 
magician : ed. Keller, Historia, Konig Artus 
mit der ehbrecher-brugk, II, 262 ; Goedeke, 
Dichtungen von Hans Sachs, 1, 175. Kirchhof 
follows Hans Sachs in a story in Wendun- 
muth, ed. Osterley, II, 38. 

Florimel's Girdle, in the fourth book of the 
' Fairy Queen,' canto V, once more, is formed 
on the same pattern. $ 

There might be further included in imita 
tions of the horn or mantle test several other 
inventions which are clearly, as to form, mod 
elled on this original, but which have a dif 
ferent object : the valley from which no false 
lover could escape till it had been entered by 
one "qui de nulle chose auroit vers s'amie 
fause* ne mespris, n d'euvre nd de pense"e nd 
de talent," the prose Lancelot in Jonckbloet, 
II, Ixix (Warnatsch), Ferrario, Storia ed 
Analisi, Lancilotto del Lago, III, 372, Le- 
grand, Fabliaux, I, 156 ; the arch in Amadis, 
which no man or woman can pass who has 
been unfaithful to a first love, and again, the 
sword which only the knight who loves his 
lady best can draw, and the partly withered 
garland which becomes completely fresh on 
the head of the lady who best loves her hus 
band or lover, Amadfs de Gaula, 1. ii, intro- 
duccion, c. 1, c. 14, and ballad 1890 in Duran, 
II, 665 ; the cup of congealed tears in Palmerin 
of England, which liquefies in the hand of the 
best knight and faithfulest lover, chapters 87- 
89, II, 322 ff, ed. of London, 1807. 

* From Vulpius's Curiositaten, II, 463, in Erlach, I, 132, 
after a printed copy of the beginning of the 16th century : 
Wolff, Halle der Volker, II, 243, from a Fliegendes Blatt of 
the 16th century. Two copies are cited by title in Mone's 
Anzeiger, VIII, 354 b, No 1 ; 378, No 165. Wolff prints 

t A man must be " clear as beryl." One of the knights 
is tumbled into the water for having kissed a lady ; but this 
is according to the code, for he had done it without leave. 
We learn from Perceval that kissing is permissible ; marry, 
not without the lady be willing. ' Die bruck zu Karidol ' is 

alluded to in 'Der Spiegel,' Meister Alswert, ed. Holland u. 
Keller, p. 179, vv 10-13. (Goedeke.) A man who has trans 
ferred his devotion from an earlier love to the image of a 
lady shown him in a mirror says the bridge would have 
thrown him over. 

J Florimel's girdle is a poor contrivance every way, and 
most of all for practical purposes ; for we are told in stanza 
3 that it gives the virtue of chaste love to all who wear it, 
and then that whosoever contrary doth prove cannot keep it 
on. But what could one expect from a cast-off girdle of 
Venus ? 



Besides those which have been spoken of, 
not a few other criterions of chastity occur in 
romantic tales. 

Bed clothes and bed. 4 Gil Brenton,' A, B ; 
the corresponding Swedish ballad, A, B, E ; 
Danish, Grundtvig, No 275 : * see pp 64, 65, 
of this volume. 

A stepping-stone by the bed-side. * Vesle 
Aase Gaasepige,' Asbjernsen og Moe, No 29 : 
see p. 66. 

A chair in which no leal maiden can sit, or 
will sit till bidden (?). ' Gil Brenton,' D, C. 

Flowers [foliage]. 1. In the Sanskrit story 
of Guhasena, the merchant's son, and Deva- 
smit&, this married pair, who are to be sepa 
rated for a time, receive from Shfva each a 
red lotus : if either should be unfaithful, the 
lotus in the hand of the other would fade, 
but not otherwise : Katha Sarit Sagara, ch. 13, 
Tawney, I, 86, Brockhaus, I, 137. 2. In the 
Tales of a Parrot, a soldier, going into ser 
vice, receives from his wife a rose [flower, 
nosegay], which will keep fresh as long as 
she remains true : Rosen, Tuti-nameh, from 
the Turkish version, I, 109 ; Wickerhauser, 
also from the Turkish, p. 57 ; Iken, p. 30,f 
from the Persian of Kadiri. 3. So the knight 
Margon in the French romance of Perceforest, 
vol. IV, ch. 16 and 17. 4. In a Turkish tale 
found in a manuscript collection called ' Joy 
after Sorrow,' an architect or housewright, 
having to leave home for want of employment, 
is presented by his wife with a bunch of ever 
green of the same property. 5. An English 
story of a wright reverts to the rose. A widow, 
having nothing else to give with her daughter, 
presents the bridegroom with a rose-garland, 
which will hold its hue while his wife is " sta 
ble :" The Wright's Chaste Wife,' by Adam 
of Cobsam, from a manuscript of about 1462, 
ed. Furnivall.J 

* Nightingales in Grundtvig, No 274, A, B : see p. 
64. See, also, Uhland, Zur Geschichte der Dichtung, III, 
121 f. 

t Neither the Sanskrit Shukasaptati nor Nakshabi's Per 
sian version, made early in the fourteenth century, has been 
published. The Turkish version is said to have been made 
in the second half of the next century, for Bajazet II. Ka- 
diri's is probably of the seventeenth century. An English 
and Persian version (Kadiri's), 1801, has the tale at p. 43; 

A shirt [mantle]. 1. In connection with 
the same incidents there is substituted for the 
unfading flower, in Gesta Romanorum, 69, a 
shirt. This a knight's wife gives to a car 
penter or housewright who has married her 
daughter, and it will not need washing, will 
not tear, wear, or change color, as long as both 
husband and wife are faithful, but will lose all 
its virtues if either is untrue. The shirt is 
given by a wife to a husband in several ver 
sions of an otherwise different story. 2. In 
the German meistergesang and the Flemish 
tale Alexander of Metz : Korner, Historische 
Volkslieder, p. 49, No 8 ; Goedeke, Deutsche 
Dichtung im Mittelalter, 2d ed., p. 569 ff ; 
* De Historia van Florentina,' etc., Van den 
Bergh, De nederlandsche Volksromans, p. 52 f . 
3. In the story ' Von dem Konig von Spa- 
nien und seiner Frau,' Miillenhoff, Sagen, u. 
s. w., p. 586, No 607, a wife gives the shirt to 
her husband the morning after the wedding : 
it will always be white until she dies, when it 
will turn black, or unless she misbehaves, in 
which case it will be spotted. 4. ' Die getreue 
Frau,' Plonnies, in Wolf's Zeitschrift fur 
deutsche Mythologie,' II, 377. An English 
princess gives her consort, a Spanish prince, 
at parting, a white shirt which will not spot 
as long as she is faithful. 5. ' Die treue 
Frau,' Curtze, Volksiiberlieferungen aus Wai- 
deck, p. 146. A merchant's son, married to a 
princess, goes away for a voyage ; they change 
rings and shirts, and neither shirt will soil 
until one of the two shall be untrue. 6. ' Die 
getreue Frau,' J. W. Wolf, Deutsche Haus- 
marchen, at p. 102. A prince, going on a 
voyage, gives his sword to his wife ; as long as 
the blade is not spotted, he is faithful. He 
receives from the princess a mantle ; as long 
as it is white, her faith is inviolate. 

A picture. For the rose, as in Perceforest, 

Small's English, from a Hindustani version of Kadiri, 1875, 
at p. 40. 

t In the Contes a rire, p. 89, a sylph who loves a prince 
gives him a flower and a vase which will blacken upon his 
wife's proving unfaithful : Legrand, 1779, I, 78. I have 
not seen this edition of the book, but presume that this tale 
is entirely akin with the above. 

Cf. the King of Spain, at pp. 261, 263. The agreement 
may, or may not, be accidental. 



there is substituted, in a story otherwise es 
sentially the same, a picture. A knight, com 
pelled to leave his wife, receives from a ma 
gician a picture of her, small enough to carry 
in a box about his person, which will turn 
yellow if she is tempted, pale if she wavers, 
black if she yields, but will otherwise pre 
serve its fresh hues : Bandello, Part I, nov. 
21. This tale, translated in Painter's Pal 
ace of Pleasure, 1567 (ed. Haslewood, II, 471, 
nov. 28), furnished the plot for Massinger's 
* Picture,' 1630. The miniature will keep its 
color as long as the woman is innocent and 
unattempted, will grow yellow if she is solic 
ited but unconquered, and black if she sur 
renders : Act I, Scene 1. Bandello's story is 
also the foundation of S^nec^'s tale, ' Filer le 
parfait amour,' with a wax image taking the 
place of the picture : CEuvres Choisies, ed. 
Charles et Cap, p. 95.* 

A ring. The picture is exchanged for a ring 
in a French tale derived, and in parts almost 
translated, from Bandello's : the sixth in ' Les 
Faveurs et les Disgraces de F Amour,' etc., said 
to have appeared in 1696.f A white stone 
set in the ring may become yellow or black 
under circumstances. Such a ring Rimnild 
gave Horn Child : when the stone should grow 
wan, her thoughts would have changed ; should 
it grow red, she is no more a maid : see p. 192. 
A father, being required to leave three daugh 
ters, gives them each such a ring in Basile, 
Pentamerone, ill, 4. The rings are changed 
into glass distaffs in ' L'Adroite Princesse,' an 
imitation of this story by Mile. Lhe"ritier de 
Villaudon, which has sometimes been printed 
with Perrault's tales : Perrault, Contes des 
Fe"es, ed. Giraud, p. 239 ; Dunlop, ch. 13. 

A mirror, in the History of Prince Zeyn 
Alasnam, reflecting the image of a chaste 
maid, will remain unblurred : Arabian Nights, 

* All these examples of the probation by flowers, shirt, or 
picture are noticed in Loiseleur Deslongchamps, Essai sur 
les Fables Indiennes, p. 107 ff; or in Von der Hagen's Ge- 
sammtabenteuer, III, Ixxxivff; or in an article by Rein- 
hold Kohler, of his usual excellence, in Jahrbuch fur roman- 
ische und englische Literatur, VIII, 44 ff. 

t Kohler, as above, p. 60 f. 

t There is a stone in the Danish Vigoleis with the Gold 
Wheel which no one could approach " who was not as clean 

Scott, IV, 120, 124 ; 1001 Nacht, Habicht, VI, 
146, 150 ; etc. Virgil made a mirror of like 
property ; it exposed the woman that was 
" new-fangle," wandelmiietic, by the ignition 
of a " worm " in the glass : Meisterlieder der 
Kolmarer Handschrift, Bartsch, p. 605 (War- 
natsch). There is also one of these mirrors 
in Primaleon, 1. ii, cap. 27 ; Rajna, Le Fonti 
dell' Orlando Furioso, p. 504, note 3. Alfred 
de Musset, in ' Barberine,' substitutes a pocket- 
mirror for the picture in Bandello, Part I, nov. 
21 : CEuvres Completes, III, 378 ff. 

A harp, in the hands of an image, upon 
the approach of a despucell^e, plays out of 
tune and breaks a string : Perceval le Gallois, 
II, 149, vv 13,365-72 (Rajna, as above). 
. A crystal brook, in the amiral's garden in 
Flor and Blancheflor, when crossed by a vir 
gin remains pellucid, but in the other case be 
comes red, or turbid : ed. Du Me'ril, p. 75, vv 
1811-14; Bekker, Berlin Academy, XLIV, 
26, vv 2069-72 ; Fleck, ed. Sommer, p. 148, 
vv 4472-82 ; Swedish, ed. Klemming, p. 38, 
1122-25 ; Lower Rhine, Haupt's Zeitschrift, 
XXI, 321, vv 57-62 ; Middle Greek, Bekker, 
Berlin Academy, 1845, p. 165, Wagner, Me 
diaeval Greek Texts, p. 40 f, vv 1339-48 ; etc. 
In the English poem, Hartshorne's Ancient 
Metrical Tales, p. 93, if a clean maid wash 
her hands in the water, it remains quiet and 
clear ; but if one who has lost her purity do 
this, the water will yell like mad and become 
red as blood. 

The stone Aptor, in Wigamur, vv 1100- 
21, is red to the sight of clean man or woman, 
but misty to others : Von der Hagen und 
Biisching, Deutsche Gedichte des Mittelalters, 
p. 12 (Warnatsch).$ 

A statue, in an Italian ballad, moved its 
eyes when young women who had sacrificed 
their honor were presented to it : Ferraro, 

as when he came from his mother's body." Gawain could 
touch it with his hand, Arthur often sat upon it, and Vigo 
leis was found sitting on it. Nyerup, Almindelig Morskabs- 
Iffisning i Danmark og Norge, p. 129, a chap-book of 1732. 
The stone is not quite so strict in the German Volksbuch, 
Marbach, No 18, p. 13 f, Simrock, III, 432 f. In the Ger 
man romance no man less than immaculate in all respects 
can touch it : Wigalois, ed. Benecke, p. 57, vv 1485-88. 



Canti popolari di Ferrara, Cento e Pontela- 
goscuro, p. 84, * II Conte Cagnolino.' There 
was said to be a statue of Venus in Constan 
tinople which could not be approached by an 
incontinent woman without a very shameful 
exposure ; and again, a pillar surmounted by 
four horns, which turned round three times if 
any fce/mrSs came up to it.* Virgil, ' Filius,' 
made a brass statue which no misbehaving 
woman might touch, and a vicious one re 
ceived violent blows from it : Meisterlieder 
der Kolmarer Handschrift, Bartsch, p. 604, 
14th century. This statue would bite off the 
fingers of an adulteress if they were put in its 
mouth, according to a poem of the same cen 
tury published by Bartsch in Germania, IV, 
237 ; and a third version makes the statue do 
this to all perjurers, agreeing in other respects 
with the second : Kolmarer Meisterlieder, as 
before, p. 338. In the two last the offence of 
the wife causes a horn to grow out of the hus 
band's forehead. Much of the story in these 
poems is derived from the fifteenth tale of the 
Shukasaptati, where a woman offers to pass 
between the legs of a statue of a Yaksha, 
which only an innocent one can do : Benfey, 
Pantschatantra, I, 457. f 

According to a popular belief in Austria, 
says J. Grimm, you may know a clean maid 
by her being able to blow out a candle with 
one puff and to light it again with another. 
The phrase was known in Spain : " Matar un 
candil con un soplo y encenderlo con otro." 

Grimm adds that it is an article of popular 
faith in India that a virgin can make a ball 
of water, or carry water in a sieve : Rechtsal- 
terthumer, p. 932. J 

An ordeal for chastity is a feature in several 
of the Greek romances. In Heliodorus's jEthi- 
opica, x, 8, 9, victims to be offered to the sun 
and moon, who must be pure, are obliged to 
mount a brazier covered with a golden grat 
ing. The soles of those who are less than 
perfect are burned. Theagenes and Chariclea 
experience no inconvenience. The Clitophon 
and Leucippe of Achilles Tatius, vm, 6, 13, 
14, has a cave in the grove of Diana of Ephe- 
sus, in which they shut up a woman. If it is a 
virgin, a delicious melody is presently heard 
from a syrinx, the doors open of themselves, 
and the woman comes out crowned with pine 
leaves ; if not a virgin, a wail is heard, and 
the woman is never seen again. There is also 
a not perfectly convincing trial, by the Stygian 
water, in 12, which seems to be imitated in 
the Hysmine and Hysminias of Eustathius 
[Eumathius], vin, 7, xi, 17. In the temple 
of Diana, at Artycomis, stands a statue of the 
goddess, with bow in hand, and from about 
her feet flows water like a roaring river. A 
woman, crowned with laurel, being put in, she 
will float quietly, if all is right; but should 
she not have kept her allegiance to Dian, the 
goddess bends her bow as if to shoot at her 
head, which causes the culprit to duck, and 
the water carries off her wreath. 

* Georgii Codini Excerpta de antiqnitatibas Constantino- 
politanis, in Corpus Scriptorum Historic Byzantince, XLV, 
50 , cited by Liebrecht, Germania, I, 264 ; De Originibus 
Constantinopolitanis, cited by Liitcke, Von der Hagen's Ger 
mania, I, 252, referred to by Liebrecht : both anecdotes in 
Banduri, Imperium Orientale, Anonymus de Ant. Const, p. 
35, 96, p. 57, 162. The statue again in a note of Nic. Ale- 
mannus to Procopius, Arcana, 1623, p. 83: cited by Mr 
Wright, Archseologia Cambrensis, as above, p. 17. Mr 
Wright also makes mention, p. 16, of the blind dog that 
quidam Andreas (evidently a merry one) was exhibiting in 
the seventeenth year of Justinian, which, among other clever 
performances, ostendebat in utero habentes et fornicarios et 
adulteros et avaros et magnanimos omnes cum veritate : 
Historia Miscella, Eyssenhardt, p. 377 f, 1. 18, c. 23 ; Cedre- 
nus, in the Byzantine Corpus, XXXIII, 657, Theophanes, in 
XXXVIII, 347 f . 

t The Meisterlieder and the Indian tale are cited by War- 
natsch. Virgil's statue was circumvented by an artifice 

which is employed in this tale of the Shukasaptati, and in 
other oriental stories presumably derived from it; and so 
was the well-known Bocca della Verita, Kaiserchronik, Mass- 
mann, pp 448 f. The Bocca della Verita bit off the fingers 
of perjurers, but took no particular cognizance of the un 
chaste. A barley-corn [grain of wheat], again, which stood 
on end when any false oath was sworn over it, Julg, Mon- 
golische Marchensammlung, Die Geschichte des Ardschi- 
Bordschi Chan, pp 250-52, cited by Benfey, Pantschatantra, 
I, 458, and referred to by Warnatsch, does not belong with 
special tests of chastity. 

t The phrase looks more malicious than naif, whether 
Austrian or Spanish, and implies, I fear, an exsufflicate and 
blown surmise about female virtue ; and so of the Indian 
' Volksglaube.' The candle-test is said to be in use for men 
in Silesia : Warnatsch, citing Weinhold, p. 58. 

These are all noted in Liebrechl's Dunlop, pp 11, 16, 33. 
The spring, says the author of Hysmine, served as good a 
purpose for Artycomis as the Rhine did for the Celts ; refer- 



. It is prescribed in Numbers v, 1131, that 
any man jealous of his wife may bring her to 
the priest, who shall, with and after various 
ceremonies, give her a bitter drink of holy 
water in which dust from the floor of the tab 
ernacle has been infused. If she have tres 
passed, her body shall swell and rot. In the 
Pseudo-Matthew's Gospel, ch. xii, Joseph and 
Mary successively take this aquam potationis 
domini. No pretender to innocence could taste 
this and then, make seven turns round the al 
tar, without some sign of sin appearing in the 
face. The experiment shows both to be fault 
less. So, with some variation, the sixteenth 
chapter of the Protevangelium of James. This 
trial is the subject of one of the Coventry Mys 
teries, No 14, p. 137 ff, ed. Halliwell, and no 
doubt of other scripture plays. It is naturally 
introduced into Wernher's Maria, Hoffmann, 
Fundgruben, II, 188, line 26 ff, and probably 
into other lives of the Virgin. 

Herodotus relates, n, 111, that Pheron, son 
of Sesostris, after a blindness of ten years' du 
ration, received an intimation from an oracle 

that he would recover his sight upon following 
a certain prescription, such as we are assured 
is still thought well of in Egypt in cases of 
ophthalmia. For this the cooperation of a 
chaste woman was indispensable. Repeatedly 
balked, the king finally regained his vision, 
and collecting in a town many women of whom 
he had vainly hoped aid, in which number his 
queen was included, he set fire to the place 
and burned both it and them, and then mar 
ried the woman to whom he was so much in 
debted. (First cited in the Gentleman's Mag 
azine, 1795, vol. 65, I, 114.) The coincidence 
with foregoing tales is certainly curious, but 
to all appearance accidental.* 

The 'Boy and the Mantle' was printed 
" verbatim " from his manuscript by Percy in 
the Reliques, III, 3, ed. 1765. The copy at 
p. 314 is of course the same " revised and al 
tered " by Percy, but has been sometimes mis 
taken for an independent one. 

Translated by Herder, I, 219 ; Bodmer, I, 
18 ; Bothe, p. 59. 

Percy MS., p. 284 : Hales and Furnivall, II, 304. 

1 IN the third day of May 

to Carleile did come 
A kind curteous child, 

that cold much of wisdome. 

2 A kirtle and a mantle 

this child had vppon, 

With branches and ringes 

full richelye bedone. 

3 He had a sute of silke, 

about his middle drawne ; 
Without he cold of curtesye, 
he thought itt much shame. 

4 ' God speed thee, King Arthur, 

sitting att thy meate ! 
And the goodly Queene Gueneuer ! 
I canott her fforgett. 

5 ' I tell you lords in this hall, 

I hett you all heede, 
Except you be the more surer, 
is you for to dread.' 

6 He plucked out of his potewer, 

and longer wold not dwell, 
He pulled forth a pretty mantle, 
betweene two nut-shells. 

7 ' Haue thou here, King Arthure, 

haue thou heere of mee ; 

ring to a test of the legitimacy of children by swinging or dip 
ping them in the Rhine, which the " Celts " practiced, accord 
ing to a poem in the Anthology : Jacobs, II, 42 f, No 125 ; 
Grimm, Deutsche Rechtsalterthiimer, p. 935 (Warnatsch). 
* Besides sources specially referred to, there may be men 

tioned, as particularly useful for the history of these tests. 
Legrand, Fabliaux, 1779, 1, 60, 76-78 ; Dunlop's History of 
Fiction, 1814, in many places, with Liebrecht's notes, 1851 ; 
Grasse, Sagenkreise, 1842, pp 185-87 ; Von der Hagen's 
Gesammtabenteuer, 1850, III, Ixxxiv-xc, cxxxrf. 



. Giue itt to thy comely queene, 
shapen as itt is alreadye. 

8 ' Itt shall neuer become thai wiffe 

that hath once done amisse : ' 
Then euery knight in the kings court 
began to care for his. 

9 Forth came dame Gueneuer, 

to the mantle shee her bed ; 
The ladye shee was new-fangle, 
but yett shee was affrayd. 

10 When shee had taken the mantle, 

shee stoode as she had beene madd ; 
It was from the top to the toe 
as sheeres had itt shread. 

11 One while was itt gaule, 

another while was itt greene ; 
Another while was itt wadded ; 
ill itt did her beseeme. 

12 Another while was it blacke, 

and bore the worst hue ; 
' By my troth,' qwoth King Arthur, 
' I thinke thou be not true.' 

13 Shee threw downe the mantle, 

that bright was of blee, 
Fast with a rudd redd 

to her chamber can shee flee. 

14 Shee curst the weauer and the walker 

that clothe that had wrought, 
And bade a vengeance on his crowne 
that hither hath itt brought. 

15 ' I had rather be in a wood, 

vnder a greene tree, 
Then in King Arthurs court 
shamed for to bee.' 

16 Kay called forth his ladye, 

and bade her come neere ; 
Saies, Madam, and thou be guiltye, 
I pray thee hold thee there.' 

17 Forth came his ladye 

shortlye and anon, 
Boldlye to the mantle 
then is shee gone. 

18 When she had tane the mantle, 

and cast it her about, 
Then was shee bare 

all aboue the buttocckes. 

19 Then euery knight 

that was in the kings court 
Talked, laughed, and showted, 
full oft att that sport. 

20 Shee threw downe the mantle, 

that bright was of blee, 
Ffast with a red rudd 

to her chamber can shee flee. 

21 Forth came an old knight, 

pattering ore a creede, 
And he preferred to this little boy 
twenty markes to his meede, 

22 And all the time of the Christmasse 

willinglye to ff eede ; 
For why, this mantle might 
doe his wiffe some need. 

23 When shee had tane the mantle, 

of cloth that was made, 
Shee had no more left on her 

but a tassell and a threed : 
Then euery knight in the kings court 

bade euill might shee speed. 

24 Shee threw downe the mantle, 

that bright was of blee, 
And fast with a redd rudd 
to her chamber can shee flee. 

25 Craddocke called forth his ladye, 

and bade her come in ; 
Saith, ' Winne this mantle, ladye, 
with a litle dinne. 

26 ' Winne this mantle, ladye, 

and it shalbe thine 
If thou neuer did amisse 
since thou wast mine.' 

27 Forth came Craddockes ladye 

shortlye and anon, 
But boldlye to the mantle 
then is shee gone. 



28 When shee had tane the mantle, 

and cast itt her about, 
Vpp att her great toe 

itt began to crinkle and crowt ; 
Shee said, ' Bowe downe, mantle, 

and shame me not for nought. 

29 ' Once I did amisse, 

I tell you certainlye, 
When I kist Craddockes mouth 

vnder a greene tree, 
When I kist Craddockes mouth 

before he marryed mee.' 

30 When shee had her shreeuen, 

and her sines shee had tolde, 
The mantle stoode about her 
right as shee wold ; 

31 Seemelye of coulour, 

glittering like gold ; 
Then euery knight in Arthurs court 
did her behold. 

32 Then spake dame Gueneuer 

to Arthur our king : 
' She hath tane yonder mantle, 
not with wright but with wronge ! 

33 ' See you not yonder woman 

that maketh her selfe soe clene ? 
I haue seene tane out of her bedd 
of men fiueteene ; 

34 ' Preists, clarkes, and wedded men, 

from her by-deene ; 
Yett shee taketh the mantle, 
and maketh her-selfe cleane ! ' 

35 Then spake the litle boy 

that kept the mantle in hold ; 
Sayes ' 'King, chasten thy wiffe ; 
of her words shee is to bold. 

36 ' Shee is a bitch and a witch, 

and a whore bold ; 

King, in thine owne hall 

thou art a cuchold.' 

37 The litle boy stoode 

looking ouer a dore ; 

He was ware of a wyld bore, 
wold haue werryed a man. 

38 He pulld forth a wood kniffe, 

fast thither that he ran ; 
He brought in the bores head, 
and quitted him like a man. 

39 He brought in the bores head, 

and was wonderous bold ; 
He said there was neuer a cucholds kniffe 
carue itt that cold. 

40 Some rubbed their kniues 

vppon a whetstone ; 
Some threw them vnder the table, 
and said they had none. 

41 "King Arthur and the child 

stood looking them vpon ; 
All their kniues edges 
turned backe againe. 

42 Craddoccke had a litle kniue 

of iron and of steele ; 
He birtled the bores head 

wonderous weele, 
That euery knight in the kings court 

had a morssell. 

43 The litle boy had a home, 

of red gold that ronge ; 
He said, ' there was noe cuckolde 

shall drinke of my home, 
But he shold itt sheede, 

either behind or beforne.' 

44 Some shedd on their shoulder, 

and some on their knee ; 
He that cold not hitt his mouth 

put it in his eye ; 
And he that was a cuckold, 

euery man might him see. 

45 Craddoccke wan the home 

and the bores head ; 
His ladye wan the mantle 

vnto her meede ; 
Euerye such a louely ladye, 

God send her well to speede ! 



& is printed and, wherever it occurs. 
2*. MS. might be read branches. 
6 a . all heate. 6*. 2 nut-shells. 
8*. his wiffe. 

9 a . biled. " Query the le in the MS" Furnivall. 
18*. Perhaps the last word was originally tout, as 

Mr T. Wright has suggested. 
19 8 . lauged. 21*. 20 markes. 
22 a . willignglye. 

33 2 . MS. perhaps has cleare altered to dene. 

33*. fiueteeene. 

37 1 . Alitle. 

37 a . Perhaps, as Percy suggested, two lines have 
dropped out after this, and the two which 
follow belong with the next stanza. 

40 1 , 41. kiues. 

41 1 . Arthus. 

44 2 . sone on. 


Percy MS., p. 24. Hales & Furnivall, I, 61; Madden's Syr Gawayne, p. 275. 

THE mutilation of the earlier pages of the 
Percy manuscript leaves us in possession of 
only one half of this ballad, and that half in 
eight fragments, so that even the outline of the 
story cannot be fully made out.* We have, 
to be sure, the whole of a French poem which 
must be regarded as the probable source of the 
ballad, and, in view of the recklessness of the 
destroyer Time, may take comfort ; for there 
are few things in this kind that the Middle 
Ages have bequeathed which we could not 
better spare. But the losses from the Eng 
lish ballad are still very regrettable, since 
from what is in our hands we can see that the 
story was treated in an original way, and so 
much so that comparison does not stead us ma 

' King Arthur and King Cornwall ' is appar 
ently an imitation, or a traditional variation, 

* Half a page is gone in the manuscript between ' Robin 
Hood's Death ' and the beginning of this ballad, and again 
between the end of this ballad and the beginning of ' Sir 
Lionel.' 'Robin Hood's Death/ judging by another copy, 
is complete within two or three stanzas, and ' Sir Lionel ' ap 
pears to lack nothing. We may suppose that quite half a 
dozen stanzas are lost from both the beginning and the end 
of ' King Arthur and King Cornwall.' 

t British Museum (but now missing), King's Library, 16, 
E, vin, fol. 131, recto: " Ci comence le liuere cuwiment 
rharels de fraunce voiet in ierhi/sa/em Et pur parols sa feme 
a constantinnoble pur vew roy hugon." First published by 

of Charlemagne's Journey to Jerusalem and 
Constantinople, a chanson de geste of complete 
individuality and of remarkable interest. This 
all but incomparable relic exists in only a 
single manuscript,! and that ill written and 
not older than the end of the thirteenth cen 
tury, while the poem itself may be assigned to 
the beginning of the twelfth, if not to the lat 
ter part of the eleventh. J Subsequently, the 
story, with modifications, was introduced into 
the romance of Galien, and in this setting it 
occurs in three forms, two manuscript of the fif 
teenth century, and the third a printed edition 
of the date 1500. These are all in prose, but 
betray by metrical remains imbedded in them 
their descent from a Romance in verse, which 
there are reasons for putting at least as early 
as the beginning of the fourteenth century. 
A very little of the story, and this little 

Michel, London, 1836, and lately reedited, with due care, by 
Koschwitz : Karls des Grossen Reise nach Jerusalem und 
Constantinopel, Heilbronn, 1880; 2d ed., 1883. 

t See the argument of Gaston Paris, Romania, XI, 7 ff; 
and of Koschwitz, Karl des Grossen Reise, 2te Auflage, 
Einleitung, pp. xiv-xxxii. 

Printed by Koschwitz in Sechs Bearbeitungen von Karls 
des Grossen Reise, the last from a somewhat later edition, 
pp. 40-133. The recovery of n metrical form of Galien is 
looked for. In the view of Gaston Paris, the Pilgrimage 
was made over (renouvele') at the end of the twelfth or the 
beginning of the thirteenth century, and this rifacimento 



much changed, is found in Italian romances 
of Charles's Journey to Spain and of Ogier the 
Dane. The derivation from Galien is patent.* 

The Journey of Charlemagne achieved great 
popularity, as it needs must. It forms a sec 
tion of the Karlamagnus Saga, a prose trans 
lation into Norse of gestes of Charles and his 
peers, made in the thirteenth century, and 
probably for King Hakon the Old, though 
this is not expressly said, as in the case of the 
'Mantle.' Through the Norwegian version 
the story of Charles's journey passed into the 
other Scandinavian dialects. There is a Swed 
ish version, slightly defective, existing in a 
manuscript earlier than 1450, and known to 
be older than the manuscript, and a Danish 
abridgment, thought to have been made from 
the Swedish version, is preserved in a manu 
script dated 1480, which again is probably de 
rived from an elder. Like the ' Mantle,' the 
Journey of Charlemagne is treated in Icelandic 
Rfmur, the oldest manuscript being put at 
about 1500. These Rhymes (Geiplur, Gabs, 
Japes), though their basis is the Norwegian 
saga, present variations from the existing man 
uscripts of this saga. There is also a Faroe 
traditional ballad upon this theme, ' Geipa-tat- 
tur.' This ballad has much that is peculiar to 
itself, f 

Charlemagne's Journey was also turned 

into Welsh in the thirteenth century. Three 
versions are known, of which the best is in the 
Red Book of Hergest.:j: 

Let us now see what is narrated in the 
French poem. 

One day when Charlemagne was at St 
Denis he had put on his crown and sword, 
and his wife had on a most beautiful crown, 
too. Charles took her by the hand, under an 
olive-tree, and asked her if she had ever seen 
a king to whom crown and sword were so be 
coming. The empress was so unwise as to 
reply that possibly he thought too well of 
himself: she knew of a king who appeared 
to even better advantage when he wore his 
crown. Charles angrily demanded where this 
king was to be found : they would wear their 
crowns together, and if the French sided with 
her, well ; but if she had not spoken truth, he 
would cut off her head. The empress en 
deavored to explain away what she had said : 
the other king was simply richer, but not so 
good a knight, etc. Charles bade her name 
him, on her head. There being no escape, the 
empress said she had heard much of Hugo, the 
emperor of Greece and Constantinople. " By 
my faith," said Charles, " you have made me 
angry and lost my love, and are in a fair way 
to lose your head, too. I will never rest till 
I have seen this king." 

intercalated in Galien by some rhymer of the fourteenth. 
See his ' Galien,' in Hist. Litt. de la France, XXVIII, 221- 
239, for all that concerns the subject. 

* II Viaggio di Carlo Magno in Ispagna, pubblicato per 
cure di Antonio Ceruti, c. LI, II, 1 70 : Rajna, Uggeri il 
Danese nella letteratura romanzesca degl' Italian!, Roma 
nia IV, 414 ff. A king of Portugal, of the faith of Apollo 
and Mahound, takes the place of the king of Constantinople 
in the former, and one Saracen or another in the several 
versions of the second. G. Paris, in Romania, IX, 3, 10, 

t The Norwegian version in Karlamagnus Saga ok Kappa 
hans, ed. Unger, p. 466, the Seventh Part. Both the Swed 
ish and Danish are given in Storm's Sagnkredsene om Karl 
den Store, etc., Kristiania, 1874, pp. 228-245. For the 
sources, see p. 160 ff. The whole of the Danish Chronicle 
of Charlemagne is printed in Brandt's Romantisk Digtning 
fra Middelalderen, Copenhagen, 1877, the Journey to the 
Holy Land, p. 146 ff. . Brandt does not admit that the Dan 
ish chronicle was translated from Swedish: p. 347. The 
' Geiplur,' 968 vv, and one version of ' Geipa-tattur,' 340 vv, 
are included in Koschwitz's Sechs Bearbeitungen, p. 139 ff, 

p. 1 74 ff . For a discussion of them see Kolbing in Germania, 
XX, 233-239, and as to the relations of the several versions, 
etc., Koschwitz, in Romanische Studien, II, 1 ff, his Ueber- 
lieferung und Sprache der Chanson du Voyage de Charle 
magne, and Sechs Bearbeitungen, Einleitung. The Faroe 
ballad is thought to show traces in some places of Christiern 
Pedersen's edition of the Danish chronicle, 1534 (Kolbing, 
as above, 238, 239), or of stall prints founded on that. This 
does not, however, necessarily put the ballad into the six 
teenth century. Might not Pedersen have had ballad au 
thority for such chapges and additions as he made ? It may 
well be supposed that he had, and if what is peculiar to 
Pedersen may have come from ballads, we must hesitate to 
derive the ballads from Pedersen. It is, moreover, neither 
strange nor unexampled that popular ballads should be af 
fected by tradition committed to print as well as by tradition 
still floating in memory. The Faroe copies of ' Greve Gen- 
selin,' for example, as Grundfcvig remarks, I, 223, note, 
though undoubtedly original and independent of Danish, 
evince acquaintance with Vedel's printed text. 

J Given, with an English translation by Professor Rhys, 
in Sechs Bearbeitungen, p. 1, p. 19. 



The emperor, having made his offering at St 
Denis, returned to Paris, taking with him his 
twelve peers and some thousand of knights. 
To these he announced that they were to ac 
company him to Jerusalem, to adore the cross 
and the sepulchre, and that he would inciden 
tally look up a king that he had heard of. 
They were to take with them seven hundred 
camels, laden with gold and silver, and be pre 
pared for an absence of seven years. 

Charlemagne gave his people a handsome 
equipment, but not of arms. They left be 
hind them their lances and swords, and took 
the pilgrim's staff and scrip. When they 
came to a great plain it appeared that the 
number was not less than eighty thousand: 
but we do not have to drag this host through 
the story, which concerns itself only with 
Charles and his peers. They arrived at Jeru 
salem one fine day, selected their inns, and 
went to the minster. Here Jesus and his 
apostles had sung mass, and the chairs which 
they had occupied were still there. Charles 
seated himself in the middle one, his peers 
on either side. A Jew came in, and, seeing 
Charles, fell to trembling ; so fierce was the 
countenance of the emperor that he dared 
not look at it, but fled from the church to 
the patriarch, and begged to be baptized, for 
God himself and the twelve apostles were 
come. The patriarch went to the church, in 
procession, with his clergy. Charles rose and 
made a profound salutation, the priest and 
the monarch embraced, and the patriarch in 
quired who it was that had assumed to enter 
that church as he had done. " Charles is my 
name," was the answer. " Twelve kings have 
I conquered, and I am seeking a thirteenth 
whom I have heard of. I have come to Jeru 
salem to adore the cross and the sepulchre." 
The patriarch proving gracious, Charles went 
on to ask for relics to take home with him. 
" A plentet en avrez," says the patriarch ; " St 

Simeon's arm, St Lazarus's head, St Ste 
phen's ' ** Thanks ! " " The sudarium, one 
of the nails, the crown of thorns, the cup, 
the dish, the knife, some of St Peter's beard, 
some hairs from his head " " Thanks I " 
" Some of Mary's milk, of the holy shift " 
And all these Charles received.* He stayed 
four months in Jerusalem, and began the 
church of St Mary. He presented the pa 
triarch with a hundred mule-loads of gold and 
silver, and asked " his leave and pardon " to 
return to France : but first he would find out 
the king whom his wife had praised. They 
take the way through Jericho to gather palms. 
The relics are so strong that every stream 
they come to divides before them, every blind 
man receives sight, the crooked are made 
straight, and the dumb speak. f On reaching 
Constantinople they have ample reason to be 
impressed with the magnificence of the place. 
Passing twenty thousand knights, who are 
playing at chess and tables, dressed in pall 
and ermine, with fur cloaks training at their 
feet, and three thousand damsels in equally 
sumptuous attire, who are disporting with 
their lovers, they come to the king, who is 
at that moment taking his day at the plough, 
not on foot, goad in hand, but seated most 
splendidly in a chair drawn by mules, and 
holding a gold wand, the plough all gold, too ; 
none of this elegance, however, impairing the 
straightness of his majesty's furrow. The 
kings exchange greetings. Charles tells Hugo 
that he is last from Jerusalem, and should be 
glad to see him and his knights. Hugo makes 
him free to stay a year, if he likes, unyokes 
the oxen, and conducts his guests to the palace. 
The palace is gorgeous in the extreme, and, 
omitting other architectural details, it is cir 
cular, and so constructed as to turn like a 
wheel when the wind strikes it from the west. 
Charles thinks his own wealth not worth a 
glove in comparison, and remembers how he 

* There arc some variations in the list of relics in the 
other versions. The Kimur say " many," without specify 

t On the way from Jerusalem to Constantinople the 
French, according to Galien, were waylaid by several thou 
sand Saracens. Three or four of the peers prepared for a 

fight, though armed only with swords ("which they never or 
only most reluctantly put off," Arsenal MS.), but Charles 
and the rest felt a better confidence in the relics, and through 
the prayers of the more prudent and pious of the company 
their foes were turned into rocks and stones. 



had threatened his wife. " Lordings," he says, 
" many a palace have I seen, but none like this 
had even Alexander, Constantine, or Csesar." 
At that moment a strong wind arose which 
set the palace in lively motion ; the emperor 
was fain to sit down on the floor ; the twelve 
peers were all upset, and as they lay on their 
backs, with faces covered, said one to the 
other, " This is a bad business : the doors are 
open, and yet we can't get out ! " But as 
evening approached the wind subsided ; the 
Franks recovered their legs, and went to sup 
per. At the table they saw the queen and 
the princess, a beautiful blonde, of whom Ol 
iver became at once enamored. After a most 
royal repast, the king conducted Charles and 
the twelve to a bed-chamber, in which there 
were thirteen beds. It is doubtful whether 
modern luxury can vie with the appointments 
in any respect, and certain that we are hope 
lessly behind in one, for this room was lighted 
by a carbuncle. But, again, there was one 
luxury which Hugo did not allow them, and 
this was privacy, even so much privacy as 
thirteen can have. He had put a man in a 
hollow place under a marble stair, to watch 
them through a little hole. 

The Franks, as it appears later, had drunk 
heavily at supper, and this must be their ex 
cuse for giving themselves over, when in a 
foreign country, to a usage or propensity 
which they had no doubt indulged in at home, 
and which is familiar in northern poetry and 
saga, that of making brags (gabs, Anglo-Saxon 
beot, gilp*). Charles began : Let Hugo arm 
his best man in two hauberks and two helms, 
and set him on a charger : then, if he will lend 
me his sword, I will with a blow cut through 
helms, hauberks, and saddle, and if I let it 
have its course, the blade shall never be recov 

ered but by digging a spear's depth in the 
ground. " Perdy," says the man in hiding, 
" what a fool King Hugo was when he gave 
you lodging ! " 

Roland followed : Tell Hugo to lend me his 
horn, and I will go into yon plain and blow 
such a blast that not a gate or a door in all 
the city shall be left standing, and a good 
man Hugo will be, if he faces me, not to have 
his beard burned from his face and his fur robe 
carried away. Again said the man under the 
stair, " What a fool was King Hugo ! " 

The emperor next called upon Oliver, whose 
gab was: 

' Prenget li reis sa fille qui tant at bloi le peil, 
En sa chambre nos metet en un lit en requeit ; 
Se jo n'ai testimoigne de li anuit cent feiz, 
Demain perde la teste, par covent li otrei.' 

" You will stop before that," said the spy ; 
" great shame have you spoken." 

Archbishop Turpin's brag was next in order : 
it would have been more in keeping for Tur- 
pin of Hounslow Heath, and we have all seen 
it performed in the travelling circus. While 
three of the king's best horses are running at 
full speed on the plain, he will overtake and 
mount the foremost, passing the others, and 
will keep four big apples in constant motion 
from one hand to the other ; if he lets one 
fall, put out his eyes.f " A good brag this," 
is the comment of the simple scout (Vescolte), 
" and no shame to my lord." 

William of Orange will take in one hand 
a metal ball which thirty men have never been 
able to stir, and will hurl it at the palace wall 
and bring down more than forty toises of it. 
" The king is a knave if he does not make 
you try," says Tescolte. 

The other eight gabs may be passed over, 

* The heir of a Scandinavian king, or earl, at the feast 
which solemnized his accession, drank a bragur-full, a chief's 
cup or king's, to the memory of his father, and then 
made some important vow. This he did before he took his 
father's seat. The guests then made vows. The custom 
seems not to have been confined to these funeral banquets. 
See Vigfusson, at the word B r a g r . Charles and his peers 
show their blood. 

t Excepting the Welsh translation, which conforms to 
the original, all other versions give Bernard's gab to Tur- 

pin, and most others Turpin's to Bernard. The Danish 
chronicle assigns the " grand three-horse act " to Gerard ; 
the Faroe ballad omits it; the two manuscript Galiens at 
tribute it to Bernard [Berart] de Mondidier, the printed Ga- 
lien to Berenger. In these last the feat is, though enor 
mously weighted with armor, to leap over two horses and 
come down on the back of the third so heavily as to break 
his bones. There are, in one version or' another, other dif 
ferences as to the feats. 



save one. Bernard de Brusban says, " You 
see that roaring stream ? To-morrow I will 
make it leave its bed, cover the fields, fill the 
cellars of the city, drench the people, and drive 
King Hugo into his highest tower, from which 
he shall never come down without my leave." 
" The man is mad," says the spy. " What a 
fool King Hugo was ! As soon as morning 
dawns they shall all pack." 

The spy carries his report to his master 
without a moment's delay. Hugo swears that 
if the brags are not accomplished as made, his 
guests shall lose their heads, and orders out a 
hundred thousand men-at-arms to enforce his 

When the devout emperor of the west came 
from mass the next morning (Hugo was evi 
dently not in a state of mind to go), he ad 
vanced to meet his brother of Constantinople, 
olive branch in hand ; but Hugo called out 
from far off, " Charles, why did you make me 
the butt of your brags and your scorns ? " and 
repeated that all must be done, or thirteen 
heads would fall. Charles replied that they 
had drunk a good deal of wine the night be 
fore, and that it was the custom for the French 
when they had gone to bed to allow them 
selves in jesting. He desired to speak with 
his knights. When they were together, the 
emperor said that they had drunk too much, 
and had uttered what they ought not. He 
caused the relics to be brought, and they all 
fell to praying and beating their breasts, that 
they might be saved from Hugo's wrath, when 
lo, an angel appeared, who bade them not be 
afraid ; they had committed a great folly yes 
terday, and must never brag again, but for 
this time, " Go, begin, not one of them shall 
fail." * 

Charles returned to Hugo master of the sit 
uation. He repeated that they had drunk too 
much wine the night before, and went on to 
say that it was an outrage on Hugo's part to 
set a spy in the room, and that they knew a 

land where such an act would be accounted 
villainy : " but all shall be carried out ; choose 
who shall begin." Hugo said, Oliver ; and let 
him not fall short of his boast, or I will cut off 
his head, and the other twelve shall share his 
fate. The next morning, in pursuance of an 
arrangement made between Oliver and the 
princess, the king was informed that what 
had been undertaken had been precisely dis 
charged. " The first has saved himself," says 
Hugo ; " by magic, I believe ; now I wish to 
know about the rest." " What next ? " says 
Charlemagne. William of Orange was called 
for, threw off his furs, lifted the huge ball 
with one hand, hurled it at the wall, and 
threw down more than forty toises. " They 
are enchanters," said the king to his men. 
" Now I should like to see if the rest will do 
as much. If one of them fails, I will hang 
them all to-morrow." " Do you want any 
more of the gabs ? " asked Charles. Hugo 
called upon Bernard to do what he had threat 
ened. Bernard asked the prayers of the em 
peror, ran down to the water, and made the 
sign of the cross. All the water left its bed, 
spread over the fields, came into the city, filled 
the cellars, drenched the people, and drove 
King Hugo into his highest tower ; Charles 
and the peers being the while ensconced in an 
old pine-tree, all praying for God's pity. 

Charles in the tree heard Hugo in the tower 
making his moan : he would give the emperor 
all his treasure, would become his man and 
hold his kingdom of him. The emperor was 
moved, and prayed that the flood might stop, 
and at once the water began to ebb. Hugo 
was able to descend from his tower, and he 
came to Charles, under an " ympe tree," and 
repeated what he had uttered in the moment 
of extremity. " Do you want the rest of the 
gabs ? " asked Charles. " Ne de ceste se- 
maine," replied Hugo. " Then, since you are 
my man," said the emperor, " we will make 
a holiday and wear our crowns together." 

* In Galien, Hugo is exceedingly frightened by Charle- accommodation unless the gabs are performed. " Content," 
magne's fierce demeanor and by what he is told by a recreant says Charles, angrily, " they shall be, if you wish ; " but he 

Frenchman who is living in exile at his court, and rouses the 
city for an assault on his guests, in which he loses two thou 
sand of his people. A parley ensues. Hugo will hear of no 

feels how great the peril is, and goes to church to invoke the 
aid of heaven, which is vouchsafed. 



When the French saw the two monarchs walk 
ing together, and Charles overtopping Hugo 
by fifteen inches, they said the queen was a 
fool to compare anybody with him. 

After this promenade there was mass, at 
which Turpin officiated, and then a grand 
dinner. Hugo once more proffered all his 
treasures to Charles, but Charles would not 
take a denier. " We must be going," he said. 
The French mounted their mules, and went 
off in high spirits. Very happy was Charles 
to have conquered such a king without a bat 
tle. Charles went directly to St Denis, and 
performed his devotions. The nail and the 
crown he deposited on the altar, distributed 
the other relics over the kingdom, and for the 
love of the sepulchre he gave up his anger 
against the queen. 

The story in the English ballad, so far as 
it is to be collected from our eight fragments, 
is that Arthur, represented as King of Lit 
tle Britain, while boasting to Gawain of his 
round table, is told by Guenever that she 
knows of one immeasurably finer ; the very 
trestle is worth his halls and his gold, and the 
palace it stands in is worth all Little Britain 
besides ; but not a word will she say as to 
where this table and this goodly building may 
be. Arthur makes a vow never to sleep two 
nights in one place till he sees that round 
table ; and, taking for companions Gawain, 
Tristram, Sir Bredbeddle, and an otherwise un 
known Sir Marramiles, sets out on the quest. 

The pilgrimage which, to save his dignity, 
Charles makes a cover for his visit to the 
rival king forms no part of Arthur's pro 
gramme.* The five assume a palmer's weed 
simply for disguise, and travel east and west, 
in many a strange country, only to arrive at 
Cornwall, so very little a way from home. 

The proud porter of Cornwall's gate, a min 
ion swain, befittingly clad in a suit of gold, 
for his master is the richest king in Chris 
tendom, or yet in heathenness, is evidently 
impressed with Arthur's bearing, as is quite 
the rule in such cases : f he has been porter 
thirty years and three, but [has never seen 
the like] . Cornwall would naturally ask the 
pilgrims some questions. From their mention 
ing some shrine of Our Lady he infers that 
they have been in Britain, Little Britain 
we must suppose to be meant. Cornwall asks 
if they ever knew King Arthur, and boasts 
that he had lived seven years in Little Britain, 
and had had a daughter by Arthur's wife, 
now a lady of radiant beauty, and Arthur 
has none such.J He then sends for his steed, 
which he can ride three times as far in a day 
as Arthur can any of his, and we may suppose 
that he also exhibits to his guests a horn and 
a sword of remarkable properties, and a Bur- 
low-Beanie, or Billy-Blin, a seven-headed, 
fire-breathing fiend whom he has in his ser 
vice. Arthur is then conducted to bed, and 
the Billy-Blin, shut up, as far as we can make 
out, in some sort of barrel, or other vessel, 

* Arthur is said to have " socht to the ciete of Criste," in 
' Golagros and Gawane,' Madden's ' Syr Gawayne,' p. 143, 
v. 302. The author probably followed the so-called Nen- 
nius, c. 63. 

t Cf. ' Young Beichan,' where the porter has also served 
thirty years and three ; ' The Grene Knight,' Percy MS., 
Hales and Furnivall, II, 62; the porter in Kilhwch and 
Olwen, Mabinogion, II, 255 f . 

J In Heinrich vom Tiirlin's Crone we have the following 
passage, vv 3313-4888, very possibly to be found in some 
French predecessor, which recalls the relations of Cornwall 
King and Guenever. The queen's demeanor may be an imi 
tation of Charlemagne's (Arthur's) wife's bluntness, but the 
liaison of which Cornwall boasts appears to be vouched by 
no other tradition, and must be regarded as the invention of 
the author of this ballad. 

Arthur and three comrades return half frozen from a hunt. 
Arthur sits down at the fire to warm himself. The queen 
taunts him : she knows a knight who rides, winter and sum 

mer alike, in a simple shirt, chanting love-songs the while. 
Arthur resolves to go out with the three the next night to 
overhaul this hardy chevalier. The three attendants of the 
king have an encounter with him and fare hard at his hands, 
but Arthur has the advantage of the stranger, who reveals 
himself to the king as Guenever's first love, by name Gaso- 
zein, and shows a token which he had received from her. 

Under thrub chadler closed was hee. 29 2 . 
The bunge of the trubchandler he burst in three. 43 2 . 

Being unable to make anything of thrub, trub, I am com 
pelled to conjecture the rub-chadler, that rub-chandler. The 
fiend is certainly closed under a barrel or tub, and I suppose 
a rubbish barrel or tub. Rubb, however derived, occurs in 
Icelandic in the sense of rubbish, and chalder, however de 
rived, is a Scottish form of the familiar chaldron. Professor 
Skeat, with great probability, suggests that chadler chau- 
deler, chaudiere. Caldaria lignea are cited by Ducange. 
Cad or kad is well known in the sense barrel, and cadiolus, 



is set by Arthur's bed-side to hear and report 
the talk of the pilgrims. Now, it would seem, 
the knights make each their vow or brag. 
Arthur's is that he will be the death of Corn 
wall King before he sees Little Britain. Ga- 
wain, who represents Oliver, will have Corn 
wall's daughter home with him. Here there is 
an unlucky gap. Tristram should undertake 
to carry off the horn, Marramiles the steed, 
and Sir Bredbeddle the sword. But first it 
would be necessary to subdue the loathly fiend. 
Bredbeddle goes to work without dallying, 
bursts open the rub-chadler with his sword, and 
fights the fire-breathing monster in a style that 
is a joy to see ; but sword, knife, and axe all 
break, and he is left without a weapon. Yet 
he had something better to fall back on, and 
that was a little book which he had found by 
the seaside, no doubt in the course of those 
long travels which conducted the pilgrims from 
Little Britain to Cornwall. It was probably 
a book of Evangiles ; our Lord had written it 
with his hands and sealed it with his blood. 
With this little book, which in a manner takes 
the place of the relics in the French tale, for 
the safety of the pilgrims and the accom 
plishment of their vows are secured through 
it, Bredbeddle conjures the Burlow-beanie, 
and shuts him up till wanted in a " wall of 
stone," which reminds us of the place in which 
Hugo's spy is concealed. He then reports to 
Arthur, who has a great desire to see the 
fiend in all his terrors, and, upon the king's 
promising to stand firm, Bredbeddle makes the 
fiend start out again, with his seven heads and 
the fire flying out of his mouth. The Billy- 
Blin is now entirely amenable to command : 
Bredbeddle has only to " conjure " him to do 
a thing, and it is done. First he fetches down 
the steed. Marramiles, who perhaps had 
vowed to bring off the horse, considers that 
he is the man to ride him, but finds he can do 

cadulns, are found in Dncange. Cadler, chadler, however, 
cannot be called a likely derivative from cad. 

In stanza 48 the fiend, after he has been ousted from 
the " trubchandler," is told to " lie still in that wall of stone," 
which is perhaps his ordinary lair. The spy ia concealed 
under a flight of atone steps in the French poem ; in " a large 
hollow stone in the door outside" in the Welsh story ; in a 
hollow pillar in Galien and the Ki'mur ; in a stone vault in 

nothing with him, and has to call on Bredbed 
dle for help. The Billy-Blin is required to tell 
how the steed is to be ridden, and reveals that 
three strokes of a gold wand which stands in 
Cornwall's study-window will make him spring 
like spark from brand. And so it comes out 
that Cornwall is a magician. Next the horn 
has to be fetched, but, when brought, it can 
not be sounded. For this a certain powder 
is required. This the fiend procures, and 
Tristram blows a blast which rends the horn 
up to the midst.* Finally the Billy-Blin is 
conjured to fetch the sword, and with this 
sword Arthur goes and strikes off Cornwall's 
head. So Arthur keeps his vow, and, so far 
as we can see, all the rest are in a condition 
to keep theirs. 

The English ballad retains too little of the 
French story to enable us to say what form of 
it this little was derived from. The poem of 
Galien would cover all that is borrowed as 
well as the Journey of Charlemagne. It may 
be regarded as an indication of late origin 
that in this ballad Arthur is king of Little 
Britain, that Bredbeddle and Marramiles are 
made the fellows of Gawain and Tristram, 
Bredbeddle carrying off all the honors, and 
that Cornwall has had an intrigue with Ar 
thur's queen. The name Bredbeddle is found 
elsewhere only in the late Percy version of 
the romance of the Green Knight, Hales and 
Furnivall, II, 56, which version alludes to a 
custom of the Knights of the Bath, an order 
said to have been instituted by Henry IV at 
his coronation, in 1399. 

The Faroe ballad, \ Geipa-tattur,' exists in 
four versions : A, Svabo's manuscript collec 
tion, 1782, III, 1, 85 stanzas ; B, Sandabog, 
1822, p. 49, 140 stanzas; C, Fugl0bog, c. 
1840, p. 9, 120 stanzas; D, Syder0 version, ob 
tained by Hammershaimb, 1848, 103 stanzas.f 
It repeats the story of the Norse saga, with a 

the Faroe ballad : Koschwitz, Karls Reise, p. 64 ; Sechs 
Bearbeitungen, pp 29, 52, 85, 117, 153, 179. 

* Roland's last blast splits his horn. See the citations by 
G. Paris, in Romania, XI, 506 f. 

t The first has been printed by KSlbing in Koschwitz's 
Sechs Bearbeitungen, as already said. The four texts were 
most kindly communicated to me by Professor Grundtvig, a 
short time before his lamentable death, copied by his own 



moderate number of traditional accretions and 
changes. The emperor, from his throne, asks 
his champions where is his superior [equal]. 
They all drop their heads ; no one ventures 
to answer but the queen, who better had been 
silent. " The emperor of Constantinople " 
(Hakin, D), she says, " is thy superior." " If 
he is not," answers Karl, " thou shalt burn on 
bale." In B, when they have already started 
for Constantinople, Turpin persuades them to 
go rather to Jerusalem : in the other versions 
it must be assumed that the holy city was on 
the route. As Karl enters the church the 
bells ring and the candles light of themselves, 
C, D. There are thirteen seats in the choir : 
Karl takes the one that Jesus had occupied, 
and the peers those of the apostles. A heathen 
tells the patriarch * that the Lord is come 
down from heaven, C, D. The patriarch pro 
ceeds to the church, with no attendance but 
his altar-book [singing from his altar-book] ; 
he asks Karl what ne has come for, and Karl 
replies, to see the halidoms, A, C, D. In B 
the patriarch presents himself to the emperor 
at his lodging, and inquires his purpose ; and, 
learning that he is on his way to Constanti 
nople, for glory, advises him first to go to the 
church, where the ways and means of success 
are to be found. The patriarch gives Karl 
some of the relics : the napkin on which Jesus 
had wiped his hands, cups from which he had 
drunk, etc. Karl, in A, C, now announces 
that he is on his way to Constantinople ; the 
patriarch begs him not to go, for he will have 
much to suffer. At the exterior gate of the 
palace will be twelve white bears, ready to go 
at him ; the sight of his sword [of the holy 
napkin, B] will cause them to fall stone-dead, 
or at least harmless, B. At the gate next 
within there will be twelve wolf-dogs f [and 
further on twelve toads, B], which must be 

disposed of in like wise : etc. The castle 
stands on a hundred pillars, A, and is full of 
ingenious contrivances : the floor goes up to 
the sky, and the roof comes down to the 
ground, B. Karl now sets out, with the pa 
triarch's blessing and escort. Before they 
reach the palace they come upon three hun 
dred knights and ladies dancing, which also 
had been foretold, and at the portals of the 
palace they find and vanquish the formidable 
beasts. The palace is to the full as splendid 
and as artfully constructed as they had been 
informed : the floor goes up and the roof comes 
down, B ; there are monstrous figures (?), 
with horns at their mouths, and, upon a wind 
rising the horns all sound, the building begins 
to revolve, and the Frenchmen jump up, each 
clinging to the other, B, C, D. Karl remem 
bers what his wife had said, A, D. 

Of the reception by the monarch of Con 
stantinople nothing further is said. We are 
immediately taken to the bedroom, in which 
there are twelve beds, with a thirteenth in 
the middle, and also a stone arch, or vault, in 
side of which is a man with a candle. Karl 
proposes that they shall choose feats, make 
boasts, rouses [skemtar, jests, C]. These 
would inevitably be more or less deranged and 
corrupted in the course of tradition. A and C 
have lost many. Karl's boast, dropped in B, 
C, is that he will smite King Hakin, so that 
the sword's point shall stick in the ground, 
D ; hit the emperor on the neck and knock 
him off his horse, A. Roland, in all, will blow 
the emperor's hair off his head with the blast 
of his horn. Oliver's remains as in the French 
poem. William of Orange's ball is changed 
to a bolt. The exploit with the horses and 
apples is assigned to Bernard in D, the only 
version which preserves it, as in the Norse 
saga ; and, as in the saga again, it is Turpin, 

hand in parallel columns, with a restoration of the order of 
the stanzas, which is considerably disturbed in all, and a few 
necessary emendations. 

* Pol, A, C, Kortunatus, B, i. e. Koronatus (Grundtvig). 
Coronatus = clericus, tonsura seu corona clerical! donatus : 

t The white bears and the wolf-dogs are found in another 
Faroe ballad, as yet unprinted, ' Asmundar skeinkjari,' 

where they are subdued by an arm-ring and " rune-gold : " 
the white bears in a kindred ballad, Grundtvig, No 71, A 
4, 5, 8, 9, C 6, 7, 13, quelled with a lily-twig ; E 12, 13, 
with runes ; and in No 70, A 28, B 27, 30. The source 
of this ballad is Fjolsvinnsmal, which has two watch-dogs 
in 13, 14. ' Kilhwch and Olwen,' Mabinogion, II, has 
a similar story, and there are nine watch-dogs, at p. 277. 



and not Bernard, who brings in the river upon 
the town, and forces the king to take refuge 
in the tower. 

Early in the morning the spy reports in writ 
ing, and King Hdkin, D, says that Karl and 
his twelve peers shall burn on the bale, A, C, 
D, if they cannot make good their boasts, B. 
Karl's queen appears to him in his sleep, A, 
and bids him think of last night's words. It 
is the queen of Constantinople in B, C, D who 
rouses Karl to a sense of his plight ; in B she 
tells him that the brags have been reported, 
and that burning will be the penalty unless 
they be achieved. Karl then sees that his 
wife knew wl^at she was saying, and vows to 
give her Hildarheim and a scarlet cloak if he 
gets home alive. He hastens to church ; a 
dove descends from heaven and sits on his 
arm [in B a voice comes from heaven] ; he is 
assured that the boasts shall all be performed, 
but never let such a thing be done again.. In 
A three of the, feats are executed, in D four, 
in C seven, Oliver's in each case strictly, and 
Turpin's, naturally, last. The king in C does 
the feat which is proposed by Eimer in the 
saga. A and C end abruptly with Turpin's 
exploit. In D Karl falls on his knees and 
prays, and the water retires ; Karl rides out 
of Constantinople, followed three days on the 
road by Koronatus, as Hakin is now called, 
stanza 103 : it is Karlamagnus that wears his 
crown higher. B takes a turn of its own. 
Roland, Olger and Oliver are called upon to 
do their brags. Roland blows so that nobody 
in Constantinople can keep his legs, and the 
emperor falls into the mud, but he blows not 
a hair off the emperor's head ; Olger slings 
the gold-bolt over the wall, but breaks off 
none ; Oliver gives a hundred kisses, as in the 
saga. The emperor remarks each time, I hold 
him no champion that performs his rouse that 

Romania, IX, 8 ff. The English ballad has also com 
bined two stories : that of the gabs with another in which 
a magical horse, horn, and sword are made prize of by a 
favored hero. 

t The particular for which superiority is claimed will nat 
urally vary. The author of Charlemagne's Journey has the 
good taste not to give prominence to simple riches, but in 
Galien riches is from the beginning the point. So none 
hath so much gold aa Cornwall King. Solomon's fame is to 

way. But Turpin's brag is thoroughly done ; 
the emperor is driven to the tower, and begs 
Karl to turn off the water ; no more feats shall 
be exacted. Now the two kaisers walk in the 
hall, conferring about tribute, which Karl 
takes and rides away. When he reaches 
home his queen welcomes him, and asks what 
happened at Constantinople : " Hvat gekk 
af ? " " This," says Karl ; " I know the truth 
now; you shall be queen as before, and shall 
have a voice in the rule." 

It is manifest that Charlemagne's pilgrim 
age to Jerusalem and the visit to the king of 
Constantinople, though somewhat intimately 
combined in the old French geste, were origi 
nally distinct narratives. As far as we can 
judge, nothing of the pilgrimage was retained 
by the English ballad. We are not certain, 
even, that it is Charlemagne's visit to Hugo 
upon which the ballad was formed, though 
the great popularity of the French poem makes 
this altogether likely. As M. Gaston Paris 
has said and shown,* the visit to Hugo is one 
of a cycle of tales of which the framework 
is this : that a king who regards himself as 
the richest or most magnificent in the world 
is told that there is somebody that outstrips 
him, and undertakes a visit to his rival to de 
termine which surpasses the other, threaten 
ing death to the person who has disturbed his 
self-complacency, in case the rival should turn 
out to be his inferior. A familiar example 
is afforded by the tale of Aboulcassem, the 
first of the Mille et un Jours. Haroun Alras- 
chid was incessantly boasting that no prince 
in the world was so .generous as he.f The 
vizier Giafar humbly exhorted the caliph not 
to praise himself, but to leave that to others. 
The caliph, much piqued, demanded, Do you 
then know anybody who compares with me ? 
Giafar felt compelled to reply that there was 

exceed all the kings of the earth " for riches and for wis 
dom ; " and although the queen of Sheba came to prove him 
with hard questions, she must have had the other matter also 
in view, for she says, The half was not told me ; thy wisdom 
and prosperity exceedeth the fame which I heard : 1 Kings, 
x. Coming down to very late times, we observe that it is 
the wealth of the Abbot of Canterbury which exposes him to 
a visit from the king. 



a young man at Basra, who, though in a pri 
vate station, was not inferior even to the 
caliph in point of generosity. Haroun was 
very angry, and, on Giafar's persisting in 
what he had said, had the vizier arrested, and 
finally resolved to go to Basra to see with 
his own eyes : if Giafar should have spoken 
the truth, he should be rewarded, but in the 
other event he should forfeit his life.* 

This story, it is true, shows no trace of the 
gabs which Charlemagne and the peers make, 
and which Hugo requires to be accomplished 
on pain of death. The gabs are a well-known 
North-European custom, and need not be 
sought for further ; but the requiring by one 
king of certain feats to be executed by an 
other under a heavy penalty is a feature of a 
large class of Eastern tales of which there has 

already been occasion to speak : see ' The El 
fin Knight,' p. 11. The demand in these, how 
ever, is made not in person, but through an 
ambassador. The combination of a personal 
visit with a task to be performed under pen 
alty of death is seen in the VafpruSnismal, 
where Odin, disguised as a traveller, seeks a 
contest in knowledge with the wisest of the 
giants. f 

The story of the gabs has been retold in 
two modern imitations : very indifferently by 
Nivelle de la Chaussee, 'Le Roi Hugon,' 
QEuvres, t. V, supplement, p. 66, ed. 1778, 
and well by M. J. Che'nier, ' Les Miracles,' 
III, 259, ed. 1824.$ Uhland treated the sub 
ject dramatically in a composition which has 
not been published: Keller, Altfranzosische 
Sagen, 1876, Inhalt (Koschwitz). 

Percy MS., p. 24. Hales and Furnivall, I, 61 ; Madden's 
Syr Gawayne, p. 275. 

' I know where a round table is, thou noble 


Is worth thy round table and other such 

1 [SAIES, ' Come here, cu/en Gawaiiie so gay,] 

My sisters sonne be yee ; 

Ffor you shall see one of the fairest round ta 
That euer you see wt'th your eye.' 

2 Then bespake Lady Queen Gueneuer, 

And these were the words said shee : 

3 ' The trestle that stands vnder this round ta 

ble,' she said, 

' Lowe downe to the mould, 
It is worth thy round table, thou worthy king, 
Thy halls, and all thy gold. 

4 l The place where this round table stands in, 

* The tale in the Mille et un Jours is directly from the 
Persian, but the Persian is in the preface said to be a ver 
sion from Indian, that is, Sanskrit. There are two Tatar 
traditional versions in Radloff, IV, 120, 310, which are cited 
by G. Paris. 

t Cited by G. Paris, who refers also to King Gylfi's expe 
dition to Asgard (an imitation of Odin's to VafJ>ni(5nir), and 
sees some resemblance to the revolving palace of King Hugo 
in the vanishing mansion in which Gylfi is received in Gylfa- 
ginning ; and again to Thor's visit to the giant GeirroSr, 
Skaldskaparmal, 18, which terminates by the giant's flinging 
a red-hot iron bar at Thor, who catches it and sends it back 
through an iron pillar, through GeirroSr skulking behind 
the pillar, through the wall of the house, and into the 
ground, a fair matching of Charlemagne's gab. (The giant 
GeirroSr, like Cornwall King, is skilled in magic. ) The be 
ginning of Biterolf and Dietleib also recalls that of Charle 
magne's Journey. Biterolf, a Spanish king, hears from an 
old palmer, who has seen many a hero among Christians 

and heathens, that none is the equal of Attila. Biterolf had 
thought that he himself had no superior, and sets out with 
eleven chosen knights to see Etzel's court with his own eyes. 
Romania, IX, 9 f. 

Jatmundr [HloSver], a haughty emperor in Saxon-land, 
sitting on his throne one day, in the best humor with him 
self, asks SigurSr, his prime minister, where is the monarch 
that is his match. SigunSr demurs a little ; the emperor 
specifies his hawk, horse, and sword as quite incomparable. 
That may be, says the counsellor, but his master's glory, to 
be complete, requires a queen that is his peer. The sugges 
tion of a possible equal rouses the emperor's ire. " But 
since you talk such folly, name one," he says. SigurSr 
names the daughter of Hrdlfr [Hugo] of Constantinople, 
and is sent to demand her in marriage. Magus saga jarls, 
ed. Cederschiold, c. i: Wulff, Recherches sur les Sagas de 
Magus et de Geirard, p. 14 f. 

J G. Paris, Histoire Poetique de Charlemagne, p. 344. 



It is worth thy castle, thy gold, thy fee, 
And all good Litle Britaine.' 

5 ' Where may that table be, lady ? ' quoth hee, 

' Or where may all that goodly building 


' You shall it seeke,' shee says, ' till you it find, 
For you shall neuer gett more of me.' 

6 Then bespake him noble King Arthur, 

These were the words said hee : 
' He make mine avow to God, 
And alsoe to the Trinity, 

7 ' He never sleepe one night there as I doe an 


Till thai round table I see : 
Sir Marramiles and Sir Tristeram, 
Fellowes that ye shall bee. 

' Weele be clad in palmers weede, 
Fiue palmers we will bee ; 

9 ' There is noe outlandish man will vs abide, 

Nor will vs come nye.' 
Then they riued east and the" riued west, 
In many a strange country. 

10 Then they tranckled a litle further, 

They saw a battle new sett : 
' Now, by my faith,' saies noble King Arthur, 


11 But when he cam to this c . 

And to the palace gate, 
Soe ready was ther a proud porter, 
And met him soone therat. 

12 Shooes of gold the porter had on, 

And all his other rayment was vnto the 

same : 

'Now, by my faith,' saies noble King Arthur, 
' Yonder is a minion swaine.' 

13 Then bespake noble King Arthur, 

These were the words says hee : 
' Come hither, thou proud porter, 
I pray thee come hither to me. 

14 'I haue two poore rings of my finger, 

The better of them He giue to thee ; 
Tell who may be lord of this castle,' he 

' Or who is lord in this cuntry ? ' 

15 ' Cornewall King,' the porter sayes, 

' There is none soe rich as hee ; 
Neither in christendome, nor yet in heathen- 
None hath soe much gold as he.' 

16 And then bespake him noble King Arthur, 

These were the words sayes hee : 
' I haue two poore rings of my finger, 

The better of them He giue thee, 
If thou wilt greete him well, Cornewall King, 

And greete him well from me. 

17 ' Pray him for one nights lodging and two 

meales meate, 

For his love that dyed vppon a tree ; 

Of one ghesting and two meales meate, 

For his loue that dyed vppon a tree. 

18 ' Of one ghesting, of two meales meate, 

For his love that was of virgin borne, 
And in the morning that we may scape away, 
Either without scath or scome.' 

19 Then forth is gone this proud porter, 

As fast as he cold hye, 
And when he came befor Cornewall King, 
He kneeled downe on his knee. 

20 Sayes, ' I haue beene porter-man, at thy gate, 

This thirty winter and three 

21 ... 

Our Lady was borne ; then thought Cornewall 

These palmers had beene in Brittmne. 

22 Then bespake him Cornwall King, 

These were the words he said there : 
' Did you euer know a comely king, 
His name was King Arthur ? ' 



23 And then bespake him noble King Arthur, 

These were the words said hee : 
' I doe not know that comly king, 

But once my selfe I did him see.' 
Then bespake Cornwall King againe, 

These were the words said he : 

24 Sayes, ' Seuen yeere I was clad and fed, 

In Litle Brittaine, in a bower ; 
I had a daughter by King Arthurs wife, 

That now is called my flower ; 
For King Arthur, that kindly cockward, 

Hath none such in his bower. 

25 ' For I durst sweare, and saue my othe, 

That same lady soe bright, 
That a man that were laid on his death bed 

Wold open his eyes on her to haue sight.' 
' Now, by my faith,' sayes noble King Arthur, 

' And that 's a full faire wight ! ' 

26 And then bespake Cornewall [King] againe, 

And these were the words he said : 
' Come hither, fiue or three of my knights, 

.And feitch me downe my steed ; 
King Arthur, that foule cockeward, 

Hath none such, if he had need. 

27 ' For I can ryde him as far on a day 

As .King Arthur can doe any of his on 

three ; 
And is it not a pleasure for a king 

When he shall ryde forth on his iourney ? 

28 ' For the eyes that beene in his head, 

The" glister as doth the gleed.' 
' Now, by my faith,' says noble King Arthur, 
' That is a well faire steed.' 

29 . . . . . 

' Nobody say .... 
But one that 's learned to speake.' 

30 Then King Arthur to his bed was brought, 

A greeiued man was hee ; 
And soe were all his fellowes with him, 
From him the thought neuer to flee. 

31 Then take they did that lodly groome, 

And under the rub-chadler closed was hee, 

And he was set by King Arthurs bed-side, 
To heere theire talke and theire comuwye ; 

32 That he might come forth, and make procla 


Long before it was day ; 
It was more for King Cornwalls pleasure, 
Then it was for King Arthurs pay. 

33 And when King Arthur in his bed was laid, 

These were the words said hee : 
' lie make mine avow to God, 

And alsoe to the Trinity, 
That He be the bane of Cornwall Kinge, 

Litle Brittaine or euer I see ! ' 

34 ' It is an vnaduised vow,' saies Gawaine the 


' As ever king hard make I ; 
But wee that beene fiue Christian men, 

Of the christen faith are wee, 
And we shall fight against anoynted king 

And all his armorie.' 

35 And then bespake him noble Arthur, 

And these were the words said he : 
' Why, if thou be afraid, Sir Gawaine the 

g a y> 

Goe home, and drinke wine in thine owne 

36 And then bespake Sir Gawaine the gay, 

And these were the words said hee : 
' Nay, seeing you have made such a hearty 

Heere another vow make will I. 

37 ' lie make mine avow to God, 

And alsoe to the Trinity, 
That I will haue yonder faire lady 
To Litle Brittaine with mee. 

38 ' He hose her hourly to my heart, 

And with her He worke my will ; ' 


These were the words sayd hee : 
1 Befor I wold wrestle with yonder feend, 
It is better be drowned in the sea.' 



40 And then bespake Sir Bredbeddle, 

And these were the words said he : 
' Why, I will wrestle with yon lodly feend, 
God, my gouernor thou wilt bee ! ' 

41 Then bespake him noble Arthur, 

And these were the words said he : 
' What weapons wilt thou haue, thou gentle 

knight ? 
I pray thee tell to me.' 

42 He sayes, ' Collen brand lie haue in my hand, 

And a Millaine knife fast by me knee, 
And a Danish axe fast in my hands, 
Thai a sure weapon I thinke wilbe.' 

43 Then with his Collen brand thai he had in his 

The bunge of that rub-chandler he burst in 

three ; 

With that start out a lodly feend, 
With seuen heads, and one body. 

44 The fyer towards the element flew, 

Out of his mouth, where was great plentie ; 
The knight stoode in the middle and fought, 
Thai it was great ioy to see. 

45 Till his Collaine brand brake in his hand, 

And his Millaine knife burst on his knee, 
And then the Danish axe burst in his hand first, 
That a sur weapon he thought shold be. 

46 But now is the knight left without any weap 


And alacke ! it was the more pitty ; 
But a surer weapon then he had one, 

Had neuer lord in Christentye ; 
And all was but one litle booke, 

He found it by the side of the sea. 

47 He found it at the sea-side, 

Wrucked upp in a floode ; 
Our ~Lord had written it with his hands, 
And sealed it with his bloode. 

49 And when he came to the kin^s chamber, 

He cold of his curtesie : 

Says, ' Sleepe you, wake you, noble King Ar 
thur ? 
And euer lesus waken yee ! ' 

50 ' Nay, I am not sleeping, I am waking,' 

These were the words said hee ; 
' Ffor thee I haue card ; how hast thou fared ? 
O gentle knight, let me see.' 

51 The knight wrought the king his booke, 

Bad him behold, reede and see ; 
And euer he found it on the backside of the 

As noble Arthur wold wish it to be. 

52 And then bespake him King Arthur, 

' Alas ! thow gentle knight, how may this 


That I might see him in the same licknesse 
That he stood vnto thee ? ' 

53 And then bespake him the Greene Knight, 

These were the words said hee : 
' If youle stand stifly in the battell stronge. 
For I haue won all the victory.' 

54 Then bespake him the king againe, 

And these were the words said hee : 
' If wee stand not stifly in this battell strong, 
Wee are worthy to be hanged all on a tree.' 

55 Then bespake him the Greene Knight, 

These were the words said he : 
Saies, ' I doe coniure thee, thou fowle feend, 
In the same licknesse thou stood vnto me.' 

56 With that start out a lodly feend, 

With seuen heads, and one body ; 
The fier towards the element flaugh, 

Out of his mouth, where was great plenty. 

57 The knight stood in the middle p . . . 

48 ' That thou doe not s i 

But ly still in that wall of stone, 
Till I haue beene with noble Kira<7 Arthur, 
And told him what I haue done.' 




they stood the space of an houre, 
I know not what they did. 

59 And then bespake him the Greene Knight, 

And these were the words said he : 
Saith, ' I coniure thee, thou fowle feend, 

Thai thou feitch downe the steed that we 

60 And then forth is gone Burlow-beanie, 

As fast as he cold hie, 
And feitch he did that faire steed, 
And came againe by and by. 

61 Then bespake him Sir Marramiles, 

And these were the words said hee : 
' Riding of this steed, brother Bredbeddle, 
The mastery belongs to me.' 

62 Marramiles tooke the steed to his hand, 

To ryd him he was full bold ; 
He cold noe more make him goe 
Then a child of three yeere old. 

63 He laid vppon him with heele and hand, 

With yard that was soe fell ; 
' Helpe ! brother Bredbeddle,' says Marra- 

' For I thinke he be the devill of hell. 

64 ' Helpe ! brother Bredbeddle,' says Marra- 


' Helpe ! for Christs pittye ; 
Ffor without thy help, brother Bredbeddle, 
He will neuer be rydden for me.' 

65 Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle, 

These were the words said he : 
' I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beane, 

Thou tell me how this steed was riddin in 
his country.' 

66 He saith, ' there is a gold wand 

Stands in Cornwalls study windowe ; 

67 ' Let him take that wand in that window, 
And strike three strokes on that steed ; 
And then he will spring forth of his hand 
As sparke doth out of gleede.' 

68 And then bespake him the Greene Knight, 


A lowd blast he may blow then. 

70 And then bespake Sir Bredebeddle, 

To the ffeend these words said hee : 
Says, ' I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie, 
The powder-box thou feitch me.' 

71 Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie, 

As fast as he cold hie, 
And feich he did the powder-box, 
And came againe by and by. 

72 Then Sir Tristeram tooke powder forth of that 


And blent it with warme sweet milke, 
And there put it vnto that home, 
And swilled it about in that ilke. 

73 Then he tooke the home in his hand, 

And a lowd blast he blew ; 
He rent the home vp to the midst, 
All his ffellowes this the knew. 

74 Then bespake him the Greene Knight, 

These were the words said he : 
Saies, ' I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie, 
That thou feitch me the sword that I see.' 

75 Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie, 

As fast as he cold hie, 
And feitch he did that faire sword, 
And came againe by and by. 

76 Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle, 

To the king these words said he : 
' Take this sword in thy hand, thou noble King 

For the vowes sake that thou made He giue 

it th[ee,] 

And goe strike off "King Cornewalls head, 
In bed were he doth lye.' 


77 Then forth is gone noble King Arthur, 

As fast as he cold hye, 
And strucken he hath off King Cornwalls 

And came againe by and by. 


78 He put the head vpon a swords point, 

I 1 . The tops of the letters of this line were cut off 
in binding. Percy thought it had stood 

come here Cmen Gawaine so gay. 

Fumivall says " the bottoms of the letters left 

suit better those in the text " as given. 
4 and 5, S and 9, are joined in the MS. 
10*. Half a page is gone from the MS., or about 

38 or 40 lines ; and so after 20*, 28 4 , 38 2 , 

47, 57 1 , 68 1 , 78 1 . 
14 2 . they better. 
17 8 , 18 1 . Tlie first two words are hard to make out, 

and look like A vne. 
18 2 . boirne. 
19 1 . his gone. 

20 2 . The lower half of the letters is gone. 
21. In MS.: 

our Lady was borne 

then thought cornewall King these palmers had 
beene in Brittanie. 

28*. ? MS. Only the upper part of the letters is 


31 2 . under thrub chadler. 
35. After this stanza is written, in the left margin 

of the MS., The 3d Part. 

38 1 . homly to my hurt. Madden read hourly. 
39 1 . The top line is pared away. 
41 2 . they words. 
43 2 . of the trubchandler. 
46 8 . then had he. 

64. p', i. e. pro or per, me. Madden. 
66. Attached to 65 in MS. 
69*. ?MS. 
76* 6 . Joined with 77 in MS. 

& and Arabic numerals have been frequently 

written out. 



Percy MS., p. 46. Hales & Fumivall, 1, 105; Madden's Syr Gawayne, p. 288 ; Percy's'Reliques, ed. 1794, HI, 350. 

WE have here again half a ballad, in seven 
fragments, but the essentials of the story, 
which is well known from other versions, hap 
pen to be preserved, or may be inferred 

Arthur, apparently some day after Christ 
mas, had been encountered at Tarn Wadling,* 
in the forest of Inglewood, by a bold baron 

* Still so called : near Aiketgate, Hesket. Lysons, Cum 
berland, p. 112. 

armed with a club, who offered him the choice 
of fighting, or ransoming himself by coming 
back on New Year's day and bringing word 
what women most desire. Arthur puts this 
question in all quarters, and having collected 
many answers, in which, possibly, he had little 
confidence, he rides to keep his day. On the 
way he meets a frightfully ugly woman ; she 
intimates that she could help him. Arthur 
promises her Gawain in marriage, if she will, 



and she imparts to him the right answer. Ar 
thur finds the baron waiting for him at the 
tarn, and presents first the answers which he 
had collected and written down. These are 
contemptuously rejected. Arthur then says 
that he had met a lady on a moor, who had 
told him that a woman would have her will. 
The baron says that the misshapen lady on 
the moor was his sister, and he will burn her 
if he can get hold of her. Upon Arthur's re 
turn he tells his knights that he has a wife for 
one of them, and they ride with the king to 
see her, or perhaps for her to make her choice. 
When they see the bride, they decline the 
match in vehement terms, all but Gawain, 
who is somehow led to waive " a little foul 
sight and misliking." She is bedded in all her 
repulsiveness, and turns to a beautiful young 
woman. To try Gawain's compliance further, 
she asks him whether he will have her in this 
likeness by night only or only by day. Putting 
aside his own preference, Gawain leaves the 
choice to her, and this is all that is needed to 
keep her perpetually beautiful. For a step 
mother had witched her to go on the wild 
moor in that fiendly shape until she should 
meet some knight who would let her have all 
her will. Her brother, under a like spell, was 
to challenge men either to fight with him at 
odds or to answer his hard question. 

These incidents, with the variation that Ar 
thur (who does not show all his customary 
chivalry in this ballad) waits for Gawain's 
consent before he promises him in marriage, 
are found in a romance, probably of the fif 
teenth century, printed in Madden's Syr Ga- 
wayne, and somewhat hastily pronounced by 
the editor to be " unquestionably the original 
of the mutilated poem in the Percy folio." * 

Arthur, while hunting in Ingleswood, stalked 
and finally shot a great hart, which fell in a 
fern-brake. While the king, alone and far 
from his men, was engaged in making the 

assay, there appeared a groom, bearing the 
quaint name of Gromer Somer Joure,f who 
grimly told him that he meant now to requite 
him for having taken away his lands. Arthur 
represented that it would be a shame to knight 
hood for an armed man to kill a man' in green, 
and offered him any satisfaction. The only 
terms Gromer would grant were that Arthur 
should come back alone to that place that day 
twelvemonth, and then tell him what women 
love best ; not bringing the right answer, he 
was to lose his head. The king gave his oath, 
and they parted. The knights, summoned by 
the king's bugle, found him in heavy cheer, 
and the reason he would at first tell no man, 
but after a while took Gawain into confidence. 
Gawain advised that they two should ride 
into strange country in different directions, 
put the question to every man and woman 
they met, and write the answers in a book. 
This they did, and each made a large collec 
tion. Gawain thought they could not fail, but 
the king was anxious, and considered that it 
would be prudent to spend the only month 
that was left in prosecuting the inquiry in the 
region of Ingleswood. Gawain agreed that it 
was good to be speering, and bade the king 
doubt not that some of his saws should help 
at need. 

Arthur rode to Ingleswood, and met a lady, 
riding on a richly-caparisoned palfrey, but 
herself of a hideousness which beggars words ; 
nevertheless the items are not spared. She 
came up to Arthur and told him that she 
knew his counsel ; none of his answers would 
help. If he would grant her one thing, she 
would warrant his life ; otherwise, he must lose 
his head. This one thing was that she should 
be Gawain's wife. The king said this lay with 
Gawain ; he would do what he could, but it 
were a pity to make Gawain wed so foul a lady. 
" No matter," she rejoined, " though I be foul: 
choice for a mate hath an owl. When thou 

* ' The Weddynge of S* Gawen and Dame Ragnell,' 
Rawlinson MS., C 86, Bodleian Library, the portion con 
taining the poem being paper, and indicating the close of 
Henry VII's reign. The poem is in six-line stanzas, and, 
with a leaf that is wanting, would amount to about 925 
lines. Madden's Syr Gawayne, Ixiv, Ixvii, 26, 298&-298y. 

t Sir Gromer occurs in " The Turke and Gowin," Percy 
MS., Hales and Furnivall, I, 102 ; Sir Grummore Grum- 
morsum, " a good knight of Scotland," in Morte d' Arthur ; 
ed. Wright, I, 286 and elsewhere (Madden). 



comest to thine answer, I shall meet thee ; 
else art thou lost." 

The king returned to Carlisle with a heart 
no lighter, and the first man he saw was Ga 
wain, who asked how he had sped. Never so 
ill : he had met a lady who had offered to save 
his life, but she was the foulest he had ever 
seen, and the condition was that Gawain 
should be her husband. " Is that all ? " said 
Gawain. " I will wed her once and again, 
though she were the devil ; else were I no 
friend." Well might the king exclaim, " Of 
all knights thou bearest the flower ! " 

After five or six days more the time came 
for the answer. The king had hardly ridden 
a mile into the forest when he met the lady, 
by name Dame Ragnell. He told her Gawain 
should wed her, and demanded her answer. 
" Some say this and some say that, but above 
all things women desire to have the sover 
eignty ; tell this to the knight ; he will curse 
her that told thee, for his labor is lost." Ar 
thur, thus equipped, rode on as fast as he could 
go, through mire and fen. Gromer was wait 
ing, and sternly demanded the answer. Ar 
thur offered his two books, for Dame Ragnell 
had told him to save himself by any of those 
answers if he could. " Nay, nay, king," said 
Gromer, " thou art but a dead man." " Abide, 
Sir Gromei", I have an answer shall make 
all sure. Women desire sovereignty." " She 
that told thee that was my sister, Dame Rag 
nell ; I pray I may see her burn on a fire." 
And so they parted. 

Dame Ragnell was waiting for Arthur, too, 
and would hear of nothing but immediate ful 

fillment of her bargain. She followed the king 
to his court, and required him to produce Ga 
wain instantly, who came and plighted his 
troth. The queen begged her to be married 
privately, and early in the morning. Dame 
Ragnell would consent to no such arrange 
ment. She would not go to church till high- 
mass time, and she would dine in the open hall. 
At her wedding she was dressed more splen 
didly than the queen, and she sat at the head 
of the table at the dinner afterwards. There 
her appetite was all but as horrible as her 
person : she ate three capons, three curlews, 
and great bake meats, all that was set before 
her, less and more.* 

A leaf is wanting now, but what followed 
is easily imagined. She chided Gawain for 
his offishness, and begged him to kiss her, at 
least. " I will do more," said Gawain, and, 
turning, beheld the fairest creature he ever 
saw. But the transformed lady told him that 
her beauty would not hold : he must choose 
whether she should be fair by night and foul 
by day, or fair by day and foul by night. f 
Gawain said the choice was hard, and left all 
to her. " Gramercy," said the lady, " thou 
shalt have me fair both day and night." Then 
she told him that her step-dame had turned 
her into that monstrous shape by necromancy, 
not to recover her own till the best knight 
in England had wedded her and given her 
sovereignty in all points.:}: A charming little 
scene follows, vv 715-99, in which Arthur 
visits Gawain in the morning, fearing lest 
the fiend may have slain him. Something 
of this may very likely have been in that 

* See ' King Henry,' the next ballad. 

t The Gaelic tale of ' The Hoodie ' offers a similar choice. 
The hoodie, a species of crow, having married the youngest 
of a farmer's three daughters, says to her, " Whether 
wouldst thou rather that I should be a hoodie by day and a 
man at night, or be a hoodie at night and a man by day ? " 
The woman maintains her proper sovereignty, and does not 
leave the decision to him : " ' I would rather that thou wert a 
man by day and a hoodie at night,' says she. After this he 
was a splendid fellow by day, and a hoodie at night." Camp 
bell, Popular Tales of the West Highlands, I, 63. 

The having one shape by day and another by night is a 
common feature in popular tales : as, to be a bear by day and 
a man by night, Hrdlfr Kraki's Saga, c. 26, Asbjernsen og 
Moe, Norske Folkeeventyr, No 41 ; a lion by day and a man 

by night, Grimms, K. u. H. m., No 88 ; a crab by day and 
a man by night, B. Schmidt, Griechische Marchen, u. 8. w., 
No 10 ; a snake by day and a man by night, Karadshitch, 
Volksmarchen der Serben, Nos 9, 10 ; a pumpkin by day 
and a man by night, A. & A. Schott, Walachische Maerchen, 
No 23 ; a ring by day, a man by night, Miillenhoff, No 27, 
p. 466, Karadshitch, No 6, Afanasief, VI, 189. Three 
princes in ' Kung Lindorm,' Nicolovius, Folklifwet, p. 48 ff, 
are cranes by day and men by night, the king himself being 
man by day and worm by night. The double shape is some 
times implied though not mentioned. 

J The brother, Gromer Somer Joure, was a victim of the 
same necromancy ; so the Carl of Carlile, Percy MS., Hales 
& Furnivall, III, 291. 



half page of the ballad which is lost after 
stanza 48. 

Gower and Chaucer both have this tale, 
though with a different setting, and with the 
variation, beyond doubt original in the story, 
that the man whose life is saved by rightly 
answering the question has himself to marry 
the monstrous woman in return for her 
prompting him. 

Gower relates, Confessio Amantis, Book 
First, I, 89-104, ed. Pauli, that Florent, nephew 
of the emperor, as Gawain is of Arthur, slew 
Branchus, a man of high rank. Branchus's 
kin refrained from vengeance, out of fear 
of the emperor ; but a shrewd lady, grand 
mother to Branchus, undertook to compass 
Florent's death in a way that should bring 
blame upon nobody. She sent for Florent, 
and told him that she would engage that he 
should not be molested by the family of 
Branchus if he could answer a question she 
would ask. He was to have a proper allow 
ance of time to find the answer, but he was 
also to agree that his life should be forfeited 
unless his answer were right. Florent made 
oath to this agreement, and sought the opin 
ions of the wisest people upon the subject, but 
their opinions were in no accord. Consider 
ing, therefore, that he must default, he took 
leave of the emperor, adjuring him to allow 
no revenge to be taken if he lost his life, and 
went to meet his fate. But on his way through 
a forest he saw an ugly old woman, who called 
to him to stop. This woman told him that he 
was going to certain death, and asked what he 
would give her to save him. He said, any 
thing she should ask, and she required of him 
a promise of marriage. That he would not 
give. " Ride on to your death, then," said she. 
Florent began to reflect that the woman was 
very old, and might be hidden away some 
where till she died, and that there was no other 
chance of deliverance, and at last pledged his 
word that he would marry her if it should turn 
out that his life could be saved only through 

* And whan that this matrone herde 
The maner how this knight answerde, 
She saide, Ha, treson, wo the be ! 
That hast thus told the privete 

the answer that she should teach him. She 
was perfectly willing that he should try all 
other shifts first, but if they failed, then let 
him say that women cared most to be sov 
ereign in love. Florent kept back this answer 
as long as he could. None of his own replies 
availed, and the lady who presided in judg 
ment at last told him that he could be allowed 
but one more. Then he gave the old woman's 
answer, and was discharged, with a curse on 
her that told.* 

The old woman was waiting for Florent, 
and he now had full leisure to inspect all her 
points ; but he was a knight, and would hold 
his troth. He set her on his horse before 
him, rode by night and lay close by day, till he 
came to his castle. There the ladies made an 
attempt to attire her for the wedding, and she 
was the fouler for their pains. They were 
married that night. He turned away from the 
bride ; she prayed him not to be so discour 
teous. He turned toward her, with a great 
moral effort, and saw (for the chamber was 
full of light) a lady of eighteen, of unequalled 
beauty. As he would have drawn her to him 
she forbade, and said he must make his choice, 
to have her such by day or by night. " Choose 
for us both," was his reply. " Thanks," 
quoth she, " for since you have made me sov 
ereign, I shall be both night and day as I am 
now." She explained that, having been daugh 
ter of the king of Sicily, her stepmother had 
forshapen her, the spell to hold till she had 
won the love and the sovereignty of what 
knight passed all others in good name. 

The scene of Chaucer's tale, The Wife of 
Bath, returns to Arthur's court. One of the 
bachelors of the household, when returning 
from hawking, commits a rape, for which he 
is condemned to death. But the queen and 
other ladies intercede for him, and the king 
leaves his life at the disposal of the queen. 
The queen, like the shrewd lady in Gower, but 
with no intent to trapan the young man, says 
that his life shall depend upon his being able 

Which alle women most desire : 
I wolde that thou were a-fire ! 

So Sir Gawen and Dame Ragnell, w 474 f, and our bal 
lad, stanzas 29, 30. 


to tell her what women most desire, and gives 
him a year and a day to seek an answer. He 
makes extensive inquiries, but there is no re 
gion in which two creatures can be found to 
be of the same mind, and he turns homeward 
very downcast. 

On his way through a wood he saw a com 
pany of ladies dancing, and moved towards 
them, in the hope that he might learn some 
thing. But ere he came the dancers had van 
ished, and all he found was the ugliest woman 
conceivable sitting on the green. She asked 
the knight what he wanted, and he told her 
it was to know what women most desire. 
" Plight me thy troth to do the next thing I 
ask of thee, and I will tell thee." He gave his 
word, and she whispered the secret in his ear. 

The court assembled, the queen herself sit 
ting as justice, and the knight was commanded 
to say what thing women love best. He made 
his response triumphantly ; there was no dis 
senting voice. But as soon as he was declared 
to have ransomed his life, up sprang the old 
woman he had met in the wood. She had 
taught the man his answer, he had plighted 
his word to do the first thing she asked of 
him, and now she asked him to make her his 
wife. The promise was not disputed, but the 
poor youth begged her to make some other 
request ; to take all he had in the world, and 
let him go. She would not yield, and they 
were married the next day. When they have 
gone to bed, the old wife, " smiling ever mo," 
rallies her husband for his indifference, and 
lectures him for objecting to ugliness, age, and 
vulgar birth, which things, she says, are a 
great security for him, and then gives him his 
election, to have her ugly and old as she is, 
but true, or young and fair, with the possible 
contingencies. The knight has the grace to 
leave the decision to her. " Then I have the 
sovereignty," she says, " and I will be both 
fair and good ; throw up the curtain and see." 

Fair and young she was, and they lived to their 
lives' end in perfect joy. 

Chaucer has left out the step-mother and 
her bewitchment, and saves, humbles, and re 
wards the young knight by the agency of a 
good fairy ; for the ugly old woman is evi 
dently such by her own will and for her own 
purposes. She is " smiling ever mo,"- and has 
the power, as she says, to set all right when 
ever she pleases. Her fate is not dependent 
on the knight's compliance, though his is. 

The Wife of Bath's Tale is made into a 
ballad, or what is called a sonnet, ' Of a Knight 
and a Fair Virgin,' in The Crown Garland of 
Golden Roses, compiled by Richard Johnson, 
not far from 1600 : see the Percy Society re 
print, edited by W. Chappell, vol. vi of the se 
ries, p. 68. Upon Chaucer's story is founded 
Voltaire's tale, admirable in its way, of Ce qui 
plait aux Dames, 1762 ; of which the author 
writes, 1765, November 4, that it had had 
great success at Fontainebleau in the form of 
a comic opera, entitled La Fe"e Urgele.* The 
amusing ballad of The Knight and Shep 
herd's Daughter has much in common with 
the Wife of Bath's Tale, and might, if we 
could trace its pedigree, go back to a common 

Tales resembling the Marriage of Gawain 
must have been widely spread during the 
Middle Ages. The ballad of ' King Henry ' 
has much in common with the one now under 
consideration, and Norse and Gaelic connec 
tions, and is probably much earlier. At pres 
ent I can add only one parallel out of Eng 
lish, and that from an Icelandic saga. 

Grfrnr was on the verge of marriage with 
Lopthasna, but a week before the appointed 
day the bride was gone, and nobody knew 
what had become of her. Her father had 
given her a step-mother five years before, and 
the step-mother had been far from kind ; but 
what then ? Grfmr was restless and unhappy, 

* This was a melodrama by Favart, in four acts : reduced 
in 1821 to one act, at the Gymnase. 

t Chaucer's tale is commonly said to be derived from 
Gower's, but without sufficient reason. Vv 6507-14, ed. 
Tyrwhitt, are close to Dame Ragnell, 409-420. Gower 
may have got his from some Example-book. I hare not 

seen it remarked, and therefore will note, that Example- 
books may have been known in England as early as 1000, 
for Aelfric seems to speak slightingly of them in his treatise 
on the Old Testament. The Proverbs, he says, is a " big- 
spellbdc, nd swilce g secgaS, ac wisddmes bigspell and war- 
nung \vi5 dysig," etc. 



and got no tidings. A year of scarcity com 
ing, he left home with two of his people. 
After an adventure with four trolls, he had a 
fight with twelve men, in which, though they 
were all slain, he lost his comrades and was very 
badly wounded. As he lay on the ground, 
looking only for death, a woman passed, if 
so she might be called ; for she was not taller 
than a child of seven years, so stout that 
Grfmr's arms would not go round her, mis 
shapen, bald, black, ugly, and disgusting in 
every particular. She came up to Grimr, and 
asked him if he would accept his life from 
her. " Hardly," said he, " you are so loath 
some." But life was precious, and he pres 
ently consented. She took him up and ran 
with him, as if he were a babe, till she came 
to a large cave ; there she set him down, and 
it seemed to Grimr that she was uglier than 
before. " Now pay me for saving your life," 
she said, " and kiss me." " I cannot," said 
Grimr, " you look so diabolical." " Expect 
no help, then, from me," said she, " and I see 
that it will soon be all over with you." 
" Since it must be, loath as I am," said Grimr, 
and went and kissed her ; she seemed not so 
bad to kiss as to look at. When night came 
she made up a bed, and asked Grimr whether 
he would lie alone or with her. " Alone," he 
answered. " Then," said she, " I shall take 
no pains about healing your wounds." Grimr 
said he would rather lie with her, if he had no 
other chance, and she bound up his wounds, 
so that he seemed to feel no more of them. No 

sooner was Grfmrabed than he fell asleep, and 
when he woke, he saw lying by him almost the 
fairest woman he had ever laid eyes on, and 
marvellously like his true-love, Lopthaena. At 
the bedside he saw lying the troll-casing which 
she had worn ; he jumped up and burned 
this. The woman was very faint ; he sprin 
kled her with water, and she came to, and 
said, It is well for both of us; I saved thy 
life first, and thou hast freed me from bon 
dage. It was indeed Lopthasna, whom the 
step-mother had transformed into a horrible 
shape, odious to men and trolls, which she 
should never come out of till a man should 
consent to three things, which no man ever 
would, to accept his life at her hands, to 
kiss her, and to share her bed. Grims saga 
loSinkinna, Rafn, Fornaldar Sogur, II, 143 

Sir Frederic Madden, in his annotations 
upon this ballad, -'Syr Gawayne,' p. 359, re 
marks that Sir Steven, stanza 31, does not 
occur in the Round Table romances ; that Sir 
Banier, 32, is probably a mistake for Beduer, 
the king's constable ; and that Sir Bore and 
Sir Garrett, in the same stanza, are Sir Bors 
de Gauves, brother of Lionel, and Gareth, or 
Gaheriet, the younger brother of Gawain. 

' The Marriage of Sir Gawaine,' as filled 
out by Percy from the fragments in his man 
uscript, Reliques, 1765, III, 11, is translated 
by Bodmer, I, 110; by Bothe, p. 75; by 
Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 

1 KESTGE ARTHUR Hues in merry Carleile, 

And seemely is to see, 
And there he hath with him Queene Gene- 

Thai bride soe bright of blee. 

2 And there he hath with [him] Queene Gene- 


Thai bride soe bright in bower, 
And all his barons about him stoode, 
Thai were both stiffe and stowre. 

3 The king kept a royall Christmasse, 

Of mirth and great honor, 
And when 

4 ' And bring me word what thing it is 
That a woman [will] most desire ; 
This shalbe thy ransome, Arthur,' he sayes, 
' For He haue noe other hier.' 



6 King Arthur then held vp his hand, 
According thene as was the law ; 
He tooke his leaue of the baron there, 
And homward can he draw. 

6 And when he came to merry Carlile, 

To his chamber he is gone, 
And ther came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine, 
As he did make his mone. 

7 And there came to him his cozen Sir Ga 


That was a curteous knight ; 
' Why sigh you soe sore, vnckle Arthur,' he 

' Or who hath done thee vnright ? ' 

8 ' peace, O peace, thou gentle Gawaine, 

That faire may thee beffall ! 
For if thou knew my sighing soe deepe, 
Thou wold not meruaile att all. 

9 ' Ffor when I came to Tearne Wadling, 

A bold barrtm there I fand, 
With a great club vpon his backe, 
Standing stiffe and strong. 

10 ' And he asked me wether I wold fight 

Or from him I shold begone, 
O[r] else I must him a ransome pay, 
And soe depart him from. 

11 ' To fight with him I saw noe cause ; 

Methought it was not meet ; 
For he was stiffe and strong with-all, 
His strokes were nothing sweete. 

12 ' Therefor this is my ransome, Gawaine, 

I ought to him to pay ; 
I must come againe, as I am sworne, 
Vpon the New Yeers day ; 

13 ' And I must bring him word what thing it is 

14 Then king Arthur drest him for to ryde, 

In one soe rich array, 
Toward the fore-said Tearne Wadling, 
That he might keepe his day. 

15 And as he rode over a more, 

Hee see a lady where shee sate 
Betwixt an oke and a greene hollen ; 
She was cladd in red scarlett. 

16 Then there as shold haue stood her mouth, 

Then there was sett her eye ; 

The other was in her forhead fast, 

The way that she might see. 

17 Her nose was crooked and turnd outward, 

Her mouth stood foule a-wry ; 
A worse formed lady than shee was, 
Neuer man saw with his eye. 

18 To halch vpon him, 'King Arthur, 

This lady was full faine, 
But King Arthur had forgott his lesson, 
What he shold say againe. 

19 ' What knight art thou,' the lady sayd, 

' That will not speak to me ? 
Of me be thou nothing dismayd, 
Tho I be vgly to see. 

20 ' For I haue halched you curteouslye, 

And you will not me againe ; 
Yett I may happen Sir Knight,' shee said, 
' To ease thee of thy paine.' 

21 ' Giue thou ease me, lady,' he said, 

4 Or helpe me any thing, 
Thou shalt have gentle Gawaine, my cozen, 
And marry him with a ring.' 

22 ' Why, if I help thee not, thou noble King Ar 


Of thy owne hearts desiringe, 
Of gentle Gawaine . ' . . . . 

23 And when he came to the Tearne Wadling, 

The baron there cold he finde, 
With a great weapon on his backe, 
Standing stiffe and stronge. 

24 And then he tooke King Arthurs letters in his 


And away he cold them fling, 
And then he puld out a good browne sword, 
And cryd himself e a 



25 And he sayd, I have thee and thy land, Ar 


To doe as it pleaseth me, 
For this is not thy ransome sure, 
Therfore yeeld thee to me. 

26 And then hespoke him noble Arthur, 

And bad him hold his hand : 
' And glue me leaue to speake my mind 
In defence of all my land.' 

27 He said, As I came over a more, 

I see a lady where shee sate 
Betweene an oke and a green hollen ; 
Shee was clad in red scarlett. 

28 And she says a woman will haue her will, 

And this is all her cheef desire : 
Doe me right, as thou art a baron of sckill, 
This is thy ransome and all thy hyer. 

29 He sayes, An early vengeance light on her ! 

She walkes on yonder more ; 
It was my sister that told thee this, 
And she is a misshappen hore. 

30 But heer lie make mine avow to God 

To doe her an euill turne, 
For an euer I may thate fowle theefe get, 
In a fyer I will her burne. 

31 Sir Lancelott and Sir Steven bold, 

They rode with them that day, 
And the formost of the company 
There rode the steward Kay. 

32 Soe did Sir Banier and Sir Bore, 

Sir Garrett with them soe gay, 
Soe did Sir Tristeram that gentle knight, 
To the forrest fresh and gay. 

33 And when he came to the greene forrest, 

Vnderneath a greene holly tree, 
Their sate that lady in red scarlet 
Thai vnseemly was to see. 

34 Sir Kay beheld this ladys face, 

And looked vppon her swire ; 
' Whosoeuer kisses this lady,' he sayes, 
' Of his kisse he stands in feare.' 

35 Sir Kay beheld the lady againe, 

And looked vpon her snout ; 
' Whosoeuer kisses this lady,' he saies, 
' Of his kisse he stands in doubt.' 

36 ' Peace, cozen Kay,' then said Sir Gawaine, 

' Amend thee of thy life ; 
For there is a knight amongst vs all 
That must marry her to his wife.' 

37 'What! wedd her to wiff e ! ' then said Sir Kay, 

' In the diuells name anon ! 
Gett me a wiffe where-ere I may, 
For I had rather be slaine ! ' 

38 Then some tooke vp their hawkes in hast, 

And some tooke vp their hounds, 
And some sware they wold not marry her 
For citty nor for towne. 

39 And then be-spake him noble MLing Arthur, 

And sware there by tliis day, 
' For a litle foule sight and misliking 

40 Then shee said, Choose thee, gentle Gawaine, 

Truth as I doe say, 

Wether thou wilt haue me in this liknesse 
In the night or else in the day. 

41 And then bespake him gentle Gawaine, 

Was one soe mild of moode, 
Sayes, Well I know what I wold say, 
God grant it may be good ! 

42 To haue thee fowle in the night 

When I with thee shold play 
Yet I had rather, if I might, 
Haue thee fowle in the day. 

43 ' What ! when lords goe with ther feires,' shee 


' Both to the ale and wine, 
Alas ! then I must hyde my selfe, 
I must not goe withinne.' 

44 And then bespake him gentle Gawaine, 

Said, 'Lady, that 's but skill ; 
And because thou art my owne lady, 
Thou shalt haue all thy will. 



45 Then she said, Blesed be thou, gentle Gawain, 

This day that I thee see, 
For as thou seest me att this time, 
From hencforth I wilbe. 

46 My father was an old knight, 

And yett it chanced soe 
That he marryed a younge lady 
That brought me tc this woe. 

47 Shee witched me, being a faire young lady, 

To the greene forrest to dwell, 
And there I must walke in womans liknesse, 
Most like a feend of hell. 

48 She witched my brother to a carlish b . . . 


' That looked* soe foule, and that was wont 
On the wild more to goe.' 

50 ' Come kisse her, brother Kay,' then said Sir 


' And amend the* of thy liffe ; 
I sweare this is the same lady 
That I marryed to my wiffe.' 

51 Sir Kay kissed that lady bright, 

Standing vpon his ffeete ; 

He swore, as he was trew knight, 
The spice was neuer soe sweete. 

52 ' Well, cozen Gawaine,' sayes Sir Kay, 

( Thy chance is fallen arright, 
For thou hast gotten one of the fairest maids 
I euer saw with my sight.' 

53 ' It is my fortune,' said Sir Gawaine ; 

' For my vnckle Arthurs sake 
I am glad as grasse wold be of raine, 
Great ioy that I may take.' 

54 Sir Gawaine tooke the lady by the one 


Sir Kay tooke her by the tother, 

They led her straight to King Arthur, 

As they were brother and brother. 

55 King Arthur welcomed them there all, 

And soe did Lady Geneuer his queene, 
With all the knights of the Round Table, 
Most seemly to be scene. 

56 King Arthur beheld that lady faire 

That was soe faire and bright, 
He thanked Christ in Trinity 

For Sir Gawaine that gentle knight. 

57 Soe did the knights, both more and lesse, 

Reioyced all that day 
For the good chance that hapened was 
To Sir Gawaine and his lady gay. 

I 8 . Qqueene. 

3*. Half a page gone from the MS., about 9 
stanzas; and so after 13 1 , 22 8 , 30 4 , 39 8 , 
48 1 . 

19 1 . Perhaps sayes. 
23 2 . he fimde. 

25 1 . Perhaps sayes. 26 2 . Perhaps hands. 
27 1 . He altered from the in MS. 

31. " The 2d Part " is written here in the left 

margin of the MS. Furnivall. 
34 a . her smire. 
37*. shaine. 
41 2 . with one. 
43 1 . seires. 

44 2 . a skill. 45 8 . thou see 
48 1 . Carlist B . . . 
& is printed and. 





'King Henry.' a. The Jaraieson-Brown MS., fol. 31. b. Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1802, II, 132. 

SCOTT describes his copy of ' King Henry ' 
as " edited from the MS. of Mrs Brown, cor 
rected by a recited fragment." This MS. of 
Mrs Brown was William Tytler's, in which, 
as we learn from Anderson's communication 
to Percy (see p. 62, above), this ballad was 
No 11. Anderson notes that it extended to 
twenty-two stanzas, the number in Scott's 
copy. No account is given of the recited frag 
ment. As published by Jamieson, II, 194, 
the ballad is increased by interpolation to 
thirty-four stanzas. " The interpolations will 
be found inclosed in brackets," but a painful 
contrast of style of itself distinguishes them. 
They were entered by Jamieson in his man 
uscript as well. 

The fourteenth stanza, as now printed, the 
eighteenth in Jamieson's copy, is not there 
bracketed as an interpolation, and yet it is 
not in the manuscript. This stanza, however, 
with some verbal variation, is found in Scott's 
version, and as it may have been obtained by 
Jamieson in one of his visits to Mrs Brown, it 
has been allowed to stand. 

Lewis rewrote the William Tytler version 
for his Tales of Wonder, ' Courteous King 
Jamie,' II, 453, No 57, and it was in this 
shape that the ballad first came out, 1801. 

The story is a variety of that which is found 
in ' The Marriage of Sir Gawain,' and has its 
parallel, as Scott observed, in an episode in 
Hr61fr Kraki's saga ; A, Torfa3us, Historia 
Hrolfi Krakii, c. vii, Havnise, 1705 ; B, For- 
naldar Sb'gur, Rafn, I, 30 f, c. 15. 

King Helgi, father of Hrdlfr Kraki, in con 
sequence of a lamentable misadventure, was 
living in a solitary way in a retired lodge. 
One stormy Yule-night there was a loud wail 


at the door, after he had gone to bed. Helgi 
bethought himself that it was unkingly of him 
to leave anything to suffer outside, and got 
up and unlocked the door. There he saw a 
poor tattered creature of a woman, hideously 
misshapen, filthy, starved, and frozen (A), who 
begged that she might come in. The king 
took her in, and bade her get under straw and 
bearskin to warm herself. She entreated him 
to let her come into his bed, and said that her 
life depended on his conceding this boon. " It 
is not what I wish," replied Helgi, *' but if it 
is as thou sayest, lie here at the stock, in thy 
clothes, and it will do me no harm." She got 
into the bed, and the king turned to the wall. 
A light was burning, and after a while the 
king took a look over his shoulder ; never had 
he seen a fairer woman than was lying there, 
and not in rags, but in a silk kirtle. The king 
turned towards her now, and she informed 
him that his kindness had freed her from a 
weird imposed by her stepmother, which she 
was to be subject to till some king had ad 
mitted her to his bed, A. She had asked this 
grace of many, but no one before had been 
moved to grant it. 

Every point of the Norse saga, except the 
stepmother's weird, is found in the Gaelic tale 
' Nighean High fo Thuinn,' ' The Daughter of 
King Under-waves,' Campbell's Popular Tales 
of the West Highlands, No Ixxxvi, III, 403 f . 

The Finn were together one wild night, 
when there was rain and snow. An uncouth 
woman knocked at Fionn's door about mid 
night, and cried to him to let her in under 
cover. " Thou strange, ugly creature, with 
thy hair down to thy heels, how canst thou 
ask me to let thee in ! " he answered. She 



went away, with a scream, and the whole 
scene was repeated with Oisean. Then she 
came to Diarmaid. " Thou art hideous," he 
said, " and thy hair is down to thy heels, but 
come in." When she had come in, she told 
Diarmaid that she had been travelling over 
ocean and sea for seven years, without being 
housed, till he had admitted her. She asked 
that she might come near the fire. " Come," 
said Diarmaid ; but when she approached 
everybody retreated, because she was so hide 
ous. She had not been long at the fire, when 
she wished to be under Diarmaid's blanket. 
" Thou art growing too bold," said he, " but 
come." She came under the blanket, and he 
turned a fold of it between them. " She was 
not long thus, when he gave a start, and he 
gazed at her, and he saw the finest drop of 
blood that ever was, from the beginning of 
the universe till the end of the world, at his 

Mr Campbell has a fragment of a Gaelic 
ballad upon this story, vol. xvii., p. 212 of his 
manuscript collection, ' Collun gun Cheann,' or 
* The Headless Trunk,' twenty-two lines. In 
this case, as the title imports, a body without 
a head replaces the hideous, dirty, and un 
kempt draggle-tail who begs shelter of the 
Finn successively and obtains her boon only 
from Diarmaid. See Campbell's Gaelic Bal 
lads, p. ix. 

The monstrous deformity of the woman is 
a trait in the ballad of ' The Marriage of Sir 
Gawain,' and related stories, and is described 

in these with revolting details. Her exagger 
ated appetite also is found in the romance of 
The Wedding of Sir Gawen and Dame Rag- 
nell, see p. 290. The occasion on which she 
exhibits it is there the wedding feast, and the 
scene consequently resembles, even more close 
ly there than here, what we meet with in the 
Danish ballads of * Greve Genselin,' Grundt- 
vig, No 16, I, 222, and * Tord af Havsgaard,' 
Grundtvig, No 1, I, 1, IV, 580 (= Kristensen, 
'Thors Hammer,' I, 85, No 35) the latter 
founded on the ^rymskviSa, or Hamarsheimt, 
of the older Edda. In a Norwegian version 
of ' Greve Genselin,' Grundtvig, IV, 732, the 
feats of eating and drinking are performed not 
by the bride, but by an old woman who acts 
as bridesmaid, brurekvinne.* 

A maid who submits, at a linden- worm's en 
treaty, to lie in the same bed with him, finds 
a king's son by her side in the morning : 
Grundtvig, ' Lindormen,' No 65, B, C, II, 213, 
III, 839 ; Kristensen, I, 195, No 71 ; Afzelius, 
III, 121, No 88 ; Arwidsson, II, 270, No 139 ; 
Hazelius, LTr de nordiska Folkens Lif, p. 117, 
and p. 149. In * Ode und de Slang',' Miillen- 
hoff, Sagen u. s. w., p. 383, a maid, without 
much reluctance, lets a snake successively 
come into the house, into her chamber, and 
finally into her bed, upon which the snake 
changes immediately into a prince. 

Scott's copy is translated by Schubart, p. 
127, and by Gerhard, p. 129 ; Jamieson's, with 
out the interpolations, after Aytoun, II, 22, by 
Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 36. 

1 LAT never a man a wooing wend 

That lacketh thingis three ; 
A routh o gold, an open heart, 
Ay fu o charity. 

2 As this I speak of King Henry, 

For he lay burd-alone ; 
An he 's doen him to a jelly hunt's ha, 
Was seven miles frae a town. 

* The like by a carlin at a birth-feast, ' Ksellingen til Bar- 
sel,' Kristenscn, II, 341, No 100, Landstad, p. 666, No 96 ; 
known also in Sweden. Again, by a fighting friar, ' Den 
stridbare Munken,' Arwidsson, I, 417. ' Greve Genselin' is 

3 He chas'd the deer now him before, 

An the roe down by the den, 
Till the fattest buck in a' the flock 
King Henry he has slain. 

4 O he has doen him to his ha. 

To make him beerly cheer ; 
An in it came a griesly ghost, 
Steed stappin i the fleer. 

translated by Prior, I, 173, and by Jamieson, Illustrations of 
Northern Antiquities, p. 310 ; ' Tord af Havsgaard ' by Prior, 



5 Her head hat the reef-tree o the house, 

Her middle ye mot wel span ; 
He 's thrown to her his gay mantle, 
Says, ' Lady, hap your lingcan.' 

6 Her teeth was a' like teather stakes, 

Her nose like club or rnell ; 
An I ken naething she 'peard to be, 
But the fiend that wons in hell. 

7 ' Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry, 

Some meat ye gie to me ! ' 
' An what meat 's in this house, lady, 

An what ha I to gie ? ' 
' O ye do kill your berry-brown steed, 

An you bring him here to me.' 

8 whan he slew his berry-brown steed, 

Wow but his heart was sair ! 
Shee eat him [a'J up, skin an bane, 
Left naething but hide an hair. 

9 ' Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry, 

Mair meat ye gi to me ! ' 
' An what meat 's in this house, lady, 

An what ha I to gi ? ' 
' ye do kill your good gray-hounds, 

An ye bring them a' to me.' 

10 O whan he slew his good gray-hounds, 

Wow but his heart was sair ! 
She eat them a' up, skin an bane, 
Left naething but hide an hair. 

11 ' Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry, 

Mair meat ye gi to me ! ' 
' An what meat 's i this house, lady, 

An what ha I to gi ? ' 
' O ye do kill your gay gos-hawks, 

An ye bring them here to me.' 

12 whan he slew his gay gos-hawks, 

Wow but his heart was sair ! 
She eat them a' up, skin an bane, 
Left naething but feathers bare. 

13 ' Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry, 

Some drink ye bring to me ! ' 
' O what drink 's i this house, lady, 

That you 're nae welcome ti ? ' 
1 ye sew up your horse's hide, 

An bring in a drink to me.' 

14 And he 's sewd up the bloody hide, 

A puncheon o wine put in ; 
She drank it a' up at a waught, 
Left na ae drap ahin. 

15 ' A bed, a bed, now, King Henry, 

A bed you mak to me ! 
For ye maun pu the heather green, 
An mak a bed to me.' 

16 pu'd has he the heather green, 

An made to her a bed, 
An up has he taen his gay mantle, 
An oer it has he spread. 

17 ' Tak aff your claiths, now, King Henry, 

An lye down by my side ! ' 
1 O God forbid/ says King Henry, 

' That ever the like betide ; 
That ever the fiend that wons in hell 

Shoud streak down by my side.' 

18 Whan night was gane, and day was come, 

An the sun shone throw the ha, 
The fairest lady that ever was seen 
Lay atween him an the wa. 

19 ' O well is me ! ' says King Henry, 

' How lang '11 this last wi me ? ' 
Then out it spake that fair lady, 
' Even till the day you dee. 

20 ' For I Ve met wi mony a gentle knight 

That 's gien me sic a fill, 
But never before wi a courteous knight 
That ga me a' my will.' 

a. 13 5 . shew. 19 1 . will. 

b. 1. The first stanza of the original of this copy, 

as cited by Anderson, is : 

Let never a man a wooing wend 
That lacketh things three, 

A routh of gold, and open heart, 
An fu o charity. 

I 4 . And fu o courtesey. 

2 1 . And this was seen o. 

2 s . And he has taen him to a haunted hunt's ha. 



3 1 . He 's chaced the dun deer thro the wood. 
3 8 . in a' the herd. 

4. He 's taen him to his hunting ha, 

For to make burly cheir ; 
When loud the wind was heard to sound, 
And an earthquake rocked the floor. 

And darkness coverd a' the hall, 
Where they sat at their meat; 

The gray dogs, youling, left their food, 
And crept to Henrie's feet. 

And louder houled the rising wind 

And hurst the fastned door ; 
And in there came a griesly ghost, 

Stood stamping on the floor. 

The wind and darkness are not of Scott's in 
vention, for nearly all that is not in s, is 
found in Lewis, too. 

5 8> 4 . Each frighted huntsman fled the ha, 
And teft the king alone. 

7*"*. That ye 're nae wellcum tee ? ' 

' O ye 's gae kill your berry brown steed, 
And serve him up to me.' 

9 4 . That ye 're na wellcum tee ? 
10 8 . a' up, ane by ane. 

II*- 6 . That I hae left to gie ? ' 

' O ye do fell your gay goss-hawks, 
And bring them a' to me.' 

12 1 . he felled. 12 8 . bane by bane. 

14 2 . And put in a pipe of wine. 

14 8 . up a' at ae draught. 14 4 . drap therein. 

15. Between 2 and 8 : 

And what 's the bed i this house, ladye, 
That ye 're nae wellcum tee? 

15 8 . O ye maun pu the green heather. 

17 1 ' 2 . Now swear, now swear, ye king Henrie, 
To take me for your bride. 

18 1 . When day was come, and night was gane. 
19*. And out and spak that ladye fair. 

20. For I was witched to a ghastly shape, 

All by my stepdame's skill, 
Till I should meet wi a courteous knight 
Wad gie me a' my will. 


A. 'Kempy Kay.' Pitcairn's MSS, II, 125. Scotish D. ' Kempy Kay,' Motherwell's MS., p. 192. 
Ballads and Songs [James Maidment], Edinb. 1859, 

p. 35; Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 81. B. ' Drowsy Lane.' Campbell MSS, II, 122. 

B. Kempy Kaye.' 'a. Kinloch MSS, I, 65. b. Kin- P. Bar aye your bower door weel.' Campbell MSS, 
loch's Ballad Book, p. 41. II, 101. 

C. ' Kempy Kay,' or Kempy Kane,' Motherwell's O. ' King Knapperty.' Buchan's MSS, I, 133. 
MS., p. 193. The first stanza in Motherwell's Min 
strelsy, Appendix, p. xxiv, No XXX. 

ALL these versions of ' Kempy Kay ' are into the last. The fourth stanza of A clearly 

known, or may be presumed, to have been belongs to some other ballad. Both A and B 

taken down within the first three decades of appear to have undergone some slight changes 

this century ; A is traced as many years back when published by Sharpe and Kinloch re- 



spectively. Some verses from this ballad have 
been adopted into one form of a still more 
unpleasant piece in the Campbell collection, 
concerning a wife who was " the queen of all 
sluts." * 

Sharpe remarks : " This song my learned 
readers will perceive to be of Scandinavian 
origin, and that the wooer's name was probably 
suggested by Sir Kaye's of the Round Table. 
. . . The description of Bengoleer's daugh 
ter resembles that of the enchanted damsel 
who appeared to courteous King Henrie." It 
is among possibilities that the ballad was an 
outgrowth from some form of the story of 
The Marriage of Sir Gawain, in the Percy 
version of which the " unseemly " lady is so 
rudely commented on and rejected by Kay. 
This unseemly lady, in The Wedding of 
Gawen and Dame Ragnell, and her counter 
part in ' King Henry,' who is of superhu 
man height, show an extravagant voracity 
which recalls the giantess in ' Greve Gense- 
lin.' In ' Greve Genselin,' a burlesque form 

of an heroic ballad which is preserved in a 
pure shape in three Faroe versions (Grundt- 
vig, IV, 737-42), there are many kemps in 
vited to the wedding, and in a little dance 
which is had the smallest kemp is fifteen ells 
to [below] the knee, Grundtvig, No 16, A 26, 
B 29, C 29. Kempy Kay has gigantic dimen 
sions in A 7, C 9, E 7 : teeth like tether- 
stakes, a nose three [nine, five] feet long, 
three ells [nine yards] between his shoulders, 
a span between his eyne.f Of the bride it 
is said in A 12 that her finger nails were like 
the teeth of a rake and her teeth like tether- 
stakes. This is not decisive ; it is her ugli 
ness, filthiness, and laziness that are made 
most of. We may assume that she would be 
in dimension and the shape of nature a match, 
for the kemp, but she does not comport herself 
especially like a giantess. 

If Kempy Kay be the original name of the 
wooer, Knapperty and Chickmakin might 
easily be derived from corrupt pronunciations 
like Kampeky, Kimpaky. 

Pitcairn's MSS, II, 125, as taken down by Mr Pitcairn 
from the singing of his aunt, Mrs Gammell, who had learned 
it in the neighborhood of Kincaid, Stirlingshire, when a 
child, or about 1770. Scotish Ballads and Songs [James 
Maidment], Edinburgh, 1859, p. 35; Sharpe's Ballad Book, 
p. 81. 

1 KEMPY KAYE 's a wooing gane, 

Far, far ayont the sea, 
And he has met with an auld, auld man, 
His gudefaythir to be. 

coming to court your daughter 

2 < It 's I 'm 


And some part of your gear : ' 
' And by my sooth,' quoth Bengoleer, 
' She '11 sare a man a wear. 

* MSS, II, 294, " What a bad luck had I " == The Queen 
of all Sluts, the same, p. 297. Stanzas 2, 3, 4, of the former 
are : 

Then een in her head are like two rotten plumbs ; 
Turn her about and see how she glooms. 

The teeth in her head were like harrow-pins; 
Turn her about, and see how she girns. 

3 ' My dochter she 's a thrifty lass, 

She span seven year to me, 
And if it were weel counted up, 
Full three heire it would be. 

4 ' What 's the matter wi you, my fair creature, 

You look so pale and wan ? 
I 'm sure you was once the fairest creature 
That ever the sun shined on. 

5 ' Gae scrape yoursel, and gae scart yoursel, 

And mak your brucket face clean, 
For the wooers are to be here to nighte, 
And your body 's to be seen.' 

6 Sae they scrapit her, and they scartit her, 

Like the face of an aussy pan ; 

The hair in her head was like heathercrows, 
The 1 . . . s were in 't thick as linseed bows. 

A comparatively inoffensive version, ' The Queen of Sluts,' 
in Chambers' Scottish Songs, p. 454. 

t The Carl of Carlile has the space of a large span be 
tween his brows, three yards over his shoulders, fingers like 
tether-stakes, and fifty cubits of height. Percy MS., Hales 
& Furnivall, III, 283 f, vv 179-187. 



Syne in cam Kempy Kay himself, 
A clever and tall young man. 

7 His teeth they were like tether-sticks, 

His nose was three fit lang, 
Between his shouthers was ells three, 
And tween his eyne a span. 

8 He led his dochter by the hand, 

His dochter ben brought he : 
' O is she not the fairest lass 
That 's in great Christendye ? ' 

9 Ilka hair intil her head 

Was like a heather-cowe, 
And ilka louse anunder it 
Was like a bruckit ewe. 

10 She had tauchy teeth and kaily lips, 
And wide lugs, fou o hair; 

Her pouches fou o peasemeal-daighe 
A' hinging down her spare. 

11 Uka eye intil her head 

Was like a rotten plumbe, 
And down browed was the queyne, 
And sairly did she gloom. 

12 Uka nail upon her hand 

Was like an iron rake, 
And ilka tooth intil her head 
Was like a tether-stake. 

13 She gied to him a gravat, 

O the auld horse's sheet, 
And he gied her a gay gold ring, 
the auld couple-root. 

a. Kinloch MSS, I, 65. b. Kinloch's Ballad Book, p. 
41. From the recitation of Mary Barr. 

1 KEMPY KATE is a wooing gane, 

Far ayont the sea, 
And there he met wi auld Goling, 
His gudefather to be, be, 
His gudefather to be. 

2 ' Whar are ye gaun, O Kempy Kaye, 

Whar are ye gaun sae sune ? ' 
' O I am gaun to court a wife, 

And think na ye that 's weel dune ? ' 

3 ' An ye be gaun to court a wife, 

As ye do tell to me, 
'T is ye sail hae my Fusome Fug, 
Your ae wife for to be.' 

4 Whan auld Goling cam to the house, 

He lookit thro a hole, 
And there he saw the dirty drab 
Just whisking oure the coal. 

5 ' Rise up, rise up my Fusome Fug, 

And mak your foul face clean, 
For the brawest wooer that ere ye saw 
Is come develling doun the green.' 

6 Up then rose the Fusome Fug, 

To mak her foul face clean ; 

And aye she cursed her mither 
She had na water in. 

7 She rani] lit out, and she rampit in, 

She rampit but and ben ; 
The tittles and tattles that hang frae her tail 
Wad muck an acre o land. 

8 She had a neis upon her face 

Was like an auld pat-fit ; 
Atween her neis bot an her mou 
Was inch thick deep wi dirt. 

9 She had twa een intil her head 

War like twa rotten plums ; 
The heavy brows hung doun her face, 
And O I vow she glooms ! 

10 He gied to her a braw silk napkin, 

Was made o' an auld horse-brat : 
' I ne'er wore a silk napkin a' my life, 
But weel I wat Ise wear that.' 

11 He gied to her a braw gowd ring, 

Was made frae an auld brass pan : 
' I neer wore a gowd ring in a' my life, 
But now I wat Ise wear ane.' 

12 Whan thir twa lovers had met thegither, 

O kissing to get their fill, 
The slaver that hang atween their twa gabs 
Wad hae tetherd a ten year auld bill. 



Motherwell's MS., p. 193. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Ap 
pendix, p. xxiv, No XXX, the first stanza. 

1 KEMPY KAYE 's a wooing gane, 

And far beyond the sea, a wee 
And there he met wi Drearylane, 
His gay gudefather to be. a wee 

2 ' Gude een, gude een,' quo Drearylane, 

' Gude een, gude een,' quo he, a wee 
' I 've come your dochter's love to win, 
I kenna how it will do.' a wee 

3 ' My dochter she 's a thrifty lass, 

She 's spun this gay seven year, 
And if it come to gude guiding, 
It will be half a heer.' 

4 * Rise up, rise up, ye dirty slut, 

And wash your foul face clean ; 
The wooers will be here the night 
That suld been here yestreen.' 

5 They took him ben to the fire en, 

And set him on a chair ; 


Motherwell's MS., p. 192. 


1 THE father came unto the door, 

And keeked thro the key-hole, a wee 
And there he saw his dochter Jean, 
Sitting on a coal. a wee 

2 They scartit her, and scrapit her, 

Wi the hand o a rusty pan, a wee 
Her father he did all his best 
For to get her a man. a wee 

3 She is to the stoups gane, 

There is nae water in ; 


Campbell MSS, II, 122. 

1 ' GUD een, gud een,' says Chickmakin, 

' Ye 're welcome here,' says Drowsy Lane ; 

He looked on the lass that he loved best, 
And thought she was wondrous fair. 

6 The een that was in our bride's head 

Was like twa rotten plooms ; 
She was a chaunler-chaftit quean, 
And O but she did gloom ! 

7 The skin that was on our bride's breast 

Was like a saffron bag, 
And aye her hand was at her neek, 
And riving up the scabs. 

8 The hair that was on our bride's head 

Was like a heather-cow, 
And every louse that lookit out 
Was like a brockit ewe. 

9 Betwixd Kempy's shouthers was three ells, 

His nose was nine feet lang, 
His teeth they were like tether sticks, 
Between his eyne a span. 

10 So aye they kissed, and aye they clapped, 

I wat they kissed weel ; 
The slaver that hang between their mouths 
Wad hae tethered a twa year auld bill. 

She 's cursed the hands and ban'd the feet 
That did na bring it in. 

4 Out then spak her auld mither, 

In her bed whare she lay : 
' If there is nae water in the house, 
Gae harl her thro the lin.' 

5 she is to the taipy tapples gane, 

That stood for seven year, 
And there she washed her foul face clean, 
And dried it wi a huggar. 

6 He 's gien her a gay gold ring, 

Just like a cable-rope, 
And she 's gien him a gay gravat, 
Made out o the tail o a sark. 

' I 'm comd to court your daughter Jean, 
And marry her wi yer will, a wee.' 

2 ' My daughter Jean 's a thrifty lass, 

She 's spun these seven lang years to me, 


And gin she spin another seven, 
She '11 iniiiit a half an heir, a wee.' 

3 Drowsy Lane, it 's he 's gane hame, 

And keekit through the hole, a wee 
And there he saw his daughter Jean 
A reeking oer the coal. a wee 

4 ' Get up, get up, ye dirty bitch, 

And wash yer foul face clean, 
For they are to be here the night 
That should hae been here yestreen.' 

5 Up she rose, pat on her clothes, 

She 's washen her foul face clean ; 
She cursd the hands, she ban'd the feet, 
That wadna bring the water in. 

6 She rubbit hersel, she scrubbit hersel, 

Wi the side of a rustit pan, a wee, 
And in a little came Chickmakin, 
A braw young lad indeed was he. 

7 His teeth they were like tether-steeks, 

His nose was five feet lang ; 
Between his shoulders was nine yards broad, 
And between his een a span. 

8 Ilka hair into his head 

Was like a heather-cowe, 

And ilka louse that lookit out 

Was like a brookit ewe. 

9 Thae twa kissd and thae twa clapt, 

And thae twa kissd their fill, 
And aye the slaver between them hang 
Wad tetherd a ten-pund bull. 

10 They twa kissd and they twa clapt, 

And they gaed to their bed, a wee, 
And at their head a knocking stane 
And at their feet a mell, a wee. 

11 The auld wife she lay in her bed : 

' And gin ye '11 do my bidding a wee, 
And gin ye '11 do my bidding,' quoth she, 
' Yees whirl her oer the lea, a wee.' 

Campbell MSS, II, 101. 

1 As I cam oer yon misty muir, 

And oer yon grass-green hill, 
There I saw a campy carle 

Going to the mill. 

And bar aye yer bower door weel weel, 
And bar aye yer bower door weel. 

2 I lookit in at her window, 

And in at her hove hole, 
And there I saw a fousome fag, 
Cowering oer a coal. 

3 ' Get up, get up, ye fousome fag, 

And make yer face fou clean ; 
For the wooers will be here the night, 
And your body will be seen.' 

4 He gave her a gay cravat, 

'T was of an auld horse-sheet ; 

He gave her a gay goud ring, 
'T was of an auld tree root. 

5 He laid his arms about her neck, 

They were like kipple-roots ; 
And aye he kissd her wi his lips, 
They were like meller's hoops. 

6 When they were laid in marriage bed, 

And covered oer wi fail, 
The knocking mell below their heads 
Did serve them wondrous weel. 

7 Ilka pap into her breasts 

Was like a saffron bag, 
And aye his hand at her a . . e 
Was tearing up the scabs. 

8 Ilka hair into her head 

Was like a heather-cow, 

And ilka louse that lookit out 

Was like a brookit ewe. 




Buchan's MSS, I, 133. 

1 KING KNAPPERTY he 's a hunting gane, 

Oer hills and mountains high, high, high, 
A gude pike-staff intill his hand, 
And dulgets anew forbye, I, I, I, 
And dulgets anew forbye. 

2 Then he met in wi an auld woman, 

Was feeding her flocks near by, I, I, I : 
' I 'm come a wooing to your daughter, 
And a very gude bargain am I, I, I.' 

3 And she 's awa to her wee hole house, 

Lookd in a wee chip hole, 
And there she saw her filthy wee flag, 
Was sitting athort the coal. 

4 ' Get up, get up, ye filthy foul flag, 

And make your foul face clean ; 
There are wooers coming to the town, 
And your foul face mauna be seen.' 

5 Then up she raise, an awa she gaes, 

And in at the back o the door, 
And there a pig o water she saw, 
'T was seven years auld an mair. 

6 Aye she rubbed, an aye she scrubbed, 

To make her foul face clean, 
And aye she bannd the auld wife, her mither, 
For nae bringing clean water in. 

7 King Knapperty he came in at the door, 

Stood even up in the floor ; 

Altho that she had neer seen him before, 
She kent him to be her dear. 

8 He has taen her in his arms twa, 

And kissd her, cheek and chin : 
' I neer was kissd afore in my life, 
But this night got mony ane.' 

9 He has put his hand in his pocket, 

And he 's taen out a ring : 
Says, ' Take ye that, my dearest dear, 
It is made o the brazen pan.' 

10 She thankd him ance, she thankd him twice, 

She thankd him oer again : 
' I neer got a ring before in my life, 
But this night hae gotten ane.' 

11 These lovers bed it was well made, 

And at their hearts' desire ; 
These lovers bed it was well made, 
At the side o the kitchen fire. 

12 The bolster that these lovers had 

Was the mattock an the mell, 
And the covring that these lovers had 
Was the clouted cloak an pale. 

13 The draps that fell frae her twa een 

Woud have gard a froth-mill gang, 
An [the] clunkerts that hung at their heels 
Woud hae muckd an acre o land. 

14 An ilka hair that was in their head 

Was like a heather-cow, 
And ilka tenant that it containd 
Was like a lintseed-bow. 

A. 5 8>4 . Var. For Kempy Kay will be here the 

Or else the morn at een. 

9 4 . Var. Was like a lintseed bow. 

These variations are found in Sharpens copy. 
The first seven stanzas are put in the order 1, 

6, 7, 3, 2, 4, 5. 
2 1 . I 'm coming. 
3*. Full ten wobs it would be. 
4 1 ' 3 . fair maiden, fairest maiden. 
5 2 . bruchty. 6*. And in. 

7 4 . Between his een. 10 1 . tauchty is mis 
printed lauchty. 
10*. War hinging. 
II 3 . An down down. 

12 s . teeth, no doubt to indicate the pronun 

B. a. 4 1 . Whan Kempy Kaye. Other copies 
show that it must be the father, and 
not the wooer. 

6 s . ae, with ay in the margin : qu. aye as ? 
b. The variations of the Ballad Book are ap 
parently arbitrary. 
I 2 . Far far. 8 4 . o dirt. 




After 9 follow* : 

Ilka hair that was on her head 

Was like a heather cow, 
And ilka louse that lookit out 

Was like a lintseed how. 

a* succeeds, with Kempy Kaye for auld 

Goling. and is necessarily transferred 

if the reading Kempy Kaye is retained. 

The order of the first Jive stanzas in the MS 

is 1, 2, 5, 4, 3. 
A wee is the burden after every second and 

fourth verse, and so with D. 
I 1 - 2 . In Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. 
xxiv, No xxx, 

Kempy Kane's a wooin gane, 
And far ayont the sea awee. 

3 a . years. 5 3 . on a stool. 

D. The first stanza is numbered 3 in the MS., 

the second 5, and there is space left, as if 
for another, between 2 and 3. 

E. A wee, originally a burden at the middle and 

the end of the stanza, as in C, D, has been 
adopted into the verse in 1, 2, 6, 10(?), 11, 
in which stanzas the even lines are of four 
accents instead of three. 2, 6 can be easily 
restored, on the trwdel of C 3, A 6. 
5*. in the water. 

G. I, I, I is added as burden to every second and 
fourth line ; except I 2 , which adds high, 
high, and 2 4 , only I, I. 


A. ' Kemp Owyne.' Buchan's Ballads of the North 
of Scotland, II, 78 ; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 373; 
' Kemp Owayne,' Motherwell's MS., p. 448. 

B. ' Kempion.' a. Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 29. 
b. Scott's Minstrelsy, 1802,11, 93, from William Tyt- 
ler's Brown MS., No 9, " with corrections from a 
recited fragment." 

IT is not, perhaps, material to explain how 
Owain, " the king's son Urien," happens to 
be awarded the adventure which here follows. 
It is enough that his right is as good as that of 
other knights to whom the same achievement 
has been assigned, though the romance, or, as 
the phrase used to be, " the book," says noth 
ing upon the subject. Owain 's slaying the 
fire-drake who was getting the better of the 
lion may have led to his name becoming as 
sociated with the still more gallant exploit of 
thrice kissing a fire-drake to effect a disen 
chantment. The ring in A 9 might more 
plausibly be regarded as being a repetition of 
that which Owain's lady gave him on leaving 
her for a twelvemonth's outing, a ring which 
would keep him from loss of blood, and also 
from prison, sickness, and defeat in battle 
in short, preserve him against all the accidents 

which the knight suggested might prevent 
his holding his day provided that he had it 
by him and thought on her. Ritson, Ywaine 
and Gawin, vv 1514-38. 

But an Icelandic saga comes near enough to 
the story of the ballad as given in A to show 
where its connections lie. Als61 and a brother 
and sister are all transformed by a stepmother, 
a handsome woman, much younger than her 
husband. Als61's heavy weird is to be a 
nondescript monster with a horse's tail, hoofs, 
and mane, white eyes, big mouth, and huge 
hands, and never to be released from the spell 
till a king's son shall consent to kiss her. 
One night when Hjalmter had landed on a 
woody island, and it had fallen to him to keep 
watch, he heard a great din and crashing in 
the woods, so that the oaks trembled. Pres 
ently this monster came out of the thicket 



with a fine sword in her hand, such as he had 
not seen the like of. They had a colloquy, 
and he asked her to let him have the sword. 
She said he should not have it unless he 
would kiss her. " I will not kiss thy snout," 
said Hjalmter, " for mayhap I should stick to 
it." But something came into his mind which 
made him think better of her offer, and he 
said he was ready. " You must leap upon my 
neck, then," she said, " when I throw up the 
sword, and if you then hesitate, it will be your 
death." She threw up the sword, he leaped 
on her neck and kissed her, and she gave him 
the sword, with an augury of victory and good 
luck for him all his days. The retransforma- 
tion does not occur on the spot, but further 
on Hjalmter meets Als<51 as a young lady at 
the court of her brother, who has also been re 
stored to his proper form and station ; every 
thing is explained ; HjalmteT marries her, and 
his foster-brother her sister. Hjalmters ok 
Olvers Saga, cc 10, 22, Rafn, Fornaldar Sogur, 
III, 473 ff, 514 ff. 

In many tales of the sort a single kiss suffices 
to undo the spell" and reverse the transforma 
tion ; in others, as in the ballad, three are 
required. The triplication of the kiss has led 
in A to a triplication of the talisman against 
wounds. The popular genius was inventive 
enough to vary the properties of the several 
gifts, and we may believe that belt, ring, and 
sword had originally each its peculiar quality. 
The peril of touching fin or tail in A seems 
to correspond to that in the saga of hesitating 
when the sword is thrown up. 

The Danish ballad, ' Jomfruen i Ornie- 
ham,' from MSS of the sixteenth and the sev 
enteenth century, Grundtvig, No 59, II, 177, 
resembles both the first version of the Scottish 
ballad and the Icelandic saga in the points 
that the maid offers gifts and is rehabilitated 
by a kiss. The maid in her proper shape, 
which, it appears, she may resume for a por 
tion of the day, stands at Sir Jenus's bedside 

* The incident of a woman trying to move a man who 
all the while is in a deep sleep, and of his servant reporting 
what has been going on, can hardly have belonged to this 
ballad from the beginning. It is exceedingly common in 
popular tales: see ' The Red Bull of Norroway,' in Cham- 

and offers him gifts five silver-bowls, all the 
gold in her kist, twelve foals, twelve boats 
and ends with saying, " Were I a swain, as 
you are, I would betroth a maid." It is now 
close upon midnight, and she hints that he 
must be quick. But Jenus is fast asleep the 
while ; twelve strikes, and the maid instantly 
turns into a little snake. The page, however, 
has been awake, and he repeats to his master 
all that has occurred.* Sir Jenus orders his 
horse, rides along a hillside, and sees the lit 
tle snake in the grass. He bends over and 
kisses it, and it turns to a courteous maid, 
who thanks him, and offers him any boon he 
may ask. He asks her to be his, and as she 
has loved him before this, she has no difficulty 
in plighting him her troth. 

A maid transformed by a step-mother into 
a tree is freed by being kissed by a man, in 
' Jomfruen i Linden,' Grundtvig, II, 214, No 
66, Kristensen, II, 90, No 31 ; ' Linden,' Afze- 
lius, III, 114, 118, No 87. In 'Linden,' 
Kristensen, I, 13, No 5, a combination of two 
ballads, a prince cuts down the linden, which 
changes to a linden- worm ; he kisses the worm, 
and a young maid stands before him. 

A knight bewitched into the shape of a troll 
is restored by being kissed by a peasant's wife 
thrice [once], ' Trolden og Bondens Hustru,' 
Grundtvig, II, 142, No 52, A, B ; a prince by 
a kiss from a maid, ' Lindormen,' Grundtvig, 
D. g. F., II, 211, No 65 A, ' Slangen og den 
lille Pige,' Danske Folkeminder, 1861, p. 15. 

The removal of a spell which compels 
man or woman to appear continuously or al 
ternately as a monster, commonly a snake, by 
three kisses or by one, is a regular feature in 
the numerous German tales of Schlangenjung- 
frauen, Weissefrauen. Often the man is afraid 
to venture the third kiss, or even a single 
one. See Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, No 13, No 
222 ; Dobeneck, Des deutschen Mittelalters 
Volksglauben, 1, 18 = Grimm, No 13 ; Mone's 
Anzeiger, III, 89, VII, 476 ; Panzer, Bayer- 

bers's Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 3d ed., p. 99 j Grimms, 
' Das singende springende Loweneckerchen,' No 88, ' Der 
Eisenhofen,' No 127, and the notes in vol. iii; Leskien u. 
Brugman, Litauische V. 1. u. Marchen, ' Vom weissen 
Wolf,' No 23, p. 438, and Wollner's note, p. 571. 



ische Sagen u. Brauche, I, 196, No 214 ; 
Schonhuth, Die Burgen u. s. w. Badens u. der 
Pfalz, I, 105 ; Stober, Die Sagen des Elsasses, 
p. 346, No 277, p. 248, No 190 ; Curtze, Volks- 
iiberlieferungen aus Waldeck, p. 198 ; Sora- 
mer, Sagen, Marchen u. Gebrauche aus Sach- 
sen u. Thiiringen, p. 21, No 16 ; Schambach 
u. Miiller, p. 104, No 132 ; Mullenhoff, p. 580, 
No 597 ; Wolf, Hessische Sagen, No 46 ; etc., 
etc. : also, Kreutzwald, Ehstnische Marchen, 
by Lowe, No 19, p. 270 f. So in some forms 
of l Beauty and the Beast : ' Toppen, Aber- 
glauben aus Masuren, p. 142 ; Mikulicic, Nar- 
odne Pripovietke, p. 1, No 1 ; Afanasief, VII, 
153, No 15 ; Coelho, Contos populares portu- 
guezes, p. 69, No 29.* 

Rivals or peers of Owain among romantic 
knights are, first, Lanzelet, in Ulrich von Zat- 
zikhoven's poem, who kisses a serpent on the 
mouth once, which, after bathing in a spring 
(see * Tarn Lin '), becomes the finest woman 
ever seen : vv 7S36-7939. Brandimarte, again, 
in Orlando Innamorato, lib. II., c. XXVI, 
stanzas 7-15 ; and Carduino, I Cantari di Car- 
duino, Rajna, stanzas 49, 54 f, 61-64, pp 35- 
41. Le Bel Inconnu is an involuntary in 
strument in such a disenchantment, for the 
snake fascinates him first and kisses him with 
out his knowledge ; he afterwards goes to 
sleep, and finds a beautiful woman standing 
at his head when he wakes : ed. Hippeau, p. 
110 ff, v. 3101 ff. The English Libius Dis- 
conius is kist or he it wist, and the dragon 
at once turns to a beautiful woman : Percy 
MS., Hales & Furnivall, II, 493 f; Ritson, 
Romances, II, 84 f. Espertius, in Tiran le 
Blanc, is so overcome with fear that he cannot 
kiss the dragon, a daughter of Hippocrates, 
transformed by Diana, in the island of Lango, 
but Espertius not running away, as two 
men before him had done, the dragon kisses 
him with equally good effect : Caylus, Tiran 

* But not in Mme Villeneuve's or in Mme de Beaumont's 
' La Belle et la B6te.' 

t Lanzelet is cited by J. Grimm ; Brandimarte by Walter 
Scott ; Carduiuo by G. Paris ; Espertius by Dunlop ; Ama- 
dis d'Astra by Valentin Schmidt. Dunlop refers to a simi 
lar story in the sixth tale of the Coutes Amoureux de Jean 
Flore, written towards the end of the fifteenth century. 

le Blanc, II, 334-39. This particular disen 
chantment had not been accomplished down to 
Sir John Mandeville's time, for he mentions 
only the failures : Voyage and Travel, c. iv, 
pp 28-31, ed. 1725. Amadis d'Astra touches 
two dragons on the face and breast, and re 
stores them to young-ladyhood : Historia del 
Principe Sferamundi, the 13th book of Amadis 
of Gaul, P. II, c. xcvii, pp 458-462, Venice, 
1610. This feat is shown by the details to be 
only a variation of the story in Tiran le 

The Rev. Mr Lamb, of Norham, communi 
cated to Hutchinson, author of * A View of 
Northumberland,' a ballad entitled ' The Laid- 
ley Worm of Spindleston Heughs,' with this 
harmless preamble : " A song 500 years old, 
made by the old Mountain Bard, Duncan Fra- 
sier, living on Cheviot, A. D. 1270. From an 
ancient manuscript." This composition of 
Mr Lamb's for nearly every line of it is his 
is not only based on popular tradition, but 
evidently preserves some small fragments of a 
popular ballad, and for this reason is given in 
an Appendix. There is a ct>py deviating but 
very little from the print in Kinloch's MSS, I, 
187. It was obtained from the recitation of 
an old woman in Berwickshire. $ In this re 
cited version the Child of Wynd, or Childy 
Wynd (Child O-wyne), has become Child o 
Wane (Child O-wayn). 

Mr R. H. Evans, in his preface to this bal 
lad, Old Ballads, 1810, IV, 241, says that Mr 
Turner had informed him "that a lady up 
wards of seventy had heard her mother repeat 
an older and nearly similar ballad." 

A is translated by Rosa Warrens, Schot- 
tische Volkslieder, p. 19 ; B b by Gerhard, p. 
171, by Sclmbart, p. 110, by Knortz, Lieder 
u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 201. 'Join- 
fruen i Orrneham ' by Prior, III, 135. 

t " The Childe of Wane, as a protector of disconsolate 
damsels, ia still remembered by young girls at school in the 
neighborhood of Bamborough, who apply the title to any 
boy who protects them from the assaults of their school-fel 
lows." (Kinloch.) 



Buchan, Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 78, from 
Mr Nicol of Strichen, as learned in his youth from old peo 
ple ; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 374 ; Motherwell's MS., p. 

1 HER mother died when she was young, 

Which gave her cause to make great moan ; 
Her father married the warst woman 
That ever lived in Christendom. 

2 She served her with foot and hand, 

In every thing that she could dee, 
Till once, in an unlucky time, 

She threw her in ower Craigy's sea. 

3 Says, ' Lie you there, dove Isabel, 

And all my sorrows lie with thee ; 
Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea, 

And borrow you with kisses three, 
Let all the warld do what they will, 

Oh borrowed shall you never be ! ' 

4 Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang, 

And twisted thrice about the tree, 
And all the people, far and near, 

Thought that a savage beast was she. 

5 These news did come to Kemp Owyne, 

Where he lived, far beyond the sea ; 
He hasted him to Craigy's sea, 
And on the savage beast lookd he. 

6 Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, 

And twisted was about the tree, 
And with a swing she came about : 

'Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me. 

7 ' Here is a royal belt,' she cried, 

' That I have found in the green sea ; 

And while your body it is on, 

Drawn shall your blood never be ; 

But if you touch me, tail or fin, 

I vow my belt your death shall be.' 

8 He stepped in, gave her a kiss, 

The royal belt he brought him wi ; 
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, 

And twisted twice about the tree, 
And with a swing she came about : 

' Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me. 

9 ' Here is a royal ring,' she said, 

' That I have found in the green sea ; 
And while your finger it is on, 

Drawn shall your blood never be ; 
But if you touch me, tail or fin, 

I swear my ring your death shall be.' 

10 He stepped in, gave her a kiss, 

The royal ring he brought him wi; 
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, 

And twisted ance about the tree, 
And with a swing she came about : 

' Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me. 

11 ' Here is a royal brand,' she said, 

' That I have found in the green sea ; 
And while your body it is on, 

Drawn shall your blood never be ; 
But if you touch me, tail or fin, 

I swear my brand your death shall be.' 

12 He stepped in, gave her a kiss, 

The royal brand he brought him wi ; 
Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short, 

And twisted nane about the tree, 
And smilingly she came about, 

As fair a woman as fair could be. 


a. Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 29. b. Scott's Minstrelsy, 
II, 93, 1802, from William Tytler's Brown MS., No 9, "with 
corrections from a recited fragment." 

1 ' COME here, come here, you freely feed, 

An lay your head low on my knee ; 
The hardest weird I will you read 
That eer war read to a lady. 

' meikle dollour sail you dree, 

An ay the sat seas oer ye ['s] swim ; 

An far mair dollour sail ye dree 

On Eastmuir craigs, or ye them clim. 

' I wot ye's be a weary wight, 

An releived sail ye never be 
Till Kempion, the kingis son, 

Come to the craig and thrice kiss thee.' 



4 O meickle dollour did she dree, 

An ay the sat seas oer she swam ; 
An far mair dollour did she dree 

On Eastmuir craigs, or them she clam ; 
An ay she cried for Kempion, 

Gin he would come till her han. 

5 Now word has gane to Kempion 

That sich a beast was in his Ian, 
An ay be sure she would gae mad 
Gin she gat nae help frae his han. 

6 ' Now by my sooth,' says Kempion, 

' This fiery beast I ['11] gang to see ; ' 
' An by my sooth,' says Segramour, 
' My ae brother, I '11 gang you wi.' 

7 biggit ha they a bonny boat, 

An they hae set her to the sea, 
An Kempion an Segramour 

The fiery beast ha gane to see : 
A mile afore they reachd the shore, 

I wot she gard the red fire flee. 

8 ' Segramour, keep my boat afloat, 

An lat her no the Ian so near ; 
For the wicked beast she '11 sure gae mad, 
An set fire to the land an mair.' 

9 ' out o my stye I winna rise 

An it is na for the fear o thee 
Till Kempion, the kingis son, 

Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.' 

10 He 's louted him oer the Eastmuir craig, 

An he has gien her kisses ane ; 
Awa she gid, an again she came, 

The fieryest beast that ever was seen. 

11 ' out o my stye I winna rise 

An it is na for fear o thee 

Till Kempion, the kingis son, 

Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.' 

12 He louted him oer the Eastmuir craig, 

An he has gien her kisses twa ; 
Awa she gid, an again she came, 
The fieryest beast that ever you saw. 

13 ' out o my stye I winna rise 

An it is na for fear o ye 
Till Kempion, the kingis son, 

Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.' 

14 He 's louted him oer the Eastmuir craig, 

An he has gien her kisses three ; 
Awa she gid, an again she came, 
The fairest lady that ever coud be. 

15 ' An by my sooth,' say[s] Kempion, 

' My ain true love for this is she 
O was it wolf into the wood, 

Or was it fish intill the sea, 
Or was it man, or wile woman, 

My true love, that misshapit thee ? ' 

16 ' It was na wolf into the wood, 

Nor was it fish into the sea, 
But it was my stepmother, 
An wae an weary mot she be. 

17 * O a heavier weird light her upon 
Than ever fell on wile woman ; 

Her hair 's grow rough, an her teeth 's grow 

An on her four feet sal she gang. 

18 ' Nane sail tack pitty her upon, 

But in Wormie's Wood she sail ay won. 
An relieved sail she never be, 
Till St Mungo come oer the sea.' 

A. Buchan gives 4-6 in two six-line stanzas. 

There are a few trivial diversities between 
MoiherweWs manuscript, or my copy of it, 
and his printed text, which conforms to 

B. a. Written in long or double lines in the man 

2 a , 4 a . or. 
5 8 . a besure. 
8*. landy mair 

11*. twice. 

16 8 . wicked is inserted before stepmother, 

seemingly by Jamieson. 

b. TJie first stanza, as given by Anderson, 
Nichols, Literary Illustrations, vn, 177, is : 

* Come here, come here, ye freely feed, 
And lay your head low on my knee ; 

The heaviest weird I will you read 
That ever was read till a lady.' 


I 8 , heaviest. I 4 , gaye ladye. 

2 2 . ye'se. 2 4 . when ye. 

3 1 . I weird ye to a fiery beast. 

5 = a 4 5 - 6 4- a 5 1 - 2 : a 5 3 - 4 omitted : 

And aye she cried for Kempion, 
Gin he would but cum to her hand ; 

Now word has gane to Kempion 
That sicken a beast was in his land. 

6 4 . wi thee. 

7 omits a 8 ' 4 . 7 5 . But a mile before. 

7 6 . Around them she. 

8 2 . oer near. 8 8 . will sure. 

8 4 . to a' the land and mair. 

After 8 is inserted : 

Syne has he bent an arblast bow, 
And aimd an arrow at her head, 

And swore if she didna quit the land, 
Wi that same shaft to shoot her dead. 

9 1 . stythe. 9 2 . awe o thee. 


10 1 . dizzy crag. 10 2 . gien the monster. 
II 1 . stythe. II 2 . And not for a' thy bow 

nor thee. 

12 1 * Estmere craigs. 
13 1 . my den. 13 2 . Nor flee it for the 

feir o thee. 

13 8 . Kempion, that courteous knight. 
14 1 . lofty craig. 14 4 . loveliest lady eer. 
15 1 * 2 . After this is inserted : 

They surely had a heart o stane, 
Could put thee to such misery. 

15 8 " 6 make a separate stanza. 
15 s , 16 1 . warwolf in the wood. 
15 4 , 16 2 . mermaid in the sea. 
15 6 . my ain true. 
17 \ weird shall light her on. 
17 8 . Her hair shall grow . . . teeth grow. 
18 2 . In Wormeswood she aye shall won. 
18 5> 6 . And sighing said that weary wight, 
I doubt that day I '11 never see. 



A View of Northumberland, by W. Hutchinson, Anno 
1776, Newcastle, 1778, II, 162-64. Communicated by the 
Eev. Mr Lamb, of Norham. 

Kinloch's account of the tradition in relation to 
the queen, as it maintains itself in Berwickshire, is 
quite in accord with German sagen about enchanted 
ladies, innocent or guilty, and as such may be 
worth giving: Kinloch MSS, I, 187. 

" Though the ballad mentions that the queen was 
transformed into <a spiteful toad of monstrous 
size,' and was doomed in that form to wend on the 
earth until the end of the world, yet the tradition 
of the country gives another account of the endur 
ance of her enchantment. It is said that in form of 
a toad as big as a ' clockin hen ' she is doomed to 
expiate her guilt by confinement in a cavern in 
Bamborough castle, in which she is to remain in her 
enchanted shape until some one shall have the har 
dihood to break the spell by penetrating the cavern, 
whose ' invisible ' door only opens every seven years, 
on Christmas eve. The adventurer, after entering 

the cavern, must take the sword and horn of the 
Childe of Wane, which hang on the wall, and hav 
ing unsheathed and resheathed the sword thrice, and 
wound three blasts on the horn, he must kiss the 
toad three times ; upon which the enchantment will 
be dissolved, and the queen will recover her human 

" Many adventurers, it is said, have attempted to 
disenchant the queen, but have all failed, having 
immediately fallen into a trance, something similar 
to the princes in the Arabian tale who went in 
search of the Talking Bird, Singing Tree, and Yel 
low Water. The last one, it is said, who made the 
attempt was a countryman, about sixty years ago, 
who, having watched on Christmas eve the opening 
of the door, entered the cavern, took the sword and 
horn from the wall, unsheathed and resheathed the 
sword thrice, blew three blasts on the horn, and was 
proceeding to the final disenchantment by kissing the 
toad, which he had saluted twice, when, perceiving 
the various strange sleepers to arise from the floor, 
his courage failed, and he fled from the cavern, hav 
ing just attained the outside of the door when it 
suddenly shut with a loud clap, catching hold of the 
skirt of his coat, which was torn off and left in the 


And none since that time 

To enter the cavern presume." 



1 THE king is gone from Bambrough castle, 

Long may the princess mourn ; 
Long may she stand on the castle wall, 
Looking for his return. 

2 She has knotted the keys upon a string, 

And with her she has them taen, 
She has cast them oer her left shoulder, 
And to the gate she is gane. 

3 She tripped out, she tripped in, 

She tript into the yard; 
But it was more for the king's sake, 
Than for the queen's regard. 

4 It fell out on a day the king 

Brought the queen with him home, 
And all the lords in our country 
To welcome them did come. 

5 ' O welcome, father,' the lady cries, 

' Unto your halls and bowers; 
And so are you, my stepmother, 
For all that is here is yours.' 

6 A lord said, woadering while 
This princess of the North 
Surpasses all of female kind 
In beauty and in worth. 

7 The envious queen replied: At least, 

You might have excepted me; 
In a few hours I will her bring 
Down to a low degree. 

8 I will her liken to a laidley worm, 

That warps about the stone, 
And not till Childy Wynd comes back 
Shall she again be won. 

9 The princess stood at the bower door, 

Laughing, who could her blame? 
But eer the next day's sun went down, 
A long worm she became. 

10 For seven miles east, and seven miles west, 

And seven miles north and south, 
No blade of grass or corn could grow, 
So venomous was her mouth. 

1 1 The milk of seven stately cows 

It was costly her to keep 
Was brought her daily, which she drank 
Before she went to sleep. 

12 At this day may be seen the cave 

Which held her folded up, 
And the stone trough, the very same 
Out of which she did sup. 

18 Word went east, and word went west, 

And word is gone over the sea, 
That a laidley worm in Spindleston Houghs 
Would ruin the north country. 

14 Word went east, and word went west, 

And over the sea did go ; 
The Child of Wynd got wit of it, 
Which filled his heart with woe. 

15 He called straight his merry men all, 

They thirty were and three: 

' I wish I were at Spindleston, 

This desperate worm to see. 

16 ' We have no time now here to waste, 

Hence quickly let us sail ; 
My only sister Margaret, 
Something, I fear, doth ail.' 

17 They built a ship without delay, 

With masts of the rown tree, 
With fluttering sails of silk so fine, 
And set her on the sea. 

18 They went aboard; the wind with speed 

Blew them along the deep; 
At length they spied an huge square tower, 
On a rock high and steep. 

19 The sea was smooth, the weather clear; 

When they approached nigher, 
King Ida's castle they well knew, 
And the banks of Bambroughshire. 

20 The queen looked out at her bower-window, 

To see what she could see ; 
There she espied a gallant ship, 
Sailing upon the sea. 

21 When she beheld the silken sails, 

Full glancing in the sun, 
To sink the ship she sent away 
Her witch-wives every one. 

22 Their spells were vain ; the hags returned 

To the queen in sorrowful mood, 

Crying that witches have no power 

Where there is rown-tree wood. 

23 Her last effort, she sent a boat, 

Which in the haven lay, 
With armed men to board the ship, 
But they were driven away. 

24 The worm leapt up, the worm leapt down, 

She plaited round the stane; 
And ay as the ship came to the land 
She banged it off again. 



25 The Child then ran out of her reach 

The ship on Budle sand, 
And jumping into the shallow sea, 
Securely got to land. 

26 And now he drew his berry-brown sword, 

And laid it on her head, 
And swore, if she did harm to him, 
That he would strike her dead. 

27 ' O quit thy sword, and bend thy bow, 

And give me kisses three ; 
For though I am a poisonous worm, 
No hurt I will do to thee. 

28 ' O quit thy sword, and bend thy bow, 

And give me kisses three; 
If I am not won eer the sun go down, 
Won I shall never be.' 

29 He quitted his sword, he bent his bow, 

He gave her kisses three; 
She crept into a hole a worm, 
But stept out a lady. 

30 No ctoathing had this lady fine, 

To keep her from the cold; 
He took his mantle from him about, 
And round her did it fold. 

31 He has taken his mantle from him about, 

And it he wrapt her in, 
And they are up to Bambrough castle, 
As fast as they can win. 

32 His absence and her serpent shape 

The king had long deplored ; 
He now rejoiced to see them both 
Again to him restored. 

33 The queen they wanted, whom they found 

All pale, and sore afraid, 
Because she knew her power must yield 
To Childy Wynd's, who said: 

34 ' Woe be to thee, thou wicked witch, 

An ill death mayest thou dee ; 
As thou my sister hast likened, 
So likened shalt thou be. 

35 ' I will turn you into a toad, 

That on the ground doth wend, 
And won, won shalt thou never be, 
Till this world hath an end.' 

36 Now on the sand near Ida's tower, 

She crawls a loathsome toad, 
And venom spits on every maid 
She meets upon her road. 

37 The virgins all of Bambrough town 

Will swear that they have seen 

This spiteful toad, of monstrous size, 

Whilst walking they have been. 

38 All folks believe within the shire 

This story to be true, 
And they all run to Spindleston, 
The cave and trough to view. 

39 This fact now Duncan Frasier, 

Of Cheviot, sings in rhime, 
Lest Bambroughshire men should forget 
Some part of it in time. 

28 8 . son. 



' Allison Gross,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 40. 

' ALLISON GEOSS ' was printed by Jamie- 
son, Popular Ballads, II, 187, without devia 
tion from the manuscript save in spelling. 

In a Greek tale, a nereid, that is elf or fairy, 
turns a youth who had refused to espouse her 


into a snake, the curse to continue till he finds 
another love who is as fair as she : ' Die 
Schonste,' B. Schmidt, Griechische Marchen, 
etc., No 10. This tale is a variety of ' Beauty 
and the Beast,' one of the numerous wild 



growths from that ever charming French 

An elf, a hill-troll, a mermaid, make a young 
man offers of splendid gifts, to obtain his love 
or the promise of his faith, in * Elveskud,' 
Grundtvig, No 47, many of the Danish and 
two of the Norwegian copies ; ' Hertig Magnus 
och Elfvorna,' Afzelius, III, 172 ; * Hr. Mag 
nus og Bjaergtrolden,' Grundtvig, No 48, Ar- 
widsson, No 147 B ; ' Herr Magnus och Hafs- 
trollet,' Afzelius, No 95, Bugge, No 11 ; a 
lind-worm, similarly, to a young woman, * Lin- 
dormen,' Grundtvig, No 65. Magnus answers 
the hill-troll that he should be glad to plight 
faith with her were she like other women, but 
she is the ugliest troll that could be found : 
Grundtvig, II, 121, A 6, B 7 ; Arwidsson, II, 
303, B 5 ; Afzelius, III, 169, st. 5, 173, st. 6. 
This is like what we read in stanza 7 of our 
ballad, but the answer is inevitable in any 
such case. Magnus comes off scot-free. 

The queen of the fairies undoing the spell 
of the witch is a remarkable feature, not par 
alleled, so far as I know, in English or north 
ern tradition. The Greek nereids, however, 
who do pretty much everything, good or bad, 
that is ascribed to northern elves or fairies, 
and even bear an appellation resembling that 

by which fairies are spoken of in Scotland and 
Ireland, " the good damsels," " the good la 
dies," have a queen who is described as taking 
no part in the unfriendly acts of her subjects, 
but as being kindly disposed towards mankind, 
and even as repairing the mischief which sub 
ordinate sprites have done against her will. 
If now the fairy queen might interpose in be 
half of men against her own kith and kin, 
much more likely would she be to exert her 
self to thwart the malignity of a witch. f 

The object of the witch's blowing thrice on 
a grass-green horn in 8 2 is not clear, for noth 
ing comes of it. In the closely related ballad 
which follows this, a witch uses a horn to 
summon the sea-fishes, among whom there is 
one who has been the victim of her spells. 
The horn is appropriate. Witches were sup 
posed to blow horns when they joined the 
wild hunt, and horn-blower, " hornblase," is 
twice cited by Grimm as an equivalent to 
witch : Deutsche Mythologie, p. 886. 

Translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og 
skotske Folkeviser, No 19 ; by Rosa Warrens, 
Schottische Volkslieder, No 7 ; Knortz, Lieder 
und Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 9; Locve- 
Veimars, Ballades de 1'Angleterre, p. 353. 

1 O ALLISON GROSS, that lives in yon towr, 

The ugliest witch i the north country, 
Has trysted nie ae day up till her bowr, 
An monny fair speech she made to me. 

2 She stroaked my head, an she kembed my hair, 

An she set me down saftly on her knee ; 
Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true, 
Sae monny braw things as I woud you gi. 

3 She showd me a mantle o red scarlet, 

Wi gouden flowrs an fringes fine ; 
Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true, 
This goodly gift it sal be thine. 

4 ' Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, 

Haud far awa, an lat me be ; 
I never will be your lemman sae true, 
An I wish I were out o your company.' 

5 She neist brought a sark o the saftest silk, 

Well wrought wi pearles about the ban ; 
Says, Gin you will be my ain true love, 
This goodly gift you sal comman. 

6 She showd me a cup of the good red gold, 

Well set wi jewls sae fair to see ; 
Says, Gin you will be my lemman sae true, 
This goodly gift I will you gi. 

* Of these Dr Reinhold Kohler has given me a note of 
more than twenty. The French tale itself had, in all likeli 
hood, a popular foundation. 

t B. Schmidt, Das Volksleben der Neugriechcn, pp 100 f, 
107, 123. Euphemistically the nereids are called ;} KoAah 
ipxdvriffffaif, jj KaAals tcvpdSts, j} KaA<taa/>5a<s, ;} 
their sovereign is r) ti.tyd\ii tcvpd, i) itfwn\, etc. 



7 ; Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, 

Had far awa, and lat me be ; 
For I woudna ance kiss your ugly mouth 
For a' the gifts that ye coud gi.' 

8 She 's turnd her right and roun about, 

An thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn, 
An she sware by the meen and the stars abeen, 
That she 'd gar me rue the day I was born. 

9 Then out has she taen a silver wand, 

An she 's turnd her three times roun an 

roun ; 
She 's mutterd sich words till my strength it 

An I fell down senceless upon the groun. 

10 She 's turnd me into an ugly worm, 

And gard me toddle about the tree ; 

An ay, on ilka Saturdays night, 
My sister Maisry came to me, 

11 Wi silver bason an silver kemb, 

To kemb my heady upon her knee; 
But or I had kissd her ugly mouth, 
I 'd rather a toddled about the tree. 

12 But as it fell out on last Hallow-even, 

When the seely court was ridin by, 
The queen lighted down on a gowany bank, 
Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye. 

13 She took me up in her milk-white han, 

An she 's stroakd me three times oer her 

knee ; 

She chang'd me again to my ain proper shape, 
An I nae mair maun toddle about the tree. 


Skene MS., p. 30 : taken down from recitation in the north of Scotland, in 1802 or 1803. 

SOMEWHAT mutilated, and also defaced, 
though it be, this ballad has certainly never 
been retouched by a pen, but is pure tradition. 
It has the first stanza in common with ' Kemp 
Owyne,' and shares more than that with ' Al 
lison Gross.' But it is independent of ' Alli 
son Gross,' and has a far more original sound. 

Maisry's services in washing and combing 
are more conceivable when rendered by a maid 
in her proper shape, as in ' Allison Gross,' than 
when attributed to a machrel of the sea ; and 
it is likely that the machrel returned to her 
own figure every Saturday, and that this is one 
of the points lost from the story. It is said, 
here as in ' Allison Gross,' that Maisry kames 
the laily head on her knee.* It would be a 

* Dives, in one version of a well-known carol, has " a place 
prepared in hell, to sit upon a serpent's knee." The pious 
chauson in question is a very different thing from an old 

mere cavil to raise a difficulty about combing a 
laily worm's head. The fiery beast in ' Kemp 
Owyne,' A, has long hair, and the laily worm 
may have had enough to be better for comb- 

It is only natural that the transformed maid 
should not wish to trust herself again in the 
hands of the stepmother, but it is not accord 
ing to poetical justice that she should remain 
a machrel of the sea, and here again we may 
suppose something to have dropped out. 

We have had a double transformation, of 
sister and brother, in the ' Marriage of Ga- 
wain ' and in the ' Wedding of Gawen and 
Dame Ragnell,' and again, with a second sis 
ter added, in the story of Alsdl. Brother and 

ballad, which, it is hoped, no one will think capable of fa 

t As, for example, a dragon has in Hahn's Griechische 
Marchen, No 26, 1, 187, and elsewhere. 



sister are transformed in the Danish ' Natter- 
galen,' Grundtvig, No 57. It is an aggrava 
tion of stepmother malice that the victim of 
enchantment, however amiable and inoffen 
sive before, should become truculent and de 

structive ; so with the brother of Gawain's 
bride, and with the Carl of Carlile. The step 
mother is satisfactorily disposed of, as she is 
in 4 Kemp Owyne,' B, and the * Laidly Worm 
of Spindleston Heughs.' 

1 ' I WAS but seven year auld 

When my mither she did die ; 
My father married the ae warst woman 
The warld did ever see. 

2 ' For she has made me the laily worm, 

That lies at the fit o the tree, 
An my sister Masery she 's made 
The machrel of the sea. 

3 ' An every Saturday at noon 

The machrel comes to me, 
An she takes my laily head 

An lays it on her knee, 
She kaims it wi a siller kaim, 

An washes 't in the sea. 

4 ' Seven knights hae I slain, 

Sin I lay at the fit of the tree, 
An ye war na my ain father, 
The eight ane ye should be.' 

5 ' Sing on your song, ye laily worm, 

That ye did sing to me : ' 
' I never sung that song but what 
I would it sing to thee. 

6 ' I was but seven year auld, 

When my mither she did die ; 
My father married the ae warst woman 
The warld did ever see. 

7 ' For she changed me to the laily worm, 

That lies at the fit o the tree, 
And my sister Masery 

To the machrel of the sea. 

8 ' And every Saturday at noon 

The machrel comes to me, 
An she takes my laily head 
An lays it on her knee, 

An kames it wi a siller kame, 
An washes it i the sea. 

9 ' Seven knights hae I slain, 

Sin I lay at the fit o the tree, 
An ye war na my ain father, 
The eighth ane ye shoud be.' 

10 He sent for his lady, 

As fast as send could he : 
' Whar is my son that ye sent frae me, 
And my daughter, Lady Masery ? ' 

11 ' Your son is at our king's court, 

Serving for meat an fee, 
An your daughter's at our queen's court, 

12 ' Ye lie, ye ill woman, 

Sae loud as I hear ye lie ; 
My son 's the laily worm, 

That lies at the fit o the tree, 
And my daughter, Lady Masery, 

Is the machrel of the sea ! ' 

13 She has tane a siller wan, 

An gien him strokes three, 
And he has started up the bravest knight 
That ever your eyes did see. 

14 She has taen a small norn, 

An loud an shrill blew she, 
An a' the fish came her untill 

But the proud macbrel of the sea: 
' Ye sbapeit me ance an unseemly shape, 

An ye's never mare shape me.' 

15 He has sent to the wood 

For whins and for hawthorn, 
An he has taen tbat gay lady, 
An there he did her burn. 

2 8 , 7 2 . lays : but lies, 12 4 . 

3 8 . ducks, but compare 8 8 . 





A. ' Thomas Ryiner and Queen of Elfland,' Alexander 
Fraser Ty tier's Brown MS., No 1. 

B. ' Thomas the Rhymer,' Campbell MSS, II, 83. 

C. ' Thomas the Rhymer,' Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
Border, II, 251, 1802, "from a copy obtained from a 
lady residing not far from Erceldoune, corrected and 
enlarged by one in Mrs Brown's MS." 

A IS one of the nine ballads transmitted to 
Alexander Fraser Tytler by Mrs Brown in 
April, 1800, as written down from her recol 
lection.* This copy was printed by Jamie- 
son, II, 7, in his preface to ' True Thomas and 
the Queen of Elfland.' B, never published as 
yet, has been corrupted here and there, but 
only by tradition. C being compounded of 
A and another version, that portion which is 
found in A is put in smaller type. 

Thomas of Erceldoune, otherwise Thomas 
the Rhymer, and in the popular style True 
Thomas, has had a fame as a seer, which, 
though progressively narrowed, is, after the 
lapse of nearly or quite six centuries, far from 
being extinguished. The common people 
throughout the whole of Scotland, according 
to Mr Robert Chambers (1870), continue to 
regard him with veneration, arid to preserve 
a great number of his prophetic sayings, which 
they habitually seek to connect with " dear 
years " and other notable public events. f A 
prediction of Thomas of Erceldoune's is re 
corded in a manuscript which is put at a date 
before 1320, and he is referred to with other 
soothsayers in the Scalacronica, a French, 
chronicle of English history begun in 1355. 
Erceldoune is spoken of as a poet in Robert 
Mannyng's translation of Langtoft's chronicle, 
finished in 1338 ; and in the Auchinleck copy 
of ' Sir Tristrem,' said to have been made 
about 1350, a Thomas is said to have been 
consulted at Erpeldoun touching the history 

* See the letter of Dr Anderson to Bishop Percy, Decem 
ber 29, 1 800, in Nichols's Illustrations of the Literary His 
tory of the Eighteenth Century, VII, 178 f. 

t Chambers' Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1870, pp. 211- 

of Tristrem. So that we seem safe in holding 
that Thomas of Erceldoune had a reputation 
both as prophet and poet in the earlier part of 
the fourteenth century. The vaticinations of 
Thomas are cited by various later chroniclers, 
and had as much credit in England as in Scot 
land. " During the fourteenth, fifteenth, and 
sixteenth centuries," says Chambers, "to fab 
ricate a prophecy in the name of Thomas the 
Rhymer appears to have been found a good 
stroke of policy on many occasions. Thus 
was his authority employed to countenance 
the views of Edward III against Scottish inde 
pendence, to favor the ambitious views of the 
Duke of Albany in the minority of James V, 
and to sustain the spirits of the nation under 
the harassing invasions of Henry VIII." Dur 
ing the Jacobite rising of 1745 the accom 
plishment of Thomas's as then unfulfilled pre 
dictions was looked for by many. His prophe 
cies, and those of other Scotch soothsayers, 
were consulted, says Lord Hailes, "with a 
weak if not criminal curiosity." Even as late 
as the French revolutionary war a rhyme of 
Thomas's caused much distress and consterna 
tion in the border counties of Scotland, where 
people were fearing an invasion. The ' Whole 
Prophecie' of Merlin, Thomas Rymour, and 
others, collected and issued as early as 1603, 
continued to be printed as a chap-book down 
to the beginning of this century, when, says 
Dr Murray, few farm-houses in Scotland were 
without a copy of it. 

224. See, also, Scott's Minstrelsy, IV, 110-116, 129-151, 
ed. 1833. But, above all, Dr J. A. H. Murray's Introduc 
tion to The Romance and Prophecies of Thomas of Ercel 
doune, 1875. 



All this might have been if Thomas of Er- 
celdoune had been not more historical than 
Merlin. But the name is known to have 
belonged to a real person. Thomas Rymor 
de Ercildune is witness to a deed whereby 
one Petrus de Haga obliges himself to make 
a certain payment to the Abbey of Melrose. 
Petrus de Haga is, in turn, witness to a char 
ter made by Richard de Moreville. Unluckily, 
neither of these deeds is dated. But Moreville 
was constable of Scotland from 1162 to 1189. 
If we suppose Moreville's charter to have 
been given towards 1189, and Haga to have 
been then about twenty years old, and so 
born about 1170, and further suppose Haga to 
have made his grant to Melrose towards the 
end of a life of threescore, or three score and 
ten, the time of Thomas Rymer's signature 
would be about 1230 or 1240. If Thomas 
Rymer was then twenty years of age, his birth 
would have been at 1210 or 1220. In the 
year 1294 Thomas de Ercildoun, son and heir 
of Thomas Ryrnour de Ercildoun, conveyed to 
a religious house his inheritance of lands in 
Ercildoun. With Thomas Rhymer in mind, 
one naturally interprets Thomas Rymour as 
the prophet and Thomas de Ercildoun as his 
son. If Rymour was the surname of this fam 
ily,* it would have been better, for us at 
least, if the surname had been subjoined to the 
first Thomas also. As the language stands, 
we are left to choose among several possibil 
ities. Thomas the Rhymer may have been 
dead in 1294 ; Thomas Ryinour, meaning the 
same person, may have made this cession of 
lands in 1294, and have survived still some 
years. Thomas, the father, may, as Dr Mur 
ray suggests, have retired from the world, but 
still be living, and it may be his son who re 
signs the lands. Blind Harry's Life of Wal 
lace makes Thomas Rimour to be alive down 
to 1296 or 1297. A story reported by Bower 
in his continuation of Fordun, c. 1430, makes 
Thomas to have predicted the death of Alex 
ander III in 1286, when, according to the pre- 

* Hector Boecc (1527) says the surname was Leirmont, 
but there is no evidence for this that is of value. See Mur 
ray, p. xiii. 

t The five copies have been edited by Dr J. A. H. Mur- 

vious (necessarily very loose) calculation, the 
seer would have been between sixty-six and 
seventy-six. Neither of these last dates is es 
tablished by the strongest evidence, but there 
is no reason for refusing to admit, at least, that 
Thomas of Erceldoune may have been alive at 
the latter epoch. 

Thomas of Erceldoune's prophetic power 
was a gift of the queen of the elves ; the mod 
ern elves, equally those of northern Europe 
and of Greece, resembling in respect to this 
attribute the nymphs of the ancient Hellenic 
mythology. How Thomas attained this grace 
is set forth in the first of three fits of a poem 
which bears his name. This poem has come 
down in four somewhat defective copies : the 
earliest written a little before the middle of 
the fifteenth century, two others about 1450, 
the fourth later. There is a still later manu 
script copy of the second and third fits.f All 
the manuscripts are English, but it is manifest 
from the nature of the topics that the original 
poem was the work of a Scotsman. All four of 
the complete versions speak of an older story : 
" gyff it be als the storye sayes, v. 83, * als the 
story e tellis full ryghte,' v. 123. The older 
story, if any, must be the work of Thomas. 
The circumstance that the poem, as we have 
it, begins in the first person, and after a long 
passage returns for a moment to the first per 
son, though most of the tale is told in the 
third, is of no importance ; nor would it have 
been important if the whole narrative had 
been put into Thomas's mouth, since that is 
the simplest of literary artifices. 

Thomas, having foun4 favor with the queen 
of Elfland, was taken with her to that country, 
and there he remained more than three [seven] 
years. Then the time came round when a trib 
ute had to be paid to hell, and as Thomas was 
too likely to be chosen by the fiend, the elf 
queen conducted him back to the world of 
men. At the moment of parting Thomas de 
sires some token which may authenticate his 
having spoken with her. She gives him the 

ray, and printed by the Early English Text Society. A re 
constructed text by Dr Alois Braiull makes the second vol 
ume of a Sammlung englischer Denkmaler in kritischen 
Ausgaben, Berlin, 1880. 



gift of soothsaying. He presses her to stay 
and tell him some ferly. Upon this she be 
gins a train of predictions, which Thomas 
more than once importunes her to continue. 
The first two of these, the failure of Baliol's 
party and the battle of Halidon Hill, 1333, 
stand by themselves, but they are followed 
by a series in chronological order, extending 
from the battle of Falkirk to the battle of 
Otterbourn, 1298-1388. The third fit, ex 
cepting, perhaps, a reference to Henry IV's 
invasion of Scotland in 1401, seems to consist, 
not of predictions made after the event, but of 
" adaptations of legendary prophecies, tradi 
tionally preserved from far earlier times, and 
furbished up anew at each period of national 
trouble and distress, in expectation of their 
fulfilment being at length at hand." * 

The older " story," which is twice referred 
to in the prologue to the prophecies of Thomas 
of Erceldoune, was undoubtedly a romance 
which narrated the adventure of Thomas with 
the elf queen simply, without specification of 
his prophecies. In all probability it concluded, 
in accordance with the ordinary popular tradi 
tion, with Thomas's return to fairy -land after 
a certain time passed in this world.f For the 
story of Thomas and the Elf-queen is but an 
other version of what is related of Ogier le 
Danois and Morgan the Fay. Six fairies made 
gifts to Ogier at his birth. By the favor of 
five he was to be the strongest, the bravest, 
the most successful, the handsomest, the most 
susceptible, of knights : Morgan's gift was 
that, after a long and fatiguing career of glory, 
he should live with her at her castle of Avalon, 

in the enjoyment of a still longer youth, and 
never wearying pleasures. When Ogier had 
passed his hundredth year, Morgan took meas 
ures to carry out her promise. She had him 
wrecked, while he was on a voyage to France, 
on a loadstone rock conveniently near to Ava 
lon, which Avalon is a little way this side of the 
terrestrial paradise. In due course he comes 
to an orchard, and there he eats an apple, which 
affects him so peculiarly that he looks for noth 
ing but death. He turns to the east, and sees 
a beautiful lady, magnificently attired. He 
takes her for the Virgin ; she corrects his error, 
and announces herself as Morgan the Fay. 
She puts a ring on his finger which restores 
his youth, and then places a crown on his 
head which makes him forget all the past. 
For two hundred years Ogier lived in such de 
lights as no worldly being can imagine, and the 
two hundred years seemed to him but twenty. 
Christendom was then in danger, and even 
Morgan thought his presence was required in 
the world. The crown being taken from his 
head, the memory of the past revived, and 
with it the desire to return to France. He 
was sent back by the fairy, properly provided, 
vanquished the foes of Christianity in a short 
space, and after a time was brought back by 
Morgan the Fay to Avalon. ij: 

The fairy adventures of Thomas and of Ogier 
have the essential points in common, and even 
the particular trait that the fairy is taken to 
be the Virgin. The occurrence of this trait 
again in the ballad, viewed in connection with 
the general similarity of the two, will leave 
no doubt that the ballad had its source in the 

* Murray, pp xxiv-xxvii. As might be expected, the 
Latin texts corrupt the names of persons and of places, and 
alter the results of battles. Dr Murray remarks : " The old 
est text makes the Scots win Halidon Hill, with the slaughter 
of six thousand Englishmen, while the other texts, wise after 
the fact, makes the Scots lose, as they actually did." This, 
and the consideration that a question about the conflict be 
tween the families of Bruce and Baliol would not be put 
after 1400, when the Baliol line was extinct, disposes Dr 
Murray to think that verses 326-56 of the second fit, with 
perhaps the first fit, the conclusion of the poem, and an 
indefinite portion of fit third, may have been written on the 
eve of Halidon Hill, with a view to encourage the Scots. 

t The poem, vv 675-80, says only that Thomas and the 

lady did not part for ever and aye, but that she was to visit 
him at Huntley banks. 

J The relations of Thomas Rhymer and Ogier might, per 
haps, be cleared up by the poem of The Visions of Ogier 
in Fairy Land. The book is thus described by Brunet, ed. 
1863, IV, 173: Le premier (second et troisieme) livre des 
visions d'Oger le Dannoys au royaulme de Fairie, Paris, 
1542, pet. in-8, de 48 ff. Brunet adds: A la suite de ce 
poe'me, dans 1'exemplaire de la Bibliotheque imperiale, se 
trouve, Le liure des visions fantastiques, Paris, 1542, pet. in-8, 
de 24 ff. The National Library is not now in possession of 
the volume ; nor have all the inquiries I have been able to 
make, though most courteously aided in France, resulted, as 
I hoped, in the finding of a copy. 



romance. Yet it is an entirely popular ballad 
as to style,* and must be of considerable age, 
though the earliest version (A) can be traced 
at furthest only into the first half of the last 

The scene of the meeting of Thomas with 
the elf queen is Huntly Banks and the Eildon 
Tree in versions B, C of the ballad, as in the 
romance.f Neither of these is mentioned in 
A, the reciter of which was an Aberdeen 
woman. The elf-lady's costume and equip 
ment, minutely given in the romance (hence 
forth referred to as B), are reduced in the 
ballad to a skirt of grass-green silk and a vel 
vet mantle, A, and a dapple-gray horse, B 2 
(R 5), with nine and fifty bells on each tett of 
its mane, A 2 (three bells on either side of the 
bridle, R 9).J Thomas salutes the fairy as 
queen of heaven, A 3, R 11. B 3 has suffered 
a Protestant alteration which makes nonsense 
of the following stanza. She corrects his mis 
take in all, and, in B 4 tells him she is out 
hunting, as in R 16. As C 5 stands, she chal 
lenges Thomas to kiss her, warning him at the 

same time, unnaturally, and of course in con 
sequence of a corrupt reading, of the danger ; 
which Thomas defies, C 6. These two stanzas 
in C represent the passage in the romance, 
17-21, in which Thomas embraces the fairy 
queen, and are wanting in A, B, though not to 
be spared. It is contact with the fairy that 
gives her the power to carry her paramour off ; 
for carry him off she does, and he is in great 
fright at having to go. The ballad is no worse, 
and the romance would have been much better, 
for the omission of another passage, impressive 
in itself, but incompatible with the proper 
and original story. The elf-queen had told 
Thomas that he would ruin her beauty, if he 
had his will, and so it came to pass : her eyes 
seemed out, her rich clothing was away, her 
body was like the lead ; and it is while thus 
disfigured that she bids Thomas take leave of 
sun and moon, so that his alarm is not without 
reason. He must go with her for seven 
years, A, B ; only for a twelvemonth, R. She 
takes him up behind her, A ; she rides and he 
runs, B ; she leads him in at Eldon hill, R ; 

* Excepting the two satirical stanzas with which Scott's 
version (C) concludes. " The repugnance of Thomas to be 
debarred the use of falsehood when he should find it conve 
nient," may have, as Scott says, " a comic effect," but is, 
for a ballad, a miserable conceit. Both ballad and romance 
are serious. 

t Eildon Tree, the site of which is supposed now to be 
marked by the Eildon Tree Stone, stood, or should have 
stood, on the slope of the eastern of the three Eildon Hills. 
Huntly Banks are about half a mile to the west of the Eil 
don Stone, on the same hill-slope. Erceldoun, a village on 
the Leader, two miles above its junction with the Tweed, is 
all but visible from the Eildon Stone. Murray, pp 1-lii. 

I In B 2, absurdly, the lady holds nine bells in her hand. 
Ringing or jingling bridles are ascribed to fairies, Tarn Lin, 
A 37, Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, 
p. 298 (" manes hung wi whustles that the win played on," 
p. 299). The fairy's saddle has a bordure of bells in the Eng 
lish Launfal, Halliwell's Illustrations of Fairy Mythology, 
p. 31, but not in Marie's lai. The dwarf-king Antiloie, in 
Ulrich Von Eschenbach's Alexander, has bells on his bridle : 
Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, I, 385. These bells, how 
ever, are not at all distinctive of fairies, but are the ordinary 
decoration of elegant " outriders " in the Middle Ages, es 
pecially of women. In the romance of Richard Coenr de 
Lion, a messenger's trappings ring with five hundred bells. 
Besides the bridle, bells were sometimes attached to the 
horse's breastplate, to the saddle-bow, crupper, and stir 
rups. Conde Claros's steed has three hundred around his 
breastplate. See Weber's Metrical Romances, R. C. de 
Lion, vv 1514-17, 5712-14, cited by T. Wright, History of 

Domestic Manners in England, 214 f; Liebrecht, Gervasius, 
p. 122; Kolbing, Englische Studien, III, 105; Zupitza and 
Varnhagen, Anglia, III, 371, IV, 417 ; and particularly A. 
Schultz, Das hofische Leben zur Zeit der Minnesinger, I, 
235, 388-91. 

The original I suppose to be the very cheerful tale of 
Ogier, with which the author of Thomas of Erceldoune has 
blended a very serious one, without any regard to the irrec- 
oncilableness of the two. He is presently forced to undo 
this melancholy transformation of the fairy, as we shall see. 
Brandl, ' Thomas of Erceldoune,' p. 20, cites from Giraldus 
Cambrensis, Itinerarium Cambrise, I, 5, a story about one 
Meilyr, a Welshman, the like of which our poet had in 
mind. This Meilyr was a great soothsayer, and " owed his 
skill to the following adventure : " Being in company one 
evening with a girl for whom he had long had a passion, 
desidcratis amplexibus atque deliciis cum indulsisset, statim 
loco puellae formosae formam quamdam villosam, hispidam 
et hirsutam, adeoque enormiter deformem invenit, quod in 
ipso ejusdem aspectu dementire coepit et insanire. Meilyr 
recovered his reason after several years, through the merits 
of the saints, but always kept up an intimacy with unclean 
spirits, and by their help foretold the future. It is not said 
that they gave him the tongue that never could lie, but no 
other tongue could lie successfully in his presence : he al 
ways saw a little devil capering on it. He was able, by sim 
ilar indications, to point out the lies and errors of books. 
The experiment being once tried of laying the Gospel of 
John in his lap, every devil instantly decamped. Geoffrey 
of Monmouth's history was substituted, and imps swarmed 
all over the book and him, too. 



they cross a water, he wading up to the knee, 
B, B. The water is subterranean in R, and 
for three days naught is heard but the sough 
ing of the flood. Then they come to an or 
chard, A, B, R, and Thomas, like to tyne for 
lack of food, is about to pull fruit, but is told 
that the fruit is cursed, A 9, B 8 ; * if he 
plucks it, his soul goes to the fire of hell, R 35. 
The fairy has made a provision of safe bread 
and wine for him in the ballad, A 10, B 9, 
but he has still to fast a while in the ro 
mance. C, which lacks this passage, makes 
them ride till they reach a wide desert, and 
leave living land behind, 9; and here (but 
in A, B, and R in the vicinity of the orchard) 
the fairy bids Thomas lay his head on her 
knee, and she will show him rare sights. These 
are the way to heaven, A 12, B 11, R 38 ; the 
way to hell, A 13, B 10, R 41 ; the road to 
Elfland, whither they are going, A 14. R does 
not point out the road to Elfland, but the elf- 
queen's castle on a high hill ; and there are 
two additional ferlies, the way to paradise and 
the way to purgatory,f 39, 40. Thomas, in 
A 15, is now admonished that he must hold 
bis tongue, for if he speaks a word he will 
never get back to his own country ; in R 44 
he is told to answer none but the elf-queen, 
whatever may be said to him, and this course 
he takes in B 12. But before they proceed to 
the castle the lady resumes all the beauty and 
splendor which she had lost, and no explana 
tion is offered save the naive one in the Lans- 
downe copy, that if she had not, the king, her 
consort, would have known that she had been 
in fault. Now follows in A 15 (as recited, 
here 7), C 15, 16, the passage through the 
subterranean water, which should come before 
they reach the orchard, as in B 6, R 30, 31. 
There is much exaggeration in the ballad: 

they wade through rivers in darkness and hear 
the sea roaring, C 15, A 7, as in R, but they 
also wade through red blood to the knee, A 7, 
C 16, and the crossing occupies not three days, 
as in R 31, but forty days, A 7. In C they 
now come to the garden. Stanzas 15, 16 are 
out of place in C, as just remarked, and 17 is 
entirely perverted. The cursed fruit which 
Thomas is not to touch in A 9, B 8, R 35, is 
offered him by the elf-queen as his wages, and 
will give him the tongue that can never lie, 
a gift which is made him in the romance at 
the beginning of the second fit, when the fairy 
is preparing to part with him. Stanzas 18, 19 
of C are certainly a modern, and as certainly 
an ill-devised, interpolation. B has lost the 
conclusion. In A, C, Thomas gets a fairy cos 
tume, and is not seen on earth again for seven 

The romance, after some description of the 
life at the elf-castle, informs us that Thomas 
lived there more than three years [Cambridge 
MS., seven], and thought the time but a space 
of three days, an almost moderate illusion 
compared with the experience of other mor 
tals under analogous circumstances. J The 
fairy queen then hurried him away, on the 
eve of the day when the foul fiend was to 
come to fetch his tribute. He was a mickle 
man and hend, and there was every reason to 
fear that he would be chosen. She brought 
him again to Eldon Tree, and was bidding him 
farewell. Thomas begged of her a token of 
his conversation with her, and she gave him 
the gift of true speaking. He urged her fur 
ther to tell him some ferly, and she made 
him several predictions, but he would not let 
her go without more and more. Finally, with 
a promise to meet him on Huntly Banks when 
she might, she left him under the tree. 

* B 8 3 ' 4 - "It was a' that cursed fruit o thine beggared 
man and woman in your countrie : " the fruit of the Forbid 
den Tree. 

t Purgatory is omitted in the Cotton MS. of the romance, 
as in the ballad. 

{ Ogier le Danois hardly exceeded the proportion of the 
ordinary hyperbole of lovers : two hundred years seemed but 
twenty. The British king Herla lived with the king of the 
dwarfs more than two hundred years, and thought the time 
hut three days : Walter Mapes, Nugae Curialium, ed. Wright, 

p. 16 f (Liebrecht). The strongest case, I believe, is the ex 
quisite legend, versified by Trench, of the monk, with whom 
three hundred years passed, while he was listening to a bird's 
song as he thought, less than three hours. For some of 
the countless repetitions of the idea, see Pauli's Schimpf und 
Ernst, ed. Oesterley, No 562, and notes, p. 537 ; Liebrecht's 
Gervasius, p. 89 ; W. Hertz, Deutsche Sage im Elsass, pp 
115-18, 263 ; A. Graf, La Leggenda del Paradjso Terrestre, 
pp 26-29, 31-33, and notes; J. Koch, Die Siebenschlaferle- 
gende, kap. ii. 


Popular tradition, as Sir Walter Scott rep 
resents, held that, though Thomas was allowed 
to revisit the earth after a seven years' so 
journ in fairy-land, he was under an obliga 
tion to go back to the elf-queen whenever she 
should summon him. One day while he " was 
making merry with his friends in the town of 
Erceldoune, a person came running in, and 
told, with marks of fear and astonishment, 
that a hart and hind had left the neighbor 
ing forest, and were composedly and slowly 
parading the street of the village. The pro 
phet instantly arose, left his habitation, and 
followed the wonderful animals to the forest, 
whence he was never seen to return." He is, 
however, expected to come back again at some 
future time. 

What we learn from the adventures of 
Thomas concerning the perils of dealing with 
fairies, and the precautions to be observed, 
agrees with the general teaching of tradition 
upon the subject. In this matter there is 
pretty much one rule for all "unco" folk, be 
they fairies, dwarfs, water-sprites, devils, or 
departed spirits, and, in a limited way, for 
witches, too. Thomas, having kissed the elf- 
queen's lips, must go with her. When the 
dead Willy comes to ask back his faith and 
troth of Margaret, and she says he must first 
kiss her, cheek and chin, he replies, " If I 
should kiss your red, red lips, your days would 
not be long." * When Thomas is about to 

* In an exquisite little ballad obtained by Tommaseo from 
a peasant-girl of Empoli, I, 26, a lover who had visited hell, 
and there met and kissed his mistress, is told by her that he 
roust not hope ever to go thence. How the lover escaped in 
this instance is not explained. Such things happen sometimes, 
but not often enough to encourage one to take the risk. 

Sono stato all' inferno, e son tomato: 
Misericordia, la gente che c'era ! 
V'era una stanza tutta illuminata, 
E dentro v'era la speranza mia. 
Quando mi vedde, gran festa mi fece, 
E poi mi disse: Dolce anima mia, 
Non ti arricordi del tempo passato, 
Quando tu mi dicevi, " anima mia?" 
Ora, mio caro ben, baciami in bocca, 
Baciami tanto ch'io contenta sia. 
6 tanto saporita la tua bocca ! 
Di grazia saporisci anco la mia. 
Ora, mio caro ben, che m'hai baciato, 
Di qui non isperar d'andarne via. 

t A 8, 9, R 34, 35. It was not that Thomas was about 

pull fruit in the subterranean garden, or par 
adise, the elf bids him let be : all the plagues 
of hell light on the fruit of this country ; 
" if thou pluck it, thy soul goes to the fire of 
hell." f The queen had taken the precaution 
of bringing some honest bread and wine with 
her for Thomas's behoof. So when Burd El 
len's brother sets out to rescue his sister, who 
had been carried off by the king of Elfland, 
his sage .adviser enjoins him to eat and drink 
nothing in fairy-land, whatever his hunger 
or thirst ; " for if he tasted or touched in 
Elfland, he must remain in the power of the 
elves, and never see middle-card again." J Ab 
stinence from speech is equally advisable, ac 
cording to our ballad and to other authority : 
Gin ae word you should chance to speak, you 
will neer get back to your ain countrie, A 15. 
They 've asked him questions, one and all, but 
he answered none but that fair ladie, B 12. 
What so any man to thee say, look thou an 
swer none but me, R 44. 

That eating and drinking, personal contact, 
exchange of speech, receiving of gifts, in any 
abode of unearthly beings, including the dead, 
will reduce a man to their fellowship and con 
dition might be enforced by a great number 
of examples, and has already been abundantly 
shown by Professor Wilhelm Miiller in his 
beautiful essay, Zur Symbolik der deutschen 
Volkssage. The popular belief of the north 
ern nations in this matter is more completely 

to pluck fruit from the Forbidden Tree, though B under 
stands it so : cf. R 32, 33. The curse of this tree seems, 
however, to have affected all Paradise. In modern Greek 
popular poetry Paradise occurs sometimes entirely in the 
sense of Hades. See B. Schmidt, Volksleben der Neugrie- 
chen, p. 249. 

t Jamieson, in Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 
398 : ' Child Rowland and Burd Ellen.' 

Niedereachsische Sagen und Marchen, Schambach nnd 
Muller, p. 373. Shakspere has this : " They are fairies ; he 
that speaks to them shall die ; " Falstaff, in Merry Wives 
of Windsor, V, 5. Ancient Greek tradition is not without 
traces of the game ideas. It was Persephone's eating of the 
pomegranate kernel that consigned her to the lower world, in 
spite of Zeus and Demeter's opposition. The drinking of 
Circe's brewage and the eating of lotus had an effect on the 
companions of Ulysses such as is sometimes ascribed to the 
food and drink of fairies, or other demons, that of producing 
forgetfulness of home : Odyssey, x, 236, ix, 97. But it would 
not be safe to build much on this. A Hebrew tale makes 
the human wife of a demon charge a man who has come to 



shown than anywhere else in Saxo's account 
of King Gormo's visit to Guthmund, and it 
will be enough to cite that. The Danish King 
Gormo, having heard extraordinary things of 
the riches of Geruth (the giant Geirrb'Sr), de 
termines to verify the reports with his own 
eyes, under the guidance of Thorkill, from 
whom he has received them. The land of 
Geruth is far to the northeast, beyond the sun 
and stars, and within the realm of Chaos and 
Old Night. It is, in fact, a very dismal and 
terrific sort of Hades. The way to it lies 
through the dominion of Guthmund, Geruth's 
brother, which is described as a paradise, but 
a paradise of the same dubious attractions as 
that in Thomas of Erceldoune. Guthmund, 
himself a giant, receives the travellers, a band 
of about three hundred, very graciously, and 
conducts them to his palace. Thorkill takes 
his comrades apart, and puts them on their 
guard: they must eat and drink nothing that 
is offered them, but live on the provisions 
which they have brought, must keep off from 
the people of the place and not touch them ; 
if they partake of any of the food, they will 

forget everything, and have to pass their lives 
in this foul society. Guthmund complains 
that they slight his hospitality, but Thorkill, 
now and always, has an excuse ready. The 
genial monarch offers Gormo one of his twelve 
beautiful daughters in marriage, and their 
choice of wives to all the rest of the train. 
Most of the Danes like the proposition, but 
Thorkill renews his warnings. Four take the 
bait, and lose all recollection of the past. 
Guthmund now commends the delicious fruits 
of his garden, and tries every art to make the 
king taste them. But he is again foiled by 
Thorkill, and clearly perceiving that he has 
met his match, transports the travellers over 
the river which separates him and his brother, 
and allows them to continue their journey.* 

C is translated by Talvj, Versuch, etc., p. 
552 ; by Doenniges, p. 64 ; by Arndt, Bliiten- 
lese, p. 246 ; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische 
Volkslieder, p. 14 ; by Knortz, Lieder u. Ro- 
manzen, p. 1 ; by Edward Barry, Cycle popu- 
laire de Robin Hood, p. 92 ; and by F. H. 
Bothe, Janus, p. 122, after Barry. 

Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 1 : Jamieson's 
Popular Ballads, II, 7. 

1 TRUE THOMAS lay oer yond grassy bank, 

And he beheld a ladie gay, 
A ladie that was brisk and bold, 
Come riding oer the fernie brae. 

2 Her skirt was of the grass-green silk, 

Her mantel of the velvet fine, 
At ilka tett of her horse's mane 
Hung fifty silver bells and nine. 

3 True Thomas he took off his hat, 

And bowed him low down till his knee : 

' All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven ! 
For your peer on earth I never did see.' 

4 ' O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says, 
' That name does not belong to me ; 
I am but the queen of fair Elfland, 
And I 'm come here for to visit thee. 

5 ' But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas, 

True Thomas, ye maun go wi me, 
For ye maun serve me seven years, 

Thro weel or wae as may chance to be.' 

6 She turned about her milk-white steed, 

And took True Thomas up behind, 

perform a certain service for the family not to eat or drink in 
the house, or to take any present of her husband, exactly re 
peating the precautions observed in Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, 
Nos 41, 49: Tendlau, Das Buch der Sagen und Legenden 
jiidischer Vorzeit, p. 141. The children of Shorn may prob 
ably have derived this trait in the story from the children 

of Japhet. Aladdin, in the Arabian Nights, is to have a 
care, above all things, that he does not touch the walls of 
the subterranean chamber so much as with his clothes, or 
he will die instantly. This again, by itself, is not very con 
* Historia Danica, 1. viii : Miiller et Velschow, I, 420-25. 



And aye wheneer her bridle rang, 
The steed flew swifter than the wind. 

7 For forty days and forty nights 

He wade thro red blude to the knee, 
And he saw neither sun nor moon, 
But heard the roaring of the sea. 

8 they rade on, and further on, 

Until they came to a garden green : 
1 Light down, light down, ye ladie free, 
Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.' 

9 ' O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says, 

' That fruit maun not be touched by thee, 
For a' the plagues that are in hell 
Light on the fruit of this countrie. 

10 ' But I have a loaf here in my lap, 

Likewise a bottle of claret wine, 
And now ere we go farther on, 

We '11 rest a while, and ye may dine.' 

11 When he had* eaten and drunk his fill, 

' Lay down your head upon my knee,' 
The lady sayd, ' ere we climb yon hill, 
And I will show you fairlies three. 

12 ' see not ye yon narrow road, 

So thick beset wi thorns and briers ? 
That is the path of righteousness, 
Tho after it but few enquires. 

13 ' And see not ye that braid braid road, 

That lies across yon lillie leven ? 
That is the path of wickedness, 

Tho some call it the road to heaven. 

14 ' And see not ye that bonny road, 

Which winds about the fernie brae ? 
That is the road to fair Elfland, 

Whe[re] you and I this night maun gae. 

15 ' But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, 

Whatever you may hear or see, 
For gin ae word you should chance to speak. 
You will neer get back to your am coun 

16 He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, 

And a pair of shoes of velvet green, 
And till seven years were past and gone 
True Thomas on earth was never seen. 


Campbell MSS, II, 83. 

1 As Thomas lay on Huntlie banks 

A wat a weel bred man was he 
And there he spied a lady fair, 

Coming riding down by the Eildon tree. 

2 The horse she rode on was dapple gray, 

And in her hand she held bells nine ; 
I thought I heard this fair lady say 

These fair siller bells they should a' 

3 It 's Thomas even forward went, 

And lootit low down on his knee : 
' Weel met thee save, my lady fair, 
For thou 'rt the flower o this countrie.' 

4 ' O no, O no, Thomas,' she says, 

' O no, O no, that can never be, 
For I 'in but a lady of an unco land, 
Comd out a hunting, as ye may see. 

5 ' harp and carp, Thomas,' she says, 

' O harp and carp, and go wi me ; 
It 's be seven years, Thomas, and a day, 

Or you see man or woman in your ain coun 

6 It 's she has rode, and Thomas ran, 

Until they cam to yon water clear ; 
He 's coosten off his hose and shon, 

And he 's wooden the water up to the knee. 

be 7 It 's she has rode, and Thomas ran, 

Until they cam to yon garden green ; 
He 's put up his hand for to pull down ane, 
For the lack o food he was like to tyne. 

8 ' Hold your hand, Thomas,' she says, 

' Hold your hand, that must not be ; 
It was a' that cursed fruit o thine 

Beggared man and woman in your countrie. 

9 ' But I have a loaf and a soup o wine, 

And ye shall go and dine wi me ; 



And lay yer head down in my lap, 
And I will tell ye farlies three. 

10 ' It 's dont ye see yon broad broad way, 

That leadeth down by yon skerry fell ? 
It 's ill 's the man that dothe thereon gang, 
For it leadeth him straight to the gates o 

11 ' It 's dont ye see yon narrow way, 

That leadeth down by yon lillie lea ? 
It 's weel 's the man that doth therein gang, 
For it leads him straight to the heaven hie.' 

12 It 's when she cam into the hall 

I wat a weel bred man was he 
They 've asked him question[s], one and all, 
But he answered none but that fair ladie. 

13 O they speerd at her where she did him get, 

And she told them at the Eildon tree ; 


Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 251, ed. 1802. 

1 TRUE Thomas lay on Huntlie bank, 

A ferlie he spied wi' his ee, 
And there be saw a lady bright, 

Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. 

2 Her shirt was o the grass-green silk, 

Her mantle o the velvet fyne, 
At ilka tett of her horse's mane 
Hang fifty siller bells and nine. 

3 True Thomas, he pulld aff his cap, 

And louted low down to his knee : 
' All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven ! 
For thy peer on earth I never did see.' 

4 ' no, O no, Thomas,' she said, 

' That name does not belang to me ; 
I am but the queen of fair Elfland, 
That am hither come to visit thee. 

5 ' Harp and carp, Thomas,' she said, 

' Harp and carp along wi me, 
And if ye dare to kiss my lips, 
Sure of your bodie I will be.' 

6 ' Betide me weal, betide me woe, 

That weird shall never daunton me ; ' 
Syne he has kissed her rosy lips, 
All underneath the Eildon Tree. 

7 ' Now, ye maun go wi me,' she said, 

' True Thomas, ye maun go wi me, 
And ye maun serve me seven years, 

Thro weal or woe, as may chance to be.' 

8 She mounted on her milk-white steed, 

She 's taen True Thomas up behind, 
And aye wheneer her bridle rung, 
The steed flew swifter than the wind. 

9 O they rade on, and farther on 

The steed gaed swifter than the wind 
Untill they reached a desart wide, 
And living land was left behind. 

10 ' Light down, light down, now, True Thomas, 

And lean your head upon my knee; 
Abide and rest a little space, 
And I will shew you ferlies three. 

11 ' O see ye not yon narrow road, 

So thick beset with thorns and briers ? 
That is the path of righteousness, 
Tho after it but few enquires. 

12 ' And see not ye that braid braid road, 

That lies across that lily leven ? 
That is the path of wickedness, 

Tho some call it the road to heaven. 

13 ' And see not ye that bonny road, 

That winds about the fernie brae? 
That is the road to fair Elfland, 

Where thou and I this night maun gae. 

14 ' But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, 

Whatever ye may hear or see, 
For, if you speak word in Elflyn land, 
Ye '11 neer get back to your ain countrie.' 

15 they rade on, and farther on, 

And they waded thro rivers aboon the knee, 



And they saw neither sun nor moon, 
But they heard the roaring of the sea. 

16 It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae 

stern light, 

And they waded thro red blude to the knee ; 
For a' the blude that 's shed on earth 
Rins thro the springs o that eountrie. 

17 Syne they came on to a garden green, 

And she pu'd an apple f rae a tree : 
' Take this for thy wages, True Thomas, 
It will give the tongue that can never lie.' 

18 ' My tongue is mine ain,' True Thomas said ; 

' A gudely gift ye wad gie to me ! 
I neither dought to buy nor sell, 
At fair or tryst where I may be. 

19 ' I dought neither speak to prince or peer, 

Nor ask of grace from fair ladye : ' 
' Now hold thy peace,' the lady said, 
' For as I say, so must it be.' 

20 He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, 

And a pair of shoes of velvet green, 
And till seven years were gane and past 
True Thomas on earth was never seen. 

7 stands 15 in the MS. 
8 2 . golden green, if my copy is right. 
11 2> 8 are II 8 - 2 in the MS. : the order of words 
is still not simple enough for a ballad. 
14*. goe. 

Jamieson has a feiu variations, which I 

suppose to be Jiis own. 

I 1 , oer yonder bank. 3 4 . your like. 4 4 . And 
I am come here to. 6*. Her steed. 8 2 . 



garden, rightly. 10 2 . clarry. II 2 . Lay 

your head. 12 1 . see you not. 12*. 

there 's few. 13. see ye not yon. 14 1 . 

see ye not. 14 2 . Which winds. 
3 2 . her knee. 3 8 . thou save. 
12 1 . MS. perhaps unto. 
13 1 ' 2 follow st. 12 without separation. 
20 1 . a cloth. 



Thornton MS., leaf 149, back, as printed by Dr. J. A. H. 

[A prologue of six stanzas, found only in the Thornton 
MS., is omitted, as being, even if genuine, not to the present 

1 ALS I me wente pis endres daye, 

Ffull faste in mynd makand my mone, 
In a mery mornynge of Maye, 

By Huntle bankkes my selfe allone, 

2 I herde J>e jaye and )>e throstelle, 

The mawys menyde of hir songe, 
]?e wodewale beryde als a belle, 

That alle J>e wode a-bowte me ronge. 

8 Allonne in longynge thus als I lave, 

Vndyre-nethe a semely tre, 
[Saw] I whare a lady gaye 

[Came ridand] ouer a longe lee. 

4 If I solde sytt to domesdaye, 

WitA my tonge to wrobbe and wrye, 
Certanely J>at lady gaye 
Neuer bese scho askryede for mee. 

5 Hir palfraye was a dappill graye, 

Swylke one ne saghe I neuer none; 
Als dose pe sonne on someres daye, 
]y<it faire lady hir selfe scho schone. 

6 Hir selle it was of roelle .bone, 

Ffull semely was fat syghte to see; 
Stefly sett -with precyous stones, 
And compaste all with crapotee ; 

7 Stones of oryente, grete plente. 

Hir hare abowte hir hede it hange ; 
Scho rade ouer Jat lange lee ; 
A whylle scho blewe, a-noj>er scho sange. 

8 Hir garthes of nobyll sylke fay were, 

The bukylls were of berelle stone, 
Hir steraps were of crystalle clere, 
And all wttA perelle ouer-by-gone. 

9 Hir payetrelle was of irale fyne, 

Hir cropoure was of orphare, 



And als clere golde hir brydill it schone; 
One aythir syde hange bellys three. 

10 [Scho led three grehoundis in a leessbe,] 

And seuene raches by hir fay rone ; 
Scho bare an home abowte hir halse, 
And vndir hir belte full many a flone. 

11 Thomas laye and sawe fat syghte, 

Vndir-nethe ane semly tree ; 
He sayd, }one es Marye, moste of myghte, 
J>at bare J>at childe fat dyede for mee. 

12 Bot if I speke with jone lady bryghte, 

I hope myne herte will bryste in three ; 
Now sail I go with all my myghte, 
Hir for to mete at Eldoune tree. 

13 Thomas rathely vpe he rase, 

And he rane ouer fat mountayne hye; 
Gyff it be als the storye sayes, 
He hir mette at Eldone tree. 

14 He knelyde downe appone his knee, 

Vndir-nethe fat grenwode spraye, 
And sayd, Lufly ladye, rewe one mee, 
Qwene of heuene, als fou wele maye I 

15 Then spake fat lady milde of thoghte: 

Thomas, late swylke wordes bee; 
Qwene of heuene ne am I noghte, 
Ffor I tuke neuer so heghe degre. 

16 Bote I ame of ane ofer coimtree, 

If I be payrelde moste of pryse; 
I ryde aftyre this wylde fee; 

My raches rynnys at my devyse.' 

17 ' If fou be parelde moste of pryse, 

And here rydis thus in thy folye, 
Of lufe, lady, als fou erte wyse, 
Jou gyffe me leue to lye the bye.' 

18 Scho sayde, J>ou mane, fat ware folye ; 

I praye J>e, Thomas, fou late me bee; 
Ffor I saye f e full sekirlye, 

J>at synne will for-doo all my beaute. 


19 ' Now, lufly ladye, rewe one mee, 

And I will euer more with the duelle ; 
Here my trouthe I will the plyghte, 
Whethir fou will in heuene or helle. ' 

20 ' Mane of molde, fou will me marre, 

But }itt fou sail hafe all thy will ; 
And trowe it wele, fou chewys fe werre, 
Ffor alle my beaute will fou spylle.' 

21 Downe fane lyghte fat lady bryghte, 

Vndir-nethe fat grenewode spraye ; 

And, als the storye tellis full ryghte, 
Seuen sythis by hir he laye. 

22 Scho sayd, Mane, the lykes thy playe: 

Whate byrde in boure maye delle with the ? 
Thou merrys me all fis longe daye; 
I pray the, Thomas, late me bee. 

23 Thomas stode vpe in fat stede, 

And he by-helde fat lady gaye; 
Hir hare it hange all ouer hir hede, 

Hir eghne semede owte, fat are were graye. 

24 And alle f e riche clothynge was a-waye, 

J>at he by-fore sawe in fat stede ; 
Hir a schanke blake, hir ofer graye, 
And all hir body lyke the lede. 

25 Thomas laye, and sawe fat syghte, 

Vndir-nethe fat grenewod tree. 

26 Jan said Thomas, Alias ! alias ! 

In fay the fis es a dullfull syghte; 
How arte fou fadyde f us in fe face, 

J>at schane by-fore als f e sonne so bryght[e] ! 

27 Scho sayd, Thomas, take leue at sone and mon[e], 

And als at lefe fat grewes on tree ; 

This twelmoneth sail fou with me gone, 

And medill-erthe sail fou none see.' 

28 He knelyd downe appone his knee, 

Vndir-nethe fat grenewod spraye, 
And sayd, Lufly lady, rewe on mee, 

Mylde qwene of heuene, als fou beste maye 1 

29 ' Alias ! ' he sayd, ' and wa es mee ! 

I trowe my dedis wyll wirke me care; 
My saulle, Jhesu, by-teche I the, 

Whedir-some fat euer my banes sail fare.' 

30 Scho ledde hym in at Eldone hill, 

Vndir-nethe a derne lee, 
Whare it was dirke as mydnyght myrke, 
And euer f e water till his knee. 

31 The montenans of dayes three, 

He herd hot swoghynge of f e flode ; 
At f e laste he sayde, Full wa es mee 1 
Almaste I dye, for fawte of f[ode.] 

32 Scho lede hym in-till a faire herbere, 

Whare frwte was g[ro]wan[d gret plentee] ; 
Pere and appill, bothe ryppe fay were, 
The date, and als the damasee. 

33 ]?e fygge, and alsso f e wyneberye, 

The nyghtgales byggande on fair neste ; 



J>e papeioyes faste abowte gang flye, 

And throstylls sange, wolde hafe no reste. 

34 He pressede to pulle frowte with his hande, 

Als mane for fude fat was nere faynt; 
Scho sayd, Thomas, fou late fame stande, 
Or ells fe fende the will atteynt. 

35 If fou it plokk, sothely to saye, 

Thi saule gose to f e fyre of helle ; 
It comrnes neuer owte or domesdaye, 
Bot f er in payne ay for to duelle. 

36 Thomas, sothely I the hyghte, 

Come lygge thyne hede downe on my knee, 
And [}>ou] sail se f e fayreste syghte 
bat euer sawe mane of thi contree. 

87 He did in hye als scho hym badde; 

Appone hir knee his hede he layde, 
Ffor hir to paye he was full glade ; 
And fane fat lady to hym sayde : 

38 Seese fou nowe jone faire waye, 

bat lygges ouer jone heghe mountayne ? 
}one es fe waye to heuene for aye, 
Whene synfull sawles are passed f er payne. 

39 Seese fou nowe jone ofer waye, 

bat lygges lawe by-nethe jone rysse ? 
^one es J>e waye, fe sothe to saye, 
Vn-to f e joye of paradyse. 

40 Seese fou jitt jone thirde waye, 

J>at ligges vndir jone grene playne ? 
jone es fe waye, vrith tene and traye, 

Whare synfull saulis suffirris faire payne. 

41 Bot seese fou nowe jone ferthe waye, 

Jat lygges ouer jone depe delle ? 
jone es f e waye, so waylawaye ! 
Vn-to f e birnande fyre of helle. 

42 Seese fou jitt jone faire castelle, 

[J)at standis ouer] jone heghe hill ? 
Of towne and towre it beris fe belle; 
In erthe es none lyke it vn-till. 

43 Ffor sothe, Thomas, jone es myne awenne, 

And fe kynges of this countree; 
Bot me ware leuer be hanged and drawene, 
Or fat he wyste fou laye by me. 

44 When fou commes to jone castelle gay, 

I pray fe curtase mane to bee; 
And whate so any mane to fe saye, 
Luke fou answere none bott mee. 

I sail saye, syttande at the desse, 
I tuke thi speche by-jonde the see 

46 Thomas still als stane he stude, 

And he by-helde fat lady gaye ; 

Scho come agayne als faire and gude, 

And also ryche one hir palfraye. 

47 Hir grewehundis fillide -with dere blode, 

Hir raches couplede, by my faye; 
Scho blewe hir home with mayne and mode, 
Vn-to f e castelle scho tuke fe waye. 

48 In-to fe haulle sothely scho went, 

Thomas foloued at hir hande; 
Than ladyes come, bothe faire and gent, 
With curtassye to hir knelande. 

49 Harpe and fethill bothe fay fande, 

Getterne, and als so f e sawtrye ; 
Lutte and rybybe bothe gangande, 
And all manere of mynstralsye. 

50 ]?e most meruelle fat Thomas thoghte, 

Whene fat he stode appone the flore ; 
Ffor feftty herds in were broghte, 
J>at were bothe grete and store. 

51 Raches laye lapande in fe blode, 

Cokes come wttA dryssynge knyfe; 

Thay brittened fame als fay were wode ; 

Reuelle amanges fame was full ryfe. 

52 Knyghtis dawnesede by three and three, 

There was revelle, gamene and playe; 
Lufly ladyes, faire and free, 

That satte and sange one riche araye. 

53 Thomas duellide in that solace 

More fane I jowe saye, parde, 
Till one a daye, so hafe I grace, 
My lufly lady sayde to mee : 

54 Do buske the, Thomas, fe buse agayne, 

Ffor fu may here no lengare be; 

Hye the faste, wi'tA myghte and mayne, 

I sail the brynge till Eldone tree. 

55 Thomas sayde fane, witA heuy chere, 

Lufly lady, nowe late me bee ; 
Ffor certis, lady, I hafe bene here 
Noghte bot f e space of dayes three. 

56 ' Ffor sothe, Thomas, als I fe telle, 

bou base bene here thre jere and more; 
Bot langere here fou may noghte duelle; 
The skylle I sail fe telle whare-fore. 

45 My lorde es seruede at ylk a mese 

With thritty knyghttis faire and free; 

57 To morne of helle fe foulle fende 

Amange this folke will feche his fee; 



And Jjou arte mekill mane and hende ; 
I trowe full wele he wolde chese the. 

58 ' Ffor alle }>e gold J>at euer may bee, 

Ffro hethyne vn-to fe worldis ende, 
J>ou bese neuer be-trayede for mee ; 
}?erefore with me I rede thou wende. ' 

59 Scho broghte hywi agayne to Eldone tree, 

Vndir-nethe J>at grenewode spraye; 
In Huntlee bannkes es mery to bee, 

Whare fowles synges bothe nyght and daye. 

60 ' Fferre owtt in jone mountane graye, 

Thomas, my fawkone bygges a neste; 
A fawconne es an erlis praye ; 
Ffor-thi in na place may he reste. 

61 ' Ffare well, Thomas, I wend my waye, 

Ffor me by-houys oner thir benttis browne : ' 
Loo here a fytt: more es to saye, 
All of Thomas of Erselldowne. 


1 ' Fare wele, Thomas, I wend my waye, 

I may no lengare stande with the: ' 
' Gyff me a tokynynge, lady gaye, 
That I may saye I. spake with the.' 

2 ' To harpe or carpe, whare-so J>ou gose, 

Thomas, ]>o\i sail hafe J>e chose sothely : ' 

And he saide, Harpynge kepe I none, 
Ffor tonge es chefe of mynstralsye. 

3 ' If f>ou will spelle, or tales telle, 

Thomas, J>ou sail neuer lesynge lye; 

Whare euer }>ou fare, by fry the or felle, 

I praye the speke none euyll of me. 

4 ' Ffare wele, Thomas, witVowttyne gyle, 

I may no lengare duelle with the: ' 
' Lufly lady, habyde a while, 
And telle Ipou me of some ferly.' 

5 ' Thomas, herkyne what I the saye : ' etc. 

Here begin the prophecies. 

& and j are replaced by and ana* I. 

2 1 . throstyll cokke : throstell, Cambridge MS. 

2 2 . menyde hir. 

10 1 . Wanting. She led, etc., Cambridge. 

12 4 , 13 4 . Lansdowne, elden ; Cambridge, eldryn, el- 

16 2 . prysse. 

17 1 . prysee. 17 s . wysse. 
43 4 . me by. Cambridge, be me. 
46 4 . also. 

FYTT 2. 
2 1 . ]>o\i gose. Cambridge, 36 gon. 



A. a. ' The Wee Wee Man,' Herd's MSS, I, 153; 
Herd's Scottish Songs. 1776, I, 95. 

B. Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 348. 

C. ' The Wee Wee Man, ''Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 234, 
ed. 1802. 

D. ' The Wee Wee Man,' Kinloch MSS, VII, 253. 

B. a. ' The Wee Wee Man,' Motherwell's Note- Book, 
fol. 40; Motherwell's MS., p. 195. b. Motherwell's 
Minstrelsy, p. 343. 

P. ' The Wee Wee Man,' Motherwell's MS., p. 68. 

G. < The Little Man,' Buchau's Ballads of the North 
of Scotland, I, 263. 

THIS extremely airy and sparkling little 
ballad varies but slightly in the half dozen 
known copies. The one in the Musical Mu- 
seum, No 370, p. 382, and that in Ritson's 


Scotish Songs, II, 139, are reprinted from 

Singularly enough, there is a poem in eight- 
line stanzas, in a fourteenth-century manu- 



script, which stands in somewhat the same 
relation to this ballad as the poem of Thomas 
of Erceldoune does to the ballad of Thomas 
Rymer, but with the important difference 
that there is no reason for deriving the ballad 
from the poem in this instance. There seems 
to have been an intention to make it, like 

string of prophecies which follows, but no 
junction has been effected. This poem is 
given in an appendix. 

A is translated by Arndt, Bliitenlese, p. 
210 ; B, with a few improvements from E b, 
by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, p. 

Thomas of Erceldoune, an introduction to a 12. 

Herd's MSS, 1, 153, Herd's Ancient and Modern Scottish 
Songs, 1776, I, 95. 

1 As I was wa'king all alone, 

Between a water and a wa, 
And there I spy'd a wee wee man, 
And he was the least that ere I saw. 

2 His legs were scarce a shathmont's length, 

And thick and thimber was his thigh ; 
Between hislbrows there was a span, 

And between his shoulders there was three. 

3 He took up a meikle stane, 

And he flang 't as far as I could see ; 
Though I had been a Wallace wight, 
I couldna liften 't to my knee. 

4 ' O wee wee man, but thou be strang ! 

O tell me where thy dwelling be ? ' 

' My dwelling 's down at yon bonny bower ; 
will you go with me and see ? ' 

5 On we lap, and awa we rade, 

Till we came to yon bonny green ; 
We lighted down for to bait our horse, 
And out there came a lady fine. 

6 Four and twenty at her back, 

And they were a' clad out in green ; 
Though the King of Scotland had been there, 
The warst o them might hae been his queen. 

7 On we lap, and awa we rade, 

Till we came to yon bonny ha, 
Whare the roof was o the beaten gould, 
And the floor was o the cristal a'. 

8 When we came to the stair-foot, 

Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma, 
But in the twinkling of an eye, 
My wee wee man was clean awa. 


Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 348. 

1 As I was walking by my lane, 

Atween a water and a wa, 
There sune I spied a wee wee man, 
He was the least that eir I saw. 

2 His legs were scant a shathmont's length, 

And sma and limber was his thie ; 
Atween his shoulders was ae span, 
About bis middle war but three. 

3 He has tane up a meikle stane, 

And flang 't as far as I cold see ; 
Ein thouch I had been Wallace wicht, 
I dought na lift it to my knie. 

4 ' O wee wee man, but ye be strang ! 

Tell me whar may thy dwelling be ? 
' I dwell beneth that -bonnie bouir ; 
O will ye gae wi me and see ? ' 

5 On we lap, and awa we rade, 

Till we cam to a bonny green ; 
We lichted syne to bait our steid, 
And out there cam a lady sheen. 

6 Wi four and twentie at her back, 

A' comely cled in glistering green ; 
Thouch there the King of Scots had stude, 
The warst micht weil hae been bis queen. 

7 On syne we past wi wondering cheir, 

Till we cam to a bonny ha ; 



The roof was o the beaten gowd, 
The flure was o the crystal a'. 

8 When we cam there, wi wee wee knichts 
War ladies dancing, jimp and sma, 


Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 234, ed. 1802, incorporated with 
The Young Tamlane.' From recitation. 

1 'T WAS down by Carterhaugh, father, 

I walked beside the wa, 
And there I saw a wee wee man, 
The least that eer I saw. 

2 His legs were skant a shathmont lang, 

Yet umber was his thie ; 
Between his brows there was ae span, 
And between his shoulders three. 

3 He 's taen and flung a meikle stane, 

As far as I could see ; 
I could na, had I been Wallace wight, 
Hae lifted it to my knee. 

4 ' O wee wee man, but ye be strang ! 

Where may thy dwelling be ? ' 

But in the twinkling of an eie, 

Baith green and ha war clein awa. 

' It 's down beside yon bonny bower ; 
Fair lady, come and see.' 

5 On we lap, and away we rade, 

Down to a bonny green ; 
We lighted down to bait our steed, 
And we saw the fairy queen. 

6 With four and twenty at her back, 

Of ladies clad in green ; 
Tho the King of Scotland had been there, 
The worst might hae been his queen. 

7 On we lap, and away we rade, 

Down to a bonny ha ; 
The roof was o the beaten goud, 
The floor was of chrystal a'. 

8 And there were dancing on the floor, 

Fair ladies jimp and sma ; 
But in the twinkling o an eye, 
They sainted clean awa. 

Kinloch MSS, VII, 253. From Mrs Elder. 

1 As I gaed out to tak a walk, 

Atween the water and the wa, 
There I met wi a wee wee man, 
The weest man that ere I saw. 

2 Thick and short was his legs, 

And sma and thin was his thie, 
And atween his een a flee might gae, 

And atween his shouthers were inches three. 

3 And he has tane up a muckle stane, 

And thrown it farther than I coud see ; 
If I had been as strong as ere Wallace was, 
I coud na lift it to my knie. 

4 ' O,' quo I, ' but ye be strong ! 

And O where may your dwelling be ? ' 

* It 's down in to yon bonnie glen ; 

Gin ye dinna believe, ye can come and 


5 And we rade on, and we sped on, 

Till we cam to yon bonny glen, 
And there we lichted and louted in, 
And there we saw a dainty dame. 

6 There was four and twenty wating on her, 

And ilka ane was clad in green, 
And he had been the king of fair Scotland, 
The warst o them micht hae been his 

7 There war pipers playing on ilka stair, 

And ladies dancing in ilka ha, 
But before ye coud hae sadd what was that, 
The house and wee manie was awa. 




a. Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 40, " from Agnes Lyle ; " 
Motherwell's MS., p. 195, "from the recitation of Agnes 
Laird, Kilbarchan." b. Mother-well's Minstrelsy, p. 343. 

1 As I was walking mine alone, 

Betwext the water and the wa, 
There I spied a wee wee man, 

He was the least ane that eer I saw. 

2 His leg was scarse a shaftmont lang, 

Both thick and nimble was his knee ; 
Between his eyes there was a span, 
Betwixt his shoulders were ells three. 

3 This wee wee man pulled up a stone, 

He flang 't as far as I could see ; 
Tho I had been like Wallace strong, 
I wadna gotn 't up to my knee. 

4 I said, Wee man, oh, but you 're strong ! 

Where is your dwelling, or where may 't be ? 
' My dwelling 's at yon bonnie green ; 
Fair lady, will ye go and see ? ' 

5 On we lap, and awa we rade, 

Until we came to yonder green ; 
We lichtit down to rest our steed, 
And there cam out a lady soon. 

6 Four and twenty at her back, 

And eveiy one of them was clad in green ; 
Altho he had been the King of Scotland, 
The warst o them a' micht hae been his 

7 There were pipers playing in every neuk, 

And ladies dancing, jimp and sma, 
And aye the owre-turn o their tune 

Was ' Our wee wee man has been lang awa.' 


Motherwell's MS., p. 68, " from the recitation of Mrs Wil 
son, of the Renfrewshire Tontine ; now of the Caledonian 
Hotel, Inverness." 

1 As I was walking mine alane, 

Between the water and the wa, 
And oh there I spy'd a wee wee mannie, 
The weeest mannie that ere I saw. 

2 His legs they were na a gude inch lang, 

And thick and nimble was his thie ; 
Between his een there was a span, 

And between his shouthers there were ells 

3 I asked at this wee wee mannie 

Whare his dwelling place might be ; 
The answer that he gied to me 
Was, Cum alang, and ye shall see. 


Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 263. 

1 As I gaed out to tak the air, 

Between Midmar and bonny Craigha, 
There I met a little wee man, 
The less o him I never saw. 

4 So we '11 awa, and on we rade, 

Till we cam to yon bonnie green ; 
We lichted down to bait our horse, 
And up and started a lady syne. 

5 Wi four and twenty at her back, 

And they were a' weell clad in green ; 
Tho I had been a crowned king, 

The warst o them might ha been my queen. 

6 So we '11 awa, and on we rade, 

Till we cam to yon bonnie hall ; 
The rafters were o the beaten gold, 
And silver wire were the kebars all. 

7 And there was mirth in every end, 

And ladies dancing, ane and a, 
And aye the owre-turn o their sang 
Was ' The wee wee mannie 's been 



2 His legs were but a finger lang, 

And thick and nimle was his knee ; 
Between his brows there was a span, 
Between his shoulders ells three. 

3 He lifted a stane- sax feet in hight, 

He lifted it up till his right knee, 
And fifty yards and raair, I 'm sure, 
I wyte he made the stane to flee. 



4 ' O little wee man, but ye be wight ! 

Tell me whar your dwelling be ; ' 
' I hae a bower, compactly built, 
Madam, gin ye '11 cum and see.' 

5 Sae on we lap, and awa we rade, 

Till we come to yon little ha ; 
The kipples ware o the gude red gowd, 
The reef was o the proseyla. 

6 Pipers were playing, ladies dancing, 

The ladies dancing, jimp and sma ; 
At ilka turning o the spring, 

The little man was wearin 's wa. 

7 Out gat the lights, on cam the mist, 

Ladies nor mannie mair coud see 
I turnd about, and gae a look, 
Just at the foot o' Benachie. 

A. 2 2 . The printed copy has thighs. 

4 8 . dwelling down. 

There is a copy of this ballad in Cunning 
ham's Songs of Scotland, I, 303. Though 
no confidence can be felt in the genuine 
ness of the " several variations from re 
citation and singing," with which Cun 
ningham says he sought to improve 
Herd's version, the more considerable 
ones are here noted. 

I 8 . O there I met. 2 1 . a shathmont lang. 

3 s . been a giant born. 4 1 . ye 're wonder strong. 

4 4 . O ladie, gang wi me. 5 1 . away we flew. 

5 2 . to a valley green. 

5 8 . down and he stamped his foot. 

5 4 . And up there rose. 

6 1 . Wi four. 6 2 . the glossy green. 

7 2 . stately ha. 

8. And there were harpings loud and sweet, 

And ladies dancing, jimp and sma; 
He clapped his hands, and ere I wist, 
He sank and saunted clean awa. 

B. a. 4 1 . your. 

Moiherwell has made one or two slight 

changes in copying from his Note-Book 

into his MS. 
b. Besides some alterations of his own, Moth- 

erwell has introduced readings from F. 
2 4 . there were. 
3 8 . as Wallace. 
5 4 . lady sheen. 6 1 . Wi four. 
6 2 . And they were a' weel clad. 
After 6 is inserted F 6, with the first line 

changed to 

So on we lap, and awa we rade. 


This piece is found in Cotton MS., Julius, A, V, 
the ninth article in the manuscript, fol. 175, r, 
(otherwise 180, r). It is here given nearly as 
printed by Mr Thomas Wright in his edition of the 
Chronicle of Pierre de Langtoft, II, 452. It had 
been previously printed in Ritson's Ancient Songs, 
ed. 1829, I. 40 ; Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 168 ; 
the Retrospective Review, Second Series, II, 326. 
The prophecies, omitted here, are given by all the 

1 ALS y yod on ay Mounday 

Bytwene Wyltinden and Walle, 
Me ane aftere brade waye, 
Ay litel man y mette withalle ; 

The leste that ever I sathe, [sothe] to say, 
Oithere in boure, oithere in halle; 

His robe was noithere grene na gray, 
Bot alle yt was of riche palle. 

2 On me he cald, and bad me bide; 

Well stille y stode ay litel space ; 
Fra Lanchestre the parke syde 

Yeen he come, wel fair his pase. 
He hailsed me with mikel pride; 

Ic haved wel mykel ferly wat he was ; 
I saide, Wel mote the bityde ! 

That litel man with large face. 

3 I biheld that litel man 

Bi the stretes als we gon gae; 
His herd was syde ay large span, 

And glided als the fethere of pae ; 
His heved was wyte als any swan, 

His hegehen ware gret and grai alsso; 



Brues lange, wel I the can 
Merke it to five inches and mae. 

4 Armes scort, for sothe I saye, 

Ay span seemed thaem to bee; 
1 1 am Irs brade, vytouten nay, 

And fingeres lange, he scheued me. 
Ay stan he toke op thare it lay, 

And castid forth that I mothe see ; 
Ay merke-soote of large way 

Bifor me strides he castid three. 

5 Wel stille I stod als did the stane, 

To loke him on thouth me nouthe lange; 
His robe was alle golde bigane, 

Wel craftlike maked, I underestande; 
Botones asurd, everlke ane, 

Fra his elbouthe on til his hande ; 
Eldelike man was he nane, 

That in myn herte icke onderestande. 

6 Til him I sayde f ul sone on ane, 

For forthirmare I wald him fraine, 
Glalli wild 1 wit thi name, 

And I wist wat me mouth c gaine; 
Thou ert so litel of flesse and bane, 

And so mikel of mithe and mayne ; 
Ware vones thou, litel man, at hame? 

Wit of the I walde ful faine. 

7 Thoth I be litel and lith, 

Am y nothe wytouten wane ; 
Fferli frained thou wat I hith, 

Yat thou salt noth with my name. 
My wonige stede ful wel es dyth, 

.Nou sone thou salt se at hame.' 
Til him I sayde, For Godes mith, 

Lat me forth myn erand gane. 

8 ' The thar noth of thin errand lette, 

Thouth thou come ay stonde wit me; 
Forthere salt thou noth bisette 

Bi miles twa noythere bi three.' 
Na linger durste I for him lette, 

But forth ij f undid wyt that free; 

Stintid vs broke no becke; 
Ferlicke me thouth hu so mouth bee. 

9 He vent forth, als ij you say, 

In at ay yate, ij underestande ; 
Intil ay yate, wundouten nay; 

It to se thouth me nouth lange. 
The bankers on the binkes lay, 

And fair lordes sette ij fonde ; 
In ilka ay him ij herd ay lay, 

And levedys south meloude sange. 

The meeting with the little man was on Monday. We 
are now invited to listen to a tale told on Wednesday by 
" a moody barn," who is presently addressed, in language 
which, to be sure, fits the elf well enough, as " merry man, 
that is so wight : " but things do not fay at all here. 

10 Lithe, bothe yonge and aide : 

Of ay worde ij will you saye, 
A litel tale that me was tald 

Erli on ay Wedenesdaye. 
A inody barn, that was ful bald, 

My frend that ij frained aye, 
Al my yerning he me tald, 

And yatid me als we went bi waye. 

11 ' Miri man, that es so wythe, 

Of ay thinge gif me answere : 
For him that mensked man wyt mith, 
Wat sal worth of this were ? ' &c. 

The orthography of this piece, if rightly rendered, is 
peculiar, and it is certainly not consistent. 
I 5 , saith/or saw occurs in 23 8 . 
2 4 . Wright, Y cen: Retrosp. Rev., Yeen. 
8 8 . W., Merkes: R. R., Merke. fize. 
5 s . W., everlkes: R. R., euerelke. 
6 8 . W., of their: R. R., of ye (}>e). i. wald. 
7*. W., That thou: R.R., yat. 
7 6 . dygh. 9*. south me. 
9 8 . me loude. 

10 7 . W., thering: R. R., yering. 

10 8 . W., y atid : R. R., yatid. 

39. TAM LIN 



A. ' Tarn Lin,' Johnson's Museum, p. 423, 1792. Com- P. ' Tomaline,' Motherwell's MS., p. 64. 
municated by Burns. 

G. ' Tam-a-line, the Elfin Knight,' Buchan's MSS, I, 
8 ; ' Tarn a-Lin, or The Knight of Faerylande,' 
Motherwell's MS., p. 595. Dixon, Scottish Tra 
ditionary Versions of Ancient Ballads, Percy Society, 
XVII, 11. 

B. < Young Tom Line,' Glenriddell MS., vol. xi, No 
17, 1791. 

C. Kertonha, or, The Fairy Court,' Herd, The An 
cient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 300. 

H. ' Young Tarn Lane,' Campbell MSS, II, 129. 

D. ' Tom Linn.' a. Motherwell's MS., p. 532. b. Maid- 

ment's New Book of Old Ballads, p. 54. c. ' Tom I. ' The Young Tamlane.' Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
o Linn,' Pitcairn's MSS, III, fol. 67. Border: a, II, 337, ed. 1833 ; b, II, 228, ed. 1802. 

E. < Young Tamlin,' Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 13. 

THE first twenty-two stanzas of B differ 
from the corresponding ones in A, 1-23, omit 
ting 16, by only a few words, and there are 
other agreements in the second half of these 
versions. Burns's intimacy with Robert Rid- 
dell would naturally lead to a communication 
from one to the other ; but both may have 
derived the verses that are common from the 
same third party. Herd's fragment, C, was 
the earliest printed. Scott's version, I, as he 
himself states, was compounded of the Mu 
seum copy, Riddell's, Herd's, and "several 
recitals from tradition." I b, the edition of 
1802, contained fragments of ' The Bromfield 
Hill* and of 'The Wee Wee Man,' which, 
were dropped from the later edition ; but un 
fortunately this later edition was corrupted 
with eleven new stanzas, which are not simply 
somewhat of a modern cast as to diction, as 
Scott remarks, but of a grossly modern inven 
tion, and as unlike popular verse as anything 
can be.N I is given according to the later edi 
tion, with those stanzas omitted ; and all that 

* These are the concluding verses, coming much nearer to 
the language of this world than the rest. They may have a 
basis of tradition : 

is peculiar to this version, and not taken from 
the Museum, Glenriddell, or Herd, is distin 
guished from the rest by the larger type. 
This, it will be immediately seen, is very lit 

The copy in Tales of Wonder, II, 459, is 
A, altered by Lewis. Mr Joseph Robertson 
notes, Kinloch MSS, VI, 10, that his mother 
had communicated to him some fragments of 
this ballad slightly differing from Scott's ver 
sion, with a substitution of the name True 
Tarn mas for Tam Lane. 

The Scots Magazine for October, 1818, 
LXXXII, 327-29, has a " fragment" of more 
than sixty stanzas, composed in an abomina 
ble artificial lingo, on the subject of this bal 
lad, and alleged to have been taken from 
the mouth of a good old peasant, who, not 
having heard the ballad for thirty years, could 
remember no more. Thomas the Rhymer 
appears in the last lines with very great dis 
tinction, but it is not clear what part he has 
in the story.* 

Whar they war aware o the Fairy King, 
A huntan wi his train. 


39. TAM LIN 

A copy printed in Aberdeen, 1862, and said 
to have been edited by the Rev. John Bur 
nett Pratt, of Cruden, Aberdeenshire, is made 
up from Aytoun and Scott, with a number of 
slight changes.* 

* The Tayl of the }ong Tamlene ' is spoken 
of as told among a company of shepherds, in 
Vedderburn's Complaint of Scotland, 1549, p. 
63 of Dr James A. H. Murray's edition for 
the Early English Text Society. * Thorn of 
Lyn ' is mentioned as a dance of the same 
party, a little further on, Murray, p. 66, and 
' Young Thomlin ' is the name of an air in a 
medley in " Wood's MS.," inserted, as David 
Laing thought, between 1600 and 1620, and 
printed in Forbes's Cantus, 1666 : Stenhouse's 
ed. of The Scots Musical Museum, 1853, IV, 
440. " A ballett of Thomalyn " is licensed 
to Master John Wallye and Mistress Toye in 
1558 : Arber, Transcript of the Registers of 
the Company of Stationers, I, 22 ; cited by 
Furnivall, Captain Cox, &c., Ballad Society, 
p. clxiv. 

Sir Walter Scott relates a tradition of an 
attempt to rescue a woman from fairydom 
which recalls the ill success of many of the ef 
forts to disenchant White Ladies in Germany : 
" The wife of a farmer in Lothian had been 
carried off by the fairies, and, during the year 
of probation, repeatedly appeared on Sunday, 
in the midst of her children, combing their 
hair. On one of these occasions she was ac 
costed by her husband ; when she related to 
him the unfortunate event which had sepa 
rated them, instructed him by what means he 
might win her, and exhorted him to exert all 
his courage, since her temporal and eternal 
happiness depended on the success of his at 
tempt. The farmer, who ardently loved his 
wife, set out at Halloween, and, in the midst 
of a plot of furze, waited impatiently for the 

Four an twenty gentlemen 

Cam by on steeds o brown ; 
In bis band ilk bore a siller wand, 

On bis head a siller crown. 

Four an twenty beltit knichts 

On daiplit greys cam by ; 
Gowden their wands an crowns, whilk scanct 

Like streamers in the sky. 

procession of the fairies. At the ringing of 
the fairy bridles, and the wild, unearthly 
sound which accompanied the cavalcade, his 
heart failed him, and he suffered the ghostly 
train to pass by without interruption. When 
the last had rode past, the whole troop van 
ished, with loud shouts of laughter and exul 
tation, among which he plainly discovered the 
voice of his wife, lamenting that he had lost 
her forever." The same author proceeds to 
recount a real incident, which took place at 
the town of North Berwick, within memory, of 
a man who was prevented from undertaking, 
or at least meditating, a similar rescue only by 
shrewd and prompt practical measures on tho 
part of his minister.! 

This fine ballad stands by itself, and is not, 
as might have been expected, found in posses- 
sion of any people but the Scottish. Yet it has 
connections, through the principal feature in the 
s_tory, the retransformation of Tain Lin, with 
Greek popular tradition older than Homer. 

Something of the successive changes of shape 
is met with in a Scandinavian ballad : * Nat- 
tergalen,' Grundtvig, II, 168, No 57 ; * Den 
fortrollade Prinsessan,' Afzelius, II, 67, No 41, 
Atterbom, Poetisk Kalender, 1816, p. 44 ; Dy- 
beck, Runa, 1844, p. 94, No 2 ; Axelson, Van- 
dring i Wermlands Elfdal, p. 21, No 3 ; Linde- 
man, Norske Fjeldmelodier, Tekstbilag til Iste 
Bind, p. 3, No 10. 

Though many copies of this ballad have 
been obtained from the mouth of the people, 
all that are known are derived from flying 
sheets, of which there is a Danish one dated 
1721 and a Swedish of the year 1738. What 
is of more account, the style of the piece, as we 
have it, is not quite popular. Nevertheless, 
the story is entirely of the popular stamp, and 
so is the feature in it, which alone concerns us 
materially. A nightingale relates to a knight 

Four an twenty noble kings 

Cam by on steeds o snaw, 
But True Thomas, the gude Rhymer, 

Was king outower them a'. 

* " Tamlane : an old Scottish Border Ballad. Aberdeen, 
Lewis and James Smith, 1862." I am indebted for a sight 
of this copy, and for the information as to the editor, to Mr 

t Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 221-24, ed. 1802. 

39. TAM LIN 


how she had once had a lover, but a step 
mother soon upset all that, and turned her 
into a bird and her brother into a wolf. The 
curse was not to be taken off the brother till 
he drank of his step-dame's blood, and after 
seven years he caught her, when she was tak 
ing a walk in a wood, tore out her heart, and 
regained his human shape. The knight pro 
poses to the bird that she shall come and pass 
the winter in his bower, and go back to the 
wood in the summer : this, the nightingale 
says, the step-mother had forbidden, as long 
as she wore feathers. The knight seizes the 
bird by the foot, takes her home to his bower, 
and fastens the windows and doors. She 
turns to all the marvellous beasts one ever 
heard of, to a lion, a bear, a variety of small 
snakes, and at last to a loathsome lind-worm. 
The knight makes a sufficient incision for blood 
to come, and a maid stands on the floor as fair 
as a flower. He now asks after her origin, 
and she answers, Egypt's king was my fa 
ther, and its queen my mother; my brother 
was doomed to rove the woods as a wolf. " If 
Egypt's king," he rejoins, " was your father, 
and its queen your mother, then for sure you 
are my sister's daughter, who was doomed to 
be a nightingale." * 

We come much nearer, and indeed sur 
prisingly near, to the principal event of the 
Scottish ballad in a Cretan fairy-tale, cited 
from Chourmouzis by Bernhard Schmidt.f A 
young peasant of the village Sgourokephali, 
who was a good player on the rote, used to be 
taken by the nereids into their grotto for the 
sake of his music. He fell in love with one 
of them, and, not knowing how to help him 
self, had recourse to an old woman of his vil 
lage. She gave him this advice : that just 
before cock-crow he should seize his beloved 
by the hair, and hold on, unterrified, till the 
cock crew, whatever forms she should assume. 
The peasant gave good heed, and the next 
time he was taken into the cave fell to play 
ing, as usual, and the nereids to dancing. But 

as cock-crow drew nigh, he put down his in 
strument, sprang upon the object of his pas 
sion, and grasped her by her locks. She in 
stantly changed shape ; became a dog, a snake, 
a camel, fire. But he kept his courage and 
held on, and presently the cock crew, and the 
nereids vanished all but one. His love re 
turned to her proper beauty, and went with 
him to his home. After the lapse of a year 
she bore a son, but in all this time never ut 
tered a word. The young husband was fain 
to ask counsel of the old woman again, who 
told him to heat the oven hot, and say to his 
wife that if she would not speak he would 
throw the boy into the oven. He acted upon 
this prescription ; the nereid cried out, Let go 
my child, dog ! tore the infant from his arms, 
and vanished. 

This Cretan tale, recovered from tradition 
even later than our ballad, repeats all the im 
portant circumstances of the forced marriage 
of Thetis with Peleus. Chiron, like the old 
woman, suggested to his protege" that he 
should lay hands on the nereid, and keep his 
hold through whatever metamorphosis she 
might make. He looked out for his oppor 
tunity and seized her ; she turned to fire, 
water, and a wild beast, but he did not let go 
till she resumed her primitive shape. Thetis, 
having borne a son, wished to make him im 
mortal ; to which end she buried him in fire 
by night, to burn out his human elements, and 
anointed him with ambrosia by day. Peleus 
was not taken into counsel, but watched her, 
and saw the boy gasping in the fire, which 
made him call oat ; and Thetis, thus thwarted, 
abandoned the child and went back to the 
nereids. Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, III, 13, 

The Cretan tale does not differ from the 
one repeated by Apollodorus from earlier writ 
ers a couple of thousand years ago more than 
two versions of a story gathered from oral 
tradition in these days are apt to do. Whether 
it has come down to our time from mouth to 

* Restoration from enchantment is effected by drinking t Volksleben der Neugriechen, pp 115-17, "from Chour- 
blood, in other ballads, as Grundtvig, No 55, II, 156, No 58, mouzis, Kprtriitd, p. 69 f, Athens, 1842." Chourmouzis heard 

II, 174 ; in No 56, II, 158, by a maid in falcon shape eating 
of a bit of flesh which her lover had cut from his breast. 

this story, about 1820 or 1830, from an old Cretan peasant, 
who had heard it from his grandfather. 


39. TAM LIN 

mouth through twenty-five centuries or more, 
or whether, having died out of the popular 
memory, it was reintroduced through litera 
ture, is a question that cannot be decided with 
certainty ; but there will be nothing unlikely 
in the former supposition to those who bear 
in mind the tenacity of tradition among peo 
ple who have never known books.* 
B 34, 

First dip me in a stand of milk, 
And then in a stand of water ; 

Haud me fast, let me na gae, 
I '11 be your bairnie's father, 

has an occult and very important significance 
which has only very lately been pointed out, 
and which modern reciters had completely lost 
knowledge of, as appears by the disorder into 
which the stanzas have fallen. f Immersion 
in a liquid, generally water, but sometimes 
milk, is a process requisite for passing from a 
non-human shape, produced by enchantment, 
back into the human, and also for returning 
from the human to a non-human state, whether 
produced by enchantment or original. We 
have seen that the serpent which Lanzelet 
kisses, in Ulrich's romance, is not by that sim 
ple though essential act instantly turned into 
a woman. It is still necessary that she should 
bathe in a spring (p. 308). In an Albanian 
tale, * Taubenliebe,' Hahn, No 102, II, 130, a 
dove flies into a princess's window, and, re 
ceiving her caresses, asks, Do you love me ? 
The princess answering Yes, the dove says, 
Then have a dish of milk ready to-morrow, 
and you shall see what a handsome man I am. 

* The silence of the Cretan fairy, as B. Schmidt has re 
marked, even seems to explain Sophocles calling the nuptials 
of Peleus and Thetis " speechless," a<t>06yyovs ydfjious. Soph 
ocles gives the transformations as being lion, snake, fire, 
water : Scholia in Pindari Nemea, III, 60 ; Schmidt, as be 
fore, p. 116, note. That a firm grip and a fearless one would 
make any sea-god do your will would appear from the ad 
ditional instances of Menclaus and Proteus, in Odyssey, IV, 
and of Hercules and Nereus, Apollodorus, II, 5, 11, 4, Scho 
lia in Apollonii Argonaut., IV, 1396. Proteus masks as lion, 
snake, panther, boar, running water, tree ; Nereus as water, 
fire, or, as Apollodorus says, in all sorts of shapes. Bacchus 
was accustomed to transform himself when violence was 
done him, but it is not recorded that he was ever brought to 
terms like the watery divinities. See Mannhardt, Wald-tind 
Feldkulte, II, 60-64, who also well remarks that the tales 

A dish of milk is ready the next morning ; the 
dove flies into the window, dips himself in the 
milk, drops his feathers, and steps out a beau 
tiful youth. When it is time to go, the youth 
dips in the milk, and flies off a dove. This 
goes on every day for two years. A Greek 
tale, 4 Goldgerte,' Hahn, No 7, I, 97, has the 
same transformation, with water for milk. Our 
B 34 has well-water only.J Perhaps the bath 
of milk occurred in one earlier version of our 
ballad, the water-bath in another, and the two 
accounts became blended in time. 

The end of the mutations, in P 11, G 43, 
is a naked man, and a mother-naked man in 
B 33, under the presumed right arrangement ; 
meaning by right arrangement, however, not 
the original arrangement, but the most consis 
tent one for the actual form of the tradition. 
Judging by analogy, the naked man should 
issue from the bath of milk or of water ; into 
which he should have gone in one of his non- 
human shapes, a dove, swan, or snake (for 
which, too, a " stand " of milk or of water is a 
more practicable bath than for a man). The 
fragment C adds some slight probability to 
this supposition. The last change there is 
into " a dove but and a swan ; " then Tarn 
Lin bids the maiden to let go, for he '11 " be 
a perfect man : " this, nevertheless, he could 
not well become without some further cere 
mony. A is the only version which has pre 
served an essentially correct process : Tarn 
Lin, when a burning gleed, is to be thrown 
into well-water, from which he will step forth 
a naked knight. 

At stated periods, which the ballads make 

of the White Ladies, who, to be released from a ban, must 
be kissed three times in various shapes, as toad, wolf, snake, 
etc., have relation to these Greek traditions. 

t The significance of the immersion in water is shown by 
Mannhardt, Wald- u. Feldkulte, II, 64 ff. The disorder in 
the stanzas of A at this place has of course been rectified. 
In Scott's version, I, transformations are added at random 
from C, after the dipping in milk and in water, which seems 
indeed to have been regarded by the reciters only as a meas 
ure for cooling red-hot iron or the burning gleed, and not as 
the act essential for restoration to the human nature. 

J Possibly the holy water in D 17, G 32, is a relic of the 

In the MS. of B also the transformation into a het gad 
of iron comes just before the direction to dip the object into 
a stand of milk ; but we have the turning into a mother. 

39. TAM LIN 


to be seven years, the fiend of hell is entitled 
to take his teind, tithe, or kane from the peo 
ple of fairy-land : A 24, B 23, C 5, D 15, G 28, 
H 15. The fiend prefers those that are fair 
and fu o flesh, according to A, G ; ane o flesh 
and blood, D. H makes the queen fear for 
herself ; " the koors they hae gane round about, 
and I fear it will be mysel." H is not discord 
ant with popular tradition elsewhere, which 
attributes to fairies the practice of abstracting 
young children to serve as substitutes for 
themselves in this tribute: Scott's Minstrelsy, 
II, 220, 1802. D 15 says " the last here goes 
to hell," which would certainly not be equita 
ble, and C " we 're a' dung down to hell," 
where " all " must be meant only of the nat 
uralized members of the community. Poor 
Alison Pearson, who lost her life in 1586 for 
believing these things, testified that the tribute 
was annual. Mr William Sympson, who had 
been taken away by the fairies, " bidd her sign 
herself that she be not taken away, for the 
teind of them are tane to hell everie year : " 
Scott, as above, p. 208. The kindly queen 
of the fairies * will not allow Thomas of Er- 
celdoune to be exposed to this peril, and hur 
ries him back to earth the day before the 
fiend comes for his due. Thomas is in pe 
culiar danger, for the reason given in A, G, R. 

To morne of helle J>e foulle fende 

Amange this folke will feche his fee ; 

And J>ou art mekill man and hende ; 
I trowe full wele he wolde chese the. 

naked man several stanzas earlier. By reading, in 33 1 , I '11 
turn, and putting 33 after 34, we should have the order of 
events which we find in A. 

That Tarn Lin should go into water or milk as a dove or 
snake, or in some other of his temporary forms, and come 
out a man, is the only disposition which is consistent with the 
order of the world to which he belongs. Mannhardt gives 
us a most curious and interesting insight into some, of the 
laws of that world in Wald- u. Feldkulte, II, 64-70. The 
wife of a Cashmere king, in a story there cited from Benfey's 
Pantschatantra, I, 254, 92, is delivered of a serpent, but is 
reported to have borne a son. Another king offers his 
daughter in marriage, and the Cashmere king, to keep his 
secret, accepts the proposal. In due time the princess claims 
her bridegroom, and they give her the snake. Though 
greatly distressed, she accepts her lot, and takes the snake 
about to the holy places, at the last of which she receives a 
command to put the snake into the water-tank. As soon as 
this is done the snake takes the form of a man. A woman's 
giving birth to a snake was by no means a rare thing in 

The elf-queen, A 42, B 40, would have taken 
out Tarn's twa gray een, had she known he 
was to be borrowed, and have put in twa een 
of tree, B 41, D 34, B 21, H 14 ; she would 
have taken out his heart of flesh, and have 
put in, B, D, B, a heart of stane, H of tree. 
The taking out of the eyes would probably be 
to deprive Tarn of the faculty of recognizing 
fairy folk thereafter. Mortals whose eyes 
have been touched with fairies' salve can see 
them when they are to others invisible, and 
such persons, upon distinguishing and saluting 
fairies, have often had not simply this power 
but their ordinary eyesight taken away : see 
Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway 
Song, p. 804, Thiele, Danmarks Folkesagn, 
1843, II, 202, iv, etc. Grimm has given in 
stances of witches, Slavic, German, Norse and 
Italian, taking out the heart of man (which 
they are wont to devour), and replacing it in 
some instances with straw, wood, or something 
of the kind ; nor do the Roman witches appear 
to have been behind later ones in this dealing : 
Deutsche Mythologie, 904 f, and the note III, 

The fairy in the Lai de Lauval, v. 547, 
rides on a white palfrey, and also two dam 
sels, her harbingers, v. 471 ; so the fairy prin 
cess in the English Launfal, Halliwell, Fairy 
Mythology, p. 30. The fairy king and all his 
knights and ladies ride on white steeds in King 
Orfeo, Halliwell, as above, p. 41. The queen 
of Elfland rides a milk-white steed in Thomas 

Karst in the seventeenth century, and it was the rule in one 
noble family that all the offspring should be in serpent form, 
or at least have a serpent's head ; but a bath in water turned 
them into human shape. For elves and water nymphs who 
have entered into connections with men in the form of women, 
bathing in water is equally necessary for resuming their 
previous shape, as appears from an ancient version of the 
story of Melusina: Gervasius, ed. Liebrecht, p. 4 f, and Vin- 
centius Be^lovacensis, Speculum Naturale, 2,127 (from He- 
linandus), cited by Liebrecht, at p. 66. 

A lad who had been changed into an ass by a couple of 
witches recovers his shape merely by jumping into water and 
rolling about in it : William of Malmesbury's Kings of 
England, c. 10, cited by Vincent of Beauvais, Speculum 
Naturale, iii, 109 ; Diintzer, Liebrecht's Dunlop, p. 538. Sim 
ple illusions of magic, such as clods and wisps made to 
appear swine to our eyes, are inevitably dissolved when the 
unrealities touch water. Liebrecht's Gervasius, p. 65. 

* Cf. ' Allison Gross.' 


39. TAM LIN 

Rymer, A, C ; in B, and all copies of Thomas 
of Erceldoune, her palfrey is dapple gray. 
Tarn Lin, A 28, B 27, etc., is distinguished 
from all the rest of his " court " by being thus 
mounted ; all the other horses are black or 

Tarn Lane was taken by the fairies, accord 
ing to G 26, 27, while sleeping under an apple- 
tree. In Sir Orfeo (ed. Zielke, v. 68) it was 
the queen's sleeping under an ympe-tree that 
led to her being carried off by the fairy king, 
and the ympe-tree we may suppose to be some 
kind of fruit tree, if not exclusively the apple. 
Thomas of Erceldoune is lying under a semely 
[derne, cumly] tree, when he sees the fairy 
queen. The derivation of that poem from 
Ogier le Danois shows that this must have 
been an apple-tree. Special trees are consid 
ered in Greece dangerous to lie under in sum 
mer and at noon, as exposing one to be 
taken by the nereids or fairies, especially 
plane, poplar, fig, nut, and St John's bread : 
Schmidt, Volksleben der Neugriechen, p. 119. 
The elder and the linden are favorites of the 
elves in Denmark. 

The rencounter at the beginning between 
Tarn Lin and Janet (in the wood, D, F, G) 
is repeated between Hind Etin [Young Akin] 
and Margaret in ' Hind Etin,' further on. 
Some Slavic ballads open in a similar way, 
but there is nothing noteworthy in that : see 
p. 41. " First they did call me Jack," etc., 
D 9, is a commonplace of frequent occur 
rence : see, e. g., ' The Knight and Shepherd's 

Some humorous verses, excellent in their 
' way, about one Tarn o Lin are very well 
known : as Tarn o the Linn, Chambers, Scot 
tish Songs, p. 455, Popular Rhymes of Scot 
land, p. 33, ed. 1870 ; Sharpe's Ballads, new 
ed., p. 44, p. 137, No XVI ; Tommy Linn, 

North Country Chorister, ed. Ritson, p. 8 ; 
Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery 
Tales, p. 271, ed. 1849 ; Thomas o Linn, Kin- 
loch MSS, III, 45, V, 81; Tarn o Lin, Camp 
bell MSS., II, 107. (Miss Joanna Baillie tried 
her hand at an imitation, but the jocosity of 
the real thing is not feminine.) A fool sings 
this stanza from such a song in Wager's com 
edy, 'The longer thou livest, the more fool 
thou art,' put at about 1568 ; see Furnivall, 
Captain Cox, his Ballads and Books, p. cxxvii : 

Tom a Lin and his wife, and his wiues mother, 
They went ouer a bridge all three together ; 
The bridge was broken, and they fell in : 
' The deuil go with all ! ' quoth Tom a Lin. 

Mr Halliwell-Phillips (as above) says that 
" an immense variety of songs and catches re 
lating to Tommy Linn are known throughout 
the country." Brian o Lynn seems to be pop 
ular in Ireland : Lover's Legends and Stories 
of Ireland, p. 260 f. There is no connection 
between the song and the ballad beyond the 
name : the song is no parody, no burlesque, of 
the ballad, as it has been called. 

" Carterhaugh is a plain at the confluence of 
the Ettrick with the Yarrow, scarcely an Eng 
lish mile above the town of Selkirk, and on 
this plain they show two or three rings on the 
ground, where, they say, the stands of milk 
and water stood, and upon which grass never 
grows." Glenriddell MS. 

Translated, after Scott, by Schubart, p. 139, 
and Busching's Wochentliche Nachrichten, I, 
247 ; by Arndt, Bliitenlese, p. 212 ; after Ay- 
toun, I, 7, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische 
Volkslieder, No 8 ; by Knortz, Schottische 
Balladen, No 17, apparently after Aytoun and 
Allinghara. The Danish ' Nattergalen ' is 
translated by Prior, III, 118, No 116. 

Johnson's Museum, p. 423, No 411. Communicated by 
Robert Burns. 

1 O I FORBID you, maidens a', 

That wear gowd on your hair, 

To come or gae by Carterhaugh, 
For young Tarn Lin is there. 

2 There 's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh 

But they leave him a wad, 
Either their rings, or green mantles, 
Or else their maidenhead. 

39. TAM LIN 


3 Janet has kilted her green kirtle 

A little aboon her knee, 
And she has broded her yellow hair 

A little aboon her bree, 
And she 's awa to Carterhaugh, 

As fast as she can hie. 

4 When she came to Carterhaugh 

Tarn Lin was at the well, 
And there she fand his steed standing, 
But away was himsel. 

5 She had na pu'd a double rose, 

A rose but only twa, 
Till up then started young Tarn Lin, 
Says, Lady, thou 's pu nae mae. 

6 Why pu's thou the rose, Janet, 

And why breaks thou the wand ? 
Or why comes thou to Carterhaugh 
Withoutten my command ? 

7 ' Carterhaugh, it is my ain, 

My daddie gave it me ; 
I '11 come and gang by Carterhaugh, 
And ask nae leave at thee.' 

8 Janet has kilted her green kirtle 

A little aboon her knee, 
And she has snooded her yellow hair 

A little aboon her bree, 
And she is to her father's ha, 

As fast as she can hie. 

9 Four and twenty ladies fair 

Were playing at the ba, 
And out then cam the fair Janet, 
Ance the flower amang them a'. 

10 Four and twenty ladies fair 

Were playing at the chess, 
And out then cam the fair Janet, 
As green as onie glass. 

11 Out then spak an auld grey knight, 

Lay oer the castle wa, 
And says, Alas, fair Janet, for thee 
But we '11 be blamed a'. 

12 ' Haud your tongue, ye auld fac'd knight, 

Some ill death may ye die ! 

Father my bairn on whom I will, 
I '11 father nane on thee.' 

13 Out then spak her father dear, 

And he spak meek and mild ; 
' And ever alas, sweet Janet,' he says, 
' I think thou gaes wi child.' 

14 ' If that I gae wi child, father, 

Mysel maun bear the blame ; 
There 's neer a laird about your ha 
Shall get the bairn's name. 

15 ' If my love were an earthly knight, 

As he 's an elfin grey, 
I wad na gie my ain true-love 
For nae lord that ye hae. 

16 ' The steed that my true-love rides on 

Is lighter than the wind; 
Wi siller he is shod before, 
Wi burning gowd behind.' 

17 Janet has kilted her green kirtle 

A little aboon her knee, 
And she has snooded her yellow hair 

A little aboon her bree, 
And she 's awa to Carterhaugh, 

As fast as she can hie. 

18 When she cam to Carterhaugh, 

Tarn Lin was at the well, 
And there she fand his steed standing, 
But away was himsel. 

19 She had na pu'd a double rose, 

A rose but only twa, 
Till up then started young Tarn Lin, 
Says Lady, thou pu's nae mae. 

20 Why pu's thou the rose, Janet, 

Amang the groves sae green, 
And a' to kill the bonie babe 
That we gat us between ? 

21 ' O tell me, tell me, Tarn Lin,' she 

' For 's sake that died on tree, 
If eer ye was in holy chapel, 
Or Christendom did see ? ' 

22 ' Roxbrugh he was my grandfather, 

Took me with him to bide, 


39. TAM LIN 

And ance it fell upon a day 
That \v;u> did me betide. 

23 ' And ance it fell upon a day, 

A cauld day and a snell, 
When we were frae the hunting come, 

That frae my horse I fell ; 
The Queen o Fairies she caught me, 

In yon green hill to dwell. 

24 ' And pleasant is the fairy land, 

But, an eerie tale to tell, 
Ay at the end of seven years 

We pay a tiend to hell ; 
I am sae fair and f u o flesh, 

I 'm f eard it be mysel. 

25 ' But the night is Halloween, lady, 

The morn is Hallowday; 
Then win me, win me, an ye will, 
For weel I wat ye may. 

26 ' Just at the mirk and midnight hour 

The fairy fplk will ride, 
And they that wad their true-love win, 
At Miles Cross they maun bide.' 

27 ' But how shall I thee ken, Tarn Lin, 

Or how my true-love know, 
Amang sae mony unco knights 
The like I never saw ? ' 

28 ' O first let pass the black, lady, 

And syne let pass the brown, 
But quickly run to the milk-white steed, 
Pu ye his rider down. 

29 ' For 1 11 ride on the milk-white steed, 

And ay nearest the town ; 
Because I was an earthly knight 
They gie me that renown. 

30 ' My right hand will be glovd, lady, 

My left hand will be bare, 
Cockt up shall my bonnet be, 

And kaimd down shall my hair, 
And thae 's the takens I gie thee, 

Nae doubt I will be there. 

31 ' They '11 turn me in your arms, lady, 

Into an esk and adder ; 
But hold me fast, and fear me not, 
I am your bairn's father. 

32 ' They '11 turn me to a bear sae grim, 

And then a lion bold ; 
But hold me fast, and fear me not, 
As ye shall love your child. 

33 ' Again they '11 turn me in your arms 

To a red het gaud of aim ; 
But hold me fast, and fear me not, 
1 11 do to you nae harm. 

34 ' And last they '11 turn me in your arms 

Into the burning gleed ; 
Then throw me into well water, 

throw me in wi speed. 

35 ' And then I '11 be your ain true-love, 

1 '11 turn a naked knight ; 

Then cover me wi your green mantle, 
And cover me out o sight.' 

36 Gloomy, gloomy was the night, 

And eerie was the way, 
As fair Jenny in her green mantle 
To Miles Cross she did gae. 

37 About the middle o the night 

She heard the bridles ring ; 
This lady was as glad at that 
As any earthly thing. 

38 First she let the black pass by, 

And syne she let the brown ; 
But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed, 
And pu'd the rider down. 

39 Sae weel she minded whae he did say, 

And young Tarn Lin did win ; 
Syne coverd him wi her green mantle, 
As blythe 's a bird in spring. 

40 Out then spak the Queen o Fairies, 

Out of a bush o broom : 
1 Them that has gotten young Tarn Lin 
Has gotten a stately groom.' 

41 Out then spak the Queen o Fairies, 

And an angry woman was she : 
' Shame betide her ill-far'd face, 

And an ill death may she die, 
For she 's taen awa the boniest knight 

In a' my companie. 



42 ' But had I kend, Tarn Lin,' she says, 
' What now this night I see, 

I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een, 
And put in twa een o tree.' 


Glenriddell's MSS, vol. xi, No 17. 

1 I FORBID ye, maidens a', 

That wear goud on your gear, 

To come and gae by Carterhaugh, 

For young Tom Line is there. 

2 There 's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh 

But they leave him a wad. 
Either their things or green mantles, 
Or else their maidenhead. 

3 But Janet has kilted her green kirtle 

A little above her knee, 
And she has broded her yellow hair 

A little above her bree, 
And she has gaen for Carterhaugh, 

As fast as she can hie. 

4 When she came to Carterhaugh 

Tom Line was at the well, 
And there she fand his steed standing, 
But away was himsell. 

5 She hadna pu'd a double rose, 
-^ A rose but only twae, 

Till up then started young Tom Line, 
Says, Lady, thou 's pu nae mae. 

6 Why pu's thou the rose, Janet ? 

Why breaks thou the wand ? 
Why comest thou to Carterhaugh 
Withouthen my command ? 

7 ' Fair Carterhaugh it is my ain, 

My daddy gave it me ; 
I '11 come and gae by Carterhaugh, 
And ask nae leave at thee.' 

8 Janet has kilted her green kirtle 

A little aboon her knee, 
And she has snooded her yellow hair 

A little aboon her bree, 
And she is on to her father's ha, 
As fast as she can hie. 

9 Four and twenty ladies fair 

Were playing at the ba, 
And out then came fair Janet, 
The flowr amang them a'. 

10 Four and twenty ladies fair 

Were playing at the chess, 
Out then came fair Janet, 
As green as ony glass. 

11 Out spak an auld grey-headed knight, 

Lay owre the castle wa, 
And says, Alas, fair Janet, 
For thee we '11 be blam'd a'. 

12 ' Had your tongue, you auld grey knight, 

Some ill dead may ye die ! 
Father my bairn on whom I will, 
I '11 father nane on thee.' 

13 Out then spak her father dear, 

He spak baith thick and milde ; 
' And ever alas, sweet Janet,' he says, 
' I think ye gae wi childe.' 

14 ' If that I gae wi child, father, 

Mysell bears a' the blame ; 
There 's not a laird about your ha 
Shall get the bairnie's name. 

15 ' If my lord were an earthly knight, 

As he 's an elfish grey, 
I wad na gie my ain true-love 
For nae lord that ye hae.' 

16 Janet has kilted her green kirtle 

A little aboon her knee, 
And she has snooded her yellow hair 

A little aboon her bree, 
And she 's away to Carterhaugh, 

As fast as she can hie. 

17 When she came to Carterhaugh, 

Tom Line was at the well, 
And there she faund his steed standing, 
But away was himsell. 

18 She hadna pu'd a double rose, 

A rose but only twae, 


39. TAM LIN 

Till up then started young Tom Line, 
Says, Lady, thou 's pu na mae. 

19 Why pu's thou the rose, Janet, 

Out OWT yon groves sae green, 
And a' to kill your bonny babe, 
That we gat us between ? 

20 ' tell me, tell me, Tom,' she says, 

' For 's sake who died on tree, 
If eer ye were in holy chapel, 
Or Christendom did see.' 

21 ' Roxburgh he was my grandfather, 

Took me with him to bide, 
And ance it fell upon a day 
That wae did me betide. 

22 ' Ance it fell upon a day, 

A cauld day and a snell, 
When we were frae the hunting come, 
That from my horse I fell. 

23 ' The Queen of Fairies she came by, 

Took me wi her to dwell, 
Evn where she has a pleasant land 

For those that in it dwell, 
But at the end o seven years, 

They pay their teind to hell. 

24 ' The night it is gude Halloween, 

The fairie folk do ride, 
And they that wad their true-love win, 
At Miles Cross they maun bide.' 

25 ' But how shall I thee ken, Thomas, 

Or how shall I thee knaw, 
Amang a pack o uncouth knights 
The like I never saw ? ' 

26 ' The first company that passes by, 

Say na, and let them gae ; 
The next company that passes by, 

Say na, and do right sae ; 
The third company that passes by, 

Then I '11 be ane o thae. 

27 ' Some ride upon a black, lady, 

And some ride on a brown, 
But I ride on a milk-white steed, 

And ay nearest the town : 
Because I was an earthly knight 

They gae me that renown. 

28 ' My right hand will be glovd, lady, 

My left hand will be bare, 
And thae 's the tokens I gie thee, 
Nae doubt I will be there. 

29 'Then hie thee to the milk-white steed, 

And pu me quickly down, 
Cast thy green kirtle owr me, 
And keep me frae the rain. 

30 ' They '11 turn me in thy arms, lady, 

An adder and a snake ; 
But hold me fast, let me na gae, 
To be your warldly mate. 

31 ' They '11 turn me in your arms, lady, 

A grey greyhound to girn ; 
But hald me fast, let me na gae, 
The father o your bairn. 

32 ' They '11 turn me in your arms, lady, 

A red het gad o iron ; 
Then baud me fast, and be na feard, 
I '11 do to you nae harm. 

33 ' They '11 turn me in your arms, lady, 

A mother-naked man ; 
Cast your green kirtle owr me, 
To keep me frae the rain. 

34 ' First dip me in a stand o milk, 

And then a stand o water ; 
Haud me fast, let me na gae, 
I '11 be your bairnie's father.' 

35 Janet has kilted her green kirtle 

A little aboon her knee, 
And she has snooded her yellow hair 

A little aboon her bree, 
And she is on to Miles Cross, 

As fast as she can hie. 

36 The first company that passd by, 

She said na, and let them gae ; 
The next company that passed by, 

She said na, and did right sae ; 
The third company that passed by, 

Then he was ane o thae. 

37 She hied her to the milk-white steed, 

And pu'd him quickly down ; 
She cast her green kirtle owr him, 
To keep him frae the rain ; 

39. TAM LIN 


Then she did all was orderd her, 
And sae recoverd him. 

38 Then out then spak the Queen o Fairies, 

Out o a bush o broom : 
' They that hae gotten young Tom Line 
Hae got a stately groom.' 

39 Out than spak the Queen o Fairies, 

Out o a bush of rye : 
' Them that has gotten young Tom Line 
Has the best knight in my company. 


Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 300. 


1 SHE 's prickt hersell and prind hersell, 

By the ae light o the moon, 
And she 's awa to Kertonha, 
As fast as she can gang. 

2 ' What gars ye pu the rose, Jennet ? 

What gars ye break the tree ? 
What gars you gang to Kertonha 
Without the leave of me ? ' 

3 ' Yes, I will pu the rose, Thomas, 

And I will break the tree ; 
For Kertonha shoud be my ain, 
Nor ask I leave of thee.' 

4 ' Full pleasant is the fairy land, 

And happy there to dwell ; 
I am a fairy, lyth and limb, 
Fair maiden, view me well. 

5 ' pleasant is the fairy land, 

How happy there to dwell ! 

But ay at every seven years end 

We 're a' dung down to hell. 

40 ' Had I kend, Thomas,' she says, 

' A lady wad hae borrowd thee, 
I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een, 
Put in twa een o tree. 

41 'Had I but kend, Thomas,' she says, 

'Before I came frae hame, 
I had taen out that heart o flesh, 
Put in a heart o stane.' 

6 ' The morn is good Halloween, 

And our court a' will ride ; 

If ony maiden wins her man, 

Then she may be his bride. 

7 ' But first ye '11 let the black gae by, 

And then ye '11 let the brown ; 
Then I '11 ride on a milk-white steed, 
You '11 pu me to the ground. 

8 ' And first, I '11 grow into your arms 

An esk but and an edder ; 

Had me fast, let me not gang, 

I '11 be your bairn's father. 

9 ' Next, I '11 grow into your arms 

A toad but and an eel ; 
Had me fast, let me not gang, 
If you do love me leel. 

10 ' Last, I '11 grow into your arms 

A dove but and a swan ; 
Then, maiden fair, you '11 let me go, 
I '11 be a perfect man.' 

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 532, a North Country version. 
b. Maidment's New Book of Old Ballads, 1844, p. 54, from 
the recitation of an old woman, c. Pitcairn's MSS, 1817- 
25, III, p. 67 : " procured by David Webster, Bookseller, 
from tradition." 

1 AijL you ladies young and gay, 
Who are so sweet and fair, 

Do not go into Chaster's wood, 
For Tomlin will be there. 

2 Fair Margret sat in her bonny bower, 

Sewing her silken seam, 
And wished to be in Chaster's wood, 
Among the leaves so green. 


39. TAM LIN 

3 She let her seam fall to her foot, 

The needle to her toe, 
And she has gone to Chapter's wood, 
As fast as she could go. 

4 When she began to pull the flowers, 

She pulld both red and green ; 
Then by did come, and by did go, 
Said, Fair maid, let aleene. 

5 * O why pluck you the flowers, lady, 

Or why climb you the tree ? 
Or why come ye to Chaster's wood 
Without the leave of me ? ' 

6 ' O I will pull the flowers,' she said, 

' Or I will break the tree, 
For Chaster's wood it is my own, 
I '11 no ask leave at thee.' 

7 He took her by the milk-white hand, 

And by the grass green sleeve, 
And laid her low down on the flowers, 
At her he a"sked no leave. 

8 The lady blushed, and sourly frowned, 

And she did think great shame ; 
Says, ' If you are a gentleman, 
You will tell me your name.' 

9 ' First they did call me Jack,' he said, 

' And then they called me John, 
But since I lived in the fairy court 
Tomlin has always been my name. 

10 ' So do not pluck that flower, lady, 

That has these pimples gray ; 
They would destroy the bonny babe 
That we 've got in our play.' 

11 ' O tell me, Tomlin,' she said, 

' And tell it to me soon, 
Was you ever at good church-door, 
Or got you christendoom ? ' 

12 ' O I have been at good church-door, 

And aff her yetts within ; 
I was the Laird of Foulis's son, 
The heir of all this land. 

13 ' But it fell once upon a day, 

As hunting I did ride, 

As I rode east and west yon hill 
There woe did me betide. 

14 ' O drowsy, drowsy as 1 was ! 

Dead sleep upon me fell ; 
The Queen of Fairies she was there, 
And took me to hersell. 

15 ' The Elfins is a pretty place, 

In, which I love to dwell, 
But yet at every seven years' end 

The last here goes to hell ; 
And as I am ane o flesh and blood, 

I fear the next be mysell. 

16 ' The morn at even is Halloween ; 

Our fairy court will ride, 
Throw England and Scotland both, 

Throw al the world wide ; 
And if ye would me borrow, 

At Rides Cross ye may bide. 

17 ' You may go into the Miles Moss, 

Between twelve hours and one ; 
Take holy water in your hand, 
And cast a compass round. 

18 ' The first court that comes along, 

You '11 let them all pass by ; 
The next court that comes along, 
Salute them reverently. 

19 ' The next court that comes along 

Is clad in robes of green, 
And it 's the head court of them all, 
For in it rides the queen. 

20 ' And I upon a milk-white steed, 

With a gold star in my crown ; 
Because I am an earthly man 

I 'm next to the queen in renown. 

21 ' Then seize upon me with a spring, 

Then to the ground I '11 fa, 
And then you '11 hear a rueful cry 
That Tomlin is awa. 

22 ' Then I '11 grow in your arms two 

Like to a savage wild ; 
But hold me fast, let me not go, 
1 'm father of your child. 

39. TAM LIN 


23 ' I '11 grow into your arms two 

Like an adder or a snake ; 

But hold me fast, let me not go, 

I '11 be your earthly maick. 

24 ' I '11 grow into your arms two 

Like iron in strong fire ; 
But hold me fast, let me not go, 
Then you '11 have your desire.' 

25 She rid down to Miles Cross, 

Between twelve hours and one, 
Took holy water in her hand, 
And cast a compass round. 

26 The first court that came along, 

She let them all pass hy ; 
The next court that came along 
Saluted reverently. 

27 The next court that came along 

Were clad in robes of green, 
When Tomlin, on a milk-white steed, 
She saw ride with the queen. 

28 She seized him in her arms two, 

He to the ground did fa, 
And then she heard a ruefuU cry 
' Tomlin is now awa.' 

29 He grew into her arms two 

Like to a savage wild ; 
She held him fast, let him not go, 
The father of her child. 

30 He grew into her arms two 

Like an adder or a snake ; 
She held him fast, let him not go, 
He was her earthly maick. 

31 He grew into her arms two 

Like iron in hot fire ; 
She held him fast, let him not go, 
He was her heart's desire. 

32 Then sounded out throw elphin court, 

With a loud shout and a cry, 
That the pretty maid of Chaster's wood 
That day had caught her prey. 

33 ' stay, Tomlin,' cried Elphin Queen, 

' Till I pay you your fee ; ' 
' His father has lands and rents enough, 
He wants no fee from thee.' 

34 ' O had I known at early morn 

Tomlin would from me gone, 
I would have taken out his heart of flesh 
Put in a heart of stone.' 


Motherwell's Note-book, p. 13. 

1 LADY MARGARET is over gravel green, 

And over gravel grey, 
And she 's awa to Charteris ha, 
Lang lang three hour or day. 

2 She hadna pu'd a flower, a flower, 

A flower but only ane, 
Till up and started young Tamlin, 
Says, Lady, let alane. 

3 She hadna pu'd a flower, a flower, 

A flower but only twa, 
Till up and started young Tamlene, 
Atween her and the wa. 

4 ' How daur you pu my flower, madam ? 

How daur ye break my tree ? 
How daur ye come to Charter's ha, 
Without the leave of me ? ' 

5 ' Weel I may pu the rose,' she said, 

' But I daurna break the tree ; 
And Charter's ha is my father's, 
And I 'm his heir to be.' 

6 ' If Charteris ha be thy father's, 

I was ance as gude mysell ; 
But as I came in by Lady Kirk, 
And in by Lady Well, 

7 ' Deep and drowsy was the sleep 

On my poor body fell ; 
By came the Queen of Faery, 
Made me with her to dwell. 

8 ' But the morn at een is Halloween, 

Our fairy f oks a' do ride ; 
And she that will her true-love win, 
At Blackstock she must bide. 

9 ' First let by the black,' he said, 

' And syne let by the brown ; 


39. TAM LIN 

But when you see the milk-white steed, 
You '11 pull his rider down. 

10 ' You 11 pull him into thy arms, 

Let his bricht bridle fa, 
And he '11 fa low into your arms 
Like stone in castle's wa. 

11 ' They '11 first shape him into your arms 

An adder or a snake ; 
But hold him fast, let him not go, 
He '11 be your world's make. 

12 ' They '11 next shape him into your arms 

Like a wood black dog to bite ; 
Hold him fast, let him not go, 
For he '11 be your heart's delight. 

13 ' They '11 next shape [him] into your arms 

Like a red-het gaud o airn ; 
But hold him fast, let him not go, 
He 's the father o your bairn. 

14 ' They '11 next shape him into your arms 

Like the laidliest worm of Ind ; 
But hold him fast, let him not go, 
And cry aye " Young Tamlin." ' 

15 Lady Margaret first let by the black, 

And syne let by the brown, 
But when she saw the milk-white steed 
She pulled the rider down. 

16 She pulled him into her arms, 

Let his bright bridle fa', 

And he fell low into her arms, 

Like stone in castle's wa. 

17 They first shaped him into arms 

An adder or a snake ; 
But she held him fast, let him not go, 
For he 'd be her warld's make. 

18 They next shaped him into her arms 

Like a wood black dog to bite ; 

But she held him fast, let him not go, 

For he 'd be her heart's delight. 

19 They next shaped him into her arms 

Like a red-het gaud o aim ; 
But she held him fast, let him not go, 
He 'd be father o her bairn. 

20 They next shaped him into her arms 

Like the laidliest worm of Ind ; 

But she held him fast, let him not go, 

And cried aye ' Young Tamlin.' 

21 The Queen of Faery turned her horse about, 

Says, Adieu to thee, Tamlene ! 
For if I had kent what I ken this night, 

If I had kent it yestreen, 
I wad hae taen out thy heart o flesh, 

And put in a heart o stane. 

Motherwell's MS., p. 64, from the recitation of widow 
McCormick, February, 1825. 

1 SHE 's taen her petticoat by the band, 

Her mantle owre her arm, 
And she 's awa to Chester wood, 
As fast as she could run. 

2 She scarsely pulled a rose, a rose, 

She scarse pulled two or three, 
Till up there starts Thomas 
On the Lady Margaret's knee. 

3 She 's taen her petticofat by the band, 

Her mantle owre her arm, 
And Lady Margaret's gane hame agen, 
As fast as she could run. 

4 Up starts Lady Margaret's sister, 

An angry woman was she : 
'If there ever was a woman wi child, 
Margaret, you are wi ! ' 

6 Up starts Lady Margaret's mother, 

An angry woman was she : 
' There grows ane herb in yon kirk-yard 
That will scathe the babe away.' 

39. TIM LIN 


6 She took her petticoats by the band, 

Her mantle owre her arm, 
And she's gane to yon kirk-yard 
As fast as she could run. 

7 She scarcely pulled an herb, an herb, 

She scarse pulled two or three, 
Till up starts there Thomas 

Upon this Lady Margret's knee. 

8 ' How dare ye pull a rose ? ' he says, 

' How dare ye break the tree ? 
How dare ye pull this herb,' he says, 
' To scathe my babe away ? 

9 ' This night is Halloweve,' he said, 

' Our court is going to waste, 
And them that loves their true-love best 
At Chester bridge they '11 meet. 

10 * First let pass the black,' he says, 

' And then let pass the brown, 
But when ye meet the milk-white steed, 
Pull ye the rider down. 

11 ' They '11 turn me to an eagle,' he says, 

1 And then into an ass ; 
Come, hold me fast, and fear me not, 
The man that you love best. 

12 They '11 turn me to a flash of fire, 

And then to a naked man ; 
Come, wrap you your mantle me about, 
And then you '11 have me won.' 

13 She took her petticoats by the band, 

Her mantle owre her arm, 
And she 's awa to Chester bridge, 
As fast as she could run. 

14 And first she did let pass the black, 

And then let pass the brown, 
But when she met the milk-white steed, 
She pulled the rider down. 

15 They turned him in her arms an eagle, 

And then into an ass ; 
But she held him fast, and feared him not, 
The man that she loved best. 

16 They turned him into a flash of fire, 

And then into a naked man ; 
But she wrapped her mantle him about, 
And then she had him won. 

17 ' wae be to ye, Lady Margaret, 

And an ill death may you die, 
For you 've robbed me of the bravest knight 
That eer rode in our company.' 


Buchan's MSS, I, 8 ; Motherwell's MS., p. 595. 

1 TAKE warning, a' ye ladies fair, 

That wear gowd on your hair, 
Come never unto Charter's woods, 
For Tam-a-line he 's there. 

2 Even about that knight's middle 

O' siller bells are nine ; 
Nae ane comes to Charter wood, 
And a maid returns again. 

3 Lady Margaret sits in her bower door, 

Sewing at her silken seam ; 
And she langd to gang to Charter woods, 
To pou the roses green. 

4 She hadna poud a rose, a rose, 

Nor broken a branch but ane, 
Till by it came him true Tam-a-line, 
Says, Ladye, lat alane. 

5 why pou ye the rose, the rose ? 

Or why brake ye the tree ? 
Or why come ye to Charter woods, 
Without leave askd of me ? 

6 ' I will pou the rose, the rose, 

And I will brake the tree ; 
Charter woods are a' my ain, 
I '11 ask nae leave o thee.' 

7 He 's taen her by the milk-white hand, 

And by the grass-green sleeve, 
And laid her low on gude green wood, 
At her he spierd nae leave. 

8 When he had got his wills of her, 

His wills as he had taen, 
He 's taen her by the middle sma, 
Set her to feet again. 

9 She turnd her right and round about, 

To spier her true-love's name, 


39. TAM LIN 

But naething heard she, nor naething saw, 
As a' the woods grew dim. 

10 Seven days she tarried there, 

Saw neither sun nor meen ; 
At length, by a sma glimmering light, 
Came thro the wood her lane. 

11 When she came to her father's court, 

As fine as ony queen ; 

But when eight months were past and gane, 
Got on the gown o' green. 

12 Then out it speaks an eldren knight, 

As he stood at the yett : 
' Our king's daughter, she gaes wi bairn, 
And we '11 get a' the wyte.' 

13 ' had your tongue, ye eldren man, 

And bring me not to shame ; 

Although that I do gang wi bairn, 

Yese naeways get the blame. 

14 ' Were my lo^e but an earthly man, 

As he 's an elfin knight, 
I woudna gie my ain true love 
For a' that 's in my sight.' 

15 Then out it speaks her brither dear, 

He meant to do her harm : 
' There is an herb in Charter wood 
Will twine you an the bairn.' 

16 She 's taen her mantle her about, 

Her coffer by the band, 
And she is on to Charter wood, 
As fast as she coud gang. 

17 She hadna poud a rose, a rose, 

Nor braken a branch but ane, 
Till by it came him Tam-a-Line, 
Says, Ladye, lat alane. 

18 why pou ye the pile, Margaret, 

The pile o the gravil green, 
For to destroy the bonny bairn 
That we got us between ? 

19 O why pou ye the pile, Margaret, 

The pile o the gravil gray, 

For to destroy the bonny bairn 

That we got in our play ? 

20 For if it be a knave-bairn, 

He 's heir o a' my land ; 
But if it be a lass-bairn, 

In red gowd she shall gang. 

21 ' If my luve were an earthly man, 

As he 's an elfin rae, 
I coud gang bound, love, for your sake, 
A twalmonth and a day.' 

22 ' Indeed your love 's an earthly man, 

The same as well as thee, 
And lang I 've haunted Charter woods, 
A' for your fair bodie.' 

23 ' tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line, 

tell, an tell me true, 

Tell me this night, an mak nae lie, 
What pedigree are you ? ' 

24 ' O I hae been at gude church-door, 

An I 've got Christendom ; 
I 'm the Earl o' Forbes' eldest son, 
An heir ower a' his land. 

25 ' When I was young, o three years old, 

Muckle was made o me ; 
My step-mother put on my claithes, 
An ill, ill sained she me. 

26 ' Ae fatal morning I went out, 

Dreading nae injury, 
And thinking lang, fell soun asleep, 
Beneath an apple tree. 

27 ' Then by it came the Elfin Queen, 

And laid her hand on me ; 
And from that time since ever I mind, 

1 've been in her companie. 

28 ' O Elfin it 's a bonny place, 

In it fain woud I dwell ; 
But ay at ilka seven years' end 

They pay a tiend to hell, 
And I 'm sae fou o flesh an blude, 

I 'm sair feard for mysell.' 

29 ' O tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line, 

O tell, an tell me true ; 
Tell me this night, an mak nae lie, 
What way I '11 borrow you ? ' 

39. TAM LIN 


30 ' The morn is Halloweven night, 

The elfin court will ride, 
Through England, and thro a' Scotland, 
And through the world wide. 

31 ' they begin at sky setting, 

Rides a' the evening tide ; 
And she that will her true-love borrow, 
[At] Miles-corse will him bide. 

32 ' Ye '11 do you down to Miles-corse, 

Between twall hours and ane, 

And full your hands o holy water, 

And cast your compass roun. 

33 ' Then the first an court that comes you till 

Is published king and queen ; 
The next an court that comes you till, 
It is maidens mony ane. 

34 ' The next an court that comes you till 

Is footmen, grooms and squires ; 
The next an court that comes you till 
Is knights, and I '11 be there. 

35 1 1 Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed, 

A goud star on my crown ; 
Because I was an earthly knight, 
Got that for a renown. 

36 ' Ami out at my steed's right nostril, 

He '11 breathe a fiery flame ; 
Ye '11 loot you low, and sain yoursel, 
And ye '11 be busy then. 

37 ' Ye '11 take my horse then by the head, 

And lat the bridal fa ; 
The Queen o' Elfin she '11 cry out, 
True Tam-a-Line 's awa. 

38 ' Then I '11 appear in your arms 

Like the wolf that neer woud tame ; 
Ye '11 had me fast, lat me not go, 
Case we neer meet again. 

39 ' Then I. '11 appear in your arms 

Like the fire that burns sae bauld ; 
Ye '11 had me fast, lat me not go, 
I '11 be as iron cauld. 

40 ' Then I '11 appear in your arms 

Like the adder an the snake ; 

Ye '11 had me fast, lat me not go, 
I am your warld's make. 

41 ' Then I '11 appear in your arms 

Like to the deer sae wild; 
Ye '11 had me fast, lat me not go, 
And I '11 father your child. 

42 ' And I '11 appear in your arms 

Like to a silken string ; 
Ye '11 had me fast, lat me not go, 
Till ye see the fair morning. 

43 ' And I '11 appear in your arms 

Like to a naked man ; 
Ye '11 had me fast, lat me not go, 
And wi you I '11 gae hame.' 

44 Then she has done her to Miles-corse, 

Between twall hours an ane, 
And filled her hands o holy water, 
And kiest her compass roun. 

45 The first an court that came her till 

Was published king and queen ; 
The niest an court that came her till 
Was maidens mony ane. 

46 The niest an court that came her till 

Was footmen, grooms and squires ; 
The niest an court that came her till 
Was knights, and he was there. 

47 True Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed, 

A gowd star on his crown ; 
Because he was an earthly man, 
Got that for a renown. 

48 And out at the steed's right nostril, 

He breathd a fiery flame ; 
She loots her low, an sains hersell, 
And she was busy then. 

49 She 's taen the horse then by the head, 

And loot the bridle fa ; 
The Queen o Elfin she cried out, 
' True Tam-a-Line 's awa.' 

50 ' Stay still, true Tam-a-Line,' she says, 

' Till I pay you your fee : ' 
' His father wants not lands nor rents, 
He '11 ask nae fee frae thee.' 


39. TAM LIN 

51 ' Gin I had kent yestreen, yestreen, 

What I ken weel the day, 
I shoud taen your fu fause heart, 
Gien you a heart o clay.' 

52 Then he appeared in her arms 

Like the wolf that neer woud tame ; 
She held him fast, let him not go, 
Case they neer meet again. 

53 Then he appeared in her arms 

Like the fire burning bauld ; 
She held him fast, let him not go, 
He was as iron cauld. 

54 And he appeared in her arms 

Like the adder an the snake ; 
She held him fast, let him not go, 
He was her warld's make. 

55 And he appeared in her arms 

Like to the deer sae wild ; 

She held 'him fast, let him not go, 
He 'a father o her child. 

56 And he appeared in her arms 

Like to a silken string ; 
She held him fast, let him not go, 
Till she saw fair morning. 

57 And he appeared in her arms 

Like to a naked man ; 
She held him fast, let him not go, 
And wi her he 's gane hame. 

58 These news hae reachd thro a' Scotland, 

And far ayont the Tay, 
That Lady Margaret, our king's daughter, 
That night had gaind her prey. 

59 She borrowed her love at mirk midnight, 

Bare her young son ere day, 
And though ye 'd search the warld wide, 
Ye '11 nae find sic a may. 

Campbell MSS, II, 129. 

1 I FORBID ye, maidens a', 

That wears gowd in your hair, 

To come or gang by Carterhaugh, 

For young Tarn Lane is there. 

2 I forbid ye, maidens a', 

That wears gowd in your green, 
To come or gang by Carterhaugh, 
For fear of young Tarn Lane. 

3 ' Go saddle for me the black,' says Janet, 

' Go saddle for me the brown, 
And I '11 away to Carterhaugh, 
And flower mysell the gown. 

4 ' Go saddle for me the brown,' says Janet, 

' Go saddle for me the black, 
And I '11 away to Carterhaugh, 
And flower mysel a hat.' 

Till up there startit young Tarn Lane, 
Just at bird Janet's knee. 

6 ' Why pullst thou the herb, Janet, 

And why breaks thou the tree ? 
Why put you back the bonny babe 
That 's between you and me ? ' 

7 ' If ray child was to an earthly man, 

As it is to a wild buck rae, 
I would wake him the length of the winter's 

And the lea lang simmer's day.' 

8 ' The night is Halloween, Janet, 

When our gude neighbours will ride, 
And them that would their true-love won 
At Blackning Cross maun bide. 

9 ' Many will the black ride by, 

And many will the brown, 
But I ride on a milk-white steed, 

And ride nearest the town : 
Because I was a christened knight 

They gie me that renown. 

5 She had not pulld a flowr, a flowr, 
A flower but only three, 

10 ' Many will the black ride by, 
But far mae will the brown ; 

39. TAM LIN 


But when ye see the milk-white stead, 
Grip fast and pull me down. 

11 ' Take me in yer arms, Janet, 

An ask, an adder lang ; 
The grip ye get ye maun haud fast, 
I '11 be father to your bairn. 

12 ' Take me in your arms, Janet, 

An adder and a snake ; 
The grip ye get ye maun haud fast, 
I '11 be your warld's make.' 

13 Up bespak the Queen of Fairies, 

She spak baith loud and high : 
' Had I kend the day at noon 

Tarn Lane had been won from me, 

14 ' I wad hae taen out his heart o flesh, 

Put in a heart o tree, 
That a' the maids o Middle Middle Mist 
Should neer hae taen Tarn Lane frae me.' 

15 Up bespack the Queen of Fairies, 

And she spak wi a loud yell : 
' Aye at every seven year's end 

We pay the kane to hell, 
And the koors they hae gane round about, 

And I fear it will be mysel.' 

a. Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 337, ed. 1833. 
b. II, 228, ed. 1802. 

1 ' O I FORBID ye, maidens a', 

That wear gowd on your hair, 
To come or gae by Carterhaugh, 
For young Tamlane is there. 

2 ' There 's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh 

But maun leave him a wad, 
Either gowd rings, or green mantles, 
Or else their maidenheid. 

3 ' Now gowd rings ye may buy, maidens, 

Green mantles ye may spin, 
But, gin ye lose your maidenheid, 
Ye '11 neer get that agen.' 

4 But up then spak her, fair Janet, 

The fairest o a' her kin : 
' I '11 cum and gang to Carterhaugh, 
And ask nae leave o him.' 

5 Janet has kilted her green kirtle 

A little abune her knee, 
And she has braided her yellow hair 
A little abune her bree. 

6 And when she came to Carterhaugh, 

She gaed beside the well, 
And there she fand his steed standing, 

But away was himsell. 

7 She hadna pu'd a red red rose, 

A rose but barely three, 
Till up and starts a wee wee man, 
At lady Janet's knee. 

8 Says, Why pu ye the rose, Janet ? 

What gars ye break the tree ? 
Or why come ye to Carterhaugh, 
Withouten leave o me ? 

9 Says, Carterhaugh it is mine ain, 

My daddie gave it me ; 
I '11 come and gang to Carterhaugh, 
And ask nae leave o thee. 

10 He 's taen her by the milk-white hand, 

Among the leaves sae green, 
And what they did I cannot tell, 
The green leaves were between. 

11 He 's taen her by the milk-white hand, 

Among the roses red, 
And what they did I cannot say, 
She neer returnd a maid. 

12 When she cam to her father's ha, 

She looked pale and wan ; 
They thought she 'd dreed some sair sickness, 
Or been with some leman. 

13 She didna comb her yellow hair 

Nor make meikle o her head, 
And ilka thing that lady took 
Was like to be her deid. 


39. TAM LIN 

14 It 's four and twenty ladies fair 

Were playing at the ba ; 
Janet, the wightest of them anes, 
Was faintest o them a'. 

15 Four and twenty ladies fair 

Were playing at the chess ; 
And out there came the fair Janet, 
As green as any grass. 

16 Out and spak an auld grey-headed knight, 

Lay oer the castle wa : 
' And ever, alas 1 for thee, Janet, 
But we '11 be blamed a' ! ' 

17 ' Now haud your tongue, ye auld grey knight, 

And an ill deid may ye die 1 
Father my bairn on whom I will, 
I '11 father nane on thee.' 

18 Out then spak her father dear, 

And he spak meik and mild : 
' And ever, alas ! my sweet Janet, 
I fear ye gae with child.' 

19 ' And if I be with child, father, 

Mysell maun bear the blame ; 
There 's neer a knight about your ha 
Shall hae the bairnie's name. 

20 ' And if I be with child, father, 

'T will prove a wondrous birth, 
For weel I swear I 'm not wi bairn 
To any man on earth. 

21 ' If my love were an earthly knight, 

As he 's an elfin grey, 
I wadna gie my ain true love 
For nae lord that ye hae.' 

22 She prinkd hersell and prinnd hersell, 

By the ae light of the moon, 
And she 's away to Carterhaugh, 
To speak wi young Tamlane. 

23 And when she cam to Carterhaugh, 

She gaed beside the well, 
And there she saw the steed standing, 
But away was himsell. 

24 She hadna pu'd a double rose, 

A rose but only twae, 

When up and started young Tamlane, 
Says, Lady, thou pu's nae mae. 

25 Why pu ye the rose, Janet, 

Within this garden grene, 
And a' to kill the bonny babe 
That we got us between ? 

26 ' The truth ye '11 tell to me, Tamlane, 

A word ye mauna lie ; 
Gin eer ye was in haly chapel, 
Or sained in Christentie ? ' 

27 The truth I '11 tell to thee, Janet, 

A word I winna lie ; 
A knight me got, and a lady me bore, 
As well as they did thee. 

28 ' Randolph, Earl Murray, was my sire, 

Dunbar, Earl March, is thine ; 
We loved when we were children small, 
Which yet you well may mind. 

29 ' When I was a boy just turnd of nine, 

My uncle sent for me, 
To hunt and hawk, and ride with him, 
And keep him companie. 

30 ' There came a witfd out of the north, 

A sharp wind and a snell, 
And a deep sleep came over me, 
And frae my horse I fell. 

31 ' The Queen of Fairies keppit me 

In yon green hill to dwell, 

And I 'm a fairy, lyth and limb, 

Fair ladye, view me well. 

32 ' Then would I never 1 tire, Janet, 

In Elfish land to dwell, 
But aye, at every seven years, 

They pay the teind to hell ; 
And I am sae fat and fair of flesh, 

I fear 't will be mysell. 

33 ' This night is Halloween, Janet, 

The morn is Hallowday, 
And gin ye dare your true love win, 
Ye hae nae time to stay. 

34 ' The night it is good Halloween, 

When fairy folk will ride, 

39. TAM LIN 


And they that wad their true-love win, 
At Miles Cross they maun bide.' 

35 But how shall I thee ken, Tamlane ? 

Or how shall I thee knaw, 
Amang so many unearthly knights, 
The like I never saw ? ' 

36 ' The first company that passes by, 

Say na, and let them gae ; 
The next company that passes by, 

Say na, and do right sae ; 
The third company that passes by, 

Then I '11 be ane o thae. 

37 ' First let pass the black, Janet, 

And syne let pass the brown, 
But grip ye to the milk-white steed, 
And pu the rider down. 

38 ' For I ride on the milk-white steed, 

And aye nearest the town; 
Because I was a christend knight, 
They gave me that renown. 

39 ' My right hand will be gloved, Janet, 

My left hand will be bare ; 

And these the tokens I gie thee, 

Nae doubt I will be there. 

40 ' They '11 turn me in your arms, Janet, 

An adder and a snake ; 
But had me fast, let me not pass, 
Gin ye wad be my maik. 

41 ' They '11 turn me in your arms, Janet, 

An adder and an ask ; 
They '11 turn me in your arms, Janet, 
A bale that burns fast. 

42 ' They '11 turn me in your arms, Janet, 

A red-hot gad o airn ; 
But haud me fast, let me not pass, 
For I '11 do you no harm. 

43 ' First dip me in a stand o milk, 

And then in a stand o water ; 
But had me fast, let me not pass, 
I '11 be your bairn's father. 

44 ' And next they '11 shape me in your arms 

A tod but and an eel ; 

But had me fast, nor let me gang, 
As you do love me weel. 

45 ' They '11 shape .me in your arms, Janet, 

A dove but and a swan, 
And last they '11 shape me in your arms 

A mother-naked man ; 
Cast your green mantle over me, 

I '11 be myself again.' 

46 Gloomy, gloomy, was the night, 

And eiry was the way, 
As fair Janet, in her green mantle, 
To Miles Cross she did gae. 

47 About the dead hour o the night 

She heard the bridles ring, 
And Janet was as glad o that 
As any earthly thing. 

48 And first gaed by the black black steed, 

And then gaed by the brown ; 
But fast she gript the milk-white steed, 
And pu'd the rider down. 

49 She pu'd him frae the milk-white steed, 

And loot the bridle fa, 
And up there raise an erlish cry, 
' He 's won amang us a' ! ' 

50 They shaped him in fair Janet's arms 

An esk but and an adder ; 
She held him fast in every shape, 
To be her bairn's father. 

51 They shaped him in her arms at last 

A mother-naked man, 
She wrapt him in her green mantle, 
And sae her true love wan. 

52 Up then spake the Queen o Fairies, 

Out o a bush o broom : 
' She that has borrowd young Tamlane 
Has gotten a stately groom.' 

53 Up then spake the Queen o Fairies, 

Out o a bush o rye : 
' She 's taen awa the bonniest knight 
In a' my cumpanie. 

54 ' But had I kennd, Tamlane,' she says, 

' A lady wad borrowd thee 


39. TAM LIN 

I wad taen out thy twa grey een, 
Put in twa een o tree. 

55 ' Had I but kennd, Tamlane,' she says, 

* Before ye came frae hame, 
I wad taen out your heart o flesh, 
Put in a heart o stane. 

56 ' Had I but had the wit yestreen 

That I hae coft the day, 
I 'd paid my kane seven times to hell 
Ere you 'd been won away.' 

A. Divided in the Museum into 45 \ four-Line 

stanzas, without heed to rhyme or reason, 
3 8 - 6 making a stanza with 4 1 ' 2 , etc. 
3 1 . has belted. 4 2 . Tom, elsewhere Tarn. 
17 4 . brie. 34 2 . burning lead. 

B. "An Old Song called Young Tom Line." 

Written in twenty-six stanzas of four [three, 

two~] long, or double, lines. 

19*. yon bonny babes. 

26 2 . and do right sae. 

26 4 . and let them gae. See 36. 

26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33 stand in MS. 

31, 26, 27, 32, 28, 29, 33, 30. 
D. b has 26 stanzas, c has 12. The first 12 
stanzas of a and b and the 12 of c, and 
again the first 22 stanzas of o, and b, are 
almost verbally the same, and a 23 = 
b 24. b has but 26 stanzas. 
15 stands 24 in MS. 
17 1 . Miles Cross : b, Moss. 
17 8 . the holy. 

b, is clad, 

6 4 . I '11 ask no. 
10*. gotten in. 
II 1 . to me. II 8 . at a. 
12 4 . his land. 15 8 . and through. 
16 5 . if that. 16 6 . Rides Cross, as in a. 
17 8 . Take holy. 20*. next the. 
After 23 : 

' I '11 grow into your arms two 
Like ice on frozen lake ; 

But hold me fast, let me not go, 
Or from your goupen break.' 

25. And it 's next night into Miles Moss 

Fair Margaret has gone, 
When lo she stands beside Rides 

Between twelve hours and one. 

26. There 's holy water in her hand, 

She casts a compass round, 



19 2 . So (?) clad : 
22 1 . twa. 25 1 . 

4 4 . let abeene. 

7 8 . her down. 




And presently a fairy band 
Comes riding oer the mound. 

c. I 8 , and always, Chester's wood. 
3 1 . the seam. 
4*. let alane. 

6 1 . will pluck. 6 4 . ask no. 
9 4 . has been. 
II 1 . me, Tom o Lin. 
12 4 . his land. 

18, 19, 20 are not written out. We are di 
rected to understand them to be " as in pre 
ceding stanzas, making the necessary gram 
matical changes." 

II 2 , 15 2 . ass, somebody's blunder for ask. 
21 2 . elfin gray, Motherwell, but see H, 7*. 
26 1 . Ay. 31 1 . began. 
58 2 . Motherwell : far 's the river Tay. 
58 4 . Motherwell: she gained. 
Motherwell, as usual, seems to have made 

some slight changes in copying. 
Scott's copy having been " prepared from a col 
lation of the printed copies," namely, those 
in Johnson's Museum and Herd's Scottish 
Songs, " with a very accurate one in Glen- 
riddell's MS., and with several recitals from 
tradition," what was not derived from tra 
dition, but from the Museum, GlenriddeU, 
and Herd, is printed in smaller type. 
a. 3, 20, not in b. *~ 

After 31 are omitted five stanzas of the copy 
obtained by Scott " from a gentleman re 
siding near Langholm," and others, of the 
same origin, after 46 and 47. 

32 ' But we that live in Fairy-land 

No sickness know nor pain ; 
I quit my body when I will, 
And take to it again. 

33 ' I quit my body when I please, 

Or unto it repair ; 
We can inhabit at our ease 
In either earth or air. 

39. TAM LIN 


34 ' Our shapes and size we can convert 

To either large or small ; 
An old nut-shell 's the same to us 
As is the lofty hall. 

35 ' We sleep in rose-buds soft and sweet, 

We revel in the stream ; 
We wanton lightly on the wind 
Or glide on a sunheam. 

36 ' And all our wants are well supplied 

From every rich man's store, 
Who thankless sins the gifts he gets, 
And vainly grasps for more.' 

40 4 . buy me maik, a plain misprint for the 
be my maik of b 57. 

46. After this stanza are omitted : 

52 The heavens were black, the night was 


And dreary was the place, 
But Janet stood with eager wish 
Her lover to embrace. 

53 Betwixt the hours of twelve and one 

A north wind tore the bent, 
And straight she heard strange elritch 

Upon that wind which went. 

47. After this stanza are omitted : 

55 Their oaten pipes blew wondrous shrill, 

The hemlock small blew clear, 
And louder notes from hemlock large, 

And bog-reed, struck the ear ; 
But solemn sounds, or sober thoughts, 

The fairies cannot bear. 

56 They sing, inspired with love and joy, 

Like skylarks in the air ; 
Of solid sense, or thought that 's grave, 
You '11 find no traces there. 

57 Fair Janet stood, with mind unmoved, 

The dreary heath upon, 
And louder, louder waxd the sound 
As they came riding on. 

58 Will o Wisp before them went, 

Sent forth a twinkling light, 

And soon she saw the fairy bands 
All riding in her sight. 

b 612 is a fragment of ' The Broomfield- 
Hill,' introduced by a stanza formed on 
the sixth, as here given : 

5. And she 's away to Carterhaugh, 

And gaed beside the wood, 
And there was sleeping young Tarn- 
And his steed beside him stood. 

After the fragment of ' The Broomfield-Hill ' 
follows : 

13. Fair Janet, in her green cleiding, 

Returned upon the morn, 
And she met her father's ae brother, 
The laird of Abercorn. 

And then these two stanzas, the first altered 
from Herd's fragment of ' The Broomfield 
Hill,' 'I'll wager, I'll wager,' .p. 310, ed. 
1769, and the second from Herd's frag 
ment, ' Kertonha,' or version C of this 
ballad : 

14. I '11 wager, I '11 wager, I '11 wager wi 


Five hunder merk and ten, 
I '11 maiden gang to Carterhaugh, 
And maiden come again. 

15. She princked hersell, and prin'd her- 


By the ae light of the moon, 
And she 's away to Carterhaugh 
As fast as she could win. 

Instead of a 10, 11, b has : 

He 's taen her by the milk-white hand, 
And by the grass-green sleeve, 

He's led her to the fairy ground, 
And spierd at her nae leave. 

Instead of 14 of a, b has something nearer 
to A, B 9 : 

23, It 's four and twenty ladies fair 
Were in her father's ha, 



Whan in there came the fair Janet, 
The flower amang them a'. 

After 21 of a follows in b a copy of ' The 
Wee Wee Man,' 32-39, attached by these 
two stanzas, which had been " introduced 
in one recital only : " 

30. ' Is it to a man of might, Janet, 

Or is it to a man o mean ? 
Or is it unto young Tamlane, 
That 's wi the fairies gane ? ' 

31. ' 'T was down by Carterhaugh, fa 


I walked beside the wa, 
And there I saw a wee, wee man, 
The least that eer I saw.' 

Instead of 22, which had been used before, 
we have in b : 

40. Janet 's put on her green cleiding, 

Whan near nine months were gane, 
And she 's awa to Carterhaugh, 
To speak wi young Tamlane. 

b has in place of a 28-30 : 

46. Roxburgh was my grandfather, 

Took me with him to bide, 
And as we frae the hunting came 
This harm did me betide. 

47. Roxburgh was a hunting knight, 

And loved hunting well, 
And on a cauld and frosty day 
Down frae my horse I fell. 

b 49 has A 24 instead of a 37, I 32. 

b 61 2 = a 49 2 = I 44 2 has toad, and so has 

C 9 2 , from which the stanza is taken. 

Tod is an improvement, but probably an 

editorial improvement. 



Skene MSS, No 8, p. 25. Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. Laing, p. 169. 

WE See from this pretty fragment, which, 
after the nature of the best popular ballad, 
forces you to chant and will not be read, that 
a woman had been carried off, four days after 
bearing a son, to serve as nurse in the elf- 
queen's family. She is promised that she 
shall be permitted to return home if she will 
tend the fairy's bairn till he has got the use 
of his legs. We could well have spared stanzas 
10-12, which belong to * Thomas Rymer,' to 
know a little more of the proper story. 

That elves and water-spirits have frequently 
solicited the help of mortal women at lying-in 

* Many of these instances are cited by Grimm, Deutsche 
Mythologie, 1875, I, 378. In Thiele's first example the ne 
cessity of having Christian aid comes from the lying-in 
woman being a Christian who had been carried off by an elf. 

time is well known : see Stewart's Popular 
Superstitions of the Highlands, p. 104 ; Grimm, 
Deutsche Sagen, Nos 41,49, 68, 69, 304; Miil- 
lenhoff, Nos 443, 444; Thiele, Danmarks Folke- 
sagen, 1843, II, 200, Nos 1-4 ; Asbj0rnsen, 
Norske Huldre-Eventyr, 2d ed., I, 16 : Mau- 
rer, Islandische Volkssagen, p. 6 f ; Keight- 
ley's Fairy Mythology, pp 122, 261, 275, 301, 
311, 388, 488.* They also like to have their 
offspring suckled by earthly women. It is 
said, writes Gervase of Tilbury, that nobody 
is more exposed to being carried off by water- 
sprites than a woman in milk, and that they 

In Asbjernsen's tale, the woman who is sent for to act as 
midwife finds that her own serving-maid is forced, without 
being aware of it, to work all night in the elfin establishment, 
and is very tired with double duty. 



sometimes restore such a woman, with pay for 
her services, after she has nursed their wretched 
fry seven years. He had himself seen a woman 
who had been abducted for this purpose, while 
washing clothes on the bank of the Rhone. 
She had to nurse the nix's son under the water 
for that term, and then was sent back unhurt. 
Otia Imperialia, III, 85, Liebrecht, p. 38. 
Choice is naturally made of the healthiest and 
handsomest mothers for this office. " A fine 
young woman of Nithsdale, when first made a 
mother, was sitting singing and rocking her 
child, when a pretty lady came into her cot 
tage, covered with a fairy mantle. She car 

ried a beautiful child in her arms, swaddled in 
green silk. ' Gie my bonnie thing a suck,' 
said the fairy. The young woman, conscious 
to whom the child belonged, took it kindly in 
her arms, and laid it to her breast. The lady 
instantly disappeared, saying, ' Nurse kin', an 
ne'er want.' The young mother nurtured the 
two babes, and was astonished, whenever she 
awoke, at finding the richest suits of apparel 
for both children, with meat of most delicious 
flavor. This food tasted, says tradition, like 
loaf mixed with wine and honey," etc. Cro- 
mek, Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway 
Song, p. 302. 

1 I HEARD a cow low, a],boimie cow low, 

An a cow low down in yon glen ; 

Lang, lang will my young son greet 

Or his mither bid him come ben. 

2 I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low, 

An a cow low down in yon fauld ; 
Lang, lang will my young son greet 
Or his mither take him frae cauld. 

Waken, Queen of Elfan, 

An hear your nourice moan.' 

4 ' O moan ye for your meat, 

Or moan ye for your fee, 
Or moan ye for the ither bounties 
That ladies are wont to gie ? ' 

5 ' I moan na for my meat, 

Nor moan I for my fee, 
Nor moan I for the ither bounties 
That ladies are wont to gie. 

But I moan for my young son 
I left in four nights auld. 

7 ' I moan na for my meat, 

Nor yet for my fee, 
But I mourn for Christen land, 
It 's there I fain would be.' 

8 ' O nurse my bairn, nourice,' she says, 

' Till he stan at your knee, 
An ye 's win hame to Christen land, 
Whar fain it 's ye wad be. 

9 ' O keep my bairn, nourice, 

Till he gang by the hauld, 
An ye 's win hame to your young son 
Ye left in four nights auld.' 

10 ' O nourice lay your head 

Upo my knee : 
See ye na that narrow road 
Up by yon tree ? 

11 . 

That 's the road the righteous goes, 
And that 's the road to heaven. 

12 ' An see na ye that braid road, 

Down by yon sunny fell ? 
Yon 's the road the wicked gae, 
An that 's the road to hell.' 



I 1 , an a bonnie cow low, with an crossed out. 

2 2 . yon fall : fauld in margin. 

6 4 . auld not in MS., supplied from 9 4 . 

7*. Christend. 

8 1 . she says is probably the comment of the singer 
or reciter. 



A. 'Young Akin,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of C. 'Young Hastings,' Buchan, Ballads of the North of 
Scotland, I, 6. Motherwell's MS., p. 554. Scotland, II, 67. ' Young Hastings the Groom,' 

Motherwell's MS., p. 450 ; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, 

B. 'Hynde Etin,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 287. 
p. 228. 

IT is scarcely necessary to remark that this 
ballad, like too many others, has suffered se 
verely by the accidents of tradition. A has 
been not simply damaged by passing through 
low mouths, but* has been worked over by low 
hands. Something considerable has been lost 
from the story, and fine romantic features, 
preserved in Norse and German ballads, have 
been quite effaced. 

Margaret, a king's daughter, A, an earl's 
daughter, B, a lady of noble birth, C, as she 
sits sewing in her bower door, hears a note in 
Elmond's wood and wishes herself there, A. 
The wood is Amon-shaw in C, Mulberry in 
B : the Elmond (Amond, Elf man ?) is proba 
bly significant. So far the heroine resembles 
Lady Isabel in No 4, who, sewing in her bower, 
hears an elf-horn, and cannot resist the en 
chanted tone. Margaret makes for the wood 
as fast as she can go. The note that is heard 
in A is mistaken in B for nuts : Margaret, 
as she stands in her bower door, spies some 
nuts growing in the wood, and wishes her 
self there. Arrived at the wood, Margaret, in 
A as well as B, immediately takes to pulling 
nuts.* The lady is carried off in C under 

* This reading, nuts, may have subsequently made its way 
into A instead of rose, which it would be more ballad-like 
for Margaret to be plucking, as the maid does in ' Tarn Lin,' 
where also the passage A 3-6, B 2-4 occurs. Grimm sug 
gests a parallel to Tarn Lin in the dwarf Laurin, who does 
not allow trespassing in his rose-garden : Deutsche My tholo- 

cover of a magical mist, and the hero in all 
is no ordinary hind. 

Margaret has hardly pulled a nut, when she 
is confronted by young Akin, A, otherwise, 
and correctly, called Etin in B, a hind of giant 
strength in both, who accuses her of trespass 
ing, and stops her. Akin pulls up the highest 
tree in the wood and builds a bower, invisible 
to passers-by, for their habitation. B, which 
recognizes no influence of enchantment upon 
the lady's will, as found in A, and no prepos 
session on her part, as in C, makes Hind Etin 
pull up the biggest tree in the forest as well, 
but it is to scoop out a cave many fathoms 
deep, in which he confines Margaret till she 
comes to terms, and consents to go home with 
him, wherever that may be. Hastings, an 
other corruption of Etin, carries off the lady 
on his horse to the wood, " where again their 
loves are sworn," and there they take up 
their abode in a cave of stone, C 9. Lady 
Margaret lives with the etin seven years, and 
bears him seven sons, A 9 ; many years, and 
bears seven sons, B; ten years, and bears 
seven bairns, C 6, 8, 9.f 

Once upon a time the etin goes hunting, 

gie, III, 130. But the resemblance seems not material, there 
being no woman in the case. The pretence of trespass in 
Tarn Lin and Hind Etin is a simple commonplace, and we 
have it in some Slavic forms of No 4, as at p. 41. 

t B is defective in the middle and the end. "The re 
citer, unfortunately, could not remember more of the ballad^ 



and takes his eldest boy with him. The boy 
asks his father why his mother is so often in 
tears, and the father says it is because she was 
born of high degree, but had been stolen by 
him ; " is wife of Hynde Etin, wha ne'er got 
christendame," B 15. The etin, who could 
pull the highest tree in the wood up by the 
roots, adds in A 15 that when he stole his 
wife he was her father's cup-bearer ! and that 
he caught her " on a misty night," which re 
minds us of the mist which Young Hastings, 
" the groom," cast before the lady's attendants 
when he carried her off. 

The next time Akin goes hunting he leaves 
his young comrade behind, and the boy tells 
his mother that he heard " fine music ring " 
when he was coming home, on the other oc 
casion. She wishes she had been there. He 
takes his mother and six brothers, and they 
make their way through the wood at their 
best speed, not knowing in what direction 
they are going. But luckily they come to the 
gate of the king, the father and grandfather 
of the band. The mother sends her eldest 
boy in with three rings, to propitiate the 
porter, the butler-boy, who acts as usher in 
this particular palace, and the minstrel who 
plays before the king. His majesty is so 
struck with the resemblance of the boy to his 
daughter that he is blinded with tears. The 
boy informs his grandfather that his mother 
is standing at the gates, with six more broth 
ers, and the king orders that she be admitted. 
He asks her to dine, but she can touch noth 
ing till she has seen her mother and sister. 
Admitted to her mother, the queen in turn 
says, You will dine with me ; but she can touch 
nothing till she has seen her sister. Her sis 
ter, again, invites her to dine, but now she can 
touch nothing till she has seen her " dear hus 
band." Rangers are sent into the wood to 

although the story was strongly impressed on her memory. 
She related that the lady, after having heen taken home by 
Hynde Etin, lived with him many years, and bore him seven 
sons, the eldest of whom, after the inquiries at his parents 
detailed in the ballad, determines to go in search of the earl, 
his grandfather. At his departure his mother instructs him 
how to proceed, giving him a ring to bribe the porter at her 
father's gate, and a silken vest, wrought by her own hand, 
to be worn in presence of her father. The son sets out, and 

fetch Young Akin, under promise of a full 
pardon. He is found tearing his yellow hair. 
The king now asks Akin to dine with him, 
and there appears to have been a family din 
ner. While this is going on the boy expresses 
a wish to be christened, " to get christen- 
doun ; " in all his eight years he had never 
been in a church. The king promises that he 
shall go that very day with his mother, and 
all seven of the boys seern to have got their 
christendoun ; and so, we may hope, did Hind 
Etin, who was, if possible, more in want of it 
than they ; B 15, 19. 

In this story A and B pretty nearly agree. 
C has nothing of the restoration of the lady to 
her parents and home. The mother, in this 
version, having harped her seven bairns asleep, 
sits down and weeps bitterly. She wishes, 
like Fair Annie, that they were rats, and she 
a cat, to eat them one and all. She has lived 
ten years in a stone cave, and has never 
had a churching. The eldest boy suggests 
that they shall all go to some church: they 
be christened and she be churched. This is 
accomplished without any difficulty, and, as 
the tale stands, we can only wonder that it 
had not been attempted before. 

The etin of the Scottish story is in Norse 
and German a dwarf-king, elf-king, hill-king, 
or even a merman. The ballad is still sung in 
Scandinavia and Germany, but only the Danes 
have versions taken down before the present 

Danish. ' Jomfruen og Dvsergekongen,' 
Grundtvig, No 37, A-C from manuscripts of 
the sixteenth century. A-G, Grundtvig, II, 
39-46 ; H, I, III, 806-808 ; K-T, IV, 795- 
800, P-S being short fragments. K previously 
in " Fylla," a weekly newspaper, 1870, Nos 
23, 30 ; L-O, Q, R, ' Agnete i Bja?rget,' in 
Kristensen's Jyske Folkeviser, II, 72, 77, 349, 

arrives at the castle, where, by bribing the porter, he gets 
admission to the earl, who, struck with the resemblance of 
the youth to his lost daughter, and the similarity of the vest 
to one she had wrought for himself, examines the young 
man, from whom he discovers the fate of his daughter. He 
gladly receives his grandson, and goes to his daughter's resi 
dence, where he meets her and Hynde Etin, who is pardoned 
by the earl, through the intercession of his daughter." Kin- 
loch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 226 f. 


74, I, xxxi, II, 79 ; U, a short fragment, 
Danske Viser, V, x, xi. 

Swedish. ' Den Bergtagna,' A, B, Afze- 
lius, I, 1, No 1, II, 201. C, 'Bergkonun- 
gen,' Afzelius, II, 22, No 35. D, E, Herr 
Elver, Bergakonungen,' Arwidsson, II, 277, 
No 141 B, II, 275, No 141 A. P, * Jungfrun 
och Bergakonungen,' Arwidsson, II, 280, No 
142. Q, ' Agneta och Bergamannen,' Wig- 
strora, Folkdiktning, p. 13. H, * Jungfrun och 
Bergamannen,' the same, p. 21. I, K, L, in 
Cavallius and Stephens' manuscript collection 
(K, L, fragments), given by Grundtvig, IV, 
803. M, F. L. Borgstroms Folkvisor, No 11, 
described by Grundtvig, IV, 802. N, Wer 
ner's Westergotlands Fornminnen, p. 93 f, two 

Norwegian. A, B,* C, * Liti Kersti, 
som vart inkvervd,' Landstad, p. 431, No 
42, p. 442, No 44, p. 446, No 45. D, ' Mar- 
git Hjuxe, som vart inkvervd,' the same, p. 
451, No 46. 'E, P, 'Malfri,' ' Antonetta,' 
Grundtvig, IV, 801 f, the last evidently de 
rived from Denmark. Gr-P, nine versions com 
municated to Grundtvig by Professor Sophus 
Bugge, and partially described in Danmarks 
gamle Folkeviser, III, 808-10. Lindeman 
gives the first stanza of A with airs No 214, 
No 262 of his Fjeldmelodier, and perhaps 
had different copies. Nos 323, 320 may also 
have been versions of this ballad. C, rewrit 
ten, occurs in J. M. Moe og Ivar Morten- 
sen's Norske Fornkvaade og Folkevisur, p. 16. 
Mixed forms, in which the ballad proper is 
blended with another, Landstad, No 43 = 
Swedish, Arwidsson, No 145 ; eight, commu 
nicated by Bugge, Grundtvig, III, 810-13 ; 
two others, IV, 483 f.f 

Faroe. A, B, Grundtvig, IV, 803 f. 

Icelandic. ' Rika alfs kvaeSi,' Islenzk 
fornkvaeSi, No 4. 

Danish A, one of the three sixteenth-cen 
tury versions, tells how a knight, expressing a 

* B, Landstad 44 (which has only this in common with 
the Scottish ballad, that a hill-man carries a maid to his cave), 
has much resemblance at the beginning to ' Kvindemorde- 
ren,' Grundtvig, No 183, our No 4. See Grundtvig's note ** 
at III, 810. This is only what might be looked for, since 
both ballads dual with abductions. 

strong desire to obtain a king's daughter, is 
overheard by a dwarf, who says this shall 
never be. The dwarf pretends to bargain 
with the knight for his services in forward 
ing the knight's object, but consults mean 
while with his mother how he may get the 
lady for himself.^ The mother tells him that 
the princess will go to even-song, and the 
dwarf writes runes on the way she must go 
by, which compel her to come to the hill. 
The dwarf holds out his hand and asks, How 
came ye to this strange land ? to which the 
lady answers mournfully, I wot never how. 
The dwarf says, You have pledged yourself to 
a knight, and he has betrayed you with runes : 
this eve you shall be the dwarf's guest. She 
stayed there the night, and was taken back 
to her mother in the morning. Eight years 
went by ; her hand was sought by five kings, 
nine counts, but no one of them could get a 
good answer. One day her mother asked, 
Why are thy cheeks so faded ? Why can 
no one get thee ? She then revealed that she 
had been beguiled by the dwarf, and had 
seven sons and a daughter in the hill, none of 
whom she ever saw. She thought she was 
alone, but the dwarf-king was listening. He 
strikes her with an elf-rod, and bids her hie to 
the hill after him. Late in the evening the 
poor thing dons her cloak, knocks at her fa 
ther's door, and says good-night to the friends 
that never will see her again, then sadly turns 
to the hill. Her seven sons advance to meet 
her, and ask why she told of their father. 
Her tears run sore ; she gives no answer ; she 
is dead ere midnight. ' 

With A agrees another of the three old 
Danish copies, B, and three modern ones, D, 
M, N, have something of the opening scene 
which characterizes A. So also Swedish C, I, 
and the Icelandic ballad. In Swedish C, Proud 
Margaret, who is daughter of a king of seven, 
kingdoms, will have none of her suitors (this 

t It is not necessary, for purposes of the English ballad, 
to notice these mixed forms. 

t In 'N0kkens Svig,' C, Grundtvig, No 39, the merman 
consults with his mother, and then, as also in other copies of 
the ballad, transforms himself into a knight. See the trans 
lation by Prior, III, 269 ; Jamieson, Popular Ballads, I, 210; 
Lewis, Tales of Wonder, I, 60. 



circumstance comes too soon). A hill-king 
asks his mother how he may get her. She 
asks in return, What will you give me to 
make her come of herself to the hill? He 
promises red gold and chestf uls of pence ; and 
one Sunday morning Margaret, who has set 
out to go to church, is made by magical 
operations, of course to take the way to the 

A second form begins a stage later : Danish 
C, G, K, Swedish D, E, K, Norwegian A, C, 
E, G, H, I (?), K, L, M (?) N (?), Faroe A, 
B. We learn nothing of the device by which 
the maid has been entrapped. Mother and 
daughter are sitting in their bower, and the 
mother asks her child why her cheeks are pale, 
why milk is running from her breasts. She 
answers that she has been working too hard ; 
that what is taken for milk is mead. The 
mother retorts that other women do not suffer 
from their industry ; that mead is brown, and 
milk is white. Hereupon the daughter re 
veals that she has been beguiled by an elf, 
and, though living under her mother's roof, 
has had eight or nine children (seven or eight 
sons and a daughter ; fifteen children, Faroe 
A, B), none of whom she ever saw, since after 
birth they were always transferred to the hill 
(see, especially, Danish C, G, also A ; Nor 
wegian H, I ; Faroe A, B). The mother (who 
disowns her, Danish C, G, Swedish D, E, Nor 
wegian K), in several versions, asks what gifts 
she got for her honor. Among these was a 
harp [horn, Norwegian L], which she was to 
play when she was unhappy. The mother 
asks for a piece, and the first tones bring the 
elf, who reproaches the daughter for betraying 
him : had she concealed their connection she 
might still have lived at home, C ; but now 
she must go with him. She is kindly received 
by her children. They give her a drink which 

makes her forget father and mother, heaven 
and earth, moon and sun, and even makes her 
think she was born in the hill, Danish C, G, 
Swedish D, Norwegian A, C.* 

Danish G, K, Faroe A, B, take a tragic 
turn : the woman dies in the first two the 
night she comes to the hill. Danish C, one 
of the sixteenth-century versions, goes as far 
as possible in the other direction. The elf- 
king pats Maldfred's cheek, takes her in his 
arms, gives her a queen's crown and name. 

And this he did for the lily-wand, 

He had himself christened and all his land ! 

A third series of versions offers the probable 
type of the much-corrupted Scottish ballads, 
and under this head come Danish E, P, H, I, 
L-B, T ; Swedish A, B, F-I, and also C, after 
an introduction which belongs to the first 
class ; Norwegian D, F. The characteristic 
feature is that the woman has been living 
eight or nine years in the hill, and has there 
borne her children, commonly seven sons and 
a daughter. She sets out to go to matins, 
and whether under the influence of runes, or 
accidentally, or purposely, takes the way to 
the hill. In a few cases it is clear that she 
does not seek the hill-man or put herself in his 
way, e. g., Danish N, Swedish G, but Swed 
ish A, H, N make her apply for admission at 
the hill-door. In Danish I, N-R, T, Norwe 
gian F, it is not said that she was on her way 
to church ; she is in a field or in the hill. In 
Swedish F she has been two years in the cave, 
and it seems to her as if she had come yester 
day. After her eight or nine years with the 
hill-man the woman longs to go home, Danish 
E, F, I, Swedish A, F, I, Norwegian D ; to go 
to church, Danish L, M, N, P, T, Norwegian 
F ; for she had heard Denmark's bells, church 
bells, Danish L-P, T, Swedish G, Norwegian 

* The beauty of the Norse ballads should make an Eng 
lishman's heart wring for his loss. They aro particularly 
pretty here, where the forgetful draught is administered ; as 
Norwegian C, A : 

Forth came her daughter, as jimp as a wand, 

She dances a dance, with silver can in hand. 

' where wast thou bred, and where wast thou born ? 

And where were thy maiden-garments shorn? ' 

'In Norway was I bred, in Norway was I born, 
And in Norway were my maiden -garments shorn.' 
The ae first drink from the silver can she drank, 
What stock she was come of she clean forgat. 
' O where wast thou bred, and where wast thou born ? 
And where were thy maiden-garments shorn? ' 
' In the hill was I bred, and there was I born, 
In the hill were my maiden-garments shorn.' 



D, F. She had heard these bells as she 
watched the cradle, Danish T, P, Swedish Q ; 
sat by the cradle and sang, T 4 ; compare 
English C 7. She asks the hill-man's per 
mission, and it is granted on certain terms : 
she is not to talk of him and her life in the 
hill, Danish E, I, Swedish A, P, I, is to come 
back, Danish F, must not stay longer than an 
hour or two, Norwegian D ; she is not to wear 
her gold, her best clothes, not to let out her 
hair, not to go into her mother's pew at the 
church, not to bow when the priest pronounces 
the holy name, or make an offering, or go home 
after service, etc., Danish I, L-P, T, Norwegian 
F. All these last conditions she violates, nor 
does she in the least heed the injunction not to 
speak of the hill-man. The consequence is 
that he summarily presents himself, whether 
at the church or the paternal mansion, and or 
ders her back to the hill, sometimes striking 
her on the ear or cheek so that blood runs, or 
beating her with a rod, Danish B, I, L, M, S, 
T, Swedish A, B, C, H, I, Norwegian F. In 
a few versions, the hill-man tells her that her 
children are crying for her, and she replies, 
Let them cry ; I will never go back to the 
hill ; Danish M, N, O, Norwegian F. In Dan 
ish E, Swedish G, a gold apple thrown into 
her lap seems to compel her to return ; more 
commonly main force is used. She is carried 
dead into the hill, or dies immediately on her 
arrival, in Norwegian F, Danish T ; she dies 
of grief, according to traditional comment, in 
Norwegian D. They give her a drink, and 
her heart breaks, Swedish A, G, H, M ; but 
elsewhere the drink only induces forgetfulness, 
Danish L, M, Swedish B, C, F. 

Much of the story of * Jomfruen og Dvaer- 
gekongen ' recurs in the ballad of ' Agnete og 
Havmanden,' which, for our purposes, may be 
treated as a simple variation of the other. 
The Norse forms are again numerous, but 
all from broadsides dating, at most, a century 
back, or from recent tradition. 

Danish. ' Agnete og Havmanden,' Grundt- 

* For reasons, doubtless sufficient, but to me unknown, 
Grundtvig has not noticed two copies in Boisen's Nye og 
gamle Viser, 10th edition, p. 192, p. 194. The former of 
these is like A, with more resemblance here and there to 

vig, No 38, A-D, II, 51 ff, 656 ff, III, 813 ff. 
Copies of A are numerous, and two had been 
previously printed ; in Danske Viser, I, 313, 
No 50, and " in Barfod's Brage og Idun, II, 
264." E, Rask's Morskabskesning, III, 81, 
Grundtvig, II, 659. F, one stanza, Grundtvig, 
p. 660. G, H, the same, III, 816. I, Kris- 
tensen, II, 75, No 28 C, Grundtvig, IV, 807. 
K, Grundtvig, IV, 808.* 

Swedish. A, B, C, in Cavallius and 
Stephens' unprinted collection, described by 
Grundtvig, II, 661. D, ' Agneta och Hafsman- 
nen,' Eva Wigstrb'm's Folkdiktning, p. 9. E, 
Bergstrom's Afzelius, II, 308. F, * Skb'n 
Anna och Hafskungen,' Aminson, Bidrag till 
Sodermanlands aldre Kulturhistoria, ill, 43. 
G, 4 Helena och Hafsmannen,' the same, p. 46. 

Norwegian. A, Grundtvig, III, 817, prop 
erly Danish rather than Norwegian. B, a ver 
sion partly described at p. 818. C, Grundt 
vig, IV, 809, also more Danish than Norwe 
gian. All these communicated by Bugge. 

Danish C, G, Norwegian A, have a hill- 
man instead of a merman, and might as well 
have been put with the other ballad. On the 
other hand, the Danish versions M, N, O of 
* The Maid and the Dwarf-King' call the maid 
Agenet, and give the hill-man a name, Nek, 
Netmand, Mekmand, which implies a watery 
origin for him, and the fragments P, Q, R have 
similar names, Nekmand, Negen, Laekkemand, 
as also Agenete, and might as well have been 
ranked with ' Agnes and the Merman.' In 
4 The Maid and the Dwarf-King,' Swedish L 
(one stanza) the maid is taken by " Pel Elf- 
ven " to the sea. 

Agnes goes willingly with the merman to 
the sea-bottom, Danish A, D, E, K, Swedish 
A, D, E, Norwegian A, C. She lives there, 
according to many versions, eight years, and 
has seven children. As she is sitting and sing 
ing by the cradle one day, she hears the bells 
of England, Danish A, C, D, E, H, I, K 
Swedish D [church bells, bells, F, G], Nor 
wegian A, C. She asks if she may go to 

other versions, and may be a made-up copy ; the other, ' Ag 
nete og Bjaergmauden, fra Serndcrjv Hand,' consists of stun/us 



church, go home, and receives permission on 
the same terms as in the other ballad. Her 
mother asks her what gifts she had received, 
Danish A, D, E, H, I, Swedish E, F, Nor 
wegian C. When the merman comes into the 
church all the images turn their backs, Dan 
ish A, D, K, Swedish D, F, G, Norwegian A, 
C ; and, in some cases, for Agnes, too. He 
tells her that the children are crying for her ; 
she refuses to go back, Danish A, C, D, I, K, 
Swedish D, F, G- (and apparently A, B, C), 
Norwegian C. In Norwegian A the merman 
strikes her on the cheek, and she returns ; in 
Danish I she is taken back quietly ; in Danish 
C he gives her so sore an ail that she dies 
presently ; in Danish H she is taken away by 
force, and poisoned by her children ; in Danish 
K the merman says that if she stays with her 
mother they must divide the children (five). 
He takes two, she two, and each has to take 
half of the odd one. 

The Norse forms of 'Agnes and the Mer 
man' are conceded to have been derived from 
Germany : see Grundtvig, IV, 812. Of the 
German ballad, which is somewhat nearer to 
the English, the following versions have been 
noted : 

A. ' Die schb'ne Agniese,' Fiedler, Volks- 
reime und Volkslieder in Anhalt-Dessau, p. 
140, No 1 = Mittler, No 553. B. ' Die scheme 
Agnese,' Parisius, Deutsche Volkslieder in der 
Altmark und im Magdeburgischen gesammelt, 
p. 29, No 8 B, from nearly the same region 
as A. C. Parisius, p. 28, No 8 A, Pechau on 
the Elbe. D. ' Die schone Angnina,' Erk's 
Neue Sammlung, ii, 40, No 26 = Mittler, No 
552, from the neighborhood of Magdeburg. 
E. ' Die Schone Agnete,' Erk's Liederhort, 
No 16% p. 47, Erk's Wunderhorn, IV, 91, 
from the neighborhood of Guben. F. ' Die 
schone Dorothea,' Liederhort, No 16 b , p. 48, 
Gramzow in der Ukermark. G. ' Die schone 
Hannale,' Liederhort, No 16, p. 44, Erk's 
Wunderhorn, IV, 87, Silesia. H. ' Die schone 
Hannele,' Hoffmann u. Richter, Schlesische 
Volkslieder, p. 3, No 1 = Mittler, No 551, 
Bohme, No 90 A, Breslau. v Der Wasser- 
mann,' Simrock, No 1, is a compounded copy. 

A wild merman has become enamored of 

the King of England's daughter, A, B, C, D. 
He plates a bridge with gold ; she often walks 
over the bridge ; it sinks with her into the 
water [the merman drags her down into the 
water, H]. She stays below seven years, and 
bears seven sons. One day [by the cradle, 
C, G] she hears the bells of England, A 6, B, 
C, D, F [bells, E, G, H], and longs to go to 
church. She expresses this wish to the mer 
man, C, D, G, H. The merman says she must 
take her seven sons with her, B, C, D ; she 
must come back, G, H. She takes her seven 
sons by the hand, and goes with them to Eng 
land, A 5, B 7 ; cf. Scottish C 13, 14, A 22, 
50. When she enters the church everything 
in it bows, A, B, F. Her parents are there, 

C, D ; her father opens the pew, her mother 
lays a cushion for her, G, H. As she goes 
out of the church, there stands the merman, 
A, B, E, F. Her parents take her home in 

D, G, H. They seat her at the table, and 
while she is eating, a gold apple falls into her 
lap (cf . ' The Maid and the Dwarf-King,' Dan. 
ish E, Swedish G), which she begs her mother 
to throw into the fire ; the merman appears, 
and asks if she wishes him burnt, G, H. The 
merman, when he presents himself at the 
church, asks whether the woman will go back 
with him, or die where she is, and she prefers 
death on the spot, A, B, E. In the other 
case, he says that if she will not return, the 
children must be divided, three and three, 
and half of the seventh to each ; the mother 
prefers the water to this. D has a peculiar 
and not very happy trait. The merman fas 
tens a chain to his wife's foot before she goes 
up, and, having been kept long waiting, draws 
it in. But the people at the church have 
taken off the chain, and he finds nothing at 
the end of it. He asks whether she does not 
wish to live with him ; she replies, I will no 
longer torment you, or fret myself to death. 

The story of Agnes and the Merman occurs 
in a Wendish ballad, with an introductory 
scene found in the beautiful German ballad, 
4 Wassermanns Braut : ' * Haupt und Schma- 

* See five versions in Mittler, Nos 546-550. As Grundt 
vig remarks, what is one ballad in Weudish is two in Ger 
man and three in Norse : D. g. P., IV, 810. 



ler, I, 62, No 34. A maid begs that she may 
be left to herself for a year, but her father 
says it is time for her to be married. She 
goes to her chamber, weeps and wrings her 
hands. The merman comes and asks, Where 
is my bride? They tell him that she is in 
her chamber, weeping and wringing her hands. 
The merman asks her the reason, and she an 
swers, They all say that you are the mer- 
woman's son. He says he will build her a 
bridge of pure silver and gold, and have her 
driven over it with thirty carriages and forty 
horses ; but ere she has half passed the bridge 
it goes down to the bottom. She is seven 
years below, has seven sons in as many years, 
and is going with the eighth. She implores 
her husband to permit her to go to church in 
the upper world, and he consents, with the 
proviso that she shall not stay for the bene 
diction. At church she sees her brother and 
sister, who receive her kindly. She tells them 
that she cannot'stay till the benediction ; * they 
beg her to come home to dine with them. She 
does wait till the benediction ; the merman 
rushes frantically about. As she leaves the 
church and is saying good-by to her sister, 
she meets the merman, who snatches the 
youngest child from her (she appears to have 
all seven with her), tears it in pieces, strangles 
the rest, scatters their limbs on the road, and 
hangs himself, asking, Does not your heart 
grieve for your children ? She answers, I grieve 
for none but the youngest.f 

A Slovenian ballad has the story with mod 
ifications, Achacel and Korytko, Slove"nke 
Pdsmi krajnskiga Nar6da, I, 30, J ' Povodnji 
m6sh ;' given in abstract by Haupt and Schma- 
ler, I, 339, note to No. 34. Mizika goes to a 
dance, in spite of her mother's forbidding. 
Her mother, in a rage, wishes that the mer 
man may fetch her. A young man who dances 
with her whirls her round so furiously that 
she complains, but he becomes still more vio- 

* This trait, corresponding to the prohibition in the Norse 
ballads of liowing when the holy name is pronounced, occurs 
frequently in tradition, as might be expected. In a Swedish 
merman-ballad, ' Necken,' Afzelius, III, 133, the nix, who 
has attended to church the lady whom he is about to kidnap, 
makes off with his best speed when the priest reads the ben 
ediction. See, further, Arnason's Islenzkar bjoSsogur, I, 

lent. Mizika sees how it is, and exclaims, 
The merman has come for me ! The mer 
man flies out of the window with her, and 
plunges into the water. She bears a son, 
and asks leave to pay a visit to her mother ; 
and this is allowed on conditions, one of which 
is that she shall not expose herself to a bene 
diction. She does not conform, and the mer 
man comes and says that her son is crying for 
her. She refuses to go with him, and he tears 
the boy in two, that each may have a half. 

Two or three of the minuter correspond 
ences between the Scottish and the Norse or 
German ballads, which have not been referred 
to, may be indicated in conclusion. The hill- 
man, in several Norwegian copies, as B, M, 
carries off the lady on horseback, and so Has 
tings in C. In A 34-39, the returned sister, 
being invited to dine, cannot eat a bit or drink 
a drop. So, in ' The Maid and the Dwarf- 
King,' Swedish G 15, 16, they set before 
Agnes dishes four and five, dishes eight and 
nine, but she can take nothing : 

Agneta ej smakte en endaste bit. 

Young Akin, in A 43, is found in the wood, 
" tearing his yellow hair." The merman has 
golden hair in Danish A 16, Swedish D 2, 19, 
Norwegian A 17 (nothing very remarkable, 
certainly), and in Danish D 31 wrings his 
hands and is very unhappy, because Agnes re 
fuses to return. It is much more important 
that in one of the Swedish copies of the mer 
man ballad, Grundtvig, II, 661 a, we find a 
trace of the ' Christendom ' which is made 
such an object in the Scottish ballads : 

' Nay,' said the mother, ' now thou art mine,' 
And christened her with water and with wine. 

' The Maid and the Dwarf-King,' Danish 
E, is translated by Prior, III, 338 ; Swedish A 
by Stephens, Foreign Quarterly Review, 
XXV, 35; Swedish C by Keightley, Fairy 

73 f ; Maurer's Islandische Volksagen, 19 f; Liebrecht, Ger- 
vasius, p. 26, LVII, and p. 126, note (Grundtvig). 

t The merfolk are apt to be ferocious, as compared with 
hill-people, elves, etc. See Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 
I, 409 f. 

t I 79, of a second edition, which, says Vraz, has an ob 
jectionable fantastic spelling due to the publisher. 



Mythology, p. 103. ' Agnes and the Mer 
man,' Danish A, C, by Prior, III, 332, 335 ; 
some copy of A by Borrow, p. 120 ; 0hlen- 
schlseger's ballad by Buchanan, p. 76. 

Scottish B is translated, after Allingham, by 

Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen, No 30 ; A 1-8, 
C 6-14, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volks- 
lieder, No 2 ; a compounded version by Roberts 
into German by Podhorszki, Acta Compara- 
tionis, etc., VIII, 69-73. 


Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 6 ; Mother- 
well's MS., p. 554. 

1 LADY MARGARET sits in her bower door, 

Sewing at her silken seam ; 
She heard a note in Elmond's wood, 
And wishd she there had heen. 

2 She loot the seam fa frae her side, 

And the needle to her tae, 
And she is on to Elmond's wood 
As fast as she coud gae. 

3 She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut, 

Nor broken a branch but ane, 
Till by it came a young hind chiel, 
Says, Lady, lat alane. 

4 why pu ye the nut, the nut, 

Or why brake ye the tree ? 
For I am forester o this wood : 
Ye shoud spier leave at me. 

5 ' I '11 ask leave at no living man, 

Nor yet will I at thee ; 
My father is king oer a' this realm, 
This wood belongs to me.' 

6 She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut, 

Nor broken a branch but three, 
Till by it came him Young Akin, 
And gard her lat them be. 

7 The highest tree in Elmond's wood, 

He 's pu'd it by the reet, 
And he has built for her a bower, 
Near by a hallow seat. 

8 He 's built a bower, made it secure 

Wi carbuncle and stane ; 
Tho travellers were never sae nigh, 
Appearance it had nane. 

9 He 's kept her there in Elmond's wood, 

For six lang years and one, 
Till six pretty sons to him she bear, 
And the seventh she 's brought home. 

10 It fell ance upon a day, 

This guid lord went from home, 
And he is to the hunting gane, 
Took wi him his eldest son. 

11 And when they were on a guid way, 

Wi slowly pace did walk, 
The boy's heart being something wae, 
He thus began to talk : 

12 ; A question I woud ask, father, 

Gin ye woudna angry be : ' 
' Say on, say on, my bonny boy, 
Ye 'se nae be quarrelld by me.' 

13 ' I see my mither's cheeks aye weet, 

I never can see them dry ; 
And I wonder what aileth my mither, 
To mourn continually.' 

14 ' Your mither was a king's daughter, 

Sprung frae a high degree, 
And she might hae wed some worthy prince, 
Had she nae been stown by me. 

15 ' I was her father's cup-bearer, 

Just at that fatal time ; 
I catchd her on a misty night, 
Whan summer was in prime. 

16 ' My luve to her was most sincere, 

Her luve was great for me, 
But when she hardships doth endure, 
Her folly she does see.' 

17 ' I '11 shoot the buntin o the bush, 

The linnet o the tree, 
And bring them to my dear mither, 
See if she '11 merrier be.' 



18 It fell upo another day, 

This guid lord he thought lang, 
And he is to the hunting gane, 
Took wi him his dog and gun. 

19 Wi bow and arrow by his side, 

He 's aff, single, alane, 
And left his seven children to stay 
Wi their mither at hame. 

20 ' O I will tell to you, mither, 

Gin ye wadna angry be : ' 
' Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy, 
Ye 'se nae be quarrelld by me.' 

21 ' As we came frae the hynd-hunting, 

We heard fine music ring : ' 
' My blessings on you, my bonny boy, 
I wish I 'd been there my lane.' 

22 He 's taen his mither by the hand, 

His six brithers also, 
And they a/e on thro Elmond's wood, 
As fast as they coud go. 

23 They wistna weel where they were gaen, 

Wi the stratlins o their feet ; 
They wistna weel where they were gaen, 
Till at her father's yate. 

24 ' I hae nae money in my pocket, 

But royal rings hae three ; 
I '11 gie them you, my little young son, 
And ye '11 walk there for me. 

25 ' Ye '11 gie the first to the proud porter, 

And he will lat you in ; 
Ye '11 gie the next to the butler-boy, 
And he will show you ben ; 

26 ' Ye '11 gie the third to the minstrel 

That plays before the king ; 
He '11 play success to the bonny boy 
Came thro the wood him lane.' 

27 He gae the first to the proud porter, 

And he opend an let him in ; 

He gae the next to the butler-boy, 

And he has shown him ben ; 

28 He gae the third to the minstrel 

That playd before the king ; 

And he playd success to the bonny boy 
Came thro the wood him lane. 

29 Now when he came before the king, 

Fell low down on his knee ; 
The king he turned round about, 
And the saut tear blinded his ee. 

30 ' Win up, win up, my bonny boy, 

Gang frae my companie ; 
Ye look sae like my dear daughter, 
My heart will birst in three.' 

31 ' If I look like your dear daughter, 

A wonder it is none ; 
If I look like your dear daughter, 
I am her eldest son.' 

32 ' Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy, 

Where may my Margaret be ? ' 
' She 's just now standing at your yates, 
And my six brithers her wi.' 

33 ' where are all my porter-boys 

That I pay meat and fee, 
To open my yates baith wide and braid ? 
Let her come in to me.' 

34 When she came in before the king, 

Fell low down on her knee ; 
' Win up, win up, my daughter dear, 
This day ye '11 dine wi me.' 

35 ' Ae bit I canno eat, father, 

Nor ae drop can I drink, 
Till I see my mither and sister dear, 
For lang for them I think.' 

36 When she came before the queen, 

Fell low down on her knee ; 
' Win up, win up, my daughter dear 
This day ye 'se dine wi me.' 

37 ' Ae bit I canno eat, mither, 

Nor ae drop can I drink, 
Until I see my dear sister, 
For lang for her I think.' 

38 When that these two sisters met, 

She haild her courteouslie ; 
' Come ben, come ben, my sister dear, 
This day ye 'se dine wi me.' 



39 ' Ae bit I canno eat, sister, 

Nor ae drop can I drink, 

Until I see my dear husband, 

For lang for him I think.' 

40 ' O where are all my rangers bold 

That I pay meat and fee, 
To search the forest far an wide, 
And bring Akin to me ? ' 

41 Out it speaks the little wee boy : 

Na, na, this maunna be ; 
Without ye grant a free pardon, 
I hope ye '11 nae him see. 

42 ' here I grant a free pardon, 

Well seald by my own han ; 
Ye may make search for Young Akin, 
As soon as ever you can.' 

43 They searchd the country wide and braid, 

The forests far and near, 
And found him into Elmond's wood, 
Tearing his yellow hair. 

44 ' Win up, win up now, Young Akin, 

Win up, and boun wi me ; 
We 're messengers come from the court, 
The king wants you to see.' 

45 ' lat him take frae me my head, 

Or hang me on a tree ; 
For since I 've lost my dear lady, 
Life 's no pleasure to me.' 

46 ' Your head will nae be touchd, Akin, 

Nor hangd upon a tree ; 
Your lady 's in her father's court, 
And all he wants is thee.' 

47 When he came in before the king, 

Fell low down on his knee ; 
' Win up, win up now, Young Akin, 
This day ye 'se dine wi me.' 

48 But as they were at dinner set, 

The boy asked a boun : 
' I wish we were in the good church, 
For to get christendoun. 

49 ' We hae lived in guid green wood 

This seven years and ane ; 
But a' this time, since eer I mind, 
Was never a church within.' 

50 ' Your asking 's nae sae great, my boy, 

But granted it shall be ; 
This day to guid church ye shall gang, 
And your mither shall gang you wi.' 

51 When unto the guid church she came, 

She at the door did stan ; 
She was sae sair sunk down wi shame, 
She coudna come farer ben. 

52 Then out it speaks the parish priest, 

And a sweet smile gae he : 
' Come ben, come ben, my lily flower, 
Present your babes to me.' 

53 Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick, 

And likewise James and John ; 
They calld the eldest Young Akin, 
Which was his father's name. 

54 Then they staid in the royal court, 

And livd wi mirth and glee, 
And when her father was deceasd, 
Heir of the crown was she. 


Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 228. 

1 MAY MAKGRET stood in her bouer door, 

Kaiming doun her yellow hair ; 
She spied some nuts growin in the wud, 
And wishd that she was there. 

2 She has plaited her yellow locks 

A little abune her bree, 


And she has kilted her petticoats 
A little below her knee, 

And she 's aff to Mulberry wud, 
As fast as she could gae. 

3 She had na pu'd a nut, a nut, 

A nut but barely ane, 
Till up started the Hynde Etin, 
Says, Lady, let thae alane ! 



4 ' Mulberry wuds are a' my ain ; 

My father gied them me, 
To sport and play when I thought lang ; 
And they sail na be tane by thee.' 

5 And ae she pu'd the tither berrie, 

Na thinking o' the skaith, 
And said, To wrang ye, Hynde Etin, 
I wad be unco laith. 

6 But he has tane her by the yellow locks, 

And tied her till a tree, 
And said, For slichting my commands, 
An ill death sail ye dree. 

7 He pu'd a tree out o the wud, 

The biggest that was there, 
And he howkit a cave monie fathoms deep, 
And put May Margret there. 

8 ' Now rest ye there, ye saucie may ; 

My wuds are free for thee ; 
And gif I tak ye to mysell, 
The better ye '11 like me.' 

9 Na rest, na rest May Margret took, 

Sleep she got never nane ; 
Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor, 
Her head upon a stane. 

10 ' O tak me out,' May Margret cried, 

' O tak me hame to thee, 
And I sail be your bounden page 
Until the day I dee.' 

11 He took her out o the dungeon deep, 

And awa wi him she 's gane ; 
But sad was the day an earl's dochter 
Gaed hame wi Hynde Etin. 

12 It fell out ance upon a day 

Hynde Etin 's to the hunting gane, 
And he has tane wi him his eldest son, 
For to carry his game. 

13 ' I wad ask ye something, father, 

An ye wadna angry be ; ' 
' Ask on, ask on, my eldest son, 
Ask onie thing at me.' 

14 ' My mother's cheeks are aft times weet, 

Alas ! they are seldom dry ; ' 
' Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son, 
Tho she should brast and die. 

15 ' For your mother was an earl's dochter, 

Of noble birth and fame, 
And now she's wife o Hynde Etin, 
Wha neer got christendame. 

16 ' But we '11 shoot the laverock in the lift, 

The buntlin on the tree, 
And ye '11 tak them hame to your mother, 
And see if she '11 comforted be.' 

17 ' I wad ask ye something, mother, 

An ye wadna angry be ; ' 
' Ask on, ask on, my eldest son, 
Ask onie thing at me.' 

18 ' Your cheeks they are aft times weet, 

Alas ! they 're seldom dry ; ' 
' Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son, 
Tho I should brast and die. 

19 ' For I was ance an earl's dochter, 

Of noble birth and fame, 
And now I am the wife of Hynde Etin, 
Wha neer got christendame.' 

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 67, com 
municated by Mr James Nicol, of Strichen ; Motherwell's 
Minstrelsy, p. 287 ; Motherwell's MS., p. 450. 

1 ' O WELL like I to ride in a mist, 
And shoot in a northern win, 

And far better a lady to steal, 
That 's come of a noble kin.' 

2 Four an twenty fair ladies 
Put on this lady's sheen, 
And as mony young gentlemen 
Did lead her ower the green. 



3 Yet she preferred before them all 

Him, young Hastings the Groom ; 
He 's coosten a mist before them all, 
And away this lady has taen. 

4 He 's taken the lady on him behind, 

Spared neither grass nor corn, 
Till they came to the wood o Amonshaw, 
Where again their loves were sworn. 

5 And they hae lived in that wood 

Full mony a year and day, 
And were supported from time to time 
By what he made of prey. 

6 And seven bairns, fair and fine, 

There she has born to him, 
And never was in gude church-door, 
Nor ever got gude kirking. 

7 Ance she took harp into her hand, 

And harped them a' asleep, 
Then she sat down at their couch-side, 
And bitterly did weep. 

8 Said, Seven bairns hae I born now 

To my lord in the ha ; 
I wish they were seven greedy rats, 

To run upon the wa, 
And I mysel a great grey cat, 

To eat them ane and a'. 

9 For ten lang years now I hae lived 

Within this cave of stane, 
And never was at gude church-door, 
Nor got no gude churching. 

10 O then out spake her eldest child, 

And a fine boy was he : 
hold your tongue, my mother dear ; 
I '11 tell you what to dee. 

11 Take you the youngest in your lap, 

The next youngest by the hand, 
Put all the rest of us you before, 
As you learnt us to gang. 

12 And go with us unto some kirk 

You say they are built of stane 
And let us all be christened, 
And you get gude kirking. 

13 She took the youngest in her lap, 

The next youngest by the hand, 
Set all the rest of them her before, 
As she learnt them to gang. 

14 And she has left the wood with them, 

And to the kirk has gane, 
Where the gude priest them christened, 
And gave her gude kirking. 

C. MotherwelVs copies exhibit five or six slight variations from Buchan. 



A. ' Clark Colven,' from a transcript of No 13 of Wil- C. W. F. in Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, VIII, 
liam Ty tier's Brown MS. 510, from the recitation of a lady iq Forfarshire. 

B. ' Clerk Colvill, or, The Mermaid,' Herd's Ancient 
and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 302. 

ALTHOUGH, as has been already said, Wil- be found, a copy of two of its fifteen ballads 
liam Tytler's Brown manuscript is now not to has been preserved in the Fraser Tytler family, 



and 'Clerk Colvill,' A ('Clark ColveiT) is 
one of the two.* This ballad is not in Jamie- 
son's Brown manuscript. Rewritten by Lewis, 
A was published in Tales of Wonder, 1801, 
II, 445, No 56. B, 1769, is the earliest printed 
English copy, but a corresponding Danish bal 
lad antedates its publication by seventy-five 
years. Of C, W. F., who communicated it to 
Notes and Queries, says : " I have reason to 
believe that it is originally from the same 
source as that from which Scott, and es 
pecially Jamieson, derived many of their best 
ballads." This source should be no other than 
Mrs Brown, who certainly may have known 
two versions of Clerk Colvill ; but C is mark 
edly different from A. An Abbotsford man 
uscript, entitled " Scottish Songs," has, at fol. 
3, a version which appears to have been made 
up from Lewis's copy, its original, A, and 
Herd's, B. 

All the English versions are deplorably im 
perfect, and C*is corrupted, besides. The story 
which they afford is this. Clerk Colvill, newly 
married as we may infer, is solemnly entreated 
by his gay lady never to go near a well-fared 
may who haunts a certain spring or water. 
It is clear that before his marriage he had 
been in the habit of resorting to this mer 
maid, as she is afterwards called, and equally 
clear, from the impatient answer which he ren 
ders his dame, that he means to visit her again. 
His coming is hailed with pleasure by the 
mermaid, who, in the course of their interview, 
does something which gives him a strange 
pain in the head, a pain only increased by 
a prescription which she pretends will cure 

* " From a MS. in my grandfather's writing, with the 
following note : Copied from an old MS. in the possession of 
Alexander Fraser Tytler." Note of Miss Mary Fraser Tyt- 
ler. The first stanza agrees with that which is cited from 
the original by Dr Anderson in Nichols's Illustrations, VII, 
177, and the number of stanzas is the same. 

Colvill, which has become familiar from Herd's copy, is 
the correct form, and Colven, Colvin, a vulgarized one, which 
in C lapses into Colin. 

t Still, though these particular verses appear to have come 
from ' The Drowned Lovers,' they may represent other 
original ones which were to the same effect. See, further 
on, the beginning of some Faroe versions. 

| Hoc equidem a viris omni exceptione majoribus quotidie 
scimus probatum, quod quosdam hujusmodi larvarum quas 
fadas nominant amatorea audivimus, et cum ad aliarum foe- 

it, and, as she then exultingly tells him, sure 
to grow worse until he is dead. He draws 
his sword on her, but she merrily springs into 
the water. He mounts his horse, rides home 
tristful, alights heavily, and bids his mother 
make his bed, for all is over with him. 

C is at the beginning blended with verses 
which belong to ' Willie and May Margaret,' 
Jamieson, I, 135 (from Mrs Brown's recita 
tion), or ' The Drowned Lovers,' Buchan, I, 
140. In this ballad a mother adjures her son 
not to go wooing, under pain of her curse. He 
goes, nevertheless, and is drowned. It is obvi 
ous, without remark, that the band and belt in 
C 1 do not suit the mother ; neither does the 
phrase ' love Colin ' in the second stanza, f C 
911 afford an important variation from the 
other versions. The mermaid appears at the 
foot of the young man's bed, and offers him 
a choice between dying then and living with 
her in the water. (See the Norwegian bal 
lads at p. 377.) 

Clerk Colvill is not, as his representative 
is or may be in other ballads, the guiltless and 
guileless object of the love or envy of a water- 
sprite or elf. His relations with the mermaid 
began before his marriage with his gay lady, 
and his death is the natural penalty of his 
desertion of the water-nymph ; for no point is 
better established than the fatal consequences 
of inconstancy in such connections.^ His his 
tory, were it fully told, would closely resemble 
that of the Knight of Staufenberg, as narrated 
in a German poem of about the year 1300. 

The already very distinguished chevalier, 
Peter Diemringer, of Staufenberg (in the Or- 

minarum matrimonia se transtulerant, ante mortnos qtiam 
cum superinductis carnali se copula immiscuerunt. Des 
Gervasius von Tilbury Otia Iinperialia (of about 1211), Lieb- 
recht, p. 41. 

Der Hitter von Stauffenberg, from a MS. of perhaps 
1437, C. M. Engelhardt, Strassburg, 1823. Edited by Oskar 
Janicke, in Altdeutsche Studien von O. Janicke, E. Stein- 
meyer, W. Wilmanns, Berlin, 1871. Die Legende vom Rit- 
ter Herrn Peter Diemringer von Staufenberg in der Ortenau, 
reprint by F. Culemann of the Strassburg edition of Mar 
tin Schott, 1480-82. The old printed copy was made over 
by Fischart in 1588 (Jobin, Strassburg, in that year), and 
this ' ernewerte Beschreibung der alten Geschicht' is re 
hashed in seven ' Romauzen ' in Wunderhorn, I, 407-18, ed. 
1806, 401-12, ed. 1853. Simrock, Die deutschen Volks- 
biicher, III, 1-48. 



tenau, Baden, four leagues from Strassburg), 
when riding to mass one Whitsunday, saw a 
lady of surpassing beauty, dressed with equal 
magnificence, sitting on a rock by the wayside. 
He became instantaneously enamored, and, 
greeting the lady in terms expressive of his 
admiration, received no discouraging reply. 
The lady rose ; the knight sprang from his 
horse, took a hand which she offered, helped 
her from the rock, and they sat down on the 
grass. The knight asked how she came to be 
there alone. The lady replied that she had 
been waiting for him : ever since he could be 
stride a horse she had been devoted to him ; 
she had been his help and protection in tour 
neys and fights, in all climes and regions, 
though he had never seen her. The knight 
wished he might ever be hers. He could have 
his wish, she said, and never know trouble or 
sickness, on one condition, and that was that 
he never should marry : if he did this, he would 
die in three days. He vowed to be hers as 
long as he lived ; they exchanged kisses, and 
then she bade him mount his horse and go to 
mass. After the benediction he was to return 
home, and when he was alone in his chamber, 
and wished for her, she would come, and so 
always ; that privilege God had given her : 
"swa ich wil, dsi bin ich." They had their 
meeting when he returned from church : he 
redoubled his vows, she promised him all good 
things, and the bounties which he received 
from her overflowed upon all his friends and 

The knight now undertook a chivalrous 
tour, to see such parts of the world as he had 
not visited before. Wherever he went, the fair 
lady had only to be wished for and she was by 
him : there was no bound to her love or her 
gifts. Upon his return he was beset by rela 
tives and friends, and urged to marry. He 
put them off with excuses : he was too young 
to sacrifice his freedom, and what not. They 
returned to the charge before long, and set a 
wise man of his kindred at him to beg a boon 
of him. " Anything," he said, " but mar 
rying: rather cut me into strips than that." 
Having silenced his advisers by this reply, he 
went to his closet and wished for his lady. 

She was full of sympathy, and thought it 
might make his position a little easier if he 
should tell his officious friends something of 
the real case, how he had a wife who attended 
him wherever he went and was the source of 
all his prosperity ; but he must not let them 
persuade him, or what she had predicted would 
surely come to pass. 

At this time a king was to be chosen at 
Frankfurt, and all the nobility flocked thither, 
and among them Staufenberg, with a splendid 
train. He, as usual, was first in all tourneys, 
and made himself remarked for his liberal 
gifts and his generous consideration of youth 
ful antagonists : his praise was in everybody's 
mouth. The king sent for him, and offered 
him an orphan niece of eighteen, with a rich 
dowry. The knight excused himself as un 
worthy of such a match. The king said his 
niece must accept such a husband as he pleased 
to give, and many swore that Staufenberg was 
a fool. Bishops, who were there in plenty, 
asked him if he had a wife already. Staufen 
berg availed himself of the leave which had 
been given him, and told his whole story, not 
omitting that he was sure to die in three days 
if he married. " Let me see the woman," said 
one of the bishops. " She lets nobody see her 
but me," answered Staufenberg. " Then it is 
a devil," said another of the clergy, " and your 
soul is lost forever." Staufenberg yielded, and 
said he would do the king's will. He was 
betrothed that very hour, and set out for Or- 
tenau, where he had appointed the celebration 
of the nuptials. When night came he wished 
for the invisible lady. She appeared, and told 
him with all gentleness that he must prepare 
for the fate of which she had forewarned him, 
a fate seemingly inevitable, and not the con 
sequence of her resentment. At the wedding 
feast she would display her foot in sight of all 
the guests : when he saw that, let him send 
for the priest. The knight thought of what 
the clergy had said, and that this might be a 
cheat of the devil. The bride was brought 
to Staufenberg, the feast was held, but at the 
very beginning of it a foot whiter than ivory 
was seen through the ceiling. Staufenberg 
tore his hair and cried, Friends, ye have ruined 



yourselves and me ! He begged his bride and 
all who had come with her to the wedding to 
stay for his funeral, ordered a bed to be pre 
pared for him and a priest to be sent for. He 
asked his brothers to give his bride all that he 
had promised her. But she said no ; his friends 
should rather have all that she had brought ; 
she would have no other husband, and since 
she had been the cause of his death she would 
go into a cloister, where no eye should see 
her : which she did after she had returned to 
her own country. 

A superscription to the old poem denomi 
nates Staufenberg's amphibious consort a mer- 
fey, sea-fairy; but that description is not to 
be strictly interpreted, no more than mer-fey, 
or fata morgana, is in some other romantic 
tales. There is nothing of the water-sprite in 
her, nor is she spoken of by any such name 
in the poem itself. The local legends of sixty 
years ago,* and perhaps still, make her to have 
been a proper Vater-nymph. She is first met 
with by the young knight near a spring or a 
brook, and it is in a piece of water that he 
finds his death, and that on the evening of his 
wedding day. 

Clerk Colvill and the mermaid are repre 
sented by Sir Oluf and an elf in Scandinavian 
ballads to the number of about seventy. The 
oldest of these is derived from a Danish man 
uscript of 1550, two centuries and a half later 
than the Staufenberg poem, but two earlier 
than Clerk Colvill, the oldest ballad outside 
of the Scandinavian series. Five other ver 
sions are of the date 1700, or earlier, the rest 
from tradition of this century. No ballad 
has received more attention from the heroic 
Danish editor, whose study of ' Elveskud ' 
presents an admirably ordered synoptic view 
of all the versions known up to 1881 : Grundt- 
vig, No 47, II, 109-19, 663-66 ; III, 824-25 ; 
IV, 835-74.f 

The Scandinavian versions are : 

Faroe, four : A, 39 sts, B, 24 sts, C, 18 sts, 
D, 23 sts, Grundtvig, IV, 849-52. 

* Engelhard t, pp 6, 13 f : Sagen aus Baden and dcr Um- 
gegend, Carlsruhe, 1834, pp 107-122. 

t Separately printed, under the title, Elveskud, dansk, 
svensk, norsk, ferosk, islandsk, skotsk, vendisk, beniisk, 

Icelandic, twelve, differing slightly except 
at the very end: A, ' KvseSi af (5lafi Liljur6s,' 
24 sts, MS. of 1665 ; B, C, MS. of about 1700, 
20 sts, 1 st. ; D, 18 sts ; E, 17 sts ; P, G, 16 sts ; 
H, ' (5lafs kvaeSi,' 22 sts ; I a, 18 sts ; I b, 
20 sts ; K, 22 sts ; L, 24 sts ; M, 25 sts. 
These in Islenzk fornkvseSi, pp 4-10, A a 
in full, but only the variations of the other 
versions. I b, previously, ' (5lafur og alfa- 
masr,' Berggreen, Danske Folke-Sange og Me- 
lodier, 2d ed., pp 56, 57, No 20 d ; and M, 
" Sn6t, p. 200." 

Danish, twenty-six : ' Elveskud ' A, 54 sts, 
MS. of 1550, Grundtvig, II, 112 ; B, 25 sts, 
Syv No 87 (1695), Danske Viser, I, 237, 
Grundtvig, II, 114 ; C, 29 sts, the same, II, 
115; D a, D b, 31, 15 sts, II, 116, 665; 
E-G, 20, 16, 8 sts, II, 117-19 ; H, I, 32, 25 
sts, II, 663-64 ; K, 29 sts, L, 15 sts, M, 27 
sts, N, 16 sts, O, 33 sts, P, 22 sts, Q, 7 sts, 
B, 22 sts, S, 32 sts, T, 27 sts, U, 25 sts, 
V, 18 sts, X, 11 sts, Y, 11 sts, Z, 8 sts, JE t 
23 sts, IV, 835-47 ; 0, 10 sts, Boisen, Nye og 
gamle Viser, 1875, p. 191, No 98. 

Swedish, eight: A, 15 sts, ' Elf-Qvinnan och 
Herr Olof,' MS. of seventeenth century, Af- 
zelius, III, 165 ; B, 12 sts, ' Herr Olof i Elf- 
vornas dans,' Afzelius, III, 160 ; C, 18 sts, 
Afzelius, III, 162 ; D, 21 sts, 4 Herr Olof och 
Elfvorna,' Arwidsson, II, 304 ; E, 20 sts, Ar- 
widsson, II, 307 ; P, 19 sts, Grundtvig, IV, 
848; G, 12 sts, 'Herr Olof och Elffrun,' 
Djurklou, p. 94 ; H, 8 sts, Afzelius, Sago-Haf- 
der, ed. 1844, ii, 157. 

Norwegian, eighteen : A, 39 sts, * Olaf 
Liljukrans,' Landstad, p. 355 ; B, 15 sts, 
Landstad, p. 843 ; C-S, collections of Professor 
Bugge, used in manuscript by Grundtvig ; C, 
36 sts, partly printed in Grundtvig, III, 824 ; 
D, 23 sts, Grundtvig, III, 824-25, partly ; E, 
22 sts ; F, 11 sts ; G, 27 sts ; H, 13 sts ; I, 
7 sts ; K, 4 sts, two printed, ti., p. 824.J 

Of these the Faroe versions are nearest to 
the English. Olaf's mother asks him whither 
he means to ride ; his corselet is hanging in 

tysk, fransk, italiensk, katalonsk, spansk, brotonsk Folke- 
vise, i overblik ved Svend Grundtvig. Kjebenhavn, 1881. 
I All the Norse versions are in two-line stanzas. 



the loft ; A, C, D. "I am going to the heath, 
to course the hind," he says. " You are not 
going to course the hind ; you are going to your 
leman. White is your shirt, well is it washed, 
but bloody shall it be when it is taken off," 
A, D. " God grant it be not as she bodes ! " 
exclaims Olaf, as he turns from his mother, 
A. He rides to the hills and comes to an elf- 
house. An elf comes out, braiding her hair, 
and invites him to dance. " You need not 
braid your hair for me ; I have not come a-woo- 
ing," he says. " I must quit the company of 
elves, for to-morrow is my bridal." " If you 
will have no more to do with elves, a sick 
bridegroom shall you be ! Would you rather 
lie seven years in a sick-bed, or go to the 
mould to-morrow ? " He would rather go to 
the mould to-morrow. The elf brought him 
a drink, with an atter-corn, a poison grain, 
floating in it : at the first draught his belt 
burst A, B*. " Kiss me," she said, " before 
you ride." He leaned over and kissed her, 
though little mind had he to it : she was be 
guiling him, him so sick a man. His mother 
came out to meet him : " Why are you so pale, 
as if you had been in an elf-dance?" "I have 
been in an elf-dance," he said,* went to bed, 
turned his face to the wall, and was dead be 
fore midnight. His mother and his love (moy, 
vfv) died thereupon. 

Distinct evidence of previous converse with 
elves is lacking in the Icelandic versions. 
Olaf rides along the cliffs, and comes upon an 
elf-house. One elf comes out with her hair 
twined with gold, another with a silver tank 
ard, a third in a silver belt, and a fourth wel 
comes him by name. " Come into the booth 
and drink with us." " I will not live with 
elves," says Olaf ; " rather will I believe in 
God." The elf answers that he might do 
both, excuses herself for a moment, and comes 
back in a cloak, which hides a sword. " You 
shall not go without giving us a kiss," she 

* In 'Jomfruen og Dvasrgekongen,' C 25, 26, Grundt- 
vig, No 37, the woman who has been carried off to the hill, 
wishing to die, asks that atter-corns may be put into her 
drink. She evidently gets, however, only the villar-konn, 
elvar-konn, of Landstad, Nos 42-45, which are of lethean 
property. But in J. og D. F, we may infer an atter-corn, 
though none is mentioned, from the effect of the draughts, 

says. Olaf leans over his saddle-bow and 
kisses her, with but half a heart, and she 
thrusts the sword under his shoulder-blade 
into the roots of his heart. He sees his heart's 
blood under his horse's feet, and spurs home 
to his mother. " Whence comest thou, my 
son, and why so pale, as if thou hadst been in 
an elf-dance (leik) ? " " It boots not to hide 
it from thee : an elf has beguiled me. Make 
my bed, mother ; bandage my side, sister." 
He dies presently : there was more mourning 
than mirth ; three were borne to the grave 

Nearly all the Danish and Swedish ver 
sions, and a good number of the Norwegian, 
interpose an affecting scene between the death 
of the hero and that of his bride and his 
mother. The bride, on her way to Olaf's 
house, and on her arrival, is disconcerted and 
alarmed by several ominous proceedings or 
circumstances. She hears bells tolling; sees 
people weeping ; sees men come and go, but 
not the bridegroom. She is put off for a time 
with false explanations, but in the end dis 
covers the awful fact. Such a passage occurs 
in the oldest Danish copy, which is also the 
oldest known copy of the ballad. The im 
portance of this version is such that the story 
requires to be given witli some detail. 

Oluf rode out before dawn, but it seemed to 
him bright as day.f He rode to a hill where 
dwarfs were dancing. A maid stepped out 
from the dance, put her arm round his neck, 
and asked him whither he would ride. " To 
talk with my true-love," said he. " But first," 
said she, " you must dance with us." She then 
went on to make him great offers if he would 
plight himself to her : a horse that would 
go to Rome and back in an hour, and a gold 
saddle for it ; a new corselet, having which 
he never need fly from man ; a sword such 
as never was used in war. Such were all her 
benches as if gold were laid in links, and such 

which is that belt, stays, and sark successively burst. See 
p. 363 f. 

t So, also, Swedish A, F, Norwegian A, C. This is a 
cantrip sleight of the elves. The Icelandic burden supposes 
this illumination, " The low was burning red ; " and when 
Olaf seeks to escape, in Norwegian A, C, E, G, I, K, he has 
to make his way through the elf-flarnc, elvelogi. 



were all her drawbridges as the gold on his 
hands. " Keep your gold," he answered ; " I 
will go home to my true-love." She struck 
him on the cheek, so that the blood spattered 
his coat ; she struck him midshoulders, so 
that he fell to the ground : " Stand up, Oluf, 
and ride home ; you shall not live more than a 
day." He turned his horse, and rode home 
a shattered man. His mother was at the gate : 
" Why comest thou home so sad ? " " Dear 
mother, take my horse ; dear brother, fetch a 
priest." " Say not so, Oluf ; many a sick man 
does not die. To whom do you give your 
betrothed ? " " Rise, my seven brothers, and 
ride to meet my young bride." 

As the bride's train came near the town, 
they heard the bells going. " Why is this ? " 
she asked, her heart already heavy with pain ; 
" I know of no one having been sick." They 
told her it was a custom there to receive a 
bride so. But when she entered the house, all 
the women were weeping. " Why are these 
ladies weeping ? " No one durst answer a 
word. The bride went on into the hall, and 
took her place on the bride-bench. "I see," 
she said, "knights go and come, but I see not 
my lord Oluf." The mother answered, Oluf 
is gone to the wood with hawk and hound. 
" Does he care more for hawk and hound than 
for his young bride ? " 

At evening they lighted the torches as if to 
conduct the bride to the bride-bed ; but Oluf's 
page, who followed his lady, revealed the truth 
on the way. " My lord," he said, "lies on his 
bier above, and you are to give your troth to 
his brother." " Never shalt thou see that day 
that I shall give my troth to two brothers." 
She begged the ladies that she might see the 
dead. They opened the door ; she ran to the 
bier, threw back the cloth, kissed the body 
precipitately ; her heart broke in pieces ; griev 
ous was it to see. 

Danish B, printed by Syv in 1695, is the 
copy by which the ballad of the Elf-shot has 

* Grundtvig remarks that Herder's translation, ' Erlko- 
nigs Tochter,' Volkslieder, II, 158, took so well with the 
Germans that at last it came to pass for an original German 
ballad. The Wnnderhorn, I, 261, ed. 1806, gives it with the 
title, ' Herr Olof,' as from a flying sheet (= Scherer's 
Deutsche Volkslieder, 1851, p. 371). It appears, with some 

become so extensively known since Herder's 
time, through his translation and others.* 

The principal variations of the Scandinavian 
ballads, so far as they have not been given, 
now remain to be noted. 

The hero's name is mostly Oluf, Ole, or a 
modification of this, Wolle, Rolig, Voider; 
sometimes with an appendage, as Faroe (3la- 
vur Riddarar<5s, Rdsinkrans, Icelandic (3lafur 
Liljur6s, Norwegian Olaf Liljukrans, etc. It 
is Peder in Danish H, I, O, P, Q, R, JE. 

Excepting the Faroe ballads, Oluf is not 
distinctly represented as having had previous 
acquaintance with the elves. In Swedish A 5 
he says, I cannot dance with you, my betrothed 
has forbidden me ; in Danish C, I should be 
very glad if I could ; to-morrow is my wed 

The object of his riding out is to hunt, or 
the like, in Danish D b, E, F, I, R, T, X, Y ; 
to bid guests to his wedding, Danish B, C, 
D a, G, H, K-N, P, S, U, V, 0, Norwegian 
A, B. 

He falls in with dwarfs, Danish A, H, Nor 
wegian A ; trolds, Danish I ; elves and dwarfs, 
Norwegian B, and a variation of A : elsewhere, 
it is elves. 

There is naturally some diversity in the gifts 
which the elf offers Oluf in order to induce him 
to dance with her. He more commonly replies 
that the offer is a handsome one, 'kan jeg vel 
fa,' but dance with her he cannot ; sometimes 
that his true-love has already given him that, 
or two, three, seven such, Danish D a, I, T, 

If he will not dance with her, the elf threat 
ens him with sore sickness, Danish B, E, H, Z, 
0, Norwegian A, Swedish E, P ; a great mis 
fortune, Danish F, Swedish A ; sharp knives, 
Danish P ; it shall cost him his young life, 
Danish D a, b, T, Y. 

Oluf dances with the elves, obviously under 
compulsion, in Danish C, D, G-N, S, T, U, X, Y, 
Swedish F, and only in these. He dances till 

little changes, in Zarnack's Deutsche Volkslieder, 1819,1, 
29, whence it passed into Erlach, IV, 6, and Richter und 
Marschner, p. 60. Kretzschmer has the translation, again, 
with a variation here and there, set to a " North German " 
and to a " Westphalian " air, p. 8, p. 9. 



both his boots are full of blood, D a 15, D b 4, 
G 5, I 11, K 5, L 5, M 6, N 7, S 6 [shoes], 
T 10, U 5, X 8, Y 7 ; he dances so long that 
he is nigh dead, I 12. 

The hard choice between dying at once or 
lying sick seven years is found, out of the 
Faroe ballads, only in Danish H 8, M 8, O 4, 
Q 2, S 8. Norwegian ballads, like English 
C, present an option between living with elves 
and dying, essentially a repetition of the terms 
under which Peter of Staufenberg weds the 
fairy, that he shall forfeit his life if he takes a 
mortal wife. So Norwegian 

A 12 Whether wilt thou rather live with the 

Or leave the elves, a sick man ? 

13 Whether wilt thou be with the elves, 
Or bid thy guests and be sick ? 

B 9 Whether wilt thou stay with the elves, 

Or, a sick man, flit [bring home] thy true- 

i 10 Whether wilt thou be with elves, 
Or, a sick man, flit thy bride ? 

There is no answer. 

Norwegian C, B, G, I resemble A. H is 
more definite. 

6 Whether wilt thou go off sick, " under isle," 
Or wilt thou marry an elf-maid ? 

7 Whether wilt thou go off sick, under hill, 
Or wilt thou marry an elf-wife ? 

To which Olaf answers that he lists not to go 
off a sick man, and he cannot marry an elf. 

The two last stanzas of English C, which 
correspond to these, 

' Will ye lie there an die, Clerk Colin, 

Will ye lie there an die ? 
Or will ye gang to Clyde's water, 

To fish in flood wi me ? ' 

' I will lie here an die,' he said, 

' I will lie here an die ; 
In spite o a' the deils in hell, 

I will lie here an die,' 


may originally have come in before the mer 
maid and the clerk parted ; but her visit to 
him as he lies in bed is paralleled by that of 
the fairy to Staufenberg after he has been 
persuaded to give up what he had been 
brought to regard as an infernal liaison ; and 
certainly Clerk Colin's language might lead 
us to think that some priest had been with 
him, too. 

Upon Oluf's now seeking to make his escape 
through the elves' flame, ring, dance, etc., 
Norwegian A, B, C, E, G, I, H, K, the elf- 
woman strikes at him with a gold band, her 
wand, hand, a branch or twig ; gives him a 
blow on the cheek, between the shoulders, 
over his white neck ; stabs him in the heart, 
gives him knife-strokes five, nine ; sickness fol 
lows the stroke, or blood : Danish A, B, F, N, 
O, B, V, Z, uE, 0, Swedish D, G, Norwegian 
A-E, H, I, Icelandic. The knife-stabs are de 
layed till the elves have put him on his horse 
in Danish D, G, X ; as he sprang to his horse 
the knives rang after him, H. "Ride home," 
they say, "you shall not live more than a day" 
[five hours, two hours], Danish A, C, K-N, S, 
U, V. His hair fades, Danish E ; his cheek 
pales, Danish E, Norwegian A ; sickness fol 
lows him home, Swedish A, C, D, E ; the blood 
is running out of the wound in his heart, 
Swedish G; when he reaches his father's house 
both his boots are full of blood, Danish R, yE. 

His mother [father] is standing without, 
and asks, Why so pale ? Why runs the blood 
from thy saddle? Oluf, in some instances, 
pretends that his horse, not being sure-footed, 
had stumbled, and thrown him against a tree, 
but is told, or of himself adds, that he has 
been among the elves. He asks one or the 
other of his family to take his horse, bring a 
priest, make his bed, put on a bandage. He 
says he shall never rise from his bed, Swedish 
C, Danish F ; fears he shall not live till the 
priest comes, Danish O, P. 

The important passage which relates the 
arrival of the bride, the ominous circumstances 
at the bridegroom's house, the attempts to keep 
the bride in ignorance of his death, and her 
final discovery that she is widowed before 
marriage, occupies some thirty stanzas in Dan- 



ish A, the oldest of all copies ; in Danish B 
it is reduced to six ; in other Danish versions 
it has a range of from fifteen to two; but, 
shorter or longer, it is found in all versions 
but B, 0, and the fragments G, L, Q, X, Z. 
All the Swedish versions have a similar scene, 
extending from three to nine stanzas, with the 
exception of G and of A, which latter should 
perhaps be treated as a fragment. In Nor 
wegian A, again, this part of the story fills 
ten stanzas ; B lacks it, but C-H (which have 
not been published in full) have it, and prob 
ably other unpublished copies. 

The bride is expected the next day, Danish 
D, P, I, K, N, O, S, T, U, Swedish A, D. 
In Danish A Oluf begs his brothers, shortly 
after his reaching home, to set out to meet her; 
he fears she may arrive that very night, Dan 
ish JE. " What shall I answer your young 
bride ? " asks the mother, Danish B, C, D, etc., 
Swedish H. " Tell her that I have gone to 
the wood, to hunt and shoot, to try my horse 
and my dogs," Danish B, C, D, F, H, I, K, O, 
S, T, U, Swedish D, H, Norwegian A, L ; 
in Danish N only, " Say I died in the night." 
Oluf now makes his will ; he wishes to assign 
his bride to his brother, Danish L, O, R, Nor 
wegian C, F ; he dies before the bride can 
come to him. (Norwegian F seems to have 
gone wrong here.) 

The bride, with her train, comes in the morn 
ing, Danish B, D, E, I, M, T, Swedish D, 
Norwegian D ; Swedish C makes her wait for 
her bridegroom several days. As she passes 
through the town the bells are tolling, and 
she anxiously asks why, Danish A, K, O, S, 
U ; she is told that it is a custom there to 
ring when the bride comes, Danish A, Swed 
ish B. In Danish H, though it is day, she 
sees a light burning in Oluf's chamber, and 
this alarms her. When she comes to the 
house, Oluf's mother is weeping, all the ladies 

* Owing to a close resemblance of circumstances in ' The 
Elf-shot,' in 'Frillens Hsevn ' ('The Leman's Wreak'), 
Grundtvig, No 208, and in ' Kibold og Guldborg,' Grundtvig, 
No 82, these ballads naturally have details in common. The 
pretence that the horse was not sure-footed and hurtled his 
rider against a tree ; the request to mother, father, etc., to 
make the bed, take care of the horse, apply a bandage, send 
for a priest, etc. ; the testament, the assignment of the bride 

are weeping, or there are other signs of grief, 
Danish A, C, H, U, &. When she asks the 
reason, no one can answer, or she is told that 
a woman, a fair knight, is dead, A, C, H. 
Now she asks, Where is Oluf, who should 
have come to meet me, should have been here 
to receive me ? Danish K, O, S, U, D, B, I, T, 
etc. They conduct the bride into the hall 
and seat her on the bride bench ; knights 
come and go ; they pour out mead and wine. 
" Where is Oluf," she asks again ; the mother 
replies, as best she can, that Oluf is gone 
to the wood, Danish B, H, Norwegian A, D, 
Swedish H, etc. " Does he then care more 
for that than for his bride ? " Danish A, D, I, 
M, etc., Swedish C, D, Norwegian A, E, G. 

The truth is now avowed that Oluf is dead, 
Danish A, D, I, T, Y, &, Swedish B, Norwe 
gian G. The bride begs that she may see the 
dead, Danish A, C, P, JE, Swedish F, Nor 
wegian D, E, and makes her way to the room 
where Oluf is lying. She puts aside the 
cloths that cover him, or the curtains, or the 
flowers, Danish A, B, K, V, etc., Swedish C, 
D, Norwegian C, D, E, G ; says a word or two 
to her lover, Danish A, C, E, H, Swedish E, 
F, Norwegian G; kisses him, Danish A, C, H; 
her heart breaks, Danish A, C ; she swoons 
dead at his feet, Danish K, M, S, U. In Nor 
wegian A, C, D, she kills herself with Olaf's 
sword ; in Swedish E, with her own knife. In 
Danish B she dies in Oluf's mother's arms. 
On the morrow, when it was day, in Oluf's 
house three corpses lay : the first was Oluf, the 
second his maid, the third his mother, of grief 
was she dead : Danish, Swedish, Norwegian, 

Breton ballads preserve the story in a form 
closely akin to the Scandinavian, and partic 
ularly to the oldest Danish version. I have 
seen the following, all from recent tradition : 
A, C, * Ann Aotro ar C'hont,' * Le Seigneur 

by the dying man to his brother, and her declaration that she 
will never give her troth to two brothers ; and the nearly 
simultaneous death of hero, bride, and mother, occur in 
many versions of both Elveskud and Ribold, and most of 
them in Frillens Haevn. A little Danish ballad, ' Hr. Olufs 
D0d,' cited by Grundtvig, IV, 847, seems to be Elveskud 
with the elf-shot omitted. 



Comte,' Luzel, I, , -]-&, fifty-seven and fifty- 
nine two-line stanzas. B, ' Ann Aotro Nann,' 
' Le Seigneur Nann,' Luzel, I, ^ fifty-seven 
stanzas.* D, ' Aotrou Nann hag ar Gorrigan,' 
' Le Seigneur Nann et la Fe"e,' Villemarque", 
p. 25, ed. 1867, thirty-nine stanzas. E, ' Mon 
sieur Nann,' Poe'sies populaires de la France, 
MS., V, fol. 381, fifty-three verses. F, 'Sonen 
Gertrud guet hi Vam,' ' Chant de Gertrude et 
de sa Mdre,' L. Ke'rardven [=Dufilhol], Gui- 
onvac'h, Etudes sur la Bretagne, 2d ed., Paris, 
1835, p. 362, p. 13, eleven four-line stanzas. 
G-, Holland in Romania, XII, 117, a somewhat 
abridged literal translation, in French. 

The count [Nann] and his wife were mar 
ried at the respective ages of thirteen and 
twelve. The next year a son was born [a 
boy and girl, D]. The young husband asked 
the countess if she had a fancy for anything. 
She owned that she should like a bit of game, 


and he took his gun [lance] and went to the 
wood. At the entrance of the wood he met 
a fairy [a dwarf, E ; a hind, G ; saw a white 
hind, which he pursued hotly till evening, 
when he dismounted near a grotto to drink, 
and there was a korrigan, sitting by the spring, 
combing her hair with a gold comb, D]. The 
fairy [dwarf, hind] said that she had long 
been looking for him, A, B, C, E, G-. " Now 
that I have met you, you must marry me." f 
" Marry you ? Not I. I am married already." 
" Choose either to die in three days or to lie 
sick in bed seven [three] years " [and then 
die, C]. He would rather die in three days, 
for his wife is very young, and would suffer 
greatly [he would rather die that instant than 
wed a korrigan, D]. 

On reaching home the young man called 
to his mother to make his bed; he should 

* Luzel was in possession of other versions, but he assures 
us that every detail is contained in one or the other of these 

t B 13, "You must marry me straightway, or give me 
my weight in silver ; " then, " or die in three days," etc. It 
is not impossible that this stanza, entirely out of place in this 
ballad, was derived from ' Le Comte des Chapelles,' Luzel, 
p. 457, from which certain French versions have taken a part 
of their story. See Luzel, the eighth and ninth stanzas, on 
p. 461. 

t B 50, " A white gown, or broget, or my violet petti 
coat ? " Luzel says he does not understand broget, and in 

never get up again. [His mother, in C 21, 
says, Do not weep so : it is not every sick 
man that dies, as in Danish A 22.] He re 
counted his meeting with the fairy, and begged 
that his wife might not be informed of his 

The countess asked, What has happened to 
my husband, that he does not come to see 
me ? She was told that he had gone to the 
wood to get her something, A [to Paris, C ; to 
the city, D]. Why were the men-servants 
weeping ? The best horse had been drowned 
in bathing him, A, E ; had been eaten by the 
wolves, B ; had broken his neck, C ; had died, 
F. They were not to weep ; others should be 
bought. And why were the maids weeping ? 
Linen had been lost in washing, A, C, E, F ; 
the best silver cover had been stolen, F. They 
must not weep ; the loss would be supplied. 
Why were the priests chanting ? [the bells 
tolling, E, F]. A poor person whom they 
had lodged had died in the night, A-E [a 
young prince had died, F] . What dress should 
she wear for her churching, red or blue ? 
D, F.:j: The custom had come in of wearing 
black [she asks for red, they give her black, 
F]. On arriving at the church, or cemetery, 
she saw that the earth had been disturbed ; 
her pew was hung with black, B ; why was 
this? " I can no longer conceal it," said her 
mother-in-law : " your husband is dead." She 
died upon the spot, A, D. " Take my keys, 
take care of my son ; I will stay with his fa 
ther," B, C. " Your son is dead, your daughter 
is dead," F. 

This ballad has spread, apparently from 
Brittany, over all France. No distinct trace 
of the fairy remains, however, except in a sin 
gle case. The versions that have been made 

his Observations, prefixed to the volume, expresses a conjec 
ture that it must have been altered from droged, robe d'en- 
fant, robe de femme, but we evidently want a color. Grundt- 
vig remarks that broget would make sense in Danish, where 
it means party-colored. Scotch broakit is black and white. 
Icelandic brdJc, tartan, party-colored cloth, is said to be from 
Gaelic breac, versicolor ( Vigfusson). This points to a suita 
ble meaning for Breton broget. 

D adds : " It was a marvel to see, the night after hus 
band and wife had been buried, two oaks rise from the com 
mon tomb, and on their branches two white doves, which 
sang there at daybreak, and then took flight for the skies." 



public, so far as they have come to my knowl 
edge, are as follows, resemblance to the Bre 
ton ballad principally directing the arrange 

A. ' Le fils Louis,' Vendee, pays de Retz, 
Podsies populaires de la France, MS., Ill, fol. 
118, printed in Romania, XI, 100, 44 verses. 
B. Normandy, 1876, communicated by Le- 
grand to Romania, X, 372, 61 verses. C. 
" Forez, Frdddric Noelas, Annales de la Soci- 
dtd impdriale d'agriculture, Industrie, sciences, 
arts et belles-lettres du ddparternent de la Loire, 
Annde 1865, p. 210, 64 verses," Grundtvig, IV, 
867-70, D. Victor Smith, Chants populaires 
du Velay et du Forez, Romania, X, 583, 68 
verses. E. The same, p. 581, 64 verses. F. 
Saint-Denis, Pods, pop. de la France, III, fol. 
103, Romania, XI, 98, 74 verses, as sung by 
a young girl, her mother and grandmother. 
G. Poitou et Vendde, Etudes historiques et 
artistiques par B. Fillon et O. De Rochbrune, 
7 e -10 e livraiscns, Fontenay-le-Comte, 1865, 
article Nalliers, pp 17, 18, nineteen four-line 
stanzas and a couplet ; before by B. Fillon in 
" L'Histoire vdridique des fraudes et exdcrables 
voleries et subtilitds de Guillery, depuis sa nais- 
sance jusqu'& la juste punition de ses crimes, 
Fontenay, 1848," extracted in Pods, pop., Ill, 
fol. 112 ; other copies at fol. 108 and at fol. 116 ; 
Romania, XI, 101, 78 verses. H. Bourbonnais, 
Pods. pop. Ill, fol. 91, Romania, XI, 103, 38 
verses, sung by a woman seventy-two years old. 
I. Bretagne, Louddac, Pods, pop., Ill, fol. 121, 
Romania, XI, 103 f, 64 verses. J. Pods, pop., 
Ill, fol. 285, Romania, XII, 115 (I), 50 verses. 
K. Bretagne (?), Romania, XII, 115 f, 36 
verses. L. V. Smith, Chants pop. du Velay 
et du Forez, Romania, X, 582. 57 verses. 
M. * Le roi Renaud,' Fldvy, Puymaigre, I, 
39, 78 verses. N. Touraine, Bldrd, Brachet 
in Revue Critique, II, 125, 60 verses. O. The 
same, variations of a later version. P. ' L'Ar- 
naud 1'Infant,' Limoges, Laforest, Limoges 
au XVIP siecle, 1862, p. 300, Pods, pop., Ill, 

* It will be observed that some of the Renaud ballads in 
the Poe'sies populaires de la France were derived from ear 
lier publications : such as were communicated by collectors 
appear to have been sent in in 1852 or 1853. The versions 
cited by Rathery, Revue Critique, II, 287 ff, are all from the 

fol. 95, Romania. XI, 104, 82 verses. Q. Cha- 
rente, Pods, pop., Ill, fol. 107, Romania, XI, 
99, 60 verses. R. Cambes, Lot-et-Garonne, 
Romania, XII, 116, 46 verses. S. Jura, Revue 
des Deux Mondes, 1854, Aout, p. 486, 50 
verses. T. Rouen, Pods. pop. Ill, fol. 100, 
Romania, XI, 102, 60 verses, communicated 
by a gentleman who at the beginning of the 
century had learned the ballad from an aunt, 
who had received it from an aged nun. U. a, 
Buchon, Noels et Chants populaires de la 
Franche-Comtd, p. 85, 34 verses ; b, Tarbd, 
Romancero de Champagne, Vol. II, Chants 
Populaires, p. 125, 32 verses; o, G. de Ner- 
val, La Boherae Galante, ed. 1866, p. 77, Les 
Filles du Feu, ed. 1868, p. 130, 30 verses ; 
d, ' Jean Renaud,' Bujeaud, Chants et Chan 
sons populaires des Provinces de I'Ouest, II, 
213, 32 verses. V. Pods, pop., Ill, fol. 122, 
Romania, XI, 100 f, 32 verses. W. Le Bld- 
sois, Ampere, Instructions, etc., p. 37, 36 
verses. X. Provence, Pods, pop., Ill, fol. 114, 
Romania, XI, 105, 44 verses. Y. ' Lou Counte 
Arnaud,' Bives, Gers, Bladd, Pods. pop. de 
la Gascogne, II, ff, 48 verses. Z. Vagney, 
Vosges, Mdlusine, p. 75, 44 verses. AA. 
Cambes, Lot-et-Garonne, Romania, XII, 116 f, 
40 verses. BB. Quercy, Sdrignac, Pods, pop., 
Romania, XI, 106, 34 verses. CC. Quercy, 
Pods, pop., Romania, XI, 107, 26 verses. DD. 
Bretagne, Villemarqud, Barzaz-Breiz, ed. 1846, 
I, 46, 12 verses. EB. Orldans, Pods, pop., Ill, 
fol. 102, Romania, XI, 107, 10 verses. FP. 
Auvergne, Pods, pop., Ill, fol. 89, Romania, 
XI, 107 f, 6 verses. GG. Boulonnais, 'La Bal 
lade du Roi Renaud,' E. Hamy, in Almanach 
de Boulogne-sur-Mer pour 1863, p. 110 (com 
pounded from several versions), 16 four-line 

The name of the hero in the French ballad 
is mostly Renaud, or some modification of 
Renaud: Jean Renaud, G, H, U; Renom, 
AA; Arnaud, C, E, L, Y, BB ; L'Arnaud 
ITnfant, P; Louis Renaud, brother of Jean, F. 

MS. Poe'sies populaires. BB, CC have either been over 
looked by me in turning over the first five volumes, or occur 
in vol. vi, which has not yet been received. GG came to 
hand too late to be ranked at its proper place. 



It is Louis in A, I, J, V. He is king, or of the 
royal family, F, M, N. O, Q, W, BB, CO, GG ; 
count, Y ; Renaud le grand, H, Z. In A, 
while he is walking in his meadows, he meets 
Death, who asks him, peremptorily, Would 
you rather die this very night, or languish 
seven years ? and he answers that he prefers 
to die at once. Here there is a very plain 
trace of the older fairy. He is mortally hurt, 
while hunting, by a wolf, B ; by a boar, DD. 
But in more than twenty versions he returns 
from war, often with a horrible wound, " ap- 
portant son cceur dans sa main," C ; "tenant 
ses tripes dans ses mains," N ; " oque ses 
tripes on sa main, sen estoumac on sen chapea, 
sen cur covert de sen mentea," G ; etc. In F, 
I, J he comes home in a dying state from 
prison (to which he was consigned, according 
to I, for robbing a church !). In these ver 
sions the story is confused with that of an 
other ballad, existing in Breton, and very 
likely in French, ' Komt ar Chapel,' ' Le 
Comte des Chapelles,' Lnzel, I, fff, or 'Le 
Page de Louis XIII,' Villemarque', Barzaz- 
Breiz, p. 301. A fragment of a corresponding 
Italian ballad is given by Nigra, Romania, 
XI, 397, No 9. 

Renaud, as it will be convenient to call the 
hero, coming home triste et chagrin, F, P, U b, 
c, triste et bien malau, Y, receives on his ar 
riving felicitations from his mother on account 
of the birth of a son. He has no heart to 
respond to these : " Ni de ma femme, ni de 
mon fils, je ne saurais me rejoui." He asks 
that his bed may be made, with precautions 
against his wife's hearing. At midnight he 
is dead. 

The wife, hearing the men-servants weep 
ing, asks her mother-in-law the cause. The 
best horse [horses] has been found dead in 
the stable, has strayed away, etc., B, D-S, GG. 
" No matter for that," says the wife ; " when 
Renaud comes he will bring better," B, D-G, 
L-Q, GG. The maids are heard weeping ; why 
is that? They have lost, or injured, sheets 
in the washing, B, D, B, G, J. When Renaud 
comes we shall have better, B, D, E, G. Or 
a piece of plate has been lost or broken, A, 
F, H, I, K, O. [It is children with the tooth 

ache, F, U a, b, c, d]. " What is this chant 
ing which I hear? " It is a procession, mak 
ing the tour of the house : B, D-F, L, P-X, 
GG. " What gown shall I wear when I go to 
church ? " Black is the color for women at 
their churching, B, F, I, L, M, O, P, V, Y ; 
black is more becoming, plus joli, plus con- 
venant, plus consequent, A, D, H, K, N, B, 
X, BB, DD, GG ; " quittez le ros', quitt^z le 
gris, prenez le noir, pour mieux choisir," etc., 
Q, W, U, B, S, T. 

Besides these four questions, all of which 
occur in Breton ballads, there are two which 
are met with in many versions, always coming 
before the last. " What is this pounding 
(frapper, cogner, taper) which I hear ? " It is 
carpenters, or masons, repairing some part of 
the house, D, E, K, L, N, P-U, W; A, V, X, 
AA; GG. "Why are the bells ringing?" For 
a procession, or because a distinguished person 
age has come, has died, etc., A, B, F-L, Q, R, 
W, Y, AA, DD, GG. On the way to church [or 
cemetery] herdboys or others say to one an 
other, as the lady goes by, That is the wife 
of the king, the seigneur, that was buried last 
night, or the like ; and the mother-in-law has 
again to put aside the lady's question as to 
what they were saying, D, E, G, H, L-P, S, 
T, X, Y, FF, GG. 

Flambeaux or candles are burning at the 
church, E, V; a taper is presented to the 
widow, M, or holy water, N, T, Z, GG; 
the church is hung with black, D, O, FF ; 
the funeral is going on, AA, CO. " Whose is 
this new monument ? " " What a fine tomb ! " 
M, N, R, T, Z, GG. The scene in other cases 
is transferred to the cemetery. "Why has 
the earth been disturbed ? " " What new mon 
ument is this ? " A, DD ; C, F, I, J, P. In B 
the tomb is in the garden ; in L, S, X, BB the 
place is not defined. 

The young wife utters a piercing shriek, 
C, D, K, L, N. Open earth, split tomb, split 
tiles ! A, B, Q, R, V, W, X, Y ; I will stay 
with my husband, will die with my husband, 
will not go back, A, C, D, M, N, Q, R, S, X, 
Y, Z, BB, CO, GG. She bids her mother 
take her keys, B, C, G, L, M, P, Y, BB, CC, 
GG, and commits her son [children] to her 



kinsfolk, to bring up piously, B, G, I, J, L, 
M, O, Z, BB, CO. In H, P, Q, W, X, Y the 

earth opens, and in the last four it encloses 
her. In K heaven is rent by her shriek, and 
she sees her husband in light (who says, 
strangely, that his mouth smacks of rot) ; he 
bids her bring up the children as Christians. 
Heaven opens to her prayer in AA, and a 
voice cries, Wife, come up hither ! In GG the 
voice from heaven says, Go to your child : I 
will keep your husband safe. There are other 

Q, T, I say expressly that Renaud's wife 
died the next day, or after hearing three 
masses, or soon after. M, O, by a feeble 
modern perversion, make her go into a con 

Italian ballads cover very much the same 
ground as the French. The versions hitherto 
published are : 

A. ' La Lavandaia,' Cento, Ferraro, Canti 
popolari di Ferrara, Cento e Pontelagoscuro, 
p. 52, 16 verses, Romania, XI, 397, amended. 
B. ' II Cavaliere della bella Spada,' Pontelago 
scuro, Ferraro, p. 107, previously in Ri vista di 
Filologia romanza, II, 205, 28 verses, Roma 
nia, XI, 398. C. Piedmont, communicated by 
Nigra, with other versions, to Romania, XI, 
394, No 4, 48 verses. D. Romania, XI, 393 f, 
No 3, 34 verses. B. Ib. p. 395, No 6, 42 verses. 
P. Ib. p. 392 f, No 2, 46 verses. Gt. ' Conte 
Anzolin,' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p. 
61, 57 verses. H. Romania, XI, 396, No 7, 
38 verses. I. Ib. p. 394 f, No 5, 26 verses. J. 
* II re Carlino,' Ferraro, Canti popolari mon- 
ferrini, p. 34, 42 verses. K. Romania, XI, 
392, No 1, 20 verses. L. ' II Conte Angio- 
lino,' Rovigno, Ive, Canti popolari istriani, 
p. 344, 34 verses. M. ' II Conte Cagnolino,' 

* In C the mother-in-law tells her daughter, austerely : 

Vous aurez plutot trouve" un mari 
Que moi je n'aurai trouve un tils. 

So E, nearly. A mother makes a like remark to the be 
trothed of a dead son in the Danish ballad of ' Ebbe Tyge- 
sen,' Grundtvig, Danske Ksempeviser og Folkesange, for- 
nyede i gammel Stil, 1867, p. 122, st. 14. F and T conclude 
with these words of the wife : 

'Ma mere, dites au fossoyeur 
Qu'il crease une fosse pour deux; 

Pontelagoscuro, Ferraro, as above, p. 84, Ri- 
vista di Filologia romanza, II, 196, 36 verses. 
All these are from recent tradition. 

The name Rinaldo, Rinald, is found only in 
I, C, and the latter has also Luis. Luis is the 
name in E ; Carlino, Carlin, in J, H ; Angi- 
olino, Anzolin, L, G ; Cagnolino, M. The 
rank is king in C, E, H-K ; prince, D ; count, 
G, L, M. 

A and B, corrupted fragments though they 
be, retain clear traces of the ancient form of 
the story, and of the English variety of that 
form. Under the bridge of the Rella [Dia- 
mantina] a woman is washing clothes, gh' 
'na lavandera. A knight passes, B, and ap 
parently accosts the laundress. She moves 
into the water, and the knight after her ; the 
knight embraces her, A. Dowy rade he 
hame, el va a ca tiito moja, A. In B (pass 
ing over some verses which have intruded) he 
has many knife-stabs, and his horse many also.f 
He asks his mother to put him to bed and his 
horse into the stable, and gives directions 
about his funeral. 

All of the story which precedes the hero's 
return home is either omitted, D, F, J, K, L, 
or abridged to a single stanza : ven da la cassa 
lo re Rinald, ven da la cassa, I'd tilt ferl, C ; 
ven da la guerra re Rinaldo, ven da la guerra, 
I'd tilt feri, I, E, H ; save that G, which like C 
makes him to have been hunting (and to 
have been bitten by a mad dog), adds that, 
while he was hunting, his wife had given birth 
to a boy. M has an entirely false beginning : 
Count Cagnolino was disposed to marry, but 
wished to be secure about his wife's previous 
life. He had a marble statue in his garden 
which moved its eyes when any girl that had 
gone astray presented herself before it. The 

' Et que 1'espace y soil si grand 
Que 1'on y mette aussi 1'enfanU' 

The burial of father, mother, and child in a common 
grave is found elsewhere in ballads, as in ' Redselille og 
Medelvold,' Grundtvig, No 271, A 37, O 20, M 26, X 27. 

t Shutting our eyes to other Romance versions, or, we 
may say, opening them to Scandinavian ones, we might 
see in these stabs the wounds made by the elf-knives in Dan 
ish D, O, H, N, O, R, X, Swedish G, Norwegian H, I. 
See ' Don Joan y Don Ramon,' further on. 



daughter of Captain Tartaglia having been 
declined, for reason, and another young woman 
espoused, Tartaglia killed the count while they 
were hunting. 

The wounded man, already feeling the ap 
proach of death, F, G, L, asks that his bed 
may be made ; he shall die before the morrow, 
D, P, J : let not his wife know, F, G. The 
wife asks why the men-servants, coachmen, 
are weeping, and is told that they have 
drowned [lost] some of the horses, C-J, M 
[have burned the king's carriage, K]. We 
will get others when the king comes, she an 
swers, C, D, H [when I get up, F, as in Bre 
ton A]. Why are the maids weeping ? The 
maids have lost sheets or towels in washing, 
F, I, K ; have scorched the shirts in ironing, 
C, D, H. When the king comes, he will buy 
or bring better, C, D, H [when I get up, F, as 
in Breton A]. Why are the priests chant 
ing ? For a great feast to-morrow, F. Why 
are the carpenters at work ? They are mak 
ing a cradle for your boy, C-E, H-K. Why 
do the bells ring ? A great lord is dead ; in 
honor of somebody or something ; C, B-L. 
Why does not Anzolin come to see me ? He 
has gone a-hunting, G, L. What dress shall 
I put on to go to church ? [When I get up 
I shall put on red, F, I.] You in black and 
I in gray, as in our country is the way, C-F, 
H, I [H moda a Paris, by corruption of del 
pais] ; I white, you gray, J ; you will look well 
in black, M ; put on red, or put on white, or 
put on black for custom's sake, G. 

The children in the street say, That is the 
wife of the lord who was buried, or the peo 
ple look at the lady in a marked way, C, J, G, 
M ; and why is this ? For the last time the 
mother-in-law puts off the question. At the 
church, under the family bench, there is a 
grave new made, and now it has to be said 
that the husband is buried there, C-K, M. 

A conclusion is wanting in half of the bal 
lads, and what there is is corrupted in others. 
The widow commends her boy to her hus- 

* The ballad of ' Luggieri,' published by Salvatori in the 
Rassegna Settimanale, Rome, June 22, 1879, and reprinted 
by Nigra in Romania, XI, 391 (a variety of ' Rizzardo 
bello,' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p. 62, No 83), appears 

band's mother, G, M, and says she will die 
with her dear one, D, E, J, M. In C, as in 
French V, she wishes to speak to her hus 
band. If the dead ever spake to the quick, 
she would speak once to her dear Luis ; if the 
quick ever spake to the dead, she would speak 
once to her dear husband. In G she bids the 
grave unlock, that she may come into the 
arms of her beloved, and then bids it close, 
that in his arms she may stay : cf. French Y, 
Q, X, R, AA. 

The story of the Italian ballad, under the 
title of ' II Conte Angiolino,' was given in 
epitome by Luigi Carrer, in his Prose e Poe- 
sie, Venice, 1838, IV, 81 f, before any copy 
had been published (omitted in later editions). 
According to Carrer's version, the lady, hear 
ing bells, and seeing from her windows the 
church lighted up as for some office, extracts 
the fact from her mother-in-law on the spot, 
and then, going to the church and seeing her 
husband's tomb, prays that it would open and 
receive her. 

A fragment of an Italian ballad given by 
Nigra, Romania, XI, 396, No 8, describes 
three card players, quarrelling over their game, 
as passing from words to knives, and from 
knives to pistols, and one of the party, the 
king of Spain, as being wounded in the fray. 
He rides home with a depressed air, and asks 
his mother to make his bed, for he shall be 
dead at midnight and his horse at dawn. 
There is a confusion of two stories here, as 
will be seen from Spanish ballads which are 
to be spoken of. Both stories are mixed with 
the original adventure of the mermaid in ' II 
Cavaliere della bella spada,' already referred 
to as B. In this last the knight has a hundred 
and fifty stabs, and his horse ninety.* 

Nigra has added to the valuable and beau 
tiful ballads furnished to Romania, XI, a tale 
(p. 398) from the province of Turin, which 
preserves the earlier portion of the Breton 
story. A hunter comes upon a beautiful 
woman under a rock. She requires him to 

to me not to belong with ' Renaud,' but with the class of 
' The Cruel Brother,' as already remarked of the Venetian 
ballad at p. 142. 



marry her, and is told by the hunter that he 
is already married. The beautiful woman, 
who is of course a fairy, presents the hunter 
with a box for his wife, which he is not to 
open. This box contains an explosive girdle, 
intended to be her death ; and the hunter's 
curiosity impelling him to examine the gift, 
he is so much injured by a detonation which 
follows that he can just drag himself home to 

Spanish. This ballad is very common in 
Catalonia, and has been found in Asturias. 
Since it is also known in Portugal, we may 
presume that it might be recovered in other 
parts of the peninsula. A. * La bona viuda,' 
Biiz, Cansons de la Terra, III, 155, 32 verses. 
B. * La Viuda,' 33 verses, Mila y Fontanals, Ro- 
maucerillo Catalan, 2d ed., p. 155, No 204. 
C-I. Ib. p. 156 f. J. Ib. p. 157 f, No 20^, 36 
verses. K. ' Romance de Dona Ana,' Astu 
rias, the argument only, Amador de los Rios, 
Historia CriticU de la Literature Espanola, 
VII, 446, being No 30 of that author's unpub 
lished collection. 

The name of the husband is Don Joan de 
Sevilla, D, Don Joan, P, Don Olalbo, I, Don 
Francisco, J, Don Pedro, K. His wife, a prin 
cess, A, G, has given birth to a child, or is on 
the eve of so doing. The gentleman is away 
from home, or is about to leave home on a pil 
grimage of a year and a day, A, G ; has gone 
to war, D; to a hunt, I, K. He dies just as he 
returns home or is leaving home, or away from 
home, in other versions, but in K comes back 
in a dying condition, and begs that his state 
may be concealed from his wife. The lady, 
hearing a commotion in the house, and asking 
the cause, is told that it is the noisy mirth of 
the servants, A-D. There is music, chanting, 
tolling of bells ; and this is said to be for a 
great person who has died, B, D, A. In B, D, 
the wife asks, Can it be for my husband ? In 
J the mother-in-law explains her own sorrow 
ful demeanor as occasioned by the death of an 
uncle, and we are informed that the burial 
was without bells, in order that the new mother 

* The version in the Recnerdos was obtained in Mnjorca 
by Don J. M. Quadrado. The editor remarks that the em 
ployment of the articles II and La instead of Es and Sa 

might not hear. In J only do we have the 
question, Where is my husband ? He has been 
summoned to court, says the mother-in-law, 
where, as a favorite, he will stay a year and 
ten days. When should the young mother go 
to mass ? Peasants go after a fortnight, 
tradesfolk after forty days, etc. ; she, as a great 
lady, will wait a year and a day, A, D, I, a 
year, B, a year and ten days, J. What dress 
should she wear, silk, gold tissue, silver ? etc. 
Black would become her best, A, J, K. [Dofia 
Ana, in K, like the lady in Italian G, resists 
the suggestion of mourning, as proper only for 
a widow, and appears in a costume de Pascua 
florida : in some other copies also she seems to 
wear a gay dress.] The people, the children, 
point to her, and say, There is the widow, 
and her mother-in-law parries the inquiry why 
she is the object of remark ; but the truth is 
avowed when they see a grave digging, and 
the wife asks for whom it is, A. In J the lady 
sees a monument in the church, hung with 
black, reads her husband's name, and swoons. 
B, C make the mother's explanation follow 
upon the children's talk. In K the announce 
ment is made first by a shepherd, then con 
firmed by gaping spectators and by a rejected 
lover. The widow commends her child to its 
grandmother, and says she will go to her hus 
band in heaven, A-D; dies on the spot, K ; Don 
Francisco dies in March, Dona Ana in May, J. 

* Don Joan y Don Ramon ' is a ballad in 
which a young man returns to his mother mor 
tally wounded, and therefore would be likely 
to blend in the memory of reciters with any 
other ballad in which ' the same incident oc 
curred. A version from the Balearic Islands 
may be put first, which has not yet taken 
up any characteristic part of the story of Re- 
naud : Recuerdos y Bellezas de Espafia, Mal- 
lorca, p. 336, 1842 = Mila, 1853, p. 114, No 
15, Briz, III, 172 ; Die Balearen in Wort und 
Bild geschildert, by the Archduke Ludwig 
Salvator, Leipzig, 1871, II, 556.* 

Don Joan and Don Ramon are returning from 
the chase. Don Ramon falls from his horse ; 

proves it to be aa old as the sixteenth century. Die Balearen, 
etc., is cited after Grundtvig. 



Don Joan rides off. Don Ramon's mother sees 
her son coming through a field, gathering 
plants to heal his wounds. "What is the mat 
ter?" she asks; "you are pale." "I have been 
bled, and they made a mistake." " 111 luck 
to the barber ! " " Curse him not ; it is the 
last time. Between me and my horse we have 
nine and twenty lance thrusts ; the horse has 
nine and I the rest. The horse will die to 
night and I in the morning. Bury him in the 
best place in the stable, and me in St Eulalia ; 
lay a sword crosswise over my grave, and if 
it is asked who killed me, let the answer be, 
Don Joan de la cassada." 

There are numerous Catalan versions, and 
most of them add something to this story : 
Mild, 2d ed., ' El guerrero mal herido,' p. 171, 
No 210, A-F, A r QH A u ; Briz, III, 171 f, two 
copies. These disagree considerably as to the 
cause of the hero's death, and the names are 
not constant. In A t of Mild, as in the Bal 
earic ballad, Don Joan and Don Ramon are 
coming from the chase, and have a passage at 
lances ; Don Joan is left dead, and Don Ra 
mon is little short of it. A, B, of Mila, tell 
us that Don Pedro died on the field of battle 
and Don Joan came home mortally wounded. 
E says that Don Joan and Don Ramon come 
from the chase, but Don Joan immediately 
says that he comes from a great battle. It is 
battle in F t , in B t (with Gast6 returning), and 
in both the Catalan copies of Briz, the hero 
being Don Joan in the first of these last, and 
in the other nameless. The wounded man 
says he has been badly bled, Mila, A, B, A t , 
Cj, Briz 2 ; he and his horse have lance wounds 
fifty-nine, thirty-nine, twenty-nine, etc., the 
horse nine and he the rest, Mild, A, B, E, A 1? 
Briz 1. His mother informs him that his wife 
has borne a child, " a boy like the morning 
star," Briz 1, and says that if he will go to 
the best chamber he will find her surrounded 
by dames and ladies. This gives him no pleas 
ure ; he does not care for wife, nor dames, nor 
ladies, nor boys, nor morning stars: Briz 1, 
Mila, AJ-G!. He asks to have his bed made, 
Mild, A-D, Bj, C 15 Briz 1, 2, for he shall die at 

* I do not entirely understand Professor Mila's arrange^ 
ment of those texts which he has not printed in full, and it 

midnight and his horse at dawn, A-D, A t , Briz 
2, and gives directions for his burial and that 
of his horse. Let the bells toll when he is 
dead, and when people ask for whom it is, the 
answer will be, For Don Joan, Briz 1, Gast6, 
Mila, E!, who was killed in battle. Let his 
arms be put over the place where his horse is 
buried, and when people ask whose arms they 
are his mother will say, My son's, who died 
in battle, Mila A, B x . Let a drawn sword be 
laid across his grave, and let those that ask 
who killed him be told, Don Joan, at the chase, 
Mila, A * 

We have, probably, to do with two different 
ballads here, versions A-F of Mila's ' Guerrero 
mal herido,' and Briz's second, belonging with 
' Don Joan y Don Ramon,' while A r G! of 
Mild, and Briz's first, represent a ballad of the 
Renaud class. It is, however, possible that 
the first series may be imperfect copies of the 

' Don Joan y Don Ramon ' has agreements 
with Italian B, A : in B, particularly, we note 
the hundred and fifty stabs of the knight and 
the ninety of his horse. 

Portuguese. A good Portuguese version, 
' D. Pedro e D. Leonarda,' in fifty short 
verses, unfortunately lacking the conclusion, 
has been lately communicated to Romania 
(XI, 585) by Leite de Vasconcellos. Dom 
Pedro went hunting, to be gone a year and a 
day, but was compelled to return home owing 
to a malady which seized him. His mother 
greets him with the information that his wife 
has given birth to a son. " Comfort and 
cheer her," he says, " and for me make a bed, 
which I shall never rise from." The wife 
asks, Where is my husband, that he does not 
come to see me ? " He has gone a-hunting 
for a year and a day," replies the mother. 
What is this commotion in the house ? " Only 
visitors." But the bells are tolling ! Could 
it be for my husband ? " No, no ; it is for 
a feast-day." When do women go to mass 
after child-birth ? " Some in three weeks and 
some in two, but a lady of your rank after 
a year and a day." And what color do they 

is very likely that more of his copies than I have cited exhibit 
some of the traits specified. 


wear ? " Some light blue and some a thou 
sand wonders, but you, as a lady of rank, will 
go in mourning." The ballad stops abruptly 
with a half-pettish, half-humorous imprecation 
from the daughter-in-law against the mother 
for keeping her shut up so long. 

There is a Slavic ballad, which, like the ver 
sions that are so popular with the Romance 
nations, abridges the first part of the story, 
and makes the interest turn upon the gradual 
discovery of the hero's death, but in other re 
spects agrees with northern tradition. 

Bohemian. A a. Erben, p. 473, No 9, 
Herman a Dornicka = Waldau, Bohmische 
Granaten, I, 73, No 100; b. <3elakowsky, I, 
26 = Haupt u. Schmaler, I, 327. B. Erben, 
p. 475. C. Moravian, Susil, p. 82, No 89 a, 
* Nest'astna svatba,' ' The Doleful Wedding.' 
D. Susil, p. 83, No 89 b. B. Slovak, fcela- 
kowsky, I, 80. 

Wendish. A. Haupt und Schmaler, I, 31, 
No 3, ' Zrudny kwas,' ' The Doleful Wed 
ding.' B. II, 131, No 182, ' Plakajuen riew- 
esta,' ' The Weeping Bride ' (the last eight 
stanzas, the ten before being in no connec 

The hero on his wedding day is making 
ready his horse to fetch the bride ; for he is, 
as in the Scandinavian ballads, not yet a mar 
ried man. His mother, Bohemian A, ascer 
taining his intention, begs him not to go him 
self with the bridal escort. Obviously she has 
a premonition of misfortune. Herman will 
never invite guests, and not go for them. The 
mother, in an access of passion, exclaims, If 
you go, may you break your neck, and never 
come back I Here we are reminded of the 
Faroe ballad. Bohemian C, D make the fore 
bodings to rise in Herman's mind, not in his 
mother's. The mother opposes the match in 
Bohemian B, and the sister wishes that he 
may break his neck. Wendish A has nothing 
of opposition or bodement before the start, 
but the crows go winging about the young men 
who are going for the bride, and caw a hor 
rible song, how the bridegroom shall fall from 
his horse and break his neck. The train sets 
off with a band of trumpets, drums, and 
stringed instruments, or, Bohemian D, with a 

discharge of a hundred muskets, and when 
they come to a linden in a meadow Herman's 
horse " breaks his foot," and the rider his 
neck ; Bohemian D, when they come to a copse 
in a meadow the hundred pieces are again 
discharged, and Herman is mortally wounded. 
His friends stand debating what they shall do. 
The dying man bids them keep on : since the 
bride cannot be his, she shall be his youngest 
brother's, Bohemian A, C ; cf. Danish L, O, 
B, Norwegian C, F. The train arrives at the 
bride's house ; the bride comes out to greet 
them, but, not seeing the bridegroom, inquires 
affrightedly what has become of him. They 
pretend that he has remained at home to see 
to the tables. The mother is reluctant to give 
them the bride, but finally yields. When the 
train comes again to the linden in the mead, 
Dorothy sees blood. It is Herman's ! she 
cries ; but they assure her that it is the blood 
of a deer that Herman had killed for the 
feast. They reach Herman's house, where the 
bride has an appalling reception, which need 
not be particularized. 

In Bohemian A, while they are at supper 
(or at half -eve = three in the afternoon), a 
death-bell is heard. Dorothy turns pale. 
For whom are they tolling? Surely it is for 
Herman. They tell her that Herman is lying 
in his room with a bad headache, and that the 
bell is ringing for a child. But she guesses 
the truth, sinks down and dies, a. She wears 
two knives in her hair, and thrusts one of 
them into her heart, b. The two are buried 
in one grave. In Bohemian B the bell sounds 
for the first time as the first course is brought 
on, and a second time when the second course 
comes. The bride is told in each case that 
the knell is for a child. Upon the third sound 
ing, when the third course is brought in, they 
tell her that it is for Herman. She seizes 
two knives and runs to the graveyard : with 
one she digs herself a grave, and with the 
other stabs herself. In the Wendish fragment 
B, at the first and second course f there is no 
bell) the bride asks where the bridegroom is, 
and at the third repeats the question with 
tears. She is told that he is ranging the 
woods, killing game for his wedding. In- 



Bohemian C the bell tolls while they are get 
ting the table ready. The bride asks if it is 
for Herman, and is told that it is for a child. 
When they sit down to table, the bells toll 
again. For whom should this be? For 
whom but Herman ? She springs out of the 
window, and the catastrophe is the same as in 
Bohemian B. In D the bride hears the bell 
as the train is approaching the house, and they 
say it is for a child. On entering the court 
she asks where Herman is. He is in the cel 
lar drawing wine for his guests. She asks 
again for Herman as the company sits down 
to table, and the answer is, In the chamber, 
lying in a coffin. She springs from the table 
and rushes to the chamber, seizing two golden 
knives, one of which she plunges into her 
heart. In Bohemian E, when the bride arrives 
at John the bridegroom's house, and asks where 
he is, they tell her she had better go to bed 
till midnight. The moment she touches John 
she springs out of bed, and cries, Dear people, 
why have ye laid a living woman with a dead 
man ? They stand, saying, What shall we 
give her, a white cap or a green chaplet ? 
" I have not deserved the white (widow's) 
cap," she says ; " I have deserved a green 
chaplet." In Wendish A, when the bell first 
knolls, the bride asks, Where is the bride 
groom ? and they answer, In the new cham 
ber, putting on his fine clothes. A second 
toll evokes a second inquiry ; and they say he 

is in the new room, putting on his sword. 
The third time they conceal nothing : He fell 
off his horse and broke his neck. " Then tear 
off my fine clothes and dress me in white, that 
I may mourn a year and a day, and go to 
church in a green chaplet, and never forget 
him that loved me ! " It will be remembered 
that the bride takes her own life in Norwe 
gian A, C, D, and in Swedish E, as she does 
in Bohemian A b, B, C, D. 

B is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og 
skotske Folkeviser, p. 305, No 48 ; by Doen- 
niges, p. 25. 

' Der Ritter von Staufenberg ' is translated 
by Jamieson, from the " Romanzen " in the 
Wunderhorn, in Illustrations of Northern 
Antiquities, p. 257. Danish A by Prior, II, 
301 ; B by Jamieson, Popular Ballads, I, 219, 
and by Prior, II, 306, Buchanan, p. 52. * The 
Erl-King's Daughter,' " Danish," in Lewis's 
Tales of Wonder, I, 53, No 10, is rendered 
from Herder. Swedish A by Keightley, Fairy 
Mythology, p. 84 ; B by Keightley, p. 82, and 
by William and Mary Hovvitt, Literature and 
Romance of Northern Europe, I, 269. There 
is a version from Swedish by J. H. Dixon, in 
Notes and Queries, 4th Series, I, 168. Bre 
ton D by Keightley, as above, p. 433, and by 
Tom Taylor, Ballads and Songs of Brittany, 
' Lord Nann and the Fairy,' p. 9. Bohemian 
A b by Bowring, Cheskian Anthology, p. 69. 


From a transcript from William Tytler's Brown MS. 

1 CLARK COLVEN and his gay ladie. 

As they walked to yon garden green, 
A belt about her middle gimp, 

Which cost Clark Colven crowns fifteen : 

2 ' hearken weel now, my good lord, 

O hearken weel to what I say ; 
When ye gang to the wall o Stream, 
O gang nae neer the weU-fared may.' 

3 ' O haud your tongue, my gay ladie, 

Tak nae sic care o me ; 

For I nae saw a fair woman 
I like so well as thee.' 

4 He mounted on his berry-brown steed, 

And merry, merry rade he on, 
Till he came to the wall o Stream, 
And there he saw the mermaiden. 

5 ' Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may, 

And ay 's ye wash your sark o silk : ' 
' It 's a' for you, ye gentle knight, 
My skin is whiter than the milk.' 

6 He 's taen her by the milk-white hand, 

He 's taen her by the sleeve sae green, 



And he 's forgotten his gay ladie, 
And away with the fair maiden. 

7 ' Ohon, alas ! ' says Clark Colven, 

' And aye sae sair 'a I mean my head ! ' 
And merrily leugh the mermaiden, 
' O win on till you be dead. 

8 ' But out ye tak your little pen-knife, 

And frae my sark ye shear a gare ; 
Row that about your lovely head, 

And the pain ye '11 never feel nae mair.' 

9 Out he has taen his little pen-knife, 

And frae her sark he 's shorn a gare, 
Rowed that about his lovely head, 

But the pain increased mair and mair. 

10 ' Ohon, alas ! ' says Clark Colven, 

' An aye sae sair 's I mean my head ! ' 

And merrily laughd the mermaiden, 
* It will ay be war till ye be dead.' 

11 Then out he drew his trusty blade, 

And thought wi it to be her dead, 
But she 's become a fish again, 
And merrily sprang into the fleed. 

12 He 's mounted on his berry-brown steed, 

And dowy, dowy rade he home, 
And heavily, heavily lighted down 

When to his ladle's bower-door he came. 

13 ' Oh, mither, mither, mak my bed, 

And, gentle ladie, lay me down ; 
Oh, brither, brither, unbend my bow, 
'T will never be bent by me again.' 

14 His mither she has made his bed, 

His gentle ladie laid him down, 

His brither he has unbent his bow, 

'T was never bent by him again. 


Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 302 
ed. 1776, 1, 161. 

1 CLEKK COLVILL and his lusty dame 

Were walking in the garden green ; 
The belt around her stately waist 
Cost Clerk Colvill of pounds fifteen. 

2 ' O promise me now, Clerk Colvill, 

Or it will cost ye muckle strife, 
Ride never by the wells of Slane, 
If ye wad live and brook your life.' 

3 ' Now speak nae mair, my lusty dame, 

Now speak nae mair of that to me ; 
Did'I neer see a fair woman, 
But I wad sin with her body ? ' 

4 He 's taen leave o his gay lady, 

Nought minding what his lady said, 
And he 's rode by the wells of Slane, 
Where washing was a bonny maid. 

5 ' Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid, 

That wash sae clean your sark of silk ; ' 
' And weel fa you, fair gentleman, 
Your body whiter than the milk.' 

6 Then loud, loud cry'd the Clerk Colvill, 

' my head it pains me sair ; ' 
' Then take, then take,' the maiden said, 
' And frae my sark you '11 cut a gare.' 

7 Then she 's gied him a little bane-knife, 

And frae her sark he cut a share ; 
She 's ty'd it round his whey-white face, 
But ay his head it aked mair. 

8 Then louder cry'd the Clerk Colvill, 

' O sairer, sairer akes my head ; ' 
4 And sairer, sairer ever will,' 

The maiden crys, ' till you be dead.' 

9 Out then he drew his shining blade, 

Thinking to stick her where she stood, 
But she was vanishd to a fish, 

And swam far off, a fair mermaid. 

10 ' O mother, mother, braid my hair ; 

My lusty lady, make my bed ; 
O brother, take my sword and spear, 
For I have seen the false mermaid.' 




Notes and Queries, 4th Series, VIII, 510, from the recita 
tion of a lady in Forfarshire. 

1 CLERK COLIN and his mother dear 

Were in the garden green ; 
The band that was about her neck 

Cost Colin pounds fifteen ; 
The belt about her middle sae sma 

Cost twice as much again. 

2 ' Forbidden gin ye wad be, love Colin, 

Forbidden gin ye wad be, 
And gang nae mair to Clyde's water, 
To court yon gay ladie.' 

3 ' Forbid me frae your ha, mother, 

Forbid me frae your bour, 
But forbid me not frae yon ladie ; 
She 's fair as ony flour. 

4 ' Forbidden I winna be, mother, 

Forbidden I winna be, 
For I maun gang to Clyde's water, 
To court yon gay ladie.' 

5 An he is on his saddle set, 

As fast as he could win, 
An he is on to Clyde's water, 
By the lee licht o the moon. 

6 An when he cam to the Clyde's water 

He lichted lowly down. 
An there he saw the mermaiden, 
Washin silk upon a stane. 

7 ' Come down, come down, now, Clerk Colin, 

Come down an [fish] wi me ; 
I '11 row ye in my arms twa, 
An a foot I sanna jee.' 

8 ' mother, mother, mak my bed, 

And, sister, lay me doun, 
An brother, tak my bow an shoot, 
For my shooting is done.' 

9 He wasna weel laid in his bed, 

Nor yet weel fa'en asleep, 
When up an started the mermaiden, 
Just at Clerk Colin's feet. 

10 ' Will ye lie there an die, Clerk Colin, 

Will ye lie there an die ? 
Or will ye gang to Clyde's water, 
To fish in flood wi me ? ' 

11 ' I will lie here an die,' he said, 

' I will lie here an die ; 
In spite o a' the deils in hell 
I will lie here an die.' 

A. 7 8 . laugh ; but we have laughd in 10 8 . 

9 8 . Rowed seems to be written Round, possibly 

14*. brother. 

B. 5 4 . The edition of 1776 has body's. 

C. 7. When they part he returns home, and on the 

way his head becomes " wondrous sair : " 
seemingly a comment of the reciter. 

The Abbotsford copy in " Scottish Songs," 
fol. 3, has these readings, not found in 
Lewis, the Brown MS., or Herd. 
3 2 . And dinna deave me wi your din : Lewis, 

And haud, my Lady gay, your din. 
6 3 . He 's laid her on the flowery green. 




A. ' The Broomfield Hill.' a. Scott's Minstrelsy, III, D. ' Lord John,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, 
271, 1803. b. The same, II, 229, 1802. p. 195. 

B. ' I '11 wager, I '11 wager," etc., Herd's Ancient and E. Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January, 1830, p. 7. 
Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 310. 

F. 'The Merry Broomfield, or The West Country 

C. ' Broomfield Hills,' Buchan's Ballads of the North Wager.' a. Douce Ballads, III, fol. 64 b . b. The 
of Scotland, II, 291. same, IV, fol. 10. 

A SONG of ' Brume, brume on bil ' is one 
of those named in The Complaint of Scotland, 
1549, p. 64 of Dr J. A. H. Murray's edition. 
" The foot of the song " is sung, with others, 
by Moros in Wager's " very merry and pithy 
Comedy called The longer thou livest the 
more fool thou art," c. 1568. * Broom, broom 
on hil ' is also one of Captain Cox's " bunch 
of ballets and songs, all auncient," No 53 of 
the collection, 1575.* The lines that Moros 
sings are : 

Brome, brome on hill, 
The gentle brome on hill, hill, 
Brome, brome on Hive hill, 
The gentle brome on Hive hill, 
The brome stands on Hive hill a. 

" A more sanguine antiquary than the ed 
itor," says Scott, " might perhaps endeavor to 
identify this poem, which is of undoubted an 
tiquity, with the ' Broom, broom on hill ' men 
tioned ... as forming part of Captain Cox's 
collection." Assuredly " Broom, broom on 
hill," if that were all, would justify no such 

* Furnivall, Captain Cox, his Ballads and Books, pp 
cxxviif. Kitson cited the comedy in the dissertation prefixed 
to his Ancient Songs, 1790, p. Ix. 

t Motherwell remarks, at page 42 of his Introduction, 
" The song is popular still, and is often to be met with." It 
was printed in a cheap American song-book, which I have 
not been able to recover, under the title of ' The Green 
Broomfield,' and with some cis-atlantic variations. Graham's 
Illustrated Magazine, September, 1858, gives these stanzas: 

" Then when she went to the green broom field, 
Where her love was fast asleep, 

identification, but the occurrence of Hive hill, 
both in the burden which Moros sings and in 
the eighth stanza of Scott's ballad, is a circum 
stance that would embolden even a very cau 
tious antiquary, if he had received Hive hill 
from tradition, and was therefore unaffected 
by a suspicion that this locality had been in 
troduced by an editor from the old song.f 

Most of the versions give no explicit account 
of the knight's prolonged sleep. He must 
needs be asleep when the lady comes to him, 
else there would be no story ; but his heavy 
slumber, not broken by all the efforts of his 
horse and his hawk, is as a matter of course 
not natural ; es geht nicht zu mit rechten 
dingen ; the witch-wife of A 4 is at the bot 
tom of that. And yet the broom-flowers 
strewed on his hals-bane in A 8, B 3, and the 
roses in D 6, are only to be a sign that the 
maid had been there and was gone. Consid 
ering the character of many of Buchan's ver 
sions, we cannot feel sure that C has not bor 
rowed the second and third stanzas from B, 
and the witch- wife, in the sixth, from A ; but 

With a gray $rnoe-hawk and a green laurel bough, 
And a green broom under his feet. 

" And when he awoke from out his sleep, 

An angry man was he ; 
He looked to the East, and he looked to the West, 

And he wept for his sweetheart to see. 

" Oh ! where was you, my gray ^oo*e-hawk, 

The hawk that I loved so dear, 
That you did not awake me from out my sleep, 

When my sweetheart was so near? " 



it would be extravagant to call in question the 
genuineness of C as a whole. The eighth 
stanza gives us the light which we require. 

' Ye 11 pu the bloom frae aff the broom, 

Strew 't at his head and feet, 
And aye the thicker that ye do strew, 

The sounder he will sleep.' 

The silver belt about the knight's head in 
A 5 can hardly have to do with his sleeping, 
and to me seems meaningless. It is possible 
that roses are not used at random in D 6, 
though, like the posie of pleasant perfume in 
P 9, they serve only to prove that the lady 
had been there. An excrescence on the dog- 
rose, rosenschwamm, schlafkunz, kunz, schlaf- 
apfel, it is believed in Germany, if laid under 
a man's pillow, will make him sleep till it is 
taken away. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 
p. 1008, and Deutsches Worterbuch (Hilde- 
brand), V, 2753 e. 

C makes the lady hide in the broom to hear 
what the knight will say when he wakes, and 
in this point agrees with the broadside P, as 
also in the comment made by the men on 
their master in stanza 24 ; cf. P 16. 

Mr J. W. Dixon has reprinted an Alder- 
mary Churchyard copy of the broadside, dif 
fering as to four or five words only from P, 
in Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the 
Peasantry of England, p. 116, Percy Society, 
Volume XVII. The editor remarks that A 
is evidently taken from P ; from which it is 
clear that the pungent buckishness of the 
broadside does not necessarily make an im 
pression. A smells of the broom ; P suggests 
the groom.* 

The sleep which is produced in A by strew 
ing the flower of the broom on a man's head 
and feet, according to a witch's advice, is 
brought about in two Norse ballads by means 
not simply occult, but altogether preternatu 
ral ; that is, by the power of runes. One of 
these, ' Somn-runorna,' Arwidsson, II, 249, 
No 133, is preserved in a manuscript of the 
end of the seventeenth, or the beginning of the 
eighteenth, century. The other, ' Sovnerun- 

erne,' Grundtvig, II, 337, No 81, was taken 
down in 1847 from the singing of a woman 
seventy-five years of age. 

The Swedish ballad runs thus. There is a 
damsel in our land who every night will sleep 
with a man, and dance a maid in the morning. 
The fame of this comes to the ears of the son 
of the king of England, who orders his horse, 
thinking to catch this damsel. When he ar 
rives at the castle gate, there stands the lady, 
and asks him what is his haste. He frankly 
answers that he expects to get a fair maid's 
honor for his pains, and she bids him follow 
her to the upper room. She lays sheets on 
the bed, and writes strong runes on them. 
The youth sits down on the bed, and is asleep 
before he can stretch himself out. He sleeps 
through that day, and the next, and into the 
third. Then the lady rouses him. " Wake 
up ; you are sleeping your two eyes out." He 
is still so heavy that he can hardly stir. He 
offers her his horse and saddle to report the 
matter as he wishes. " Keep your horse," she 
says ; " shame fa such liars." 

The Danish story is much the same. One 
of a king's five sons goes to make trial of the 
maid. She tells him to fasten his horse while 
she goes before and unlocks ; calls to her maid 
to bring five feather-beds, feather-beds nine, 
and write a sleep on each of them. He sleeps 
through three days, and is roused the fourth, 
with " Wake up, wake up ; you have slept 
away your pluck." He offers her a bribe, as 
before, which she scornfully rejects, assuring 
him that he will not be spared when she 
comes among maids and knights. 

A sleep produced by runes or gramarye is 
one of the two main incidents of a tale in the 
Gesta Romanorum, better known through the 
other, which is the forfeit of flesh for money 
not forthcoming at the day set, as in the Mer 
chant of Venice : Latin, Oesterley, No 195, 
p. 603 ;f English, Harleian MS. 7333, No 
40, printed by Douce, Illustrations of Shak- 
spere, I, 281, Madden, p. 130, Herrtage, p. 
158 ; German, No 68, of the printed edition 
of 1489 (which I have not seen). A knight, 

The broadside is also copied into Buchan's MSS, II, 197. t The Anglo-Latin text in Harleiau MS. 2270, No 48. 



who has a passion for an emperor's daughter, 
engages to give a thousand [hundred] marks 
for being once admitted to her bed. He in 
stantly falls asleep, and has to be roused in 
the morning. Like terms are made for a sec 
ond night, and the man's lauds have to be 
pledged to raise the money. He sleeps as be 
fore, but stipulates for a third night at the 
same price. A merchant lends him the thou 
sand marks, on condition that, if he breaks his 
day, his creditor may take the money's weight 
of flesh from his body. Feeling what a risk 
he is now running, the knight consults a phi 
losopher, Virgil, in the English version. The 
philosopher (who in the Latin version says he 
ought to know, for he had helped the lady to 
her trick) tells the knight that between the 
sheet and coverlet of the bed there is a letter, 
which causes the sleep ; this he must find, 
and, when found, cast far from the bed. The 
knight follows these directions, and gets the 
better of the lady, who conceives a reciprocal 
passion for him, and delivers him, in the sequel, 
from the fearful penalty of his bond by plead 
ing that the flesh must be taken without shed 
ding of blood. 

The romance of Dolopathos, a variety of the 
Seven Wise Masters, written about 1185, con 
siderably before the earliest date which has 
hitherto been proposed for the compilation of 
the Gesta, has this story, with variations, of 
which only these require to be noted. The 
lady has herself been a student in magic. She 
is wooed of many; all comers are received, 
and pay a hundred marks ; any one who ac 
complishes his will may wed her the next day. 
An enchanted feather of a screech-owl, laid 
under the pillow, makes all who enter the bed 
fall asleep at once, and many have been baf 
fled by this charm. At last a youth of high 
birth, but small means, tries his fortune, and, 
failing at the first essay, tries once more. 
Thinking that the softness of his couch was 
the cause of his falling asleep, he puts away 

* Sy . . . bereytte keyn abende das bette met der czoberye 
met der schryft und met des wylden maunea veddere, p. 145, 
lines 8, 10-12; das quam alles von der czoyberye, das die 
jungfrowe dy knaben alle beczobert hatte met schryft und 
met bryven, dy sy en under dy hobt leyte under dy kussen, 

the pillow, and in this process the feather is 
thrown out : lohannis de Alta Silva Dolopa 
thos, ed. esterley, pp 57-59 ; Herbers, Li 
Romans de Dolopathos, Brunet et Montaiglon, 
vv 7096-7498, pp 244-59 ; Le Roux de Lincy, 
in a sequel to Loiseleur-Deslongchamps's Es- 
sai sur les Fables indiennes, pp 211 ff. This 
form of the tale is found in German, in a fif 
teenth-century manuscript, from which it was 
printed by Haupt in Altdeutsche Blatter, I, 
143-49 ; but here the sleep is produced by the 
use of both the means employed in the Gesta 
and in Dolopathos, letter (runes) and feather, 
" the wild man's feather." * 

Magic is dropped, and a sleeping draught 
administered, just as the man is going to bed, 
in a version of the story in the Pecorone of 
Ser Giovanni Fiorentino, Giornata, IV a , Nov. 
l a (last quarter of the fourteenth century). 
Upon the third trial the man, warned by a 
friendly chambermaid not to drink, pours the 
medicated wine into his bosom. The account 
of Ser Giovanni is adopted in Les Adventures 
d'Abdalla fils d'Hanif, etc., La Haye, 1713, 
Bibliothc*qne de Romans, 1778, Janvier, I, 
112-14, 143 f. 

Ellin writes sleep-runes on the cushions on 
which her husband is to sleep, in the Danish 
ballad * Frsendehaevn,' Grundtvig, No 4, A 33 
[C 45]. 

In Icelandic tales a sleep-thorn f is em 
ployed, probably a thorn inscribed with runes. 
The thorn is stuck into the clothes or into 
the head (the ears, according to the popular 
notion, Vigfusson), and the sleep lasts till the 
thorn is taken out. Odin stuck such a thorn 
into Brynhild's garments : Fafnism&l, 43 ; 
Sigrdrifumal, 7; Volsunga Saga, Fornaldar 
Sogur, I, 166. The thorn is put into the 
clothes also in the Icelandic fairy-tale, Mser- 
]>oll, Maurer, Islandische Volkssagen, p. 286. 
dlof, to save herself from Helgi's violence, 
and to punish his insolence, sticks him with a 
sleep-thorn after he is dead drunk : Hrtflfs 

nnd met den veddern von den wylden rnchen liiten, lines 1-5. 
Only one letter and one feather is employed in each case. 

t Svefnporn, Danish sevntorn, or savnpreen : blundstatir, 
sleep-staves, rods (if not letters, runes) in Sigrdrif umal, 2. 



Saga Kraka, Forn. S. I, 18 f, Torfseus, p. 32. 
Vilhjalmr sticks a sleep-thorn into Hr61fr, and 
he lies as if dead so long as the thorn is in him : 
Gaungu-Hrdlfs Saga, Forn. S., Ill, 303, 306. 

A pillow of soporific quality, which Kamele, 
by Isot's direction, puts under Kaedin's head, 
assures her safety though she lies all night by 
his side : Ulrich's continuation of Gottfried's 
Tristan, vv 1668-99, 1744-85 ; and Heinrich's 
continuation, omitting the last circumstance, 
vv 4861-4960 (J. Grimm). 

The witch-woman, in the English ballad, 
A 4, represents the philosopher in the Gesta, 
and the wager in the other versions the fee 
or fine exacted by the lady in the Gesta and 

An Italian ballad, a slight and unmeritable 
thing, follows the story of Ser Giovanni, or 
agrees with it, in respect to the sleeping- 
draught. A man falls in with a girl at a 
spring, and offers her a hundred ducats, or 
scudi, per una nottina. The girl says that 
she must consult her mother. The mother 
advises her to accept the offer : she will give 
the man a drug, and the money will serve for 
a dowry. The man, roused in the morning, 
counts out the money with one hand and 
wipes his eyes with the other. When asked 
why he is crying, he replies that the money 
is not the loss he weeps for, and makes a sec 
ond offer of the same amount. The girl 
wishes to refer the matter to her mother again, 
but the gallant says the mother shall not 
take him in a second time. One version (A) 
ends somewhat more respectably: the girl de 
clares that, having come off with her honor 
once, she will not again expose herself to 
shame. A. Ferraro, Canti popolari monfer- 
rini, ' La Ragazza onesta,' p. 66, No 47. B. 
Ferraro, C. p. di Ferrara, Cento e Pontela- 
goscuro, p. 53 (Cento) No 4, * La Ragazza 
onesta.' C. The same, p. 94 (Pontelagoscuro) 
No 8, * La Brunetta,' previously in Rivista di 
Filologia Romanza, II, 200. D. Wolf, Volks- 
lieder aus Venetien, p. 74, ' La Contadina 
alia Fonte.' E. Bernoni, C. p. veneziani, 
Puntata V, No 4, p. 6, ' La bella Brunetta.' 
P. Bolza, Canzoni p. comasche, p. 677, No 


57, ' L'Amante deluso.' G. Ive, C. p. istriani, 
p. 324, No 4, ' La Contadina alia Fonte.' 
H. Ginandrea, C. p. marchigiani, p. 277, No 
12, * La Madre indegna.' I. Ferraro, C. p. 
della Bassa Romagna, Rivista di Letteratura 
popolare, p. 57, ' La Ragazza onesta.' J. Ca- 
setti e Imbriani, C. p. della Provincie meridi- 
onali, p. 1, No 1 (Chieti), the first sixteen 
verses. K. Archivio per Tradizioni popolari, 
I, 89, No 4, ' La Fandell e lu Cavaldre,' the 
first thirteen lines. 

' The Sleepy Merchant,' a modern ballad, 
in Kinloch's MSS, V, 26, was perhaps fash 
ioned on some traditional report of the story 
in II Pecorone. The girl gives the merchant 
a drink, and when the sun is up starts to her 
feet, crying, " I 'm a leal maiden yet ! " The 
merchant comes back, and gets another dram, 
but " tooms it a' between the bolster and the 
wa," and then sits up and sings. 

A ballad found everywhere in Germany, 
but always in what appears to be an extremely 
defective form, must originally, one would 
think, have had some connection with those 
which we are considering. A hunter meets 
a girl on the heath, and takes her with him to 
his hut, where they pass the night. She rouses 
him in the morning, and proclaims herself 
still a maid. The hunter is so chagrined that 
he is of a mind to kill her, but spares her life. 
' Der Jager,' ' Der ernsthafte Jager,' * Des 
Jagers Verdruss,' ' Der Jager und die reine 
Jungfrau,' ' Der verschlafene Jager : ' Mein- 
ert, p. 203 ; Wunderhorn, 1857, I, 274, Bir- 
linger u. Crecelius, I, 190 ; Biisching u. von 
der Hagen, p. 134, No 51 ; Nicolai, Alma- 
nach, I, 77 (fragment) ; Erk u. Irmer, ii, 12, 
No 15 ; Meier, p. 305, No 170 ; Prohle, No 
54, p. 81 ; Fiedler, p. 175 ; Erk, Liederhort, 
pp 377 f, Nos 174, 174* ; Hoffmann u. Rich- 
ter, p. 202, No 176; Ditfurth, Frankische 
Volkslieder, IJ, 26 f, Nos 30, 31 ; Norrenberg, 
Des diilkener Fiedlers Liederbuch, No 16, p. 
20 ; J. A. E. Kb'hler, Volksbrauch im Voigt- 
lande, p. 307 ; Jeitteles, Volkslied iri Steier- 
mark, Archiv fur Lit. gesch., IX, 361, etc. ; 
Uhland, No 104, Niederdeutsches Liederbuch, 
No 59, ' vermuthlich vom Eingang des 17. 



Jhd.' Cf. Die M&eget, Flemish, Biisching u. 
von der Hagen, p. 311 ; Willems, p. 160, No 

A a is translated by Doenniges, p. 3 ; by 
Gerhard, p. 146 ; by Arndt, Bliitenlese, p. 

a. Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 271, ed. 1803. 
the same, II, 229, ed. 1802. 

b. Sts. 8-14; 

1 THERE was a knight and a lady bright, 

Had a true tryste at the broom ; 
The ane gaed early in the morning, 
The other in the afternoon. 

2 And ay she sat in her mother's bower door, 

And ay she made her mane : 
' O whether should I gang to the Broomfield 

Or should I stay at hame ? 

3 For if I gang to the Broomfield Hill, 

My maidenhead is gone ; 
And if I chance to stay at hame, 
My love will ca me mansworn.' 

4 Up then spake a witch-woman, 

Ay from the room aboon : 
' ye may gang to the Broomfield Hill, 
And yet come maiden hame. 

5 ' For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill, 

Ye '11 find your love asleep, 
With a silver belt about his head, 
And a broom-cow at his feet. 

6 ' Take ye the blossom of the broom, 

The blossom it smells sweet, 
And strew it at your true-love's head, 
And likewise at his feet. 

7 ' Take ye the rings off your fingers, 

Put them on his right hand, 


Herd, Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 310. 

1 ' I 'LL wager, I '11 wager, I '11 wager with you 
Five hundred merks and ten, 

* The first stanza of the German ballad occurs in a music- 
book of 1622 : Hoffmann u. Richter, p. 202, who add that the 
ballad is extant in Dutch and Flemish. 

To let him know, when he doth awake, 
His love was at his command.' 

8 She pu'd the broom flower on Hive Hill, 

And strewd on 's white hals-bane, 
And that was to be wittering true 
That maiden she had gane. 

9 ' O where were ye, my milk-white steed, 

That I hae coft sae dear, 
That wadna watch and waken me 
When there was maiden here ? ' 

10 ' I stamped wi my foot, master, 

And gard my bridle ring, 
But na kin thing wald waken ye, 
Till she was past and gane.' 

11 ' And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk, 

That I did love sae dear, 
That wadna watch and waken me 
When there was maiden here.' 

12 ' I clapped wi my wings, master, 

And aye my bells I rang, 
And aye cry'd, Waken, waken, master, 
Before the ladye gang.' 

13 ' But haste and haste, my gude white steed, 

To come the maiden till, 
Or a' the birds of gude green wood 
Of your flesh shall have their fill.' 

14 ' Ye need na burst your gude white steed 

Wi racing oer the howm ; 
Nae bird flies faster through the wood, 
Than she fled through the broom.' 

That a maid shanae go to yon bonny green 

And a maiden return agen.' 

2 'I '11 wager, I 'U wager, I '11 wager with you 

Five hundred merks and ten, 
That a maid shall go to yon bonny green wood, 
And a maiden return agen.' 



3 She 's pu'd the blooms aff the broom-bush, 

And strewd them on 's white hass-bane : 
' This is a sign whereby you may know 
That a maiden was here, but she 's gane.' 

4 ' O where was you, my good gray steed, 

That I hae loed sae dear ? 
why did you not awaken me 
When my true love was here ? ' 

5 ' I stamped with my foot, master, 

And gard my bridle ring, 
But you wadnae waken from your sleep 
Till your love was past and gane.' 

6 ' Now I may sing as dreary a sang 

As the bird sung on the brier, 
For my true love is far removd, 
And I '11 neer see her mair.' 


Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 291. 

1 THERE was a knight and lady bright 

Set trysts amo the broom, 
The one to come at morning ear, 
The other at afternoon. 

2 ' I '11 wager a wager wi you,' he said, 

' An hundred merks and ten, 
That ye shall not go to Broomfield Hills, 
Return a maiden again.' 

3 < I '11 wager a wager wi you,' she said, 

' A hundred pounds and ten, 
That I will gang to Broomfield Hills, 
A maiden return again.' 

4 The lady stands in her bower door, 

And thus she made her mane : 
' shall I gang to Broomfield Hills, 
Or shall I stay at hame ? 

5 * If I do gang to Broomfield Hills, 

A maid I '11 not return ; 
But if I stay from Broomfield Hills, 
I '11 be a maid mis-sworn.' 

6 Then out it speaks an auld witch-wife, 

Sat in the bower aboon : 
' ye shall gang to Broomfield Hilte, 
Ye shall not stay at hame. 

7 ' But when ye gang to Broomfield Hills, 

Walk nine times round and round ; 
Down below a bonny burn bank, 
Ye '11 find your love sleeping sound. 

8 ' Ye '11 pu the bloom frae aff the broom, 

Strew 't at his head and feet, 

And aye the thicker that ye do strew, 
The sounder he will sleep. 

9 ' The broach that is on your napkin, 

Put it on his breast bane, 
To let him know, when he does wake, 
That 's true love 's come and gane. 

10 ' The rings that are on your fingers, 

Lay them down on a stane, 
To let him know, when he does wake, 
That 's true love 's come and gane. 

11 ' And when ye hae your work all done, 

Ye '11 gang to a bush o' broom, 
And then you '11 hear what he will say, 
When he sees ye are gane.' 

12 When she came to Broomfield Hills, 

She walkd it nine times round, 

And down below yon burn bank, 

She found him sleeping sound. 

13 She pu'd the bloom frae aff the broom, 

Strew'd it at 's head and feet, 
And aye the thicker that she strewd, 
The sounder he did sleep. 

14 The broach that was on her napkin, 

She put on his breast bane, 
To let him know, when he did wake, 
His love was come and gane. 

15 The rings that were on her fingers, 

She laid upon a stane, 
To let him know, when he did wake, 
His love was come and gane. 

16 Now when she had her work all dune, 

She went to a bush o broom, 



That she might hear what he did say, 
When he saw she was gane. 

17 ' O where were ye, my guid grey hound, 

That I paid for sae dear, 
Ye didna waken me frae my sleep 
When my true love was sae near ? ' 

18 ' I scraped wi my foot, master, 

Till a' my collars rang, 
But still the mair that I did scrape, 
Waken woud ye nane.' 

19 ' Where were ye, my berry-brown steed, 

That I paid for sae dear, 
That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep 
When my love was sae near ? ' 

20 ' I patted wi my foot, master, 

Till a' my bridles rang, 
But still the mair that I did patt, 
Waken woud ye nane.' 

21 ' O where were ye, my gay goss-hawk, 

That I paid for sae dear, 
That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep 
When ye saw my love near ? ' 

22 ' I flapped wi my wings, master, 

Till a' my bells they rang, 
But still the mair that I did flap, _ 
Waken woud ye nane.' 

23 ' where were ye, my merry young men, 

That I pay meat and fee, 
Ye woudna waken me out o' my sleep 
When my love ye did see ? ' 

24 ' Ye '11 sleep mair on the night, master, 

And wake mair on the day ; 
Gae sooner down to Broomfield Hills 
When ye 've sic pranks to play. 

25 ' If I had seen any armed men 

Come riding over the hill 
But I saw but a fair lady 
Come quietly you until.' 

26 ' wae mat worth you, my young men, 

That I pay meat and fee, 
That ye woudna waken me frae sleep 
When ye my love did see. 

27 ' had I waked when she was nigh, 

And o her got my will, 
I shoudna cared upon the morn 
Tho sma birds o her were fill.' 

28 When she went out, right bitter wept, 

But singing came she hame ; 
Says, I hae been at Broomfield Hills, 
And maid returnd again. 

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 195. 

1 ' I 'LL wager, I '11 wager,' says Lord John, 

' A hundred merks and ten, 
That ye winna gae to the bonnie broom-fields, 
And a maid return again.' 

2 ' But I '11 lay a wager wi you, Lord John, 

A' your merks oure again, 
That I '11 gae alane to the bonnie broom-fields, 
And a maid return again.' 

3 Then Lord John mounted his grey steed, 

And his hound wi his bells sae bricht, 
And swiftly he rade to the bonny broom- 
Wi his hawks, like a lord or knicht 

4 ' Now rest, now rest, my bonnie grey steed, 

My lady will soon be here, 
And I '11 lay my head aneath this rose sae red, 
And the bonnie burn sae near.' 

5 But sound, sound was the sleep he took, 

For he slept till it was noon, 
And his lady cam at day, left a taiken and 

Gaed as licht as a glint o the moon. 

6 She strawed the roses on the ground, 

Threw her mantle on the brier, 
And the belt around her middle sae jimp, 
As a taiken that she 'd been there. 

7 The rustling leaves flew round his head, 

And rousd him frae his dream ; 



He saw by the roses, and mantle sae green, 
That his love had been there and was gane. 

8 ' whare was ye, my gude grey steed, 

That I coft ye sae dear, 
That ye didna waken your master, 

Whan ye kend that his love was here ? ' 

9 ' I pautit wi my foot, master, 

Garrd a' my bridles ring, 
And still I cried, Waken, gude master, 
For now is the hour and time.' 

10 ' Then whare was ye, my bonnie grey hound, 

That I coft ye sae dear, 
That ye didna waken your master, 

Whan ye kend that his love was here ? ' 


' I pautit wi my foot, master, 
Garrd a' my bells to ring, 

And still I cried, Waken, gude master, 
For now is the hour and time.' 

12 ' But whare was ye, my hawks, my hawks, 

That I coft ye sae dear, 
That ye didna waken your master, 

Whan ye kend that his love was here ? ' 

13 ' wyte na me, now, my master dear, 

I garrd a' my young hawks sing, 
And still I cried, Waken, gude master, 
For now is the hour and time.' 

14 ' Then be it sae, my wager gane, 

'Twill skaith frae meikle ill, 
For gif I had found her in bonnie broom- 
O her heart's blude ye 'd drunken your 

an. 1 


Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1, 1830, p. 7. 

1 ' I 'LL wager, I '11 wager wi you, fair maid, 

Five hunder punds and ten, 
That a maid winna gae to the bonnie green 

An a maid return back agen.' 

2 ' I '11 wager, I '11 wager wi you, kin' sir, 

Five hunder punds and ten, 
That a maid I'll gang to the bonnie green 

An a maid return again.' 

3 But when she cam to the bonnie green bower, 

Her true-love was fast asleep ; 
Sumtimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips, 
An his breath was wondrous sweet. 

4 Sometimes she went to the crown o his head, 

Sometimes to the soles o his feet, 
Sometimes she kist bis rosie, rosie lips, 
An his breath was wondrous sweet. 

5 She 's taen a ring frae her finger, 

Laid it upon his breast-bane ; 
It was for a token that she had been there, 
That she had been there, but was gane. 

6 ' Where was you, where was ye, my merry- 

men a', 

That I do luve sae dear, 
That ye didna waken me out o my sleep 
When my true love was here ? 

7 ' Where was ye, where was ye, my gay gos 


That I do luve sae dear, 
That ye didna waken me out o my sleep 
Whan my true love was here ? ' 

8 ' Wi my wings I flaw, kin' sir, 

An wi my bill I sang, 
But ye woudna waken out o yer sleep 
Till your true love was gane.' 

9 ' Where was ye, my bonnie grey steed, 

That I do luve sae dear, 
That ye didna waken me out o my sleep 
When my true love was here ? ' 

10 ' I stampit wi my fit, maister, 
And made my bridle ring, 
But ye wadna waken out o yer sleep, 
Till your true love was gane.' 




a. Douce Ballads, in, fol. 64b : Newcastle, printed and 
sold by John White, in Pilgrim Street, b. Douce Ballads, 
IV, fol. 10. 

1 A NOBLE young squire that livd in the west, 

He courted a young lady gay, 
And as he was merry, he put forth a jest, 
A wager with her he would lay. 

2 * A wager with me ? ' the young lady reply'd, 

' I pray, about what must it be ? 
If I like the humour you shan't be deny'd ; 
I love to be merry and free.' 

3 Quoth he, ' I will lay you an hundred pounds, 

A hundred pounds, aye, and ten, 
That a maid if you go to the merry broom- 
That a maid you return not again.' 

4 ' I '11 lay you that wager,' the lady she said, 

Then the money she flung down amain ; 
' To the merry broomfield I '11 go a pure maid, 
The same I '11 return home again.' 

5 He coverd her bett in the midst of the hall 

"With an hundred and ten jolly pounds, 
And then to his servant straightway he did 

For to bring forth his hawk and his hounds. 

6 A ready obedience the servant did yield, 

And all was made ready oer night ; 
Next morning he went to the merry broom- 
To meet with his love and delight. 

7 Now when he came there, having waited a 


Among the green broom down he lies ; 
The lady came to him, and coud not but 

For sleep then had closed his eyes. 

8 Upon his right hand a gold ring she secur'd, 

Down from her own finger so fair, 
That when he awaked he might be assur'd 
His lady and love had been there. 

9 She left him a posie of pleasant perfume, 

Then stept from the place where he lay ; 

Then hid herself close in the besom of the 

To hear what her true-love would say. 

10 He wakend and found the gold ring on his 


Then sorrow of heart he was in : 
' My love has been here, I do well understand, 
And this wager I now shall not win. 

11 ' O where was you, my goodly gawshawk, 

The which I have purchasd so dear ? 
Why did you not waken me out of my sleep 
When the lady, my lover, was here ? ' 

12 ' O with my bells did I ring, master, 

And eke with my feet did I run ; 
And still did I cry, Pray awake, master, 
She 's here now, and soon will be gone.' 

13 ' O where was you, my gallant greyhound, 

Whose collar is flourishd with gold ? 
Why hadst thou not wakend me out of my 

When thou didst my lady behold ? ' 

14 ' Dear master, I barkd with my mouth when 

she came, 

And likewise my coller I shook, 
And told you that here was the beautiful dame, 
But no notice of me then you took.' 

15 ' O where was thou, my serving-man, 

Whom I have cloathed so fine ? 
If you had wak'd me when she was here, 
The wager then had been mine.' 

16 ' In the night ye should have slept, master, 

And kept awake in 'the day ; 
Had you not been sleeping when hither she 

Then a maid she had not gone away.' 

17 Then home he returnd, when the wager was 


With sorrow of heart, I may say ; 
The lady she laughd to find her love crost, 
This was upon midsummer-day. 

18 ' O squire, I laid in the bushes conceald. 

And heard you when you did complain ; 
And thus I have been to the merry broomfield, 
And a maid returnd back again. 



19 ' Be chearful, be chearful, and do not repine, 
For now 't is as clear as the sun, 

The money, the money, the money is mine, 
^er I fairly have won.' 

he money, the money, the moni 
The wager I fairly have won.' 

A. b. 8 1 . flower frae the hush. 8 8 . a witter true. 

9 2 . I did love. 

II 1 . gray goshawk. II 2 . sae well. 
II 8 . When my love was here hersell. 
12 4 . Afore your true love gang. 
13 s . in good. 
14 2 " 4 . By running oer the howm ; 

Nae hare runs swifter oer the lea 
Nor your love ran thro the broom. 

E concludes ^vith these stanzas, which do not belong 
to this ballad : 

11 ' Rise up, rise up, my bonnie grey cock, 

And craw when it is day, 
An your neck sail be o the beaten gowd, 
And your wings o the silver lay.' 

12 But the cock provd fauss, and untrue he was, 

And he crew three hour ower seen, 
The lassie thocht it day, and sent her love 

An it was but a blink o the meen. 

13 ' If I had him but agen,' she says, 

' O if I but had him agen, 

The best grey cock that ever crew at morn 
Should never bereave me o 's charms.' 

F. a. 8 2 . fingers. II 1 , 13 1 . Oh. 15 2 . I am. 
b. 2 2 . I pray you now, what. 
3 1 . Said he. 3 4 . omits That. 
4 8 . omits pure. 4 4 . And the . . . back 


5 2 . ten good. 5 8 . he strait. 5*. omits For. 
6 1 . his servants. 6 2 . omits made. 
6*. his joy. 

7 4 . sleep had fast. 8 2 . finger. 
9 8 . in the midst. 9 4 . what her lover. 
10 1 . Awaking he found. 10 2 . of bearst. 
10 s . omits do. II 8 . wake. II 4 . and lover. 
12 1 ' 2 . I did. 12 s . wake. 12 4 . here and she. 
13 8 . Why did you not wake. 
14 1 . I barked aloud when. 14 8 . that there 

was my. 

15 2 . I have. 15 8 . when she had been here. 
15 4 . had been surely mine. 
16 1 . omits should. 17 3 . to see. 
18 1 . lay. 18 s . so I. 18 4 . have returnd. 
b has no imprint. 


Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 24 ; Motherwell's MS., p. 570. 

A BASE-BORN cousin of a pretty ballad 
known over all Southern Europe, and else 
where, and in especially graceful forms in 

The French ballad generally begins with 
a young man's announcing that he has won a 
mistress, and intends to pay her a visit on 

Sunday, or to give her an aubade. She de 
clines his visit, or his music. To avoid him 
she will turn, e. g., into a rose ; then he will 
turn bee, and kiss her. She will turn quail ; 
he sportsman, and bag her. She will turn 
carp; he angler, and catch her. She will 
turn hare ; and he hound. She will turn nun ; 



he priest, and confess her day and night. She 
will fall sick ; he will watch with her, or be 
her doctor. She will become a star ; he a 
cloud, and muffle her. She will die ; he will 
turn earth, into which they will put her, or 
St Peter, and receive her into Paradise. In 
the end she says, Since you are inevitable, you 
may as well have me as another ; or more 
complaisantly, Je me donnerai a toi, puisque 
tu m'aimes tant. 

This ballad might probably be found any 
where in France, but most of the known ver 
sions are from south of the Loire. A. Ro 
mania, X, 390, E. Legrand, from Normandy ; 
also known in Champagne. B. ' Les Trans 
formations,' V. Smith, Vielles Chansons du 
Velay et du Forez, Romania, VJI, 61 ff. C. 
Poe'sies populaires de la France, MS., Ill, fol. 
233, Vienne. D. The same, II, fol. 39, Gue*- 
ret, Creuse. E, P. The same volume, fol. 41, 
fol. 42. G. * La maitresse gagne*e,' the same 
volume, fol. 38 :*"on chante cette chanson sur 
les confines du de*partement de 1'Ain qui le 
se*parent de la Savoie." * H. ' J'ai fait une 
maitresse,' Champfleury, Chansons populaires 
des Provinces, p. 90, Bourbonnais. I. ' Adiu, 
Margaridoto,' Blade, Poe'sies pop. de la Gas- 
cogne, II, 361. J. Melusine, col. 338 f, Car- 
casonne. K. Montel et Lambert, Chansons 
pop. du Languedoc, p. 544-51, and Revue des 
Langues romanes, XII, 261-67, four copies. 
L. ' Les Transfourmatiens,' Arbaud, II, 128. 
The Provencal ballad is introduced by Mis 
tral into Mirtlio, Chant III, as the song of 
Magali. M. 'La Poursuite d' Amour,' Ma- 
relle, in Archiv fur das Studium der neueren 
Sprachen, LVI, 191. N. * J'ai fait une mai 
tresse,' Gagnon, Chansons populaires du Can 
ada, p. 137, and Lovell, Recueil de Chansons 
canadiennes, * Chanson de Voyageur,' p. 68. 

0. Gagnon, p. 78. 

Catalan. Closely resembling the French : 
A. ' La Esquerpa,' Briz, Cansons de la Terra, 

1, 125. B, C, D. ' Las Transformaciones,' 
Mild, Romancerillo Catalan, p. 393, No 513. 

Italian. Reduced to a rispetto, Tigri, Canti 
popolari toscani, ed. 1860, p. 241, No 861. 

* There are two other versions in this great collection be 
sides the five cited, but either I have overlooked these, or 
they are in Volume VI, not yet received. 

Roumanian. * Cucul si Turturica,' Alec- 
sandri, PoesiS populare ale Romanilor, p. 7, 
No 3 ; French version, by the same, Ballades 
et Chants populaires, p. 35, No 7 ; Schuller, 
Romiinische Volkslieder, p. 47. The cuckoo, 
or the lover under that style, asks the dove 
to be his mistress till Sunday. The dove, for 
his sake, would not say No, but because of 
his mother, who is a witch, if not let alone 
will change into a roll, and hide under the 
ashes. Then he will turn into a shovel, and 
get her out. She will turn into a reed, and 
hide in the pond. He will come as shepherd 
to find a reed for a flute, put her to his lips, 
and cover her with kisses. She will change to 
an image, and hide in the depths of the church. 
He will come every day in the week, as deacon 
or chorister, to kiss the images (a pious usage 
in those parts), and she will not thus escape 
him. Schuller refers to another version, in 
Schuster's un printed collection, in which youth 
and maid carry on this contest in their proper 
persons, and not under figure. 

Ladin. Flugi, Die Volkslieder des Engadin, 
p. 83, No 12. " Who is the younker that goes 
a-field ere dawn ? Who is his love ? " "A 
maid all too fair, with dowry small enough." 
" Maid, wilt give me a rose ? " " No ; my 
father has forbidden." "Wilt be my love?" 
" Rather a seed, and hide in the earth." 
" Then I will be a bird, and pick thee out," 

Greek. Tommaseo, III, 61, Passow, p. 431, 
No 574 a. A girl tells her mother she will 
kill herself rather than accept the Turk : she 
will turn swallow, and take to the woods. The 
mother replies, Turn what you will, he will 
turn hunter, and take you from me. The same 
kernel of this ballad of transformations in 
Comparetti, Saggi dei Dialetti greci dell' Italia 
meridionale, p. 38, No 36, as M. Paul Meyer 
has remarked, Revue Critique, II, 302. 

The ballad is well known to the Slavic na 

Moravian, fcelakovsky, p. 75, No 6, Wen- 
zig, Slawische Volkslieder, p. 72, Bibliothek 
slavischer Poesien, p. 92. A youth threatens 
to carry off a maid for his wife. She will fly 
to the wood as a dove. He has a rifle that 
will bring her down. She will jump into the 



water as a fish. He has a net that will take 
the fish. She will turn to a hare ; he to a 
dog ; she cannot escape him. 

Polish. Very common. A a. Waclaw z 
Oleska, p. 417, No 287 ; Konopka, p. 124. A 
young man says, though he should ride night 
and day for it, ride his horse's eyes out, the 
maid must be his. She will turn to a bird, 
and take to the thicket. But carpenters have 
axes which can fell a wood. Then she will be 
a fish, and take to the water. But fishermen 
have nets which will find her. Then she will 
become a wild duck, and swim on the lake. 
Sportsmen have rifles to shoot ducks. Then 
she will be a star in the sky, and give light 
to the people. He has a feeling for the poor, 
and will bring the star down to the earth by 
his prayers. "I see," she says, "it's God's 
ordinance ; whithersoever I betake myself, you 
are up with me ; I will be yours after all." 
Nearly the same mutations in other versions, 
with some variety of introduction and ar 
rangement. A b. Kolberg, Lud, VI, 129, No 
257. A c. " Przyjaciel ludu, 1836, rok 2, 
No 34 ; " Lipinski, p. 135 ; Kolberg, Lud XII, 
98, No 193. B. Pauli, Piesni ludu polskiego, 
I, 135. C. The same, p. 133. D. Kolberg, 
Lud, XII, 99, No 194. E. Lud, IV, 19, No 
137. F. Lud, XII, 97, No 192. G. Lud, II, 
134, No 161. H. Lud, VI, 130, No 258. 
I. Woicicki, I, 141, Waldbriihl, Slawische 
Balalaika, p. 433. J. a, b. Roger, p. 147, 
No 285, p. 148, No 286. 

Servian. Karadshitch, I, 434, No 602; 
Talvj, II, 100 ; Kapper, II, 208 ; Pellegrini, 
p. 37. Rather than be her lover's, the maid 
will turn into a gold- jug in a drin king-house ; 
he will be mine host. She will change into 
a cup in a coffee-house; he will be cafetier. 
She will become a quail, he a sportsman ; a 
fish, he a net. Pellegrini has still another 
form, ' La fanciulla assediata,' p. 93. An old 
man desires a maid. She will rather turn into 
a lamb ; he will turn into a wolf. She will 

* The Schotts are reminded by their story that Wade puts 
his son Weland in apprenticeship to Mimir Smith, and to 
the dwarfs. They might hare noted that the devil, in the 
Wallachian tale, wishes to keep his prentice a second year, 
as the dwarfs wish to do in the case of Weland. That little 

become a quail ; he a hawk. She will change 
into a rose ; he into a goat, and tear off the 
rose from the tree. 

There can be little doubt that these ballads 
are derived, or take their hint, from popular 
tales, in which (1) a youth and maid, pursued 
by a sorcerer, fiend, giant, ogre, are trans 
formed by the magical powers of one or the 
other into such shapes as enable them to 
elude, and finally to escape, apprehension ; 
or (2) a young fellow, who has been appren 
ticed to a sorcerer, fiend, etc., and has acquired 
the black art by surreptitious reading in his 
master's books, being pursued, as before, as 
sumes a variety of forms, and his master 
others, adapted to the destruction of his in 
tended victim, until the tables are turned by 
the fugitive's taking on the stronger figure and 
despatching his adversary. 

Specimens of the first kind are afforded by 
Gonzenbach, Sicilianische Marchen,Nos 14, 
15, 54, 55 ; Grimms, Nos 51, 56, 113 ; Schnel- 
ler, No 27 ; Pitre", Fiabe, Novelle e Racconti 
siciliani, No 15 ; Imbriani, Novellaja mila- 
nese, No 27, N. fiorentana, No 29 ; Maspons y 
Labr6s, Rondallayre, I, 85, II, 30 ; Cosquin, 
Contes lorrains, in Romania, V, 354; Ral- 
ston's Russian Folk-Tales, p. 129 f, from Afa- 
nasief V, No 23 ; Bechstein, Marchenbuch, p. 
75, ed. 1879, which combines both. Others 
in Kohler's note to Gonzenbach, No 14, at II, 

Of the second kind, among very many, are 
Straparola, viii, 5, see Grimms, III, 288, Lou- 
veau et Larivey, II, 152 ; Grimms, Nos 68, 
117 ; Miillenhoff, No 27, p. 466 ; Prohle, 
Marchen fiir die Jugend, No 26 ; Asbj0rnsen 
og Moe, No 57 ; Grundtvig, Gamle danske 
Minder, 1854, Nos 255, 256; Hahn, Grie- 
chische Marchen, No 68; the Breton tale 
Koadalan, Luzel, in Revue Celtique, I, |#f ; 
the Schotts, Walachische Maerchen, No 18 ; * 
Woicicki, Klechdy, II, 26, No 4; Karad 
shitch, No 6 ; Afanasief, V, 95 f , No 22, VI, 

trait comes, no doubt, from Weland's sto.ry; but we will not, 
therefore, conclude that our smith is Weland Smith, and 
his adventure with the lady founded upon that of Weland 
with Nidung's daughter. 



189 ff, No 45 a, b, and other Russian and 
Little Russian versions, VIII, 840. Kohler 
adds several examples of one kind or the 
other in a note to Koadalan, Revue Celtique, 
I, 132, and Wollner Slavic parallels in a note 
to Leskien und Brugman, Litauische Volks- 
lieder und Marchen, p. 537 f. 

The usual course of events in these last is 
that the prentice takes refuge in one of many 
pomegranate kernels, barley-corns, poppy- 
seeds, millet-grains, pearls ; the master be 
comes a cock, hen, sparrow, and picks up all 
of these but one, which turns into a fox, dog, 
weasel, crow, cat, hawk, vulture, that kills the 

The same story occurs in the Turkish Forty 
Viziers, Behrnauer, p. 195 ff, the last trans 
formations being millet, cock, man, who tears 
off the cock's head. Also in the introduction 
to Siddhi-Kur, Jiilg, pp 1-3, where there are 
seven masters instead of one, and the final 
changes are worms, instead of seeds, seven 
hens, a man with a cane who kills the hens.* 

The pomegranate and cock (found in Stra- 
parola) are among the metamorphoses in the 
contest between the afrite and the princess in 
the tale of the Second Calender in the Arabian 

Entirely similar is the pursuit of Gwion 
the pigmy by the goddess Koridgwen, cited 
by Villemarque", Barzaz Breiz, p. Ivi, ed. 1867, 

from the Myvyrian Archaiology of Wales, 
I, 17. Gwion having, by an accident, come 
to the knowledge of superhuman mysteries, 
Koridgwen wishes to take his life. He flees, 
and turns successively into a hare, fish, bird ; 
she follows, in the form of hound, otter, 
hawk ; finally he becomes a wheaten grain, she 
a lien, and swallows the grain. 

The ordinary tale has found its way into 
rhyme in a German broadside ballad, Lon- 
gard, Altrheinlandische Mahrlein und Lied- 
lein, p. 76, No 40, * Von einem gottlosen Zau- 
berer und seiner unschuldigen Kindlein wun- 
derbarer Erlb'sung.' The two children of an 
ungodly magician, a boy and a girl, are devoted 
by him to the devil. The boy had read in his 
father's books while his father was away. 
They flee, and are pursued : the girl becomes 
a pond, the boy a fish. The wicked wizard 
goes for a net. The boy pronounces a spell, 
by which the girl is turned into a chapel, and 
he into an image on the altar. The wizard, 
unable to get at the image, goes for fire. The 
boy changes the girl into a threshing-floor, 
himself into a barley-corn. The wizard be 
comes a hen, and is about to swallow the grain 
of barley. By another spell the boy changes 
himself into a fox, and then twists the hen's 

Translated by Gerhard, p. 18. 

1 THE lady stands in her bower door, 

As straight as willow wand ; 
The blacksmith stood a little forebye, 
\\ i hammer in his hand. 

2 * Weel may ye dress ye, lady fair, 

Into your robes o red ; 
Before the morn at this same time, 
I '11 gain your maidenhead.' 

3 ' Awa, awa, ye coal-black smith, 

Woud ye do me the wrang 
To think to gain my maidenhead, 
That I hae kept sae lang ! ' 

See Benfey, Pant&chatantra, I, 410 f, who maintains the 
Mongol tale to be of Indian origin, and thinks the story to 
have been derived from the contests in magic between 

4 Then she has hadden up her hand, 

And she sware by the mold, 

' I wudna be a blacksmith's wife 

For the full o a chest o gold. 

5 ' I 'd rather I were dead and gone, 

And my body laid in grave, 
Ere a rusty stock o coal-black smith 
My maidenhead shoud have.' 

6 But he has hadden up his hand, 

And he sware by the mass, 
' I '11 cause ye be my light leman 
For the hauf o that and less.' 

Buddhist and Brahman saints, of which many are related in 
Buddhist legends. 



O bide, lady, bide, 

And aye he bade her bide ; 

The rusty smith your leman shall be, 
For a' your muckle pride. 

7 Then she became a turtle dow, 

To fly up in the air, 
And he became another dow, 
And they flew pair and pair. 
bide, lady, bide, &c. 

8 She turnd hersell into an eel, 

To swim into yon burn, 
And he became a speckled trout, 
To gie the eel a turn. 

O bide, lady, bide, &c. 

9 Then she became a duck, a duck, 

To puddle in a peel, 
And he became a rose-kaimd drake, 
To gie the duck a dreel. 
O bide, lady, bide, &c. 

10 She turnd hersell into a hare, 

To rin upon yon hill, 
And he became a gude grey-hound, 
And boldly he did fill. 

O bide, lady, bide, &c. 

11 Then she became a gay grey mare, 

And stood in yonder slack, 
And he became a gilt saddle, 
And sat upon her back. 

Was she wae, he held her sae, 
And still he bade her bide ; 
The rusty smith her leman was, 
For a' her muckle pride. 

12 Then she became a het girdle, 

And he became a cake, 
And a' the ways she turnd hersell, 
The blacksmith was her make. 
Was she wae, &c. 

13 She turnd hersell into a ship, 

To sail out ower the flood ; 
He ca'ed a nail intill her tail, 
And syne the ship she stood. 
Was she wae, &c. 

14 Then she became a silken plaid, 

And stretchd upon a bed, 
And he became a green covering, 
And gaind her maidenhead. 
Was she wae, &c. 


A. 'Kinge John and Bishoppe,' Percy MS., p. 184; 
Hales and Furnivall, I, 508. 

B. ' King John and the Abbot of Canterbury,' broad 
side printed for P. Brooksby. 

THE broadside B was printed, with trifling 
variations, or corrections, in Pills to purge 
Melancholy, IV, 29 (1719), and in Old Bal 
lads, II, 49 (1723). It is found in several of 
the collections : Pepys, II, 128, No 112 ; Rox- 
burghe, III, 883 ; Ouvry, No 47 ; the Bag- 
ford ; and it was among Heber's ballads. 
Brooksby published from 1672 to 1695, and 

B was " allowed " by Roger 1'Estrange, who 
was licenser from 1663 to 1685 : Chappell, 
The Roxburghe Ballads, I, xviii, xxiii. The 
title of B is A new ballad of King John and 
the Abbot of Canterbury, to the tune of ' The 
King and the Lord Abbot.' * This older bal 
lad seems not to have come down. 

There are at least two other broadsides ex- 

* A New Ballad of King John and the Ahhot of Canter 
bury. To the Tune of The King and the Lord Abbot. With 

allowance. Ro. L'Estrange. Printed for P. Brooksby at the 
Golden Ball in Pye-corner. 



tant upon the same subject, both mentioned 
by Percy, and both inferior even to B, and in 
a far less popular style : * The King and the 
Bishop,' Pepys, I, 472, No 243, Roxburghe, 
III, 170, Douce, fol. 110 ; and ' The Old Ab 
bot and King Olfrey,' Douce, II, fol. 169, 
Pepys, II, 127, No 111, printed in Old Bal 
lads, II, 55.* In both of these the Shepherd 
is the Bishop's brother, which he is not in B ; 
in A he is half-brother. Pepys's Penny Mer 
riments contain, I, 14, * The pleasant History 
of King Henry the Eighth and the Abbot of 
Reading.' f This last may, without rashness, 
be assumed to be a variation of ' King John 
and the Abbot.' 

Percy admitted ' King John and the Ab 
bot ' to his Reliques, II, 802, introducing many 
lines from A " worth reviving," and many 
improvements of his own,J and thus making 
undeniably a very good ballad out of a very 
poor one. 

The story of this ballad was told in Scot 
land, some fifty years ago, of the Gudeman of 
Ballengeigh, James the V, the hero of not a 
few other tales. Once on a time, falling in 
with the priest of Markinch (near Falkland), 
and finding him a dullard, he gave the poor 
man four questions to think of till they next 
met, with an intimation that his benefice would 
be lost were they not rightly answered. The 
questions were those of our ballad, preceded 
by Where is the middle of the earth ? The 
parson could make nothing of them, and was 
forced to resort to a miller of the neighbor 
hood, who was reputed a clever fellow. When 
called to answer the first question, the miller 
put out his staff, and said, There, as your 

majesty will find by measuring. The others 
were dealt with as in the ballad. The king 
said that the miller should have the parson's 
place, but the miller begged off from this in 
favor of the incumbent. Small, Interesting 
Roman Antiquities recently discovered in 
Fife, p. 289 ff . 

Riddle stories in which a forfeit is to be 
paid by a vanquished party have incidentally 
been referred to under No 1 and No 2. They 
are a very extensive class. The oldest exam 
ple is that of Samson's riddle, with a stake of 
thirty sheets (or shirts) and thirty change of 
garments: Judges, xiv, 12ff. Another from 
Semitic tradition is what is related of Solomon 
and Hiram of Tyre, in Josephus against 
Apion, i, 17, 18, and Antiquities, viii, 5. Af 
ter the manner of Amasis and the ^Ethio 
pian king in Plutarch (see p. 13), they send 
one another riddles, with a heavy fine for fail 
ure, in this case a pecuniary one. Solomon 
at first poses Hiram ; then Hiram guesses 
Solomon's riddles, by the aid of Abdemon (or 
the son of Abdemon), and in turn poses Solo 
mon with riddles devised by Abdemon. 

* Pa gronaliSheiSi,' Landstad, p. 3G9, is a 
contest in riddles between two brothers (re 
freshingly original in some parts), introduced 
by three stanzas, in which it is agreed that 
the defeated party shall forfeit his share of 
their inheritance : and this the editor seems 
to take quite seriously. 

Death is the penalty attending defeat in 
many of these wit-contests. Odin (VafJ>ru5- 
nismal), jealous of the giant VafpruSnir's 
wisdom, wishes to put it to test. He enters 
the giant's hall, assuming the name of Gagn- 

* The King and the Bishop, or, 

Unlearned Men hard matters out can find 
When Learned Bishops Princes eyes do blind. 

To the Tune of Chievy Chase. Printed for F. Coles, T. 
Vere, and J. Wright (1655-80). Printed for J. Wright, 
Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passenvt-r. 

The Old Abbot and King Olfrey. To the tune of the 
Shaking of the Sheets. Printed by and for A. M., and sold 
by the booksellers of London. 

J. Wright's date is 1650-82, T. Passinger's, 1670-82. 

t Printed by J. M. for C. D., at the Stationers Armes 
within Aldgate. C. I), is, no doubt, C. Dennison, who pub 

lished 1685-89. See Chappell, The Roxburghe Ballads, I, 

} Among these, St Bittel for St Andrew of A 26, with 
the note, " meaning probably St Botolph : " why " proba 
bly " ? 

This story serves as a gloss on 2 Chronicles, ii, 13, 14, 
where Hiram sends Solomon a cunning Tyrian, skilful to 
find out every device which shall be put to him by the cun 
ning men of Jerusalem. The Queen of Sheba's hard ques 
tions to Solomon, not specified in 1 Kings, x, 1-13, were, 
according to tradition, of the same general character as the 
Indian ones spoken of at p. 12. See Hertz, Die Katsel der 
Konigin von Saba, Zeitschrift fiir deutsches Altertum, 
XXVII, 1 ff. 



raSr, and announces the object of his visit. 
The giant tells him he shall never go out 
again unless he prove the wiser, asks a few 
questions to see whether he be worth contend 
ing with, and, finding him so, proposes a de 
cisive trial, with their heads for the stake. 
Odin now propounds, first, twelve questions, 
mostly in cosmogony, and then five relating 
to the future of the universe ; and all these 
the giant is perfectly competent to answer. 
The very unfair question is then put, What 
did Odin say in his son's ear ere Balder 
mounted the funeral pile? Upon this Vaf- 
pruSnir owns himself vanquished, and we may 
be sure he was not spared by his antagonist. 

The Hervarar saga contains a story which, 
in its outlines, approximates to that of our 
ballad until we corne to the conclusion, where 
there is no likeness. King HeiSrekr, after a 
long career of blood, gave up war and took to 
law-making. He chose his twelve wisest men 
for judges, and swore, with one hand on the 
head and the other on the bristles of a huge 
hog which he had reared, that no man should 
do such things that he should not get justice 
from these twelve, while any one who pre 
ferred might clear himself by giving the king 
riddles which he could not guess. There was 
a man named Gestr, and surnamed the Blind, 
a very bad and troublesome fellow, who had 
withheld from HeiSrekr tribute that was due. 
The king sent him word to come to him and 
submit to the judgment of the twelve : if he 
did not, the case would be tried with arms. 
Neither of these courses pleased Gestr, who 
was conscious of being very guilty : he took 
the resolution of making offerings to Odin for 
help. One night there was a knock. Gestr 
went to the door, and saw a man, who an 
nounced his name as Gestr. After mutual 
inquiries about the news, the stranger asked 
whether Gestr the Blind was not in trouble 
about something. Gestr the Blind explained 
his plight fully, and the stranger said, " I 
will go to the king and try what I can effect : 
we will exchange looks and clothes." The 

* These are proper riddles, and of a kind still current in 
popular tradition. See, e. g., Svend Vonved, Gnmdtvig, I, 
237 f. There are thirty-five, before the last, in the oldest 

stranger, in the guise of Gestr, entered the 
king's hall, and said, Sire, I am come to make 
my peace. " Will you abide by the judgment 
of my men of law ? " asked the king. " Are 
there not other ways ? " inquired Gestr. 
" Yes : you shall give me riddles which I can 
not guess, and so purchase your peace." Gestr 
assented, with feigned hesitation ; chairs were 
brought, and everybody looked to hear some 
thing fine. Gestr gave, and HeiSrekr promptly 
answered, some thirty riddles.* Then said 
Gestr : Tell thou me this only, since thou 
thinkest to be wiser than all kings : What 
said Odin in Balder's ear before he was borne 
to the pile ? " Shame and cowardice," ex 
claimed HeiSrekr, " and all manner of pol 
troonery, jugglery, goblinry ! no one knows 
those words of thine save thou thyself, evil 
and wretched wight ! " So saying, HeiSrekr 
drew Tyrfing, that never was bared but some 
body must fall, to cut down Gestr. The dis 
guised Odin changed to a hawk, and made for 
the window, but did not escape before Hei- 
Srekr's sword had docked the bird's tail. For 
breaking his own truce Odin said HeiSrekr 
should die by the hand of a slave, which came 
to pass. Fornaldar Sogur, Rafn, I, 462 ff. 

The same story has come down in a Faroe 
ballad, ' Gatu rfma,' Hammershaimb, Fsero- 
iske Kvasder, No 4, p. 26 (and previously pub 
lished in the Antiquarisk Tidsskrift, 1849- 
51, pp 75-78), translated by Dr Prior, I, 
336 ff. Gest promises Odin twelve gold 
marks to take his place. The riddles are an 
nounced as thirteen in number, but the ballad 
is slightly defective, and among others the 
last question, What were Odin's words to 
Balder ? is lost. Odin flies off in the shape of 
a falcon ; Hejdrek and all his men are burned 

A tale presenting the essential traits of our 
ballad is cited in Vincent of Beauvais's Spec 
ulum Morale, i, 4, 10, at the end. We read, 
he says, of a king, who, seeking a handle 
for wrenching money out of a wealthy and 
wise man, put him three questions, apparently 

text, given, with a translation, by Vigfusson and Powell, 
Corpus Poeticum Boreale, ' King Heidrek's Kiddles,' I, 
86 ff. 



insoluble, intending to make him pay a large 
sum for not answering them : 1, Where is the 
middle point of the earth ? 2, How much 
water is there in the sea? 3, How great is 
the mercy of God ? On the appointed day, 
having been brought from prison into the 
presence to ransom himself if he could, the 
respondent, by the advice of a certain philos 
opher, proceeded thus. He planted his staff 
where he stood, and said, Here is the centre ; 
disprove it if you can. If you wish me to 
measure the sea, stop the rivers, so that noth 
ing may flow in till I have done ; then I will 
give you the contents. To answer your third 
question, I must borrow your robes and your 
throne. Then mounting the throne, clothed 
with the royal insignia, " Behold," said he, 
" the height of the mercy of God : but now I 
was a slave, now I am a king ; but now poor, 
and now rich ; but now in prison and in 
chains, and now at liberty," etc. 

Of the same stamp is a story in the English 
Gesta Romanorum, Madden, p. 55, No 19. 
A knight was accused to the emperor by his 
enemies, but not so as to give a plausible 
ground for steps against him. The emperor 
could hit upon no way but to put him ques 
tions, on pain of life and death. The ques 
tions were seven ; the third and the sixth will 
suffice : How many gallons of salt water been 
in the sea ? Answer : Let all the outpassings 
of fresh water be stopped, and I shall tell 
thee. How many days' journey beth in the 
circle of the world ? Answer : Only the space 
of one day. 

Much nearer to the ballad, and earlier than 
either of the preceding, is the Strieker's tale 
of Amis and the Bishop, in the Pfaffe Amis, 
dated at about 1236. Amis, a learned and 
bountiful priest in England, excited the envy 
of his bishop, who sent for him, told him that 
he lived in better style than his superior, and 
demanded a subvention. The priest flatly 
refused to give the bishop anything but a 
good dinner. " Then you shall lose your 
church," said the bishop in wrath. But the 
priest, strong in a good conscience, felt small 
concern about that : he said the bishop might 
test his fitness with any examination he pleased. 

That I will do, said the bishop, and gave 
him five questions. " How much is there in 
the sea ? " " One tun," answered Amis ; " and 
if you think I am not right, stop all the rivers 
that flow in, and I will measure it and con 
vince you." " Let the rivers run," said the 
bishop. " How many days from Adam to our 
time?" "Seven," said the parson; " for as 
soon as seven are gone, they begin again." 
The bishop, fast losing his temper, next 
demanded " What is the exact middle of 
the earth ? Tell me, or lose your church." 
" Why, my church stands on it," replied 
Amis. " Let your men measure, and take the 
church if it prove not so." The bishop de 
clined the task, and asked once more : How 
far is it from earth to sky ? and then : What 
is the width of the sky ? to which Amis re 
plied after the same fashion. 

In this tale of the Strieker the parson an 
swers for himself, and not by deputy, and 
none of the questions are those of our ballad. 
But in a tale of Franco Sacchetti,* given in 
two forms, Novella iv a , we have both the abbot 
and his humble representative, and an agree 
ment as to one of the questions. Bernabo Vis- 
con ti (f 1385) was offended with a rich abbot, 
who had neglected some dogs that had been 
entrusted to his care, and was minded to make 
the abbot pay him a fine ; but so far yielded 
to the abbot's protest as to promise to release 
him from all penalties if he could answer four 
questions : How far is it from here to heaven ? 
How much water is there in the sea ? What 
is going on in hell ? What is the value of my 
person ? A day was. given to get up the an 
swers. The abbot went home, in the depths 
of melancholy, and met on the way one of 
his millers, who inquired what was the matter, 
and, after receiving an explanation, offered to 
take the abbot's place, disguising himself as 
well as he could. The answers to the two 
first questions are not the usual ones : huge 
numbers are given, and the seigneur is told to 
measure for himself, if not willing to accept 
them. The answer to the fourth is twenty- 
nine deniers ; for our Lord was sold for thirty, 

* Sncchetti's life extended beyond 1400, or perhaps be 
yond 1410. 



and you must be worth one less than he. Mes- 
ser Bernabd said the miller should be abbot, 
and the abbot miller, from that time forth. 
Sacchetti says that others tell the story of a 
pope and an abbot, adding one question. The 
gardener of the monastery presents the abbot, 
makes the usual answer to the second ques 
tion as to the water in the sea, and prizes 
Christ's vicar at twenty-eight deniers. 

The excellent old farce, " Ein Spil von 
einem Kaiser und eim Apt," Fastnachtspiele 
aus dem 15 n Jahrhundert, 1, 199, No 22, obliges 
the abbot to answer three questions, or pay for 
all the damages done in the course of a calam 
itous invasion. The abbot has a week's grace 
allowed him. The questions are three : How 
much water in the sea? How much is the 
emperor worth ? Whose luck came quickest ? 
The miller answers for the abbot: Three tubs, 
if they are big enough; eight and twenty 
pence ; and he is the man whose luck came 
quickest, for just before he was a miller, now 
he is an abbot. The emperor says that, since 
the miller has acted for the abbot, abbot he 
shall be. 

Very like this, as to the form of the story, 
is the anecdote in Pauli's Schimpf und Ernst, 
LV, p. 46, ed. Oesterley (c. 1522). A noble 
man, who is seeking an occasion to quarrel 
with an abbot, tells him that he must answer 
these questions in three days, or be deposed : 
What do you value me at ? Where is the 
middle of the world? How far apart are 
good and bad luck ? A swineherd answers for 
him : Since Christ was sold for thirty pence, 
I rate the emperor at twenty-nine and you at 
twenty-eight; my church is the mid-point of 
the world, and, if you will not believe me, 
measure for yourself ; good and bad luck are 
but one night apart, for yesterday I was 
a swineherd, to-day I am an abbot. Then, 
says the nobleman, an abbot shall you stay. 
With this agrees, say the Grimms, the tale 
in Eyring's Proverbiorum Copia (1601), I, 
165-168, III, 23-25. 

* The form of the third question is slightly varied at 
first i Cual es el error en que yo estoy pensando ? But when 
put to the herdsman the question is simply j, En que estoy 
yo pensando ? I was pointed to this story by Seidemann, in 

Waldis, Esopus (1548), B. 3, Fabel 92, 
Kurz, I, 382, agrees in general with Pauli : 
but in place of the first two questions has 
these three : How far is to heaven ? How 
deep is the sea ? How many tubs will hold 
all the sea-water ? The answers are : A short 
day's journey, for Christ ascended in the morn 
ing and was in heaven before night ; a stone's 
cast ; one tub, if large enough. 

Teofilo Folengo (1491-1544), as pointed 
out by Kohler, has the story in the 8th canto 
of his Orlandino ; and here we find the third 
question of our ballad. There are three be 
sides : How far from earth to heaven ? From 
the east to the west ? a modification of the 
second question in the ballad ; How many 
drops of water in the seas about Italy ? The 
abbot's cook, Marcolf, answers to the first, One 
leap, as proved by Satan's fall ; to the second, 
One day's journey, if the sun is to be trusted ; 
and insists that, for a correct count under the 
third, all the rivers shall first be stopped. To 
the fourth he makes the never-stale reply, 
You think I am the abbot, but I am the cook. 
Rainero says he shall remain abbot, and the 
abbot the cook. (Stanzas 38, 39, 64-69, pp 
186 f, 195 ff, London edition of 1775.) 

A capital Spanish story, ' Gramatica Parda, 
Trueba, Cuentos Populares, p. 287, has all 
three of the questions asked and answered as 
in our ballad. There is a curate who sets up 
to know everything, and the king, " el rey 
que rabid," has found him out, and gives him 
a month to make his three answers, with a 
premium and a penalty. The curate is forced 
to call in a despised goatherd, who also had 
all along seen through the shallowness of the 
priest. The king makes the goatherd " archi- 
p4mpano " of Seville, and condemns the cu 
rate to wear the herdsman's garb and tend his 
goats for a month.* 

The first and third questions of the ballad 
are found in the thirty-eighth tale of Le Grand 
Parangon des Nouvelles Nouvelles of Nicolas 
de Troyes, 1536 (ed. Mabille, p. 155 ff); in 

Archiv fur Litteraturgeschichte, IX, 423. Trueba's C. P. 
forms vol. 19 of Brockhaus's Coleccion de Au tores Espa- 



the Patrafiuelo of Juan de Timoneda, 1576, 
Pat. 14, Novelistas anteriores a Cervantes, in 
the Rivadeneyra Biblioteca, p. 154 f ; and in the 
Herzog Heinrich Julius von Braunschweig's 
comedy, Von einem Edelman welcher einem 
Abt drey Fragen auffgegeben, 1594, ed. Hol 
land, p. 500 if. The other question is as to 
the centre of the earth, and the usual answers 
are given by the abbot's miller, cook, servant, 
except that in Timoneda the cook is so rational 
as to say that the centre must be under the 
king's feet, seeing that the world is as round 
as a ball.* The question Where is the mid 
dle of the earth ? is replaced by How many 
stars are there in the sky ? the other two re 
maining, in Balthasar Schupp, Schriften, 
Franckfurt, 1701, I, 91 f (Kohler), and in 
Gottlieb Cober (f 1717), Cabinet-prediger, 2 r 
Theil, No 65, p. 323 (Grater, Idunna u. Her- 
mode, 1814, No 33, p. 131, and p. 87). The 
abbot's miller gives a Huge number, and bids 
the king (of France) verify it, if he wishes. 
This last is no doubt the version of the story 
referred to by the Grimms in their note to 
K. u. H. marcben, No 152. 

We encounter a slight variation, not for 
the better, in L'Elite des Contes du Sieur 
d'Ouville (f 1656 or 1657), Rouen, 1699, I, 
241 ; a la Haye, 1703, I, 296 ; ed. Ristelhuber, 
1876, p. 46 (Kohler) ; Nouveaux Contes a 
Rire, Cologne, 1709, p. 266 ; Contes a Rire, 
Paris, 1781, I, 184. An ignorant and violent 
nobleman threatens a parson, who plumes him 
self on a little astrology, that he will expose 
him as an impostor if he does not answer four 
questions : Where is the middle of the world ? 
What am I worth ? What am I thinking ? 
What do I believe ? The village miller an- 

* The editor of the Grand Parangon, at p. xiii, cites from 
an older source an anecdote of a king insisting upon being 
told how much he ought to bring if offered for sale. While 
his courtiers are giving nattering replies, a fool leaps forward 
and says, Twenty-nine deniere, and no more ; for if you were 
worth thirty, that would be autant que le tout-puissant Dieu 
valut, quant il fut vendu. The king took this answer to 
heart, and repented of his vanities. So an emperor is con 
verted by this reply from a man-at-arms, Van den verwen- 
den Keyser, Jan van Hull ant, c. 1400, Willems, Belgisch 
Museum, X, 57 ; Thijm, p. 145. The like question and an 
swer, as a riddle, in a German MS. of the fifteenth century, 
and in Questions e'nigmatiques, Lyon, 1619; Kohler, in 
Weimarisches Jahrbuch, V, 354 ff. 

swers for the cure*. The reply to the third 
question is, You are thinking more of your 
own interest than of mine ; the others as be 
fore. This story is retold, after tradition, by 
Ce'nac Moncaut, Contes populaires de la Gas- 
cogne, p. 50, of a marquis, archipr6tre, and 
miller. The query, What am I thinking of ? 
with the answer, More of your interest than 
of mine (which is not exactly in the popular 
manner), is replaced by a logical puzzle, not 
found elsewhere : Quel est le nombre qui se 
trouve renferme* dans deux oaufs ? 

The King and the Abbot is preserved, in 
modern German tradition, in this form. An 
emperor, riding by a cloister, reads the in 
scription, We are two farthings poorer than 
the emperor, and live free of cares. Wait 
a bit, says the emperor, and I will give you 
some cares. He sends for the abbot, and 
says, Answer these three questions in three 
days, or I will depose you. The questions are, 
How deep is the sea ? How many stars in the 
sky? How far from good luck to bad? The 
shepherd of the monastery gives the answers, 
and is told, as in several cases before, If you 
are the abbot, abbot you shall be. J. W. 
Wolf, Hessische Sagen, p. 166, No 262, II. 
'Gustav Adolf und der Abt von Benedikt- 
beuern,' in Sepp's Altbayerischer Sagenschatz, 
p. 554, No 153, is another form of the same 
story, with a substitution of How far is it to 
heaven ? for the first question, and the an 
swers are given by a kitchie-boy.f In * Hans 
ohne Sorgen,' Meier, Deutsche Volksmarchen 
aus Schwaben, p. 305, the questions are, 
How far is it to heaven ? How deep is the 
sea ? How many leaves has a linden ? and 
the shepherd again undertakes the answers.^ 

t In Prussia Frederick the Great plays the part of Gus- 
tavus. Sepp, p. 558. 

J Another Swabian story, in Meier, No 28, p. 99, is a 
mixed form. The Duke of Swabia reads " Hans sans cares " 
over a miller's house-door, and says, " Bide a wee : if you have 
no cares, I will give you some." The duke, to give the miller 
a taste of what care is, says he must solve this riddle or lose 
his mill: Come to me neither by day nor by night, neither 
naked nor clothed, neither on foot nor on horseback. The 
miller promises his man his daughter in marriage and the 
mill in succession, if he will help him out of his dilemma. 
The man at once says, Go on Mid-week, for Mid-week 
is no day (Mitt-woch ist ja gar kein Tag, wie Sonn-tag, 
Mon-tag), neither is it night ; aud if you are to be neither 



*Der Miiller ohne Sorgen,' Miillenhoff, p. 153, 
208, is a mutilated variation of these. The 
abbot disappears, and the questions are put 
to the miller, who answers for himself. The 
second question is How much does the moon 
weigh ? and the answer, Four quarters ; if you 
don't believe it, you must weigh for yourself. 

We meet the miller sans souci again in a 
Danish tale, which otherwise agrees entirely 
with our ballad. The questions are answered 
by the rich miller's herdsman : Grundtvig, 
Gamle danske Minder, 1854, p. 112, No 111. 

A Croatian version of the story is given by 
Valyavets, * Frater i turski car,' p. 262. The 
Turkish tsar is disposed to expel all monks 
from his dominions, but determines first to 
send for an abbot to try his calibre. The 
abbot is too much frightened to go, and his 
cook, as in Foligno and Timoneda, takes his 
place. The questions are, Where is the cen 
tre of the world ? What is God doing now ? 
What am I thinking ? The first and third 
are disposed of in the usual way. When 
called to answer the second, the cook said, 
You can't see through the ceiling: we must 
go out into the field. When they came to 
the field, the cook said again, How can I see 
when I am on such a small ass ? Let me have 
your horse. The sultan consented to exchange 
beasts, and then the cook said, God is won 
dering that a sultan should be sitting on an 
ass and a monk on a horse. The sultan was 
pleased with the answers, and reasoning, If 
the cook is so clever, what must the abbot be, 
decided to let the monks alone. Afanasief, 
who cites this story from Valyavets (Narod- 
nuiya russkiya Skazki, VIII, 460), says that 
he heard in the government of Voroneje a 
story of a soldier who dressed himself as a 
monk and presented himself before a tsar who 
was in the habit of puzzling people with rid 
dles. The questions are, How many drops 
in the sea? How many stars in the sky ? 

What do I think? And the answer to the last 
is, Thou thinkest, gosudar, that I am a monk, 
but I am merely a soldier.* 

A few tales, out of many remaining, may 
be now briefly mentioned, on account of varia 
tions in the setting. 

A prisoner is to be released if he can tell a 
queen how much she is worth, the centre of 
the world, and what she thinks. A peasant 
changes clothes with the prisoner, and answers 
pro more. Kurtzweiliger Zeitvertreiber durch 
C. A. M. von W., 1668, p. 70f, in Kohler, 
Orient u. Occident, I, 43. 

A scholar has done learning. His master 
says he must now answer three questions, or 
have his head taken off. The master's broth 
er, a miller, comes to his aid. The questions 
are, How many ladders would reach to the 
sky ? Where is the middle of the world ? 
What is the world worth ? Or, according to 
another tradition, the two last are, How long 
will it take to go round the world ? What is 
my thought ? Campbell, Popular Tales of the 
West Highlands, II, 391 f. 

Eulenspiegel went to Prague, and adver 
tised himself on the doors of the churches and 
lecture-rooms as a great master, capable of 
answering questions that nobody else could 
solve. To put him down, the rector and his 
colleagues summoned Eulenspiegel to an ex 
amination before the university. Five ques 
tions were given him : How much water is 
there in the sea ? How many days from Adam 
to now ? Where is the middle of the world ? 
How far from earth to heaven ? What is the 
breadth of the sky ? Lappenberg, Dr Thomas 
Murners Ulenspiegel, p. 38, No 28 ; Howle- 
glas, ed. Ouvry, p. 28. 

A herdboy had a great fame for his shrewd 
answers. The king did not believe in him, 
but sent for him, and said, If you can an 
swer three questions that I shall put, I will 
regard you as my own child, and you shall live 

clothed nor bare, put on a fishing-net ; and if you are to go 
neither on foot nor on horseback, ride to him on an ass. All 
but the beginning of this is derived from the cycle of ' The 
Clever Wench : ' see No 2. Haltrich, Deutsche Volksmarchen 
in Siebenbiirgen, No 45, which is also of this cycle, has taken 
up a little of ' Hans ohne Sorgen.' A church has an iiiscrip- 

tion, Wir leben ohne Sorgen. This vexes the king, who 
says as before, Just wait, and I will give you reason for 
cares, p. 244, ed. 1856. 

* These two stories were communicated to me by Mr 



in my palace. The questions are, How many 
drops of water are there in the ocean? How 
many stars in the sky ? How many seconds 
in eternity ? The Grimms, K. u. H. marchen, 
No 152, * Das Hirtenbublein.' 

Three questions are put to a counsellor of 
the king's, of which the first two are, Where 
does the sun rise? How far from heaven to 
earth ? The answers, by a shepherd, are ex 
traordinarily feeble. Jiidisches Maasabuch, 
cap. 126, cited from Helwigs Jiidische His- 
torien, No 39, in the Grimms' note to Das 

Three monks, who know everything, in the 
course of their travels come to a sultan's do 
minions, and he invites them to turn Mussul 
mans. This they agree to do if he will an 
swer their questions. All the sultan's doctors 
are convened, but can do nothing with the 
monks' questions. The hodja (the court-fool) 
is sent for. The first question, Where is the 

middle of the earth ? is answered as usual. 


The second monk asks, How many stars are 
there in the sky ? The answer is, As many as 
there are hairs on my ass. Have you counted ? 
ask the monks. Have you counted ? rejoins 
the fool. Answer me this, says the same 
monk, and we shall see if your number is 
right : How many hairs are there in my 
beard ? " As many as in my ass's tail." 
" Prove it." " My dear man, if you don't be 
lieve me, count yourself ; or we will pull all 
the hairs out of both, count them, and settle 

the matter." The monks submit, and become 
Mussulmans. Les plaisanteries de Nasr-eddin 
Hodja, traduites du turc par J. A. Decourde- 
manche, No 70, p. 59 ff. 

The Turkish emperor sends word to Kaiser 
Leopold that unless the emperor can answer 
three questions he shall come down upon him 
with all his Turks. The counsellors are sum 
moned, but there is no help in them. The 
court-fool offers to get his master out of the 
difficulty, if he may have the loan of crown 
and sceptre. When the fool comes to Con 
stantinople, there lies the sultan in the win 
dow, and calls out, Are you the emperor, and 
will you answer my questions ? Where does 
the world end ? " Here, where my horse is 
standing." How far is it to heaven ? " One 
day's journey, and no inn on the road." What 
is God thinking of now ? " He is thinking 
that I am one fool and you another." J. W. 
Wolf, Hessische Sagen, p. 165, No 262 1.* 

For the literature, see especially the Grimms' 
Kinder und Hausmarchen, notes to No 152 ; 
R. Kohler in Orient und Occident, I, 439-41 ; 
Oesterley's note to Pauli's Schimpf und Ernst, 
No 55, p. 479. 

Translated, after Percy's Reliques, II, 302, 
1765, by Bodmer, II, 111 ; by Doenniges, 
p. 152; by Ritter, Archiv fur das Studium 
der neueren Sprachen, XXII, 222. Retold 
by Burger, 'Der Kaiser und der Abt,' Got- 
tinger Musenalmanach fur 1785, p. 177. 

Percy MS., p. 184. Hales and Furnivall, I, 508. 

1 OFF an ancient story He tell you anon, 

Of a notable prince thai was called King lohn, 
In England was borne, with maine and with 

might ; 
Hee did much wrong and maintained litle 


2 This noble prince was vexed in veretye, 

For he was angry with the Bishopp of Can 
terbury ; 

Ffor his house-keeping and his good cheere, 
The" rode post for him, as you shall heare. 

3 They rode post for him verry hastilye ; 

The "king sayd the bishopp kept a better house 

then bee : 

A hundred men euen, as I [have heard] say, 
The bishopp kept in bis house euerye day, 
And fifty gold chaines, without any doubt, 
In veluett coates waited the bishopp about 

* In the beginning there ia a clear trace of the Oriental 
tales of ' The Clever Lass ' cycle. 



4 The bishopp, he came to the court anon, 
Before his prince that was called TLing lohn. 
As soone as the bishopp the king did see, 

' O,' qwoth the king, ' bishopp, thow art wel 
come to mee. 

There is noe man soe welcome to towne 
As thou that workes treason against my 

5 ' My leege,' quoth the bishopp, ' I wold it were 

I spend, yowr grace, nothing but that that 's 

my owne ; 

I trust your grace will doe me noe deare 
For spending my owne trew gotten geere.' 

6 ' Yes,' quoth the king, ' bishopp, thou must 

needs dye, 

Eccept thou can answere mee questions three ; 
Thy head shalbe smitten quite from thy bodye, 
And all thy liuing remayne vnto mee. 

7 ' First,' quoth the king, ' tell me in this steade. 
With this crowne of gold heere vpon my head, 
Amongst my nobilitye, with ioy and much 


Lett me know within one pennye what I am 

8 ' Secondlye, tell me without any dowbt 
How soone I may goe the whole world about ; 
And thirdly, tell mee or euer I stinte, 

What is the thing, bishopp, that I doe thinke. 
Twenty dayes pardon thoust haue trulye, 
And come againe and answere mee.' 

9 The bishopp bade the king god night att a 

word ; 

He rode betwixt Cambridge and Oxenford, 
But neuer a doctor there was soe wise 
Cold shew him these questions or enterprise. 

10 Wherewith the bishopp was nothing gladd, 
But in his hart was heauy and sadd, 

And hyed him home to a house in the coun- 

To ease some part of his melanchollye. 

11 His halfe-brother dwelt there, was feirce and 


Noe better but a shepard to the bishoppe him- 
sell ; 

The shepard came to the bishopp anon, 
Saying, My Lord, you are welcome home ! 

12 ' What ayles you,' quoth the shepard, ' that you 

are soe sadd, 
And had wonte to haue beene soe merry and 

gladd ? ' 
1 Nothing,' quoth the bishopp, ' I ayle att this 

time ; 
Will not thee availe to know, brother mine.' 

13 ' Brother,' q?*oth the shepeard, ' you haue 

heard itt, 

That a ffoole may teach a wisemane witt ; 
Say me therfore whatsoeuer you will, 
And if I doe you noe good, He doe you noe ill.' 

14 Quoth the bishop : I haue beene att the court 


Before my prince is called 'King lohn, 
And there he hath charged mee 
Against his crowne with traitorye. 

15 If I cannott answer his misterye, 

Three questions hee hath propounded to mee, 
He will haue my land soe faire and free, 
And alsoe the head from my bodye. 

16 The first question was, to tell him in that stead, 
With the crowne of gold vpon his head, 
Amongst his nobilitye, with ioy and much 


To lett him know within one penye what hee 
is worth. 

17 And secondly e, to tell him with-out any doubt 
How soone he may goe the whole world about ; 
And thirdlye, to tell him, or ere I stint, 
What is the thinge that he does thinke. 

18 ' Brother,' quoth the shepard, ' you are a man 

of learninge ; 
What neede you stand in doubt of soe small a 

thinge ? 
Lend me,' quoth the shepard, ' yowr ministers 

He ryde to the court and answere yowr quar- 


19 * Lend me yowr serving men, say me not nay, 
With all yowr best horsses that ryd on the 




He to the court, this matter to stay ; 
He speake with Kin// lohn and heare what 
heele say.' 

20 The bishopp with speed prepared then 

To sett forth the shepard with horsse and 

man ; 

The shepard was liuely without any doubt ; 
I wott a royall companye came to the court. 

21 The shepard hee came to the court anon 
Before [his] prince thai was called King lohn. 
As soone as the king the shepard did see, 

' O,' quoth the king, ' bishopp, thou art wel 
come to me.' 

The shepard was soe like the bishopp his 

The king cold not know the one from the 

22 Quoth the king, Bishopp, thou art welcome to 


If thou can answer me my questions three. 
Said the shepeard. If it please your grace, 
Show mee what the first quest[i]on was. 

23 ' First,' quoth the king, ' tell mee in this stead, 
With the crowne of gold vpon my head, 
Amongst my nobilitye, with ioy and much 

Within one penny e what I am worth.' 

24 Quoth the shepard, To make your grace noe 


I thinke you are worth nine and twenty pence ; 
For our Lore? lesus, that bought vs all, 
For thirty pence was sold into thrall 
Amongst the cursed lewes, as I to you doe 

showe ; 
But I know Christ was one penye better then 


25 Then the king laught, and swore by St An 

He was not thought to bee of such a small 


' Secondly e, tell mee with-out any doubt 
How soone I may goe the world round about.' 

26 Saies the shepard, It is noe time with yowr 

grace to scorne, 

But rise betime with the sun in the morne, 
And follow his course till his vprising, 
And then you may know without any leasing. 

27 And this [to] your grace shall proue the same, 
You are come to the same place from whence 

you came ; 

[In] twenty-four houres, with-out any doubt, 
Yottr grace may the world goe round about ; 
The world round about, euen as I doe say, 
If with the sun you can goe the next way. 

28 ' And thirdlye tell me or euer I stint, 

What is the thing, bishoppe, that I doe 

' That shall I doe,' quoth the shepeard ; ' for 

You thinke I am the bishopp of Canterburye.' 

29 ' Why, art not thou ? the truth tell to me ; 
For I doe thinke soe,' quoth the king, ' by St 

' Not soe,' quoth the shepeard ; ' the truth 

shalbe knowne, 
I am his poore shepeard ; my brother is att 


30 ' Why,' quoth the king, ' if itt soe bee, 
He make thee bishopp here to mee.' 

' Noe, Sir,' quoth the shepard, ' I pray you be 


For He not bee bishop but against my will ; 
For I am not fitt for any such deede, 
For I can neither write nor reede.' 

31 ' Why then,' quoth the king, ' He giue thee 


A pattent of three hundred pound a yeere ; 
That I will giue thee franke and free ; 
Take thee thai, shepard, for coming to me. 

32 ' Free pardon lie giue,' the kings grace said, 
' To saue the bishopp, his land and his head ; 
With him nor thee He be nothing wrath ; 
Here is the pardon for him and thee both.' 

33 Then the shepard he had noe more to say, 
But tooke the pardon and rode his way : 
When he came to the bishopps place, 

The bishopp asket anon how all things was. 

34 ' Brother,' quoth the shepard, ' I haue well 

For I haue saued both your land and your 


The king with you is nothing wrath, 
For heere is the pardon for you and mee 




35 Then the bishopes hart was of a merry 

cheere : 

* Brother, thy paines He quitt them cleare ; 
For I will giue thee a patent to thee and to 

Of fifty pound a yeere, land good and fine.' 

36 . 

' I will to thee noe longer croche nor creepe, 
Nor He serue thee noe more to keepe thy 

37 Whereeuer wist you shepard before, 
Thai had in his head witt such store 

To pleasure a bishopp in such a like case, 
To answer three questions to the kings grace ? 
Whereeuer wist you shepard gett cleare 
Three hundred and fifty pound a yeere ? 

38 I neuer hard of his fellow before, 

Nor I neuer shall : now I need to say noe 


I neuer knew shepeard that gott such a liuinge 
But David, the shepeard, that was a 


Broadside, printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in 
Pye-corner (1672-95). 

1 I 'LL tell you a story, a story anon, 

Of a noble prince, and his name was King 

John ; 
For he was a prince, and a prince of great 

He held up great wrongs, he put down great 

Derry down, down hey, derry down 

2 I '11 tell you a story, a story so merry, 
Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury, 
And of his house-keeping and high renown, 
Which made him resort to fair London town. 

3 ' How now, father abbot ? 'T is told unto me 
That thou keepest a far better house than I ; 
And for [thy] house-keeping and high renown, 
I fear thou has treason against my crown.' 

4 ' I hope, my liege, that you owe me no grudge 
For spending of my true-gotten goods : ' 

' If thou dost not answer me questions three, 
Thy head shall be taken from thy body. 

5 ' When I am set so high on my steed, 
With my crown of gold upon my head, 
Amongst all my nobility, with joy and much 


Thou must tell me to one penny what I am 

6 ' And the next question you must not flout, 
How long I shall be riding the world about ; 
And the third question thou must not shrink, 
But tell to me truly what I do think.' 

7 ' these are hard questions for my shallow wit, 
For I cannot answer your grace as yet ; 

But if you will give me but three days space, 
I '11 do my endeavor to answer your grace.' 

8 ' O three days space I will thee give, 

For that is the longest day thou hast to live. 
And if thou dost not answer these questions 

Thy head shall be taken from thy body quite.' 

9 And as the shepherd was going to his fold, 
He spy'd the old abbot come riding along : 

' How now, master abbot ? You 'r welcome 

home ; 
What news have you brought from good King 


10 ' Sad news, sad news I have thee to give, 
For I have but three days space for to live ; 
If I do not answer him questions three, 
My head will be taken from my body. 

11 ' When he is set so high on his steed, 
With his crown of gold upon his head, 
Amongst all his nobility, with joy and much 

I must tell him to one penny what he is worth. 

12 ' And the next question I must not flout, 
How long he shall be riding the world about ; 
And the third question I must not shrink, 
But tell him truly what he does think.' 

13 ' O master, did you never hear it yet, 
That a fool may learn a wiseman wit ? 
Lend me but your horse and your apparel, 

I '11 ride to fair London and answer the quar 



14 ' Now I am set so high on my steed, 
With my crown of gold upon my head, 
Amongst all my nobility, with joy and much 

Now tell me to one penny what I am worth.' 

15 ' For thirty pence our Saviour was sold, 
Amongst the false Jews, as you have heen 


And nine and twenty 's the worth of thee, 
For I think thou are one penny worser than 


16 ' And the next question thou mayst not flout ; 
How long I shall be riding the world about.' 

' You must rise with the sun, and ride with the 


Until the next morning he rises again, 
And then I am sure you will make no doubt 
But in twenty-four hours you '1 ride it about.' 

17 ' And the third question you must not shrink, 
But tell me truly what I do think.' 

All that I can do, and 't will make you 

merry ; 

For you think I 'm the Abbot of Canterbury, 
But I 'm his poor shepherd, as you may see, 
And am come to beg pardon for he and for 


18 The king he turned him about and did smile, 
Saying, Thou shalt be the abbot the other 

while : 

' O no, my grace, there is no such need, 
For I can neither write nor read.' 

19 ' Then four pounds a week will I give unto thee 
For this merry jest thou hast told unto me ; 
And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home, 
Thou hast brought him a pardon from good 

King John.' 

A. Not divided into stanzas in the MS. 
3 8 , 3 6 , 6 2 , 8 5 , 15 2 , 22 2 , 24*, 27 8 , 31 2 , 37*. 
bic numerals are expressed in letters. 
14 1 . thy court. 
24 2 . worth 29 pence. 

31 2 . patten. 31 4 . earning. 
Ara- 35 4 . 50". 37 6 . 3501 1 . 

B. 5 1 , II 1 , 14 1 . on my [his] steed so high. 

7 1 . my sh ow. 
II 1 . sat. 12 8 . thou must. 19 4 . K. John. 



A. a. 'I'll no ly neist the wa,' Herd's MS., I, 161. 
b. 'She '11 no ly neist [the] wa,' the same, II, 100. 

B. a. 'The Earl of Rosslyn's Daughter,' Kinloch MSS, 
I, 83. b. ' Lord Roslin's Daughter,' Lord Roslin's 
Daughter's Garland, p. 4. o. ' Lord Roslin's Daugh 
ter,' Buchan's MSS, II, 34. d. ' Captain Wedder- 

burn's Courtship,' Jaiuieson's Popular Ballads, II, 
159. e. Harris MS., fol. 19 b, No 14. f. Notes and 
Queries, 2d S., IV, 170. 

C. ' The Laird of Roslin's Daughter,' Sheldon's Min 
strelsy of the English Border, p. 232. 

A COPY of this ballad was printed in The 
New British Songster, a Collection of Songs, 
Scots and English, with Toasts and Senti 
ments for the Bottle, Falkirk, 1785 : see 

Motherwell, p. Ixxiv.* Few were more pop 
ular, says Motherwell, and Jamieson remarks 

* This book has been pursued by me for years, with the 
cooperation of many friends and agents, but in vain. 



that 'Captain Wedderburn ' was equally in 
vogue in the north and the south of Scot 

Jamieson writes to the Scots Magazine, 
1803, p. 701 : " Of this ballad I have got one 
whole copy and part of another, and I re 
member a good deal of it as I have heard it 
sung in Morayshire when I was a child." In 
his Popular Ballads, II, 154, 1806, he says 
that the copy which he prints was furnished 
him from Mr Herd's MS. by the editor of the 
Border Minstrelsy, and that he had himself 
supplied a few readings of small importance 
from his own recollection. There is some in 
accuracy here. The version given by Jamie- 
son is rather B, with readings from A. 

We have had of the questions six, A 11, 12, 
What is greener than the grass? in No 1, A 15, 
C 18, D 5; What 's higher than the tree? in 
C 9, D 1 ; What 's war than a woman's wiss ? 
(" than a woman was ") A 15, C 13, D 5 ; 
What 's deeper than the sea ? A 13, B 8, C 9, 
D 1. Of the three dishes, A 8, 9, we have 
the bird without a gall in Ein Spil von den 
Freiheit, Fastnachtspiele aus dem 15 n Jhdt, 
II, 558, v. 23,* and the two others in the fol 
lowing song, from a manuscript assigned to 
the fifteenth century, and also preserved in 
several forms by oral tradition : f Sloane MS., 
No 2593, British Museum; Wright's Songs 

and Carols, 1836, No 8 ; as printed for the 
Warton Club, No xxix, p. 33. 

I have a }ong suster fer be^ondyn the se, 
Many be the drowryis that che sente me. 

Che sente me the cherye, withoutyn ony ston, 
And so che dede [the] dowe, withoutyn ony bon. 

Sche sente me the brere, withoutyn ony rynde, 
Sche bad me love my lemman withoute longgyng. 

How xuld ony cherye be withoute ston ? 
And how xuld ony dowe ben withoute bon ? 

How xuld any brere ben withoute rynde ? 

How xuld y love myn lemman without longyng ? 

Quan the cherye was a flour, than hadde it non 

ston ; 
Quan the dowe was an ey, than hadde it non bon. 

Quan the brere was onbred, than hadde it non 

rynd ; 
Quan the mayden ha^t that che lovit, che is without 


' Captain Wedderburn's Courtship,' or 
' Lord Roslin's Daughter,' J is a counterpart 
of the ballad in which a maid wins a husband 
by guessing riddles. (See Nos 1 and 2, and 
also the following ballad, for a lady who gives 

* Followed by Virgil's riddle, Eel. iii, 104-5, Where is 
he sky but three spans broad ? 

t Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, p. 150 ; 
Halliwell's Nursery Rhymes, No 375 ; Notes and Queries, 3d 
Ser., IX, 401 ; 4th Ser., Ill, 501, 604; Macmillan's Maga 
zine, V, 248, by T. Hughes. The first of these runs : 

I have four sisters beyond the sea, 

Para-mara, dictum, domine 
And they did send four presents to me. 

Partum, quartum, paradise, tempum, 

Para-mara, dictum, domine 

The first it was a bird without eer a bone, 
The second was a cherry without eer a stone. 

The third it was a blanket without eer a thread, 
The fourth it was a book which no man could read. 

How can there be a bird without eer a bone ? 
How can there be a cherry without eer a stone ? 

How can there be a blanket without eer a thread ? 
How can there be a book which no man can read ? 

When the bird 's in the shell, there is no bone ; 
When the cherry 's in the bud, there is no stone. 

When the blanket 's in the fleece, there is no thread; 
When the book 's in the press, no man can read. 

The Minnesinger dames went far beyond our laird's 
daughter in the way of requiring " ferlies " from their lov 
ers. Der Tanhuser and Boppe represent that their ladies 
would be satisfied with nothing short of their turning the 
course of rivers ; bringing them the salamander, the basilisk, 
the graal, Paris's apple ; giving them a sight of Enoch and 
Elijah in the body, a hearing of the sirens, etc. Von der 
Hagen, Minnesinger, II, 91 f, 385 f. 

{ There were, no doubt, Grissels enough in the very dis 
tinguished family of the Sinclairs of Roslin to furnish one 
for this ballad. I see two mentioned among the Sinclairs 
of Herdmanstoun. Even a Wedderburn connection, as I am 
informed, is not absolutely lacking. George Home of Wed 
derburn (t 1497), married the eldest daughter of John Sin 
clair of Herdmanstoun : Douglas's Peerage of Scotland, ed. 
Wood, 1813, II, 174. 



riddles.) The ingenious suitor, though not so 
favorite a subject as the clever maid, may 
boast that he is of an old and celebrated fam 
ily. We find him in the Gesta Romanorum, 
No 70 ; Oesterley, p. 383, Madden's English 
Versions, No 35, p. 384. A king had a beau 
tiful daughter, whom he wished to dispose of 
in marriage ; but she had made a vow that 
she would accept no husband who had not 
achieved three tasks : to tell her how many 
feet long, broad, and deep were the four ele 
ments ; to change the wind from the north ; 
to take fire into his bosom, next the flesh, 
without harm. The king issued a proclama 
tion in accordance with these terms. Many 
tried and failed, but at last there came a sol 
dier who succeeded. To answer the first ques 
tion he made his servant lie down, and meas 
ured him from head to foot. Every living 
being is composed of the four elements, he 
said, and I find not more than seven feet in 
them. A very easy way was hit on for per 
forming the second task : the soldier simply 
turned his horse's head to the east, and, since 
wind is the life of every animal, maintained 
that he had changed the wind. The king 
was evidently not inclined to be strict, and 
said, Clear enough. Let us go on to the third. 
Then, by the aid of a stone which he always 
carried about him, the soldier put handfuls of 
burning coals into his bosom without injury. 
The king gave his daughter to the soldier. 

An extraordinary ballad in Sakellarios's 
KuTrpiaKti, III, 15, No 6, ' The Hundred Say 
ings,' subjects a lover to a severe probation of 
riddles. (Liebrecht has given a full abstract 
of the story in Gosche's Archiv, II, 29.) A 
youth is madly enamored of a king's daughter, 
but, though his devotion knows no bound, 
cannot for a long time get a word from her 
mouth, and then only disdain. She shuts her- 

* The difficulty here is the want of a woD arS>, from which 
to climb the tree. 

t These number-riddles or songs are known to every nation 
of Europe. E. g., Chambers' Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 
p. 44, ed. 1870, from Buchan's MSS, I, 280: 

O what will be our ane, boys? 
O what will be our ane, boys? 
My only ane, she walks alane, 
And evennair has dune, boys, etc. 

self up in a tower. He prays for a heat that 
may force her to come to the window, and 
that she may drop her spindle, and he be the 
only one to bring it to her. The heavens are 
kind : all this comes to pass, and she is fain 
to beg him to bring her the spindle. She 
asks, Can you do what I say? Shoulder a 
tower ? make a stack of eggs ? trim a date- 
tree, standing in a great river ? * All this he 
can do. She sends him away once and again 
to learn various things ; last of all, the hundred 
sayings that lovers use. He presents himself 
for examination. " One ? " " There is one 
only God : may he help me ! " " Two ? " 
" Two doves with silver wings are sporting 
together : I saw how they kissed," etc. 
"Three?" " Holy Trinity, help me to love 
the maid ! " " Four ? " " There is a four- 
pointed cross on thy smock, and it implores 
God I may be thy mate : " and so he is cate 
chised through all the units and tens.f Then 
the lady suddenly turns about, concedes every 
thing, and proposes that they shall go to 
church : but the man says, If I am to marry 
all my loves, I have one in every town, and 
wife and children in Constantinople. They 
part with reciprocal scurrilities. 

Usually when the hand of a princess is to 
be won by the performance of tasks, whether 
requiring wit, courage, the overcoming of 
magic arts, or what not, the loss of your head 
is the penalty of failure. (See the preface to 
the following ballad.) Apollonius of Tyre, 
of Greek original, but first found in a Latin 
form, is perhaps the oldest riddle-story of this 
description. Thouglj. its age has not been 
determined, the tale has been carried back 
even to the end of the third or the beginning 
of the fourth century, was a great favorite 
with the Middle Ages, and is kept only too 
familiar by the play of Pericles. 

See Kxihler in Orient u. Occident, II, 558-9. A dragon, in 
Hahn'a Griechische u. Albanesische Marchen, II, 210, gives 
Penteklimas ten of these number-riddles : if he answers 
them he is to have a fine castle ; if not, he is to be eaten. 
An old woman answers for him : " One is God, two are the 
righteous, etc. ; ten is your own word, and now bnrst, 
dragon ! " The dragon bursts, and Penteklimas inherits his 



More deserving of perpetuation is the charm 
ing Persian story of Prince Calaf, in Pe"tis de 
La Croix's 1001 Days (45 e -82 e jour), upon 
which Carlo Gozzir founded his play of " La 
Turandot," now best known through Schiller's 
translation. Tourandocte's riddles are such as 
we should call legitimate, and are three in 
number. " What is the being that is found 
in every land, is dear to all the world, and 
cannot endure a fellow ? " Calaf answers, 
The sun. " What mother swallows the chil 
dren she has given birth to, as soon as they 
have attained their growth ? " The sea, says 
Calaf, for the rivers that flow into it all came 
from it. " What is the tree that has all its 
leaves white on one side and black on the 
other ? " This tree, Calaf answers, is the year, 
which is made up of days and nights.* 

A third example of this hazardous wooing 
is the story of The Fair One of the Castle, 
the fourth in the Persian poem of The Seven 
Figures (or Beauties), by Nisami of Gendsch 
(f 1180). A Russian princess is shut up in 
a castle made inaccessible by a talisman, and 
every suitor must satisfy four conditions : he 
must be a man of honor, vanquish the en 
chanted guards, take away the talisman, and 
obtain the consent of her father. Many had es 
sayed their fortune, and their heads were now 
arrayed on the pinnacles of the castle. f A 
young prince had fulfilled the first three con 
ditions, but the father would not approve his 
suit until he had solved the princess's riddles. 
These are expressed symbolically, and an 
swered in the same way. The princess sends 
the prince two pearls from her earring : he 
at once takes her meaning, life is like two 
drops of water, and returns the pearls with 
three diamonds, to signify that joy faith, 
hope, and love can prolong life. The prin 
cess now sends him three jewels in a box, 
with sugar. The prince seizes the idea, life 

* Gozzi retains the first and third riddles, Schiller only the 
third. By a happy idea, new riddles were introduced at the 
successive performances of Schiller's play. Turandot ap 
pears as a traditional tale in Schneller's Marchen u. Sagen 
aus Walschtirol, No 49, p. 132, " I tre Indovinelli." 

t The castle with walls and gate thus equipped, or a pal 
isade of stakes each crowned with a head, is all but a com 
monplace in such adventures. This grim stroke of fancy is 

is blended with sensuous desire, and pours 
milk on the sugar, to intimate that as milk 
dissolves sugar, so sensuous desire is quenched 
by true love. After four such interchanges, 
the princess seals her consent with a device 
not less elegant than the others.^: 

A popular tale of this class is current in 
Russia, with this variation : that the hard 
hearted princess requires her lovers to give 
her riddles, and those who cannot pose her 
lose their heads. Foolish Ivan, the youngest 
of three brothers, adventures after many have 
failed. On his way to the trial he sees a 
horse in a cornfield and drives it out with a 
whip, and further on kills a snake with a 
lance, saying in each case, Here 's a riddle ! 
Confronted with the princess, he says to her, 
As I came to you, I saw by the roadside what 
was good ; and in the good was good ; so I set 
to work, and with what was good I drove the 
good from the good. The good fled from the 
good out of the good. The princess pleads a 
headache, and puts off her answer till the next 
day, when Ivan gives her his second enigma : 
As I came to you, I saw on the way what 
was bad, and I struck the bad with a bad 
thing, and of what was bad the bad died. 
The princess, unable to solve these puzzles, is 
obliged to accept foolish Ivan. (Afanasief, 
Skazki, II, 225 ff, No 20, in Ralston's Songs 
of the Russian People, p. 354 f.) Closely 
related to this tale, and still nearer to one 
another, are the Grimms' No 22, ' Das Rath- 
sel ' (see, also, the note in their third vol 
ume), and the West Highland story, ' The 
Ridere (Knight) of Riddles,' Campbell, No 
22, II, 27. In the former, as in the Russian 
tale, it is the princess that must be puzzled 
before she will yield her hand; in the latter, 
an unmatchable beauty is to be had by no man 
who does not put a question which her father 
cannot solve. 

best in ' La mule sanz frain,' where there are four hundred 
stakes, all but one surmounted with a bloody head : Me'on, 
Nouveau Recueil, I, 15, vv 429-37. For these parlous prin 
cesses, of all sorts, see Grundtvig, ' Den farlige Jomfru,' IV, 
43 ff, No 184. 

J Von Hammer, Geschichte der schonen Redekiinste Per- 
siens, p. 116, previously cited by von der Hagen, Gesammt- 
abenteuer, III, Ixii. 



Here may be put three drolleries, all clearly 
of the same origin, in which a fool wins a 
princess by nonplussing her : ' The Three 
Questions,' Hallivvell's Popular Rhymes and 
Nursery Tales, p. 32 ; a " schwank " of the 
fourteenth century, by Heinz der Kellner, 
von der Hagen's Gesammtabenteuer, No 63, 
III, 179 (there very improperly called Turau- 
dot) ; ' Spurningen,' Asbj0rnson og Moe, 
Norske Folkeeventyr, No 4, Dasent, Popular 
Tales from the Norse, p. 148. According to 
the first of these, the king of the East Angles 
promises his clever daughter to any one who 
can answer three of her questions (in the 
other versions, more correctly, silence her). 
Three brothers, one of them a natural, set out 
for the court, and, on the way, Jack finds suc 
cessively an egg, a crooked hazel-stick, and 
a nut, and each time explodes with laughter. 
When they are ushered into the presence, 
Jack bawls out, What a troop of fair ladies ! 
" Yes," says the princess, " we are fair ladies, 
for we carry fire in our bosoms." " Then 
roast me an egg," says Jack, pulling out the 
egg from his pocket. " How will you get it 
out again ? " asks the princess ? " With a 
crooked stick," says Jack, producing the same. 
" Where did that come from? " says the prin 
cess. " From a nut," answers Jack, pulling 
out the nut. And so, as the princess is 
silenced, the fool gets her in marriage.* 

Even nowadays riddles play a noteworthy 
part in the marriages of Russian peasants. In 
the government Pskof, as we are informed by 
Khudyakof, the bridegroom's party is not ad 
mitted into the bride's house until all the rid 
dles given by the party of the bride have been 
answered ; whence the saying or proverb, to 
the behoof of bridegrooms, Choose comrades 
that can guess riddles. In the village of Dav- 
shina, in the Yaroslav government, the bride 
groom's best man presents himself at the 
bride's house on the wedding-day, and finding 
a man, called the bride-seller, sitting by the 
bride, asks him to surrender the bride and va- 

* The German schwank affixes the forfeit of the head to 
failure. In the Norwegian the unsuccessful brothers get off 
with a thrashing. The fire in the English, found also in the 
German, recalls the third task in the Gcsta Roiuunorum. 

cate his place. " Fair and softly," answers the 
seller ; " you will not get the bride for noth 
ing ; make us a bid, if you will. And how will 
you trade? will you pay in riddles or in gold?" 
If the best man is prepared for the emergency, 
as we must suppose he always would be, he 
answers, I will pay in riddles. Half a dozen 
or more riddles are now put by the seller, of 
which these are favorable specimens : Give me 
the sea, full to the brim, and with a bottom 
of silver. The best man makes no answer in 
words, but fills a bowl with beer and lays a 
coin at the bottom. Tell me the thing, naked 
itself, which has a shift over its bosom. The 
best man hands the seller a candle. Finally 
the seller says, Give me something which the 
master of this house lacks. The best man then 
brings in the bridegroom. The seller gives 
up his seat, and hands the best man a plate, 
saying. Put in this what all pretty girls like. 
The best man puts in what money he thinks 
proper, the bridesmaids take it and quit the 
house, and the bridegroom's friends carry off 
the bride. 

So, apparently in some ballad, a maid gives 
riddles, and will marry only the man who will 
guess them. 

By day like a hoop, 

By night like a snake ; 
Who reads my riddle, 

I take him for mate. (A belt.) 

No 1103 of Khudyakof. f 

In Radloff's Songs and Tales of the Turk 
ish tribes in East Siberia, I, 60, a father, want 
ing a wife for his son, applies to another man, 
who has a marriageable daughter. The latter 
will not make a match unless the young man's 
father will come to him with pelt and sans 
pelt, by the road and not by the road, on a 
horse and yet not on a horse : see 8 ff of this 
volume. The young man gives his father 
proper instructions, and wins his wife. 

A Lithuanian mother sends her daughter 
to the wood to fetch " winter May and sum- 

t Khudyakof, in the Ethnographical Collection of the Rus 
sian Geographical Society, Etnografitcheskiy Sbornik, etc., 
VI, 9, 10, 8. Ralston, The Songs of the Russian People, 
p. 353. 



mer snow." She meets a herdsman, and asks 
where she can find these. The herdsman 
offers to teach her these riddles in return for 
her love, and she complying with these terms, 
gives her the answers : The evergreen tree is 
winter May, and sea-foam is summer snow. 
Beitrage zur Kunde Preussens, I, 515 (Rhesa), 
and Ausland, 1839, p. 1230. 

The European tales, excepting the three 
drolleries (and even they are perhaps to be re 
garded only as parodies of the others), must 
be of Oriental derivation ; but the far north 
presents us with a similar story in the lay of 
Alvfss, in the elder Edda. The dwarf Alvfss 
comes to claim Freya for his bride by virtue 
of a promise from the gods. Thor * says that 
the bride is in his charge, and that he was 

from home when the promise was made : at 
any rate, Alvfss shall not have the maid unless 
he can answer all the questions that shall be 
put him. Thor then requires Alvfss to give 
him the names of earth, heaven, moon, sun, 
etc., ending with barley and the poor creature 
small beer, in all the worlds ; that is, in the 
dialect of the gods, of mankind, giants, elves, 
dwarfs, etc. Alviss does this with such com 
pleteness as to extort Thor's admiration, but 
is craftily detained in so doing till after sun 
rise, when Thor cries, You are taken in ! 
Above ground at dawn ! and the dwarf turns 
to stone. 

Translated, in part, after Aytoun, by 
Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 107. 

a. Herd's MS., I, 161. b. The same, II, 100. 

1 THE laird of Bristoll's daughter was in the 

woods walking, 
And by came Captain Wetherbourn, a servant 

to the king ; 
And he said to his livery man, Wer 't not 

against the law, 
I would tak her to mine ain bed, and lay her 

neist the wa. 

2 ' I 'm into my father's woods, amongst my fa 

ther's trees, 
kind sir, let mee walk alane, kind sir, if 

you please ; 
The butler's bell it will be rung, and I '11 be 

mist awa ; 
I'll lye into mine ain bed, neither at stock 

nor wa.' 

3 ' O my bonny lady, the bed it 's not be mine, 
For I '11 command my servants for to call it 

thine ; 
The hangings are silk satin, the sheets are hol~ 

land sma, 
And we 's baith lye in ae bed, but you 's lye 

neist the wa. 

* Vigfusson objects to Thor being the interlocutor, though 
that is the name in the MS., because cunning does not suit 
Thor's blunt character, and proposes Odin instead. " May 

4 ' And so, my bonny lady, I do not know 

your name, 
But my name 's Captain Wetherburn, and I 'm 

a man of fame ; 
Tho your father and a' his men were here, I 

would na stand in awe 
To tak you to mine ain bed, and lay you neist 

the wa. 

5 ' Oh my bonny, bonny lady, if you '11 gie me 

your hand, 
You shall hae drums and trumpets to sound at 

your command; 
Wi fifty men to guard you, sae weel their 

swords can dra, 
And wee 's baith lye in ae bed, but you 's lye 

neist the wa.' 

6 He 's mounted her upon a steid, behind his 

And he himself did walk afoot, to had his lady 

With his hand about her midle sae jimp, for 

fear that she should fa ; 
She man lye in his bed, but she '11 not lye 

neist the wa. 

be the dwarf first met Thor (Wingthor), whereupon Woden 
( Wingi) came up." Corpus Poeticum Boreale, I, 81. 


7 He 's taen her into Edinburgh, his landlady 13 ' Virgus is greener than the grass, heaven 's 

cam ben : higher than the tree ; 

4 And monny bonny ladys in Edinburgh hae I The deil 's war than a woman's wish, hell 's 

seen, deeper than the sea ; 

But the like of this fine creature my eyes they The cock sings first, on the Sugar Loaf the dew 

never sa ; ' down first does fa ; 

' O dame bring ben a down-bed, for she 's lye And ye man lye in my bed, betweest me and 

neist the wa.' the wa.' 

8 ' Hold your tongue, young man,' she said, ' and 14 ' Hold your tongue, young man,' she said, ' I 

dinna trouble me, pray you give it oer, 

Unless you get to my supper, and that is dishes Unless you tell me questions, and that is ques- 

three ; tions four ; 

Dishes three to my supper, tho I eat nane Tell me them as I shall ask them, and that is 

at a', twa by twa, 

Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist 

the wa. the wa. 

9 ' You maun get to my supper a cherry but a 15 ' You man get to me a plumb that does in win- 

stane, ter grow ; 

And you man get to my supper a capon but a And likewise a silk mantle that never waft 

bane, gaed thro ; 

And you man get a gentle bird that flies want- A sparrow's horn, a priest unborn, this night 

ing tha ga, to join us twa, 

Before I lye in your bed, but I '11 not lye neist Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist 

the wa.' the wa.' 

10 ' A cherry whan in blossom is a cherry but a 16 ' There is a plumb in my father's yeard that 

stane ; does in winter grow ; 

A capon when he 's in the egg canna hae a Likewise he has a silk mantle that never waft 

bane ; gaed thro ; 

The dow it is a gentle bird that flies wanting A sparrow's horn, it may be found, there 's ane 

the ga ; in every tae, 

And ye man lye in my bed, between me and There 's ane upo the mouth of him, perhaps 

the wa.' there may be twa. 

11 ' Hold your tongue, young man,' she said, ' and 17 ' The priest is standing at the door, just ready 

dinna me perplex, to come in ; 

Unless you tell me questions, and that is ques- Nae man could sae that he was born, to lie it 

tions six ; is a sin ; 

Tell me them as I shall ask them, and that is For a wild boar bored his mother's side, he out 

twa by twa, of it did fa ; 

Before I lye in your bed, but I '11 not lye neist And you man lye in my bed, between me and 

the wa. the wa.' 

12 ' What is greener than the grass, what 's higher 18 Little kent Grizey Sinclair, that morning when 

than the tree ? she raise, 

What 's war than a woman's wiss, what 's deeper 'T was to be the hindermost of a' her single 

than the sea ? days ; 

What bird sings first, and whereupon the dew For now she 's Captain Wetherburn's wife, a 

down first does fa? man she never saw, 

Before I lye in your bed, but I '11 not lye neist And she man lye in his bed, but she '11 not lye 

the wa.' neist the wa. 




a. Kinloch MSS, I, 83, from Mary Barr's recitation. 
b. Lord Roslin's Daughter's Garland, c. Buchan's MSS, 
II, 34. d. Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 159. e. Harris 
MS., fol. 19 b, No 14, from Mrs Harris's recitation, f. 
Notes and Queries, 2d S., IV, 170, "as sung among the peas 
antry of the Mearns," 1857. 

1 THE Lord of Rosslyn's daughter gaed through 

the wud her lane, 

And there she met Captain Wedderburn, a ser 
vant to the king. 

He said unto his livery-man, "Were 't na agen 
the law, 

I wad tak her to my ain bed, and lay her at 
the wa. 

2 ' I 'm walking here my lane,' she says, ' amang 

my father's trees ; 
And ye may lat me walk my lane, kind sir, now 

gin ye please. 
The supper-bell it will be rung, and I '11 be 

missd awa; 
Sae I '11 na lie in your bed, at neither stock 

nor wa.' 

3 He said, My pretty lady, I pray lend me your 

And ye '11 hae drums and trumpets always at 

your command ; 
And fifty men to guard ye wi, that weel their 

swords can draw ; 
Sae we '11 baith lie in ae bed, and ye '11 lie at 

the wa. 

6 Then he lap aff his milk-white steed, and set 

the lady on, 
And a' the way he walkd on foot, he held her 

by the hand ; 
He held her by the middle jimp, for fear that 

she should fa ; 
Saying, I '11 tak ye to my ain bed, and lay thee 

at the wa. 

7 He took her to his quartering-house, his land 

lady looked ben, 
Saying, Monie a pretty ladie in Edinbruch 

I 've seen ; 

But sic 'na pretty ladie is not into it a' : 
Gae, mak for her a fine down-bed, and lay her 

at the wa. 

8 ' haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray ye lat 

me be, 
For I '11 na lie in your bed till I get dishes 

three ; 
Dishes three maun be dressd for me, gif I 

should eat them a', 
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or 


9 ' 'T is I maun hae to my supper a chicken 

without a bane ; 

And I maun hae to my supper a cherry with 
out a stane ; 

And I maun hae to my supper a bird without 
a gaw, 

Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or 

4 ' Haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray let go my 10 ' Whan the chicken 's in the shell, I am sure it 

hand ; 
The supper-bell it will be rung, nae langer 

maun I stand. 
My father he '11 na supper tak, gif I be missd 

Sae I '11 na lie in your bed, at neither stock 

nor wa.' 

has na bane ; 
And whan the cherry 's in the bloom, I wat it 

has na stane ; 
The dove she is a genty bird, she flees without 

a gaw ; 
Sae we 11 baith lie in ae bed, and ye '11 be at 

the wa.' 

5 ' O my name is Captain Wedderburn, my name 11 ' haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray ye give 

I '11 neer deny, 
And I command ten thousand men, upo yon 

mountains high. 
Tho your father and his men were here, of 

them I 'd stand na awe, 
But should tak ye to my ain bed, and lay ye 

neist the wa.' 

me owre, 
For I '11 na lie in your bed, till I get presents 

four ; 
Presents four ye maun gie me, and that is twa 

and twa, 
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or 




Questions six ye maun answer me, and that is 

four and twa, 
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa. 

12 ' 'T is I maun hae some winter fruit that in 

December grew ; 
And I maun hae a silk mantil that waft gaed 

never through ; 

A sparrow's horn, a priest unborn, this nicht 16 ' what is greener than the gress, what 's 
to join us twa, higher than thae trees ? 

O what is worse than women's wish, what 's 

deeper than the seas ? 
What bird craws first, what tree buds first, 

Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa. ' 

13 ' My father has some winter fruit that in De 

cember grew ; 
My mither has a silk mantil the waft gaed 

never through ; 
A sparrow's horn ye soon may find, there 's 

ane on evry claw, 
And twa upo the gab o it, and ye shall get 

them a'. 

14 ' The priest he stands without the yett, just 

ready to come in ; 
Nae man can say he eer was born, nae man 

without he sin ; 
He was haill cut frae his mither's side, and 

frae the same let fa ; 
Sae we '11 .baith lie in ae bed, and ye 'se lie at 

the wa.' 

15 ' baud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray don't 

me perplex, 

For I '11 na lie in your bed till ye answer ques 
tions six : 

what first does on them fa ? 
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or 

17 ' Death is greener than the gress, heaven higher 

than thae trees ; 
The devil 's waur than women's wish, hell 's 

deeper than the seas ; 
The cock craws first, the cedar buds first, dew 

first on them does fa; 
Sae we '11 baith lie in ae bed, and ye 'se lie at 

the wa.' 

18 Little did this lady think, that morning whan 

she raise, 
That this was for to be the last o a' her maiden 

But there's na into the king's realm to be 

found a blither twa, 
And now she 's Mrs. Wedderburn, and she lies 

at the wa. 

Sheldon's Minstrelsy of the English Border, p. 232, as re 
cited " by a lady of Berwick on Tweed, who used to sing it 
in her childhood, and had learnt it from her nurse." 

1 THE laird of Roslin's daughter walked thro the 

wood her lane, 
And by came Captain Wedderburn, a servant 

to the Queen ; 
He said unto his serving man, Wer't not 

agaynst the law, 
I would tak her to my ain house as lady o my ha. 

2 He said, My pretty ladye, I pray give me your 

You shall have drams and trumpets always at 

your command ; 
With fifty men to guard you, that well their 

swords can draw, 
And I '11 tak ye to my ain bed, and lay you 

next the wa. 

3 ' I 'm walking in my feyther's shaws : ' quo he, 

My charming maid, 
I am much better than I look, so be you not 

afraid ; 
For I serve the queen of a' Scotland, and a 

gentil dame is, she ; 
So we 'se be married ere the morn, gin ye can 

fancy me. 

' The sparrow shall toot on his horn, gif nae- 

thing us befa, 
And I '11 mak you up a down-bed, and lay you 

next the wa. 

5 ' Now hold away from me, kind sir, I pray you 

let me be ; 

I wont be lady of your ha till you answer 
questions three ; 



Questions three you must answer me, and that 

is one and twa, 
Before I gae to Woodland's house, and be lady 

o your ha. 

6 'You must get me to my supper a chicken 

without a bone ; 

You must get me to my supper a cherry with 
out a stone ; 

You must get me to my supper a bird without 
a ga, 

Before I go to Woodland's house and be lady 
of your ha.' 

7 ' When the cherry is in the bloom, I 'm sure it 

has no stone ; 
When the chicken 's in the shell, I 'm sure it 

has nae bone ; 
The dove she is a gentil bird, and flies without 

So I 've answered you your questions three, 

and you 're lady of my ha.' 

9 He answered then so readily : Heaven 's higher 

than the trees ; 

The devil 's worse than woman's voice ; hell 's 
deeper than the seas ; 

10 ' One question still you must answer me, or you 

I laugh to scorn ; 

Go seek me out an English priest, of woman 
never born ; ' 

11 ' Oh then,' quo he, ' my young brother from 

mother's side was torn, 

And he 's a gentil English priest, of woman 
never born ; ' 

8 ' Questions three you must answer me : What 's 

higher than the trees ? 

And what is worse than woman's voice ? What 's 
deeper than the seas ? ' 

12 Little did his lady think, that morning when 

she raise, 

It was to be the very last of all her mayden 

A. a. 2 4 . I lye. 4 3>4 and 5 8>4 have been inter 

changed. 5 4 . lye you. b. lay. 7 1 . 
teen. 17 1 . priest was. 17 2 . it was. 
17 s . boned (?) b has bored., 
b is a copy of a, but with the long lines 
broken up into two, and some slight 
b. 3 4 . And we '11. 

5 1 . Omits if. 6 3 . Omits sae jimp. 
II 2 . and they are questions. 12 2 . wish. 
13 4 . betwixt. 

B. In stanzas of four short lines. 

a. 16 2 , 17 2 . Var. women's vice. 17 1 . Var. Poi 
son is greener. 

17 2 . Var. There 's nathing waur. 
b. Lord Roslin's Daughter's Garland. Con 
taining three excellent new songs. 
I. The Drunkard Reformed. 
II. The Devil and the Grinder. 
III. Lord Roslin's Daughter. 
Licensed and entered according to order. 

I 1 , walks throw. I 2 . And by came. 

I 8 , servant man. I 4 , 3 4 , 6 4 , 7 4 , 10 4 , 14 4 , 

18 4 . next the wa. 17 4 . neist. 
2 8 , 4 8 . missd you know. 3 4 . And we '11 

. . . and thou 's ly next. 
4 2 . will I. 4 4 . So I not. 

5 1 ' 2 . Then said the pretty lady, I pray tell 

me your name. 

My name is Captain Wedderburn, a 
servant to the king. 

5 8 . of him I 'd not stand in aw. 

6 1 . He lighted off. 

6 2 . And held her by the milk-white hand 

even as they rode along. 
6 s . so jimp. 6 4 . So I '11 take. 7 1 . lodg 
ing house. 

7 3 . But such a pretty face as thine in it 

I never saw. 

7 4 . make her up a down-bed. 



8*. will not go to your bed till you dress 


8 8 . three you must do to me. 
9 1 . I must have ... a cherry without 

a stone. 
9 a . a chicken without a hone. 

10 1 ' a . When the cherry is into the hloom I 

am sure it hath no stone, 
And when the chicken 's in the shell 
I 'm sure it hath no bone. 

10 s . it is a gentle. 

II 2 . I will not go till . . . till you answer 

me questions. 

II 8 . Questions four you must tell me. 
12 1 . You must get to me. 12 2 . That the 

wraft was neer ca'd. 
12 8 - * and 16 8 - * (and consequently 13 8 - 4 , 

17 8> 4 ) are wrongly interchanged in 

b, mixing upferlies and questions. 
a 12 8 - 4 , 13 8 - 4 , 14, 15, 16 1 - 2 , 16 8 - 4 , 17 1 - a , 

17 8 - 4 = b 15 8 - 4 , 16 8 ' 4 , 17, 14, 15 1 - 2 , 

12 8 - 4 , 16 1 - 2 , 13 8 - 4 . 
13 2 . the wraft was neer ca'd throw. 
13 8> 4 . A sparrow's horn you well may get, 

there's one on ilka pa. 
14 1 . standing at the door. 
14 8 . A hole cut in his mother's side, he 

from the same did fa. 
16 2 . And what . . . women's voice. 
16 8 . What bird sings best, and wood buds 

first, that dew does on them fa. 
17 1 . sky is higher. 17 2 . worse than w s o- 

men's voice. 

17 8 . the dew does on them fa. 
18 2 . the last night. 18 8 . now they both lie 

in one bed. 
c closely resembling b, the variations from 

b are given. 
c. 1. came omitted, v. 2 ; unto, v. 3. 

2. into your bed, v. 4. 

3. guard you . . . who well, v. 3 ; into 

. . . thou 'It, v. 4. 
5 1 - a . Then says, v. 1. 

6. lighted from . . . this lady, v. 1 ; mid 

dle jimp, v. 3. 

7. pretty fair, v. 2 ; as this, v. 3. 

8. dress me, v. 3. 

9. unto, vv 1, 2 ; O I must, v. 2. 

10. in the bloom, v. 1 ; we both shall ly in, 

v. 4. 

11. will give oer, v. 1 ; to your . . . you 

tell me, v. 2. 

12. You must get to me . . . that waft, v. 

2 ; bird sings first ... on them 
does, v. 3. 

13. sings first, v. 3. 

14. in your . . . you tell me, v. 2 ; I '11 ly 

in, v. 4. 

15. What is ... woman's, v. 2 ; I '11 ly in, 

v. 4. 

16. Death 's greener than the grass, hell 's 

deeper than the seas, 
The devil 's worse than woman's voice, 

sky 's higher than the trees, w 1, 2 ; 

every paw, v. 3 ; thou shalt, v. 4. 
18. the lady . . . rose, v. 1 ; It was to be 

the very last, v. 2 ; they ly in ae, v. 4. 
d. Follows the broadside (b, c) through the 
first nine stanzas, with changes from 
tTamieson's " own recollection," or inven 
tion, and one from A. 10 has certainly 
arbitrary alterations. The remaining 
eight stanzas are the corresponding ones 
of A treated freely. The comparison 
here is with b, readings from A in 11-18 
not being noticed. 
I 8 , serving men. 
2 8 . mist awa, from A ; so in 4 8 , a stanza 

not in A. 

5 8 . I 'd have nae awe. 
6 1 . He lighted aff . . . this lady. 6 8 . 

middle jimp. 6 4 . To tak her to his 

7 8 . sic a lovely face as thine. 7 4 . Gae 

mak her down. 
8 8 . maun dress to me. 
9 1 . It 's ye maun get. 9 2> 8 . And ye maun 


10 1 . It 's whan the cherry is in the flirry. 

10 2 . in the egg. 

10 8 . And sin the flood o Noah the dow she 

had nae ga. 

A, B d, 11, 12 1 - 2 , 13 1 - 2 , 14, 15 1 - 2 , 16 1 - a = 
B b, c, 14, 15 1 - 2 , 16 1 ' 3 , 11, 12 1 - a , 13 1 - a . 

11 1 . and gie your fleechin oer. 

11 2 . Unless you '11 find me ferlies, and that 

is ferlies four. 

II 8 . Ferlies four ye maun find me. 

II 4 . Or I '11 never lie. 

12 s . And get to me. 12 8 . doth first down. 

12 4 . Ye sail tell afore I lay me down be 
tween you and the wa. 

13 2 . has an Indian gown that waft. 

13 8 . on cedar top the dew. 

14 2 . that gait me perplex. 14 8 . three times 



15 1 . the greenest grass. 15 2 . war .nor an 
ill woman's wish. 

16 8 . horn is quickly found ... on every 

16 4 . There 's ane upon the neb of him. 

17 8 . A wild bore tore his mither's side. 

18 8 . now there 's nae within the realm, I 

e has stanzas 1, 5 (?), 9, 12, 10, 13, 14 of 
a, the first two imperfect. The last 
line of each stanza is changed, no 
doubt for delicacy's sake, to I will 
tak you wi me, I tell you, aye or na, 
or the like. 

1. The Earl o Roslin's dochter gaed out to 

tak the air ; 

She met a gallant gentleman, as hame 
she did repair - f 

I will tak you wi me, I tell you, aye or 

5(?). I am Captain Wedderburn, a ser 
vant to the king. C. 

I will tak you wi me, I tell you, aye or 

9 1 . I maun hae to my supper a bird with 
out a bone. 
9 8 . An I maun hae a gentle bird that 

9 4 . Before that I gae with you, I tell you, 

aye or na. 
10 1 . When the bird is in the egg. 10 2 . in 

the bud . . . I 'm sure. 
10 8 . it is a gentle bird. 
12 2 , 13 2 . a gey mantle . . . neer ca'ed. 
13 8 . sune sail get. 
14 1 . is standing at. 14 2 . say that he was 

... a sin. 
f. Stanzas 9, 10 only. 

9 1 . 'T is I maun hae to my supper a bird 

without a bone. 

9 2 . withouten stone. 9 s . withouten ga. 

10 1 . When the bird is in the shell, 1 'm sure. 

10 2 . I 'm sure. 

10 8 . a gentle . .' . withouten ga. 
Printed in stanzas of four short lines. 


A. Proud Lady Margaret,' Scott's Minstrelsy, III, C. ' The Jolly Hind Squire,' Buchan's MSS, II, 95. 
275, ed. 1803. 

D. ' The Knicht o Archerdale,' Harris MS., fol. 7, No 3. 

B. a. ' The Courteous Knight,' Buchan's Ballads of 

the North of Scotland, I, 91; MotherwelPs MS., E. 'Fair Margret,' A. Laing, Ancient Ballads and 
p. 591. b. MotherwelPs Minstrelsy, Introduction, Songs, MS., 1829, p. 6. 

p. Lxxxi. 

A WAS communicated to Scott "by Mr 
Hamilton, music-seller, Edinburgh, with whose 
mother it had been a favorite." Two stanzas 
and one line were wanting, and were supplied 
by Scott " from a different ballad, having a 
plot somewhat similar." The stanzas were 6 
and 9. C was printed from the MS., with a 
few changes, under the title of ' The Bonny 
Hind Squire,' by Dixon, in Scottish Tradi- 


tional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 42, and 
from Dixon in Bell's Early Ballads, p. 183. 
Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 28, says 
the ballad was called ' Jolly Janet ' by the 
old people in Aberdeenshire. 

A-D are plainly compounded of two ballads, 
the conclusion being derived from B. The 
lady's looking oer her castle wa, her putting 
riddles, and her having gard so mony die, 



make the supposition far from incredible that 
the Proud Lady Margaret of the first part of 
the ballad may originally have been one of 
the cruel princesses spoken of in the preface 
to ' Captain Wedderburn's Courtship,' p. 417. 
But the corrupt condition of the texts of .-D 
forbids any confident opinion. 

A dead mistress similarly admonishes her 
lover, in a ballad from Brittany, given in 
Ampere, Instructions relatives aux Poesies 
populaires de la France, p. 36. 

" Non, je ne dors ni ne soumeille, 
Je sis dans 1'enfer a bruler. 

" Aupres de moi reste une place, 

C'est pour vous, Piar', qu'on 1'a garde"e." 

" Ha ! dites-moi plustot, ma Jeanne, 
Comment fair' pour n'y point aller ? " 

" II faut aller & la grand-messe, 
Et aux vepres, sans y manquer. 

" Faut point aller aux fileries, 
Comm' vous aviez d'accoutume. 

" Ne faut point embrasser les filles 
Sur 1' bout du coffre au pied du lect." 

So Beaurepaire, Etude, p. 53 ; Puymaigre, 
4 La Damne'e,' Chants populaires, I, 115 ; V. 
Smith, Chants du Velay et du Forez, Romania, 
IV, 449 f, ' La Concubine ; ' and Luzel, " Celui 
qui alia voir sa maitresse en enfer," I, 44, 45. 
In this last, a lover, whose mistress has died, 
goes into a monastery, where he prays contin 
ually that he may see her again. The devil 
presents himself in the likeness of a young 
man, and on condition of being something 
gently considered takes him to hell. He sees 
his mistress sitting in a fiery chair (cf. B, 30, 
31), devoured by serpents night and day, and 
is informed that fasts and masses on his part 
will only make things worse. Like Dives, she 
sends word to her sister not to do as she has 
done. Some of these traits are found also in 
one or another of the French versions. 

Translated by Doenniges, p. 6, after Scott, 
and by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 1, 
after Aytoun, II, 62. 

Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 275, ed. 1803. Communicated 
" by Mr Hamilton, music-seller, Edinburgh, with whose 
mother it had been a favorite." 

1 'T WAS on a night, an evening bright, 

When the dew began to fa, 
Lady Margaret was walking up and down, 
Looking oer her castle wa. 

2 She looked east and she looked west,*' 

To see what she could spy, 
When a gallant knight came in her sight, 
And to the gate drew nigh. 

3 ' You seem to be no gentleman, 

You wear your boots so wide ; 
But you seem to be some cunning hunter, 
You wear the horn so syde.' 

4 ' I am no cunning hunter,' he said, 

' Nor neer intend to be ; 

But I. am come to this castle 

To seek the love of thee. 
And if you do not grant me love, 

This night for thee I '11 die.' 

5 ' If you should die for me, sir knight, 

There 's few for you will meane ; 

For mony a better has died for me, 

Whose graves are growing green. 

6 [' But ye maun read my riddle,' she said, 

' And answer my questions three ; 
And but ye read them right,' she said, 
' Gae stretch ye out and die.] 

7 ' Now what is the flower, the ae first flower, 

Springs either on moor or dale ? 
And what is the bird, the bonnie bonnie bird, 
Sings on the evening gale ? ' 

8 ' The primrose is the ae first flower 

Springs either on moor or dale, 



And the thristlecock is the bonniest bird 
Sings on the evening gale.' 

9 [' But what 's the little coin,' she said, 

' Wald buy my castle bound ? 
And what 's the little boat,' she said, 
' Can sail the world all round ? '] 

10 ' hey, how mony small pennies 

Make thrice three thousand pound ? 
Or hey, how mony salt fishes 
Swim a' the salt sea round ? ' 

11 ' I think you maun be my match,' she said, 

' My match and something inair ; 
You are the first eer got the grant 
Of love frae my father's heir. 

12 ' My father was lord of nine castles, 

My mother lady of three ; 
My father was lord of nine castles, 
And there 's nane to heir but me. 

13 ' And round about a' thae castles 

You may baith plow and saw, 

And on the fifteenth day of May 

The meadows they will maw.' 

14 ' hald your tongue, Lady Margaret,' he said, 

' For loud I hear you lie ; 

Your father was lord of nine castles, 
Your mother was lady of three ; 

Your father was lord of nine castles, 
But ye fa heir to but three. 

15 ' And round about a' thae castles 

You may baith plow and saw, 
But on the fifteenth day of May 
The meadows will not maw. 

16 ' I am your brother Willie,' he said, 

' I trow ye ken na me ; 
I came to humble your haughty heart, 
Has gard sae mony die.' 

17 ' If ye be my brother Willie,' she said, 

' As I trow weel ye be, 
This night I '11 neither eat nor drink, 
But gae alang wi thee.' 

18 ' O hold your tongue, Lady Margaret,' he said, 

' Again I hear you lie ; 
For ye 've unwashen hands and ye f ve un- 

washen feet, 
To gae to clay wi me. 

19 ' For the wee worms are my bedfellows, 

And cauld clay is my sheets, 
And when the stormy winds do blow, 
My body lies and sleeps.' 


a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 91 ; 
Motherwell's MS., p. 591. b. MotherwelPs Minstrelsy, In 
troduction, p. Ixxxi. 

1 THERE was a knight, in a summer's night, 

Appeard in a lady's hall, 
As she was walking up and down, 
Looking oer her castle wall. 

2 ' God make you safe and free, fair maid, 

God make you safe and free ! ' 

' O sae fa you, ye courteous knight, 

What are your wills wi me ? ' 

3 ' My wills wi you are not sma, lady, 

My wills wi you nae sma, 
And since there 's nane your bower within, 
Ye 'se hae my secrets a'. . 

4 ' For here am I a courtier, 

A courtier come to thee, 
And if ye winna grant your love, 
All for your sake I '11 dee.' 

5 ' If that ye dee for me, sir knight, 

Few for you will make meen ; 
For mony gude lord 's done the same, 
Their graves are growing green.' 

6 ' winna ye pity me, fair maid, 

O winna ye pity me ? 

winna ye pity a courteous knight, 
Whose love is laid on thee ?' 

7 ' Ye say ye are a courteous knight, 

But I think ye are nane ; 

1 think ye 're but a millar bred, 

By the colour o your claithing. 



8 ' You seem to be some false young man, 

You wear your hat sae wide ; 
You seem to be some false young man, 
You wear your boots sae side.' 

9 ' Indeed I am a courteous knight, 

And of great pedigree ; 
Nae knight did mair for a lady bright 
Than I will do for thee. 

10 ' O I '11 put smiths in your smithy, 

To shoe for you a steed, 
And I '11 put tailors in your bower, 
To make for you a weed. 

11 ' I will put cooks in your kitchen, 

And butlers in your ha, 
And on the tap o your father's castle 
I '11 big gude corn and saw.' 

12 ' If ye be a courteous knight, 

As I trust not ye be, 
Ye '11 answer some o the sma questions 
That I will ask at thee. 

13 ' What is the fairest flower, tell me, 

That grows in mire or dale ? 
Likewise, which is the sweetest bird 

Sings next the nightingale ? 
Or what 's the finest thing,' she says, 

' That king or queen can wile ? ' 

14 ' The primrose is the fairest flower 

That grows in mire or dale ; 
The mavis is the sweetest bird 

Next to the nightingale ; 
And yellow gowd 's the finest thing 

That king or queen can wale. 

15 ' Ye hae asked many questions, lady, 

I 've you as many told ; ' 
' But how many pennies round 
Make a hundred pounds in gold ? 

16 ' How many of the small fishes 

Do swim the salt seas round ? 
Or what 's the seemliest sight you '11 see 
Into a May morning ? ' 

17 ' Berry-brown ale and a birken speal, 
And wine in a horn green ; 

A milk-white lace in a fair maid's dress 
Looks gay in a May morning.' 

18 ' Mony 's the questions I 've askd at thee, 

And ye 've answerd them a' ; 
Ye are mine, and I am thine, 
A i in i the sheets sae sma. 

19 ' You may be my match, kind sir, 

You may be my match and more ; 
There neer was ane came sic a length 
Wi my father's heir before. 

20 ' My father 's lord o nine castles, 

My mother she 's lady ower three, 
And there is nane to heir them all, 

No never a ane but me ; 
Unless it be Willie, my ae brother, 

But he 's far ayont the sea.' 

21 'If your father 's laird o nine castles, 

Your mother lady ower three, 
I am Willie your ae brother, 
Was far beyond the sea.' 

22 ' If ye be Willie, my ae brother, 

As I doubt sair ye be, 
But if it 's true ye tell me now, 
This night I '11 gang wi thee.' 

23 ' Ye 've ower ill washen feet, Janet, 

And ower ill washen hands, 
And ower coarse robes on your body, 
Alang wi me to gang. 

24 ' The worms they are my bed-fellows, 

And the cauld clay my sheet, 
And the higher that the wind does blaw, 
The sounder I do sleep. 

25 ' My body 's buried in Dumfennline, 

And far beyond the sea, 
But day nor night nae rest coud get, 
All for the pride o thee. 

26 ' Leave aff your pride, jelly Janet,' he says, 

' Use it not ony mair ; 
Or when ye come where 1 hae been 
You will repent it sair. 

27 ' Cast aff, cast aff, sister,' he says, 

' The gowd lace frae your crown ; 
For if ye gang where I hae been, 
Ye '11 wear it laigher down. 



28 ' When ye 're in the gude church set, 

The gowd pins in your hair, 
Ye take mair delight in your feckless dress 
Than ye do in your morning prayer. 

29 ' And when ye walk in the church-yard, 

And in your dress are seen, 
There is nae lady that sees your face 
But wishes your grave were green. 

30 ' You 're straight and tall, handsome withall, 

But your pride owergoes your wit, 

But if ye do not your ways refrain, 
In Pirie's chair ye '11 sit. 

31 ' In Pirie's chair you '11 sit, I say, 

The lowest seat o hell ; 
If ye do not amend your ways, 
It 's there that ye must dwell.' 

32 Wi that he vanishd frae her sight, 

Wi the twinkling o an eye ; 
Naething mair the lady saw 
But the gloomy clouds and sky. 


Buchan's MSS, II, 95. 

1 ONCE there was a jolly hind squire 

Appeard in a lady's ha, 
And aye she walked up and down, 
Looking oer her castle wa. 

2 ' What is your wills wi me, kind sir ? 

What is your wills wi me ? ' 
' My wills are [not] sma wi thee, lady, 
My wills are [not] sma wi thee. 

3 ' For here I stand a courtier, 

And a courtier come to thee, 
And if ye will not grant me your love, 
For your sake I will die.' 

4 ' If you die for my sake,' she says, 

' Few for you will make moan ; 
Many better 's died for my sake, 
Their graves are growing green. 

5 ' You appear to be some false young man, 

You wear your hat so wide ; 
You appear to be some false young man, 
You wear your boots so side. 

6 ' An asking, asking, sir,' she said, 

' An asking ye '11 grant me : ' 
' Ask on, ask on, lady,' he said, 
' What may your asking be ? ' 

7 ' What 's the first thing in flower,' she said, 

' That springs in mire or dale ? 
What 's the next bird that sings,' she says, 

' Unto the nightingale ? 
Or what is the finest thing,' she says, 

' That king or queen can wile ? ' 

8 ' The primrose is the first in flower 

That springs in mire or dale ; 
The thristle-throat is the next that sings 

Unto the nightingale ; 
And yellow gold is the finest thing 

That king or queen can wile. 

9 ' You have asked many questions, lady, 

I 've you as many told ; ' 
' But how many pennies round 
Make a hundred pounds in gold ? 

10 ' How many small fishes 

Do swim the salt seas round ? 
Or what 's the seemliest sight you '11 see 
Into a May morning ? 

11 ' There 's ale into the birken scale, 

Wine in the horn green ; 
There 's gold in the king's banner 
When he is fighting keen.' 

12 ' You may be my match, kind sir,' she said, 

' You may be my match and more ; 
There neer was one came such a length 
With my father's heir before. 

13 ' My father 's lord of nine castles, 

No body heir but me.' 
' Your father 's lord of nine castles, 
Your mother 's lady of three ; 

14 ' Your father 's heir of nine castles, 

And you are heir to three ; 
For I am William, thy ae brother, 
That died beyond the sea.' 



15 ' If ye be William, my ae brother, 

This night, well is me ! 
If ye be William, my ae brother, 
This night I '11 go with thee.' 

16 ' For no, for no, jelly Janet,' he says, 

' For no, that cannot be ; 
You 've oer foul feet and ill washen hands 
To be in my company. 

17 ' For the wee wee worms are my bedfellows, 

And the cold clay is my sheet, 
And the higher that the winds do blow, 
The sounder I do sleep. 

18 ' Leave off your pride, jelly Janet,' he says, 

' Use it not any more ; 

Or when you come where I have been 
You will repent it sore. 

19 ' When you go in at yon church door, 

The red gold on your hair, 
More will look at your yellow locks 
Than look on the Lord's prayer. 

20 ' When you go in at yon church door, 

The red gold on your crown ; 
When you come where I have been, 
You '11 wear it laigher down.' 

21 The jolly hind squire, he went away 

In the twinkling of an eye, 
Left the lady sorrowful behind, 
With many bitter cry. 

Harris's MS., fol. 7, No 3. From Mrs Harris's recitation. 

1 THERE cam a knicht to Archerdale, 

His steed was winder srna, 

An there he spied a lady bricht, 

Luikin owre her castle wa. 

2 ' Ye dinna seem a gentle knicht, 

Though on horseback ye do ride ; 
Ye seem to be some sutor's son, 
Your butes they are sae wide.' 

3 ' Ye dinna seem a lady gay, 

Though ye be bound wi pride ; 
Else I 'd gane bye your father's gate 
But either taunt or gibe.' 

4 He turned aboot his hie horse head, 

An awa he was boun to ride, 
But neatly wi her mouth she spak : 
Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide. 

5 ' Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire, 

Tell me mair o your tale ; 
Tell me some o that wondrous lied 
Ye 've learnt in Archerdale. 

6 ' What gaes in a speal ? ' she said, 

' What in a horn green ? 
An what gaes on a lady's head, 
Whan it is washen clean ? ' 

7 * Ale gaes in a speal,' he said, 

' Wine in a horn green ; 
An silk gaes on a lady's head, 
Whan it is washen clean.' 

8 Aboot he turned his hie horse head, 

An awa he was boun to ride, 
When neatly wi her mouth she spak : 
Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide. 

9 ' Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire, 

Tell me mair o your tale ; 
Tell me some o that unco lied 
You Ve learnt in Archerdale. 

10 ' Ye are as like my ae brither 

As ever I did see ; 

But he 's been buried in yon kirkyaird 
It 's mair than years is three.' 

11 * I am as like your ae brither 

As ever ye did see ; 
But I canna get peace into my grave, 
A' for the pride o thee. 

12 ' Leave pride, Janet, leave pride, Janet, 

Leave pride an vanitie ; 
If ye come the roads that I hae come, 
Sair warned will ye be. 

13 ( Ye come in by yonder kirk 

Wi the goud preens in your sleeve ; 



When you 're bracht hame to yon kirkyaird, 
You '11 gie them a' thier leave. 

14 ' Ye come in to yonder kirk 

Wi the goud plaits in your hair ; 
When you 're bracht hame to yon kirkyaird, 
You will them a' forbear.' 

15 He got her in her mither's bour, 
Puttin goud plaits in her hair ; 
He left her in her father's gairden, 
Mournin her sins sae sair. 


Alex. Laing, Ancient Ballads and Songs, etc., etc., from 
the recitation of old people. Never published. 1829. P. 6. 

1 FAIR MARGRET was a young ladye, 

An come of high degree ; 
Fair Margret was a young ladye, 
An proud as proud coud be. 

2 Fair Margret was a rich ladye, 

The king's cousin was she ; 
Fair Margaret was a rich ladye, 
An vain as vain coud be. 

3 She war'd her wealth on the gay cleedin 

That comes frae yont the sea, 
She spent her time frae morning till night 
Adorning her fair bodye. 

4 Ae night she sate in her stately ha, 

Kaimin her yellow hair, 
When in there cum like a gentle knight, 
An a white scarf he did wear. 

5 ' what 's your will wi me, sir knight, 

what 's your will wi me ? 
You 're the likest to my ae brother 
That ever I did see. 

6 ' You 're the likest to my ae brother 

That ever I hae seen, 

But he 's buried in Dunfermline kirk, 
A month an mair bygane.' 

7 ' I 'm the likest to your ae brother 

That ever ye did see, 
But I canna get rest into my grave, 
A' for the pride of thee. 

8 ' Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret, 

Leave pride an vanity ; 
Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen, 
Sair altered ye maun be. 

9 ' ye come in at the kirk-door 

Wi the gowd plaits in your hair ; 
But wud ye see what I hae seen, 
Ye maun them a' forbear. 

10 ' ye come in at the kirk-door 

Wi the gowd prins i your sleeve ; 
But wad ye see what I hae seen, 
Ye maun gie them a' their leave. 

11 ' Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret, 

Leave pride an vanity ; 
Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen, 
Sair altered ye maun be.' 

12 He got her in her stately ha, 

Kaimin her yellow hair, 
He left her on her sick sick bed, 
Sheding the saut saut tear. 

B 15 8 ' 4 , 16 1 ' 2 , C 9 8 - 4 , 10 1 ' 2 are rightly answers, not 
questions : cf. A 9, 10. D 6 furnishes the ques- C. 
tion answered in B 17. 
B. b. Motherwell begins at st. 25. 
27 2 . gowd band. 
28 1 , 29 1 . kirk. 30 2 . .owergangs. B. 

32 2 . In the. 32 s . And naething. 
Kind Squire in the title, and kind in I 1 , 
21 1 ; I suppose by mistake of my copyist. 
16 s . You're (?). 
17 2 . the clay cold. 
8 3 , II 3 . E'er. 




Percy MS., p. 292. Hales and Furnivall, II, 828. 

* YOUNG ANDREW ' is known only from the 
Percy manuscript. The story recalls both 
4 Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight,' No 4, and 
4 The Fair Flower of Northumberland,' No 9. 
The lady, Helen, 25 3 , is bidden to take, and 
does take, gold with her in stanzas 5-7, as in 
No 4, English B 2, 3, D 7, Danish A 12, E 7, 
9, 1 5, L 5, 6, and nearly all the Polish copies, 
and again in No 9, A 14. She is stripped of 
her clothes and head-gear in 8-17, as in No 4, 
English C-B, German Q, H, and many of the 
Polish versions. These are destined by Young 
Andrew for hts lady (" that dwells so far in a 
strange country ") in 10, 12, 14, as by Ulinger 
for his sister, and by Adelger for his mother, 
in German G 18, H 15. In 15 the lady en 
treats Young Andrew to leave her her smock ; 
so in No 4, Polish L 8, " You brought me 
from home in a green gown ; take me back in a 
shift of tow," and B 13, " You took me away 
in red satin ; let me go back at least in a 

smock." 18 has the choice between dying 
and going home again which is presented in 
' Lady Isabel,' Polish AA 4, H 10, B 11, and 
implied in ' The Fair Flower of Northumber 
land,' D 25 ; in A 25 of this last the choice is 
between dying and being a paramour. In 20, 
21, the lady says, " If my father ever catches 
you, you 're sure to flower a gallows-tree," 
etc. ; in No 4, Polish J 5, " If God would 
grant me to reach the other bank, you know, 
wretch, what death you would die." The 
father is unrelenting in this ballad, v. 26, and 
receives his daughter with severity in 'The 
Fair Flower of Northumberland,' B 13, C 13. 
The conclusion of * Young Andrew ' is muti 
lated and hard to make out. He seems to 
have been pursued and caught, as John is 
in the Polish ballads, O, P, T, etc., of No 4. 
Why he was not promptly disposed of, and 
how the wolf comes into the story, will proba 
bly never be known. 

1 As I was cast in my ffirst sleepe, 

A dreadffull draught in my mind I drew, 
Ffor I was dreamed of a yong man, 
Some men called him yonge Andrew. 

2 The moone shone bright, and itt cast a ffayre 

Sayes shee, Welcome, my honey, my hart, 

and my sweete ! 

For I haue loued thee this seuen long yeere, 
And our chance itt was wee cold neuer meete. 

3 Then he tooke her in his armes two, 

And kissed her both cheeke and chin, 
And twise or thrise he pleased this may 
Before they tow did part in twinn. 

4 Saies, Now, good sir, you haue had your 


You can demand no more of mee ; 
Good sir, remember what you said before, 
And goe to the church and marry mee. 

5 ' Ffaire maid, I cannott doe as I wold ; 

Goe home and fett thy fathers redd gold, 
And I'le goe to the church and marry 

6 This ladye is gone to her ffathers hall, 

And well she knew where his red gold lay, 
And counted fforth five hundred pound, 
Besides all other iuells and chaines : 



7 And brought itt all to younge Andrew, 

Itt was well counted vpon his knee ; 
Then he tooke her by the lillye white hand, 
And led her vp to an hill soe hye. 

8 Shee had vpon a gowne of blacke veluett, 

(A pittyffull sight after yee shall see :) 
' Put of thy clothes, bonny wenche,' he sayes, 
' For noe ffoote further thoust gang with 

9 But then shee put of her gowne of veluett, 

With many a salt teare from her eye, 
And in a kirtle of ffine breaden silke 
Shee stood beffore young Andrews eye. 

10 Sais, put off thy kirtle of silke, 

Ffor some and all shall goe with mee ; 
And to my owne lady I must itt beare, 
Who I must needs loue better then thee. 

11 Then shee put of her kirtle of silke, 

With many a salt teare still ffrom her 

In a peticoate of scarlett redd 

Shee stood before young Andrewes eye. 

12 Saies, put of thy peticoate, 

For some and all of itt shall goe with mee ; 
And to my owne lady I will itt beare, 

Which dwells soe ffarr in a strange coun- 

13 But then shee put of her peticoate, 

With many a salt teare still from her eye, 
And in a smocke of braue white silke 
Shee stood before young Andrews eye. 

14 Saies, O put of thy smocke of silke, 

For some and all shall goe with mee ; 
Vnto my owne ladye I will itt beare, 

That dwells soe ffarr in a strange coun- 

15 Sayes, remember, young Andrew, 

Once of a woman you were borne ; 
And ffor that, birth that Marye bore, 
I pray you let my smocke be vpon ! 

16 ' Yes, ffayre ladye, I know itt well, 

Once of a woman I was borne ; 
Yett ffor noe birth that Mary bore, 

Thy smocke shall not be left here vpon.' 


17 But then shee put of her head-geere ffine ; 

Shee hadd billaments worth a hundred pound ; 
The hayre that was vpon this bony wench 

Couered her bodye downe to the ground. 

18 Then he pulled forth a Scottish brand, 

And held itt there in his owne right hand ; 
Saies, Whether wilt thou dye vpon my swords 

point, ladye, 
Or thow wilt goe naked home againe ? 

19 ' Liffe is sweet,' then, ' sir,' said shee, 

' Therfore I pray you leaue mee with mine ; 
Before I wold dye on your swords point, 
I had rather goe naked home againe. 

20 ' My ffather,' shee sayes, ' is a right good 


As any remaines in his countrye ; 
If euer he doe yowr body take, 

You 'r sure to fflower a gallow tree. 

21 ' And I haue seuen brethren,' shee sayes, 

' And they are all hardy men and bold ; 
Giff euer the doe your body take, 

You must neuer gang quicke ouer the mold.' 

22 ' If your ffather be a right good erle 

As any remaines in his owne countrye, 
Tush ! he shall neuer my body take, 
I'le gang soe ffast ouer the sea. 

23 ' If you haue seuen brethren,' he sayes, 

' If they be neuer soe hardy or bold, 
Tush ! they shall neuer my body take, 
I'le gang soe ffast into the Scottish mold.' 

24 Now this ladye is gone to her fathers hall, 

When euery body their rest did take ; 
But the Erie w/iich was her ffather 

Lay waken for his deere daughters sake. 

25 ' But who is that,' her ffather can say, 

' That soe priuilye knowes the pinn ? ' 
' It 's Hellen , yowr owne deere daughter, ffa 
I pray you rise and lett me in.' 


' Noe, by my hood ! ' quoth her ffather then, 
' My [house] thoust neuer come within, 
Without I had my red gold againe.' 



27 ' Nay, yowr gold is gone, ffather ! ' said shee, 

' Then naked thou came into this world, 
And naked thou shalt returne againe.' 

28 ' Nay ! God fforgaue his death, father,' shee 


' And soe I hope you will doe mee ; ' 
' Away, away, thou cursed woman, 

I pray God an ill death thou may dye ! ' 

29 Shee stood soe long quacking on the ground 

Till her hart itt burst in three ; 
And then shee ffell dead downe in a swoond, 
And this was the end of this bonny ladye. 

30 Ithe morning, when her ffather gott vpp, 

A pittyffull sight there he might see ; 
His owne deere daughter was dead, \*tthout 

The teares they trickeled fast ffrom his eye. 


Sais, Eye of gold, and ffye of ffee ! 
For I sett soe much by my red gold 

Thai now itt hath lost both my daughter 
and mee ! ' 


But after this time he neere dought good 

But as flowers doth fade in the frost, 
Soe he did wast and weare away. 

33 But let vs leaue talking of this ladye, 

"And talke some more of young Andrew ; 
Ffor ffalse he was to this bonny ladye, 
More pitty thai he had not beene true. 

34 He was not gone a mile into the wild forrest, 

Or halfe a mile into the hart of Wales, 
But there they cought him by such a braue 

Thai hee must come to tell noe more tales. 


Ffull soone a wolfe did of him smell, 
And shee came roaring like a beare, 
And gaping like a ffeend of hell. 

36 Soe they ffought together like two lyons, 

And fire betweene them two glashet out ; 
The raught eche other such a great rappe, 
Thai there young Andrew was slaine, well I 

37 But now young Andrew he is dead, 

But he was neuer buryed vnder mold, 
For ther as the wolfe devoured him, 
There lyes all this great erles gold. 

I 8 , of one. 3*. 2f, 3? . 

r. to one. 17 2 . 100! 1 . 
19 1 . My liffe. 
25 2 . thai pinn. 

30 8 . any follows without, but is crossed out. 
SO 4 , they teares. 33 4 . itt had. 
Arabic numbers are in several cases ex 
pressed in letters. 




A. Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 56, No 19. E. ' The Twa Brothers,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, 

p. 60. 

B. 'The Cruel Brother,' Motherwell's MS., p. 259. 

From the recitation of Mrs McCormick. F. ' The Two Brothers,' Buchan's MSS, I, 57; Moth 

erwell's MS., p. 662. 

C. ' The Twa Brithers,' Motherwell's MS., p. 649. 

From the recitation of Mrs Cunningham. G. a. ' John and William,' taken down from the sing- 

D. 'The Twa Brothers, or, The Wood o Warslin,' 
Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 59. From the recita 
tion of Mrs Arrott. 

ing of little girls in South Boston, b. From a child 
in New York. Both communicated by Mr W. W. 

ALL the Scottish versions were obtained 
within the first third of this century, and 
since then no others have been heard of. It 
is interesting to find the ballad still in the 
mouths of children in American cities, in 
the mouths of the poorest, whose heritage 
these old things are.* The American versions, 
though greatly damaged, preserve the names 
John and William, which all the other copies 

B and C are considerably corrupted. It 
need hardly be mentioned that the age of the 
boys in the first two stanzas of B does not suit 
the story. According to C 8, 15, the mother 
had cursed John, before he left home, with a 
wish that he might never return ; and in C 9, 
John sends word to his true-love that he is in 
his grave for her dear sake alone. These points 
seem to have been taken from some copy of 
* Willie and May Margaret,' or The Drowned 
Lovers.' The conclusion of both B and C be 
longs to ' Sweet William's Ghost.' C 18 may 
be corrected by B 10, though there is an ab 
surd jumble of pipes and harp in the latter. 
The harp, in a deft hand, effects like wonders 
in many a ballad: e. g., ' Harpens Kraft,' 
Grundtvig, II, 65, No 40 ; even a pipe in C 
14-16 of the same. 

* Mr Newell says : " I have heard it sung at a picnic, by 
a whole earful of little girls. The melody is pretty. These 
children were of the poorest class." 

D, B, F, G supplement the story with more 
or less of the ballad of ' Edward : ' see p. 168. 

Jamieson inquires for this ballad in the 
Scots Magazine for October, 1803, p. 701, at 
which time he had only the first stanza and 
the first half of the third. He fills out the im 
perfect stanza nearly as in the copy which he 
afterwards printed : 

But out an Willie 's taen his knife, 
And did his brother slay. 

Of the five other Scottish versions, all ex 
cept B make the deadly wound to be the re 
sult of accident, and this is, in Motherwell's 
view, a point essential. The other reading, 
he says, is at variance with the rest of the 
story, and " sweeps away the deep impression 
this simple ballad would otherwise have made 
upon the feelings : for it is almost unnecessary 
to mention that its touching interest is made 
to centre in the boundless sorrow and cure 
less remorse of him who had been the uninten 
tional cause of his brother's death, and in the 
solicitude which that high-minded and gen 
erous spirit expresses, even in the last agonies 
of nature, for the safety and fortunes of the 
truly wretched and unhappy survivor." But 
the generosity of the dying man is plainly 
greater if his brother has killed him in an out 
burst of passion ; and what is gained this way 



will fully offset the loss, if any, which comes 
from the fratricide having cause for " cureless 
remorse " as well as boundless sorrow. Moth- 
erwell's criticism, in fact, is not quite intel 
ligible. (Minstrelsy, p. 61.) 

The variation in the story is the same as 
that between the English ' Cruel Brother' and 
the German ' Graf Friedrich : ' in the former 
the bride is killed by her offended brother; 
in the latter it is the bridegroom's sword slip 
ping from its sheath that inflicts the mortal 

Motherwell was inclined to believe, and 
Kirkpatrick Sharpe was convinced, that this 
ballad was founded upon an event that hap 
pened near Edinburgh as late as 1589, that 
of one of the Somervilles having been killed 
by his brother's pistol accidentally going off. 
Sharpe afterward found a case of a boy of 
thirteen killing a young brother in anger at 
having his hair pulled. This most melancholy 
story, the particulars of which are given in the 
last edition of the Ballad Book, p. 130, note 
xix, dates nearly a hundred years later, 1682. 
Only the briefest mention need be made of 
these unusually gratuitous surmises. 

Kirkland, in D, was probably suggested by 
the kirkyard of other versions, assisted, pos 
sibly, by a reminiscence of the Kirkley in 
4 Robin Hood's Death and Burial ; ' for it will 
be observed that stanzas 8, 9 of D come pretty 
near to those in which Robin Hood gives direc 
tion for his grave ; F 9, 10, B 5, 6 less near.* 

Cunningham has entitled a romance of his, 
upon the theme of 'The Two Brothers' (which, 
once more, he ventures to print nearly in the 
state in which he once had the pleasure of 
hearing it sung), ' Fair Annie of Kirkland : ' 
Songs of Scotland, II, 16. 

The very pathetic passage in which the 
dying youth directs that father, mother, and 
sister shall be kept in ignorance of his death, 
and then, feeling how vain the attempt to 
conceal the fact from his true-love will be, 
bids that she be informed that he is in his 
grave and will never come back, is too truly 

" The house of Inchmurry, formerly called Kirkland. 
was built of old by the abbot of Holyrood-house for his ac 
commodation when he came to that country, and was for- 

a touch of nature to be found only here. 
Something similar occurs in * Mary Hamil 
ton,' where, however, the circumstances are 
very different : 

' And here 's to the jolly sailor lad 

That sails upon the faeme ! 
And let not my father nor mother get wit 

But that I shall come again. 

' And here 's to the jolly sailor lad 

That sails upon the sea ! 
But let not my father nor mother get wit 

O the death that I maun dee.' 

In a fine Norse ballad (see * Brown Robyn's 
Confession,' further on) a man who is to be 
thrown overboard to save a ship takes his 
leave of the world with these words : 

' If any of you should get back to land, 
And my foster-mother ask for me, 

Tell her I 'm serving in the king's court, 
And living right merrily. 

' If any of you should get back to land, 

And my true-love ask for me, 
Bid her to marry another man, 

For I am under the sea.' 

A baron, who has been mortally wounded 
in a duel, gives this charge to his servant : 

' Faites mes compliments a ma femme, 
Mais ne lui dites pas que j'ai ete tu^ ; 
Mais dites lui que je serai alle a Paris, 
Pour saluer le roi Louis. 

' Dites que je serai alle a Paris, 
Pour saluer le roi Louis, 
Et que j'ai achet^ un nouveau cheval, 
Le petit cceur de mon cheval etait trop gai.' 
(Le Seigneur de Rosmadec, Luzel, I, gf f, $) 

In like manner a dying klepht : " If our 
comrades ask about me, tell them not that I 
have died : say only that I have married in 
strange lands ; have taken the flat stone for 
mother-in-law, the black earth for my wife, 
the black worms for brothers-in-law." Zam- 

merly the minister's manse." Statistical Account of Scot 
land, XIII, 506, cited by Jamieson, I, 62. There are still 
three or four Kirklands in Scotland and the north of England. 



belios, p. 606, No 11, Fauriel, I, 51, Passow, 
p. 118, No 152 ; and again, Zambelios, p. 672, 
No 94, Passow, p. 113, No 146. In the Dan 
ish ' Elveskud,' Grundtvig, II, 115, No 47, B 
18, Ole would simply have the tragic truth 
kept from his bride : 

' Hearken, Sir Ole, of mickle pride, 
How shall I answer thy young bride ? ' 

' You must say I am gone to the wood, 

To prove horse and hounds, if they he good.' 

Such questions and answers as we have in 
D 20, E 17, P 24, are of the commonest oc 
currence in popular poetry, and not unknown 
to the poetry of art. Ballads of the ' Ed 
ward ' class end generally or always in this 
way : see p. 168. We have again the partic 
ular question and answer which occur here in 
* Lizie Wan ' and in one version of ' The 
Trooper and Fair Maid,' Jamieson's Popular 
Ballads, II, 158. The question may be : When 
will you come back ? When shall you cease to 
love me ? When shall we be married ? etc. ; 
and the answer : When apple-trees grow in the 
seas ; when fishes fly and seas gang dry ; when 
all streams run together; when all swift 
streams are still ; when it snows roses and 
rains wine ; when all grass is rue ; when the 
nightingale sings on the sea and the cuckoo is 
heard in winter ; when poplars bear cherries 
and oaks roses ; when feathers sink and stones 
swim ; when sand sown on a stone germi 
nates, etc., etc. See Virgil, Eel. i, 59-63 ; Ovid, 
Met. xiii, 324-27 ; Wolf, Ueber die Lais, p. 
433 ; ' Svend Vonved,' Grundtvig, I, 240, No 
18, A, D ; Buchan's Ballads of the North of 
Scotland, ' Lord Jamie Douglas,' I, 232 f, 
Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. vii, 
Kinloch, Finlay, etc. ; Pills to Purge Melan 
choly, V, 37 ; ' Der verwundete Knabe,' ' Die 
verwundete Dame,' Mittler, Nos 49-53, Erk's 
Liederhort, pp 111-115, Wunderhorn, IV, 
358-63, Longard, p. 39, No 18, Prohle, Welt. 
u. geist. Volkslieder, p. 12, No 6 ; Meinert, 
pp 28, 60, 73; Uhland, p. 127, No 65; Wun 

derhorn (1857), II, 223, Reifferscheid, p. 23, 
Liederhort, p. 345, Erk, Neue Sammlung, ii, 
39, Kretzschmer, I, 143 ; Zuccalmaglio, pp 
103, 153, 595 ; Peter, Volksthiimliches aus 
Ost.-schlesien, I, 274 ; Ditfurth, II, 9, No 10 ; 
Fiedler, p. 187 ; Des Turcken Vassnachtspiel, 
Tieck's Deutsches Theater, I, 8 ; Uhland, Zur 
Geschichte der Dichtung, III, 216 fl: ; Tigri, 
Canti popolari toscani (1860), pp 230-242, 
Nos 820, 822, 823, 832, 836-40, 857, 858, 
862, 868 ; Visconti, Saggio del Canti p. dell a 
Provincia di Marritima e Campagna, p. 21, 
No 18 ; Nino, Saggio di Canti p. sabinesi, p. 
28 f, p. 30 f ; Pitre, Saggi di Critica lettera- 
ria, p. 25 ; Braga, Cantos p. do Archipelago 
agoriano, p. 220 ; Mockesch, Romanische Dich- 
tungen, p. 6 f, No 2 ; Passow, p. 273 f, Nos 
387, 388 ; B. Schmidt, Griechische Marchen, 
etc., p. 154, No 10, and note, p. 253 ; Morosi, 
Studi sui Dialetti greci della Terra d'Otranto, 
p. 30, Ixxv, p. 32, Ixxix ; Pellegrini, Canti p. 
dei Greci di Cargese, p. 21 ; De Rada, Rap- 
sodie d'un Poema albanese, p. 29 ; Haupt u. 
Schmaler, Volkslieder der Wenden, I, 76, No 
47, I, 182, No 158, I, 299, No 300 ; Altmann, 
Balalaika, Russische Volkslieder, p. 233, No 
184 ; Golovatsky, Narodnyya Piesni galitzskoy 
i ugorskoy Rusi, II, 585, No 18, III, i, 12, No 
9 ; Maximo vitch, Sbornik ukrainskikh Pyesen, 
p. 7, No 1, p. 107, No 30 ; Dozon, Chansons 
p. bulgares, p. 283, No 57 ; Bodenstedt, Die 
poetische Ukraine, p. 46, No 14 ; Jordan, 
Ueber kleinrussische Volkspoesie, Blatter fur 
lit. Unterhaltung, 1840, No 252, p. 1014 
(Uhland) ; Rhesa, Ueber litthauische Volks 
poesie, in Beitrage zur Kunde Preussens, I, 
523 ; Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, 
pp 147, 149 : etc. 

A is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og 
skotske Folkeviser, p. 168 ; Afzelius, III, 7 ; 
Grimm, Drei altschottische Lieder, p. 5; 
Talvi, Charakteristik, p. 567 ; Rosa Warrens, 
Schottische V. L. der Vorzeit, p. 91. Knortz, 
Schottische Balladen, No 4, translates Ay- 
toun, I, 193. 



Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 56, No 19. 

1 THERE were twa brethren in the north, 

They went to the school thegither ; 
The one unto the other said, 
Will you try a warsle afore ? 

2 They warsled up, they warsled down, 

Till Sir John fell to the ground, 
And there was a knife in Sir Willie's pouch, 
Gied him a deadlie wound. 

3 ' Oh brither dear, take me on your back, 

Carry me to yon burn clear, 
And wash the blood from off my wound, 
And it will bleed nae mair.' 

4 He took him up upon his back, 

Carried him to yon burn clear, 
And washd the blood from off his wound, 
But aye it bled the mair. 

5 ' Oh brither, dear, take me on your back, 

Carry me to yon kirk-yard, 
And dig a grave baith wide and deep, 
And lay my body there.' 

6 He 's taen him up upon his back, 

Carried him to yon kirk-yard, 
And dug a grave baith deep and wide, 
And laid his body there. 

7 ' But what will I say to my father dear, 

Gin he chance to say, Willie, whar 's John ? ' 
' Oh say that he 's to England gone, 
To buy him a cask of wine.' 



' And what will I say to my mother dear, 
Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar 's John ? ' 

' Oh say that he 's to England gone, 
To buy her a new silk gown.' 

1 And what will I say to my sister dear, 

Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar 's John ? ' 

' Oh say that he 's to England gone, 
To buy her a wedding ring.' 

' But what will I say to her you loe dear, 
Gin she cry, Why tarries my John ? ' 

' Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair, 
And home again will never come.' 

Motherwell's MS., p. 
January 19, 1825. 


259. From Widow McCormick, 

1 THERE was two little boys going to the school, 

And twa little boys they be, 
They met three brothers playing at the ba, 
And ladies dansing hey. 

2 ' It 's whether will ye play at the ba, brither, 

Or else throw at the stone ? ' 
' I am too little, I am too young, 
O brother let me alone.' 

3 He pulled out a little penknife, 

That was baith sharp and sma, 
He gave his brother a deadly wound 
That was deep, long and sair. 

4 He took the holland sark off his back, 

He tore it frae breast to gare, 
He laid it to the bloody wound, 
That still bled mair and mair. 

5 ' It 's take me on your back, brother,' he says, 

* And carry me to yon kirk-yard, 
And make me there a very fine grave, 
That will be long and large. 

6 ' Lay my bible at my head,' he says, 

' My chaunter at my feet, 
My bow and arrows by my side, 
And soundly I will sleep. 

7 ' When you go home, brother,' he says, 

' My father will ask for me ; 
You may tell him I am in Saussif town, 
Learning my lesson free. 

8 ' When you go home, brother,' he says, 

' My mother will ask for me ; 
You may tell her I am in Sausaf town, 
And I '11 come home merrily. 

9 ' When you go home, brother,' he says, 

' Lady Margaret will ask for me ; 
You may tell her I 'm dead and in grave laid, 
And buried in Sausaff toun.' 



10 She put the small pipes to her mouth, 

And she harped both far and near, 
Till she harped the small birds off the briers, 
And her true love out of the grave. 

11 ' What 's this ? what '& this, lady Margaret ? 

he says, 
' What 's this you want of me ? ' 


* One sweet kiss of your ruby lips, 
That 's all I want of thee.' 

' My lips they are so bitter,' he says, 
' My breath it is so strong, 

If you get one kiss of my ruby lips, 
Your days will not be long.' 

Motherwell's MS., p. 649. From the recitation of Mra 
Cunningham, Ayr. 

1 THERE were twa brithers at ae scule ; 

As they were coming hame, 
Then said the ane until the other 
' John, will ye throw the stane ? ' 

2 ' I will not throw the stane, brither, 

I will not play at the ba ; 
But gin ye come to yonder wood 
I '11 warsle you a fa.' 

3 The firsten fa young Johnie got, 

It brought him to the ground ; 
The wee pen-knife in Willie's pocket 
Gied him a deadly wound. 

4 ' Tak aff, tak aff my holland sark, 

And rive it frae gore to gore, 
And stap it in my bleeding wounds, 
They '11 aiblins bleed noe more.' 

5 He pouit aff his holland sark, 

And rave it frae gore to gore, 
And stapt it in his bleeding wounds, 
But ay they bled the more. 

6 ' O brither, tak me on your back, 

And bear me hence away, 
And carry me to Chester kirk, 
And lay me in the clay.' 

7 ' What will I say to your father, 

This night when I return ? ' 
' Tell him I 'm gane to Chester scule, 
And tell him no to murn.' 

8 ' What will I say to your mother, 

This nicht whan I gae hame ? ' 
' She wishd afore I cam awa 
That I might neer gae hame.' 

9 ' What will I say to your true-love, 

This nicht when I gae hame ? ' 
' Tell her I 'm dead and in my grave, 
For her dear sake alane.' 

10 He took him upon his back 

And bore him hence away, 
And carried him to Chester kirk, 
And laid him in the clay. 

11 He laid him in the cauld cauld clay, 

And he cuirt him wi a stane, 
And he 's awa to his fathers ha, 
Sae dowilie alane. 

12 ' You 're welcome, dear son,' he said, 

' You 're welcome hame to me ; 
But what 's come o your brither John, 
That gade awa wi thee ? ' 

13 * Oh he 's awa to Chester scule, 

A scholar he '11 return ; 
He bade me tell his father dear 
About him no to murn.' 

14 ' You 're welcome hame, dear son r ' she said, 

' You 're welcome hame to me ; 
But what 's come o your brither John, 
That gade awa wi thee ? ' 

15 ' He bade me tell his mother dear, 

This nicht when I cam hame, 
Ye wisht before he gade awa, 
That he might neer return.' 

16 Then next came up his true-love dear, 

And heavy was her moan ; 
' You 're welcome hame, dear Will,' she said, 
' But whare 's your brither John ? ' 

17 ' lady, cease your trouble now, 

O cease your heavy moan ; 
He 's dead and in the cauld cauld clay, 
For your dear sake alone.' 



18 She ran distraught, she wept, she sic] it, 

She wept the sma hrids frae the tree, 
She wept the starns adoun frae the lift, 
She wept the fish out o the sea. 

19 ' O cease your weeping, my ain true-love, 

Ye but disturb my rest ; ' 

' Is that my ain true lover John, 
The man that I loe best ? ' 

20 < 'T is naething but my ghaist,' he said, 

' That 's sent to comfort thee ; 
cease your weeping, my true-love, 
And 't will gie peace to me.' 

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 59. 
of Mrs W. Arrott, of Aberbrothick. 

From the recitation 

1 ' O WILL ye gae to the school, brother? 

Or will ye gae to the ba ? 
Or will ye gae to the wood a-warslin, 
To see whilk o 's maun fa ? ' 

2 ' It 's I winna gae to the school, brother, 

Nor will I gae to the ba ; 
But I will gae to the wood a-warslin, 
And it is you maun fa.' 

3 They warstled up, they warstled down, 

The lee-lang simmer's day ; 

4 ' lift me up upon your back, 

Tak me to yon wall fair ; 
You '11 wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer, 
And syne they '11 bleed nae mair. 

5 ' And ye '11 tak aff my hollin sark, 

And riv 't frae gair to gair ; 
Ye '11 stap it in my bluidy wounds, 
And syne they '11 bleed nae mair.' 

6 He 's liftit his brother upon his back, 

Taen him to yon wall fair ; 
He 's washed his bluidy wounds oer and oer, 
But ay they bled mair and mair. 

7 And he 's taen aff his hollin sark, 

And riven 't frae gair to gair ; 
He 's stappit it in his bluidy wounds, 
But ay they bled mair and mair. 

8 ' Ye '11 lift me up upon your back, 

Tak me to Kirkland fair ; 
Ye '11 mak my greaf baitli braid and lang, 
And lay my body there. 

9 Ye '11 lay my arrows at my head, 

My bent bow at my feet, 
My sword and buckler at my side, 
As I was wont to sleep. 

10 ' Whan ye gae hame to your father, 

He '11 speer for his son John : 
Say, ye left him into Kirkland fair, 
Learning the school alone. 

11 ' When ye gae hame to my sister, 

She '11 speer for her brother John : 
Ye '11 say, ye left him in Kirkland fair, 
The green grass growin aboon. 

12 ' Whan ye gae hame to my true-love, 

She '11 speer for her lord John : 
Ye '11 say, ye left him in Kirkland fair, 
But hame ye fear he '11 never come.' 

13 He 's gane hame to his father ; 

He speered for his son John : 
' It 's I left him into Kirkland fair, 
Learning the school alone.' 

14 And whan he gaed hame to his sister, 

She speered for her brother John : 
4 It 's I left him into Kirkland fair, 
The green grass growin aboon.' 

15 And whan he gaed home to his true-love, 

She speerd for her lord John : 
' It 's I left him into Kirkland fair, 
And hame I fear he '11 never come.' 

16 ' But whaten bluid 's that on your sword, Wil 

lie ? 

Sweet Willie, tell to me ; ' 
4 it is the bluid o my grey hounds, 
They wadna rin for me.' 

17 ' It 's nae the bluid o your hounds, Willie, 

Their bluid was never so red ; 



But it is the bluid o my true-love, 
That ye hae slain indeed.' 

18 That fair may wept, that fair may mournd, 

That fair may mournd and pin'd : 
' When every lady lopks for her love, 
I neer need look for mine.' 

19 ' O whaten a death will ye die, Willie ? 

Now, Willie, tell to me ; ' 

' Ye '11 put me in a bottomless boat, 
And I '11 gae sail the sea.' 

20 ' Whan will ye come hame again, Willie ? 

Now, Willie, tell to me ; ' 

' Whan the sun and moon dances on the green, 
And that will never be.' 


Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 60. 

1 THERE were twa brothers at the scule, 

And when they got awa, 
' It 's will ye play at the stane-chucking, 

Or will ye play at the ba, 
Or will ye gae up to yon hill head, 

And there we '11 warsel a fa ? ' 

2 ' I winna play at the stane-chucking, 

Nor will I play at the ba ; 
But I '11 gae up to yon bonnie green hill, 
And there we '11 warsel a fa.' 

3 They warsled up, they warsled down, 

Till John fell to the ground ; 
A dirk fell out of William's pouch, 
And gave John a deadly wound. 

4 * lift me upon your back, 

Take me to yon well fair, 
And wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer, 
And they '11 neer bleed nae mair.' 

5 He 's lifted his brother upon his back, 

Taen him to yon well fair ; 
He 's wash'd his bluidy wounds oer and oer, 
But they bleed ay mair and mair. 

6 ' Tak ye aff my holland sark, 

And rive it gair by gair, 
And row it in my bluidy wounds, 
And they '11 neer bleed nae mair.' 

7 He 's taken aff his holland sark, 

And torn it gair by gair ; 
He 's rowit it in his bluidy wounds, 
But they bleed ay mair and mair. 

8 ' Tak now aff my green cleiding, 

And row me saftly in, 
And tak me up to yon kirk-style, 

Whare the grass grows fair and green.' 

9 He 's taken aff the green cleiding, 

And rowed him saftly in ; 
He 's laid him down by yon kirk-style, 
Whare the grass grows fair and green. 

10 ' What will ye say to your father dear, 

When ye gae hame at een ? ' 
' I '11 say ye 're lying at yon kirk-style, 
Whare the gr'ass grows fair and green.' 

11 ' no, no, my brother dear, 

you must not say so ; 
But say that I 'm gane to a foreign land, 
Whare nae man does me know.' 

12 When he sat in his father's chair, 

He grew baith pale and wan : 
4 what blude 's that upon your brow ? 

dear son, tell to me ; ' 
' It is the blude o my gude gray steed, 

He wadna ride wi me.' 

13 ' O thy steed's blude was neer sae red, 

Nor eer sae dear to me : 
O what blude 's this upon your cheek ? 

O dear son, tell to me ; ' 
' It is the blude of my greyhound, 

He wadna hunt for me.' 

14 ' O thy hound's blude was neer sae red, 

Nor eer sae dear to me : 
O what blude 's this upon your hand ? 

O dear son, tell to me ; ' 
' It is the blude of my gay goss-hawk, 

He wadna flee for me.' 



15 ' thy hawk's blude was neer sae red, 

Nor eer sae dear to me : 
O what blude 's this upon your dirk ? 

Dear Willie, tell to me ;' 
' It is the blude of my ae brother, 

O dule and wae is me I ' 

16 ' O what will ye say to your father ? 

Dear Willie, tell to me ;' 
' I '11 saddle my steed, and awa I '11 ride, 
To dwell in some far countrie.' 

17 ' when will ye come hame again ? 

Dear Willie, tell to me ; ' 
' When sun and mune leap on yon hill, 
And that will never be.' 

18 She turnd hersel right round about, 

And her heart burst into three : 
' My ae best son is deid and gane, 
And my tother ane I '11 neer see.' 

Buchan's MSS, I, 57 ; Motherwell's MS., p. 662. 

1 THERE were twa brothers in the east, 

Went to the school o Ayr ; 

The one unto the other did say, 

Come let us wrestle here. 

2 They wrestled up and wrestled down, 

Till John fell to the ground ; 
There being a knife in Willie's pocket, 
Gae John his deadly wound. 

3 ' O is it for my gold, brother ? 

Or for my white monie ? 
Or is it for my lands sae braid, 
That ye hae killed me ? ' 

4 ' It is not for your gold,' he said, 

' Nor for your white monie ; 
It is by the hand o accident 
That I hae killed thee.' 

5 ' Ye '11 take the shirt that 's on my back, 

Rive it frae gair to gair, 
And try to stop my bloody wounds, 
For they bleed wonderous sair.' 

6 He 's taen the shirt was on his back, 

Reave it frae gare to gare, 
And tried to stop his bleeding wounds, 
But still they bled the mair. 

7 * Ye 11 take me up upon your back, 

Carry me to yon water clear, 

And try to stop my bloody wounds, 

For they run wonderous sair.' 

8 He 's taen him up upon his back, 

Carried him to yon water clear, 

And tried to stop his bleeding wounds, 
But still they bled the mair. 

9 ' Ye '11 take me up upon your back, 

Carry me to yon church-yard ; 
Ye '11 dig a grave baith wide and deep, 
And then ye '11 lay me there. 

10 ' Ye '11 put a head-stane at my head, 

Another at my feet, 
Likewise a sod on my breast-bane, 
The souner I may sleep. 

11 ' Whenever my father asks of thee, 

Saying, What 's become of John ? 
Ye '11 tell frae me, I 'm ower the sea, 
For a cargo of good wine. 

12 ' And when my sweetheart asks of thee, 

Saying, What 's become of John ? 
Ye '11 tell frae me, I 'm ower the sea, 
To buy a wedding gown. 

13 ' And when my sister asks of thee, 

Saying, William, where is John ? 
Ye '11 tell frae me, -I 'm ower the sea, 
To learn some merry sang. 

14 ' And when my mother asks of thee, 

Saying, William, where is John ? 
Tell her I 'm buried in green Fordland, 
The grass growing ower my tomb.' 

15 He 's taen him up upon his back, 

Carried him to yon church-yard, 
And dug a grave baith wide and deep, 
And he was buried there. 

16 He laid a head-stane at his head, 

Another at his feet, 



And laid a green sod on his breast, 
The souner he might sleep. 

17 His father asked when he came hame, 

Saying, ' William, where is John ? ' 
Then John said, ' He is ower the sea, 
To bring you hame some wine.' 

18 ' What blood is this upon you, William, 

And looks sae red on thee ? ' 
' It is the blood o my grey-hound, 
He woudna run for me.' 

19 ' that 's nae like your grey-hound's blude, 

William, that I do see ; 
I fear it is your own brother's blood 
That looks sae red on thee.' 

20 ' That is not my own brother's blude, 

Father, that ye do see ; 
It is the blood o my good grey steed, 
He woudna carry me.' 

21 ' that is nae your grey steed's blude, 

William, that I do see ; 

It is the blood o your brother John, 
That looks sae red on thee.' 

22 ' It 's nae the blood o my brother John, 

Father, that ye do see ; 
It is the blude o my good grey hawk, 
Because he woudna flee.' 

23 ' O that is nae your grey hawk's blood, 

William, that I do see : ' 
' Well, it 's the blude o my brother, 
This country I maun flee.' 

24 ' O when will ye come back again, 

My dear son, tell to me ? ' 
' When sun and moon gae three times round, 
And this will never be.' 

25 ' Ohon, alas ! now William, my son, 

This is bad news to me ; 
Your brother's death I '11 aye bewail, 
And the absence o thee.' 


a. Taken down lately from the singing of little girls in 
South Boston, b. Two stanzas, from a child in New York, 
1880. Communicated by Mr W. W. Newell. 

1 As John and William were coming home one 


One Saturday afternoon, 
Says John to William, Come and try a fight, 
Or will you throw a stone ? 
Or will you come down to yonder, yonder 

Where the maids are all playing ball, ball, 

Where the maids are all playing ball ? 

2 Says William to John, I will not try a fight, 

Nor will I throw a stone, 
Nor will I come down to yonder town, 
Where the maids are all playing ball. 

3 So John took out of his pocket 

A knife both long and sharp, 
And stuck it through his brother's heart, 
And the blood came pouring down. 

4 Says John to William, Take off thy shirt, 

And tear it from gore to gore, 
And wrap it round your bleeding heart, 
And the blood will pour no more.' 

5 So John took off his shirt, 

And tore it from gore to gore, 
And wrapped it round his bleeding heart, 
And the blood came pouring more. 

6 ' What shall I tell your dear father, 

When I go home to-night ? ' 
' You '11 tell him I 'm dead and in my grave, 
For the truth must be told.' 

7 ' What shall I tell your dear mother, 

When I go home to-night ? ' 
' You '11 tell her I 'm dead and in my grave, 
For the truth must be told.' 

8 ' How came this blood upon your knife ? 

My son, come tell to me ; ' 
* It is the blood of a rabbit I have killed, 
mother, pardon me.' 



9 ' The blood of a rabbit couldnt be so pure, 

My son, come tell to me : ' 
It is the blood of a squirrel I have killed, 
O mother, pardon me.' 

10 ' The blood of a squirrel couldnt be so pure, 

My son, come tell to me : ' 
4 It is the blood of a brother I have killed, 
O mother, pardon me.' 




1 s . Var. to the chase. - 

10*. " As to Kirk-land, my copy has only kirk- 
yard, till the last verse, where land 
has been added from conjecture." 
Sharpens Ballad-Book, p. 56. 

I 8 , 2. o Warslin. 

13*. tell me free. 

Motherwell has Scotticised the spelling. 
9*. Motherwell has leave. 

II 1 , 12 1 , 13 1 , 14 1 . Motherwell, speirs at thee. 

23*. Motherwell has my ae brother. 

Q. b. 1. Jack and William was gone to school, 

One fine afternoon ; 
Jack says to William, Will you try a 

Do not throw no stones. 

2. Jack took out his little penknife, 

The end of it was sharp, 
He stuck it through his brother's heart, 
And the blood was teeming down. 


The Bonny Hyn,' Herd's MSS, I, 224 ; II, fol. 65, fol. 83. 

THIS piece is transcribed three times in 
Herd's manuscripts, with a note prefixed in 
each instance that it was copied from the 
mouth of a milkmaid in 1771. An endorse 
ment to the same effect on the last transcript 
gives the date as 1787, no doubt by mistake. 
Scott had only MS. I in his hands, which 
accidentally omits two stanzas (13, 14), and 
he printed this defective copy with the omis 
sion of still another (4) : Minstrelsy, II, 298, 
ed. 1802 ; III, 309, ed. 1833. Motherwell sup 
plies these omitted stanzas, almost in Herd's 
very words, in the Introduction to his collec 
tion, p. Ixxxiv, note 99. He remarks, p. 189, 
that tales of this kind abound in the tra 
ditionary poetry of Scotland. The two bal 
lads which follow, Nos 51, 52, are of the same 
general description. 

In the first half of the story * The Bonny 
Hind ' comes very near to the fine Scandina 

vian ballad of ' Margaret,' as yet known to be 
preserved only in Faroe and Icelandic. The 
conclusions differ altogether. Margaret in the 
Fsiroe ballad, * Margretu kvseSi,' Fasroiske 
Kvaeder, Hammershaimb, No 18, is the only 
daughter of the Norwegian king Magnus, and 
has been put in a convent. After two or three 
months she longs to see her father's house 
again. On her way thither she is assaulted 
by a young noble with extreme violence : to 
whom she says, 

Now you have torn off all my clothes, and done 

me sin and shame, 
I beg you, before God most high, tell me what is 

your name. 

Magnus, he answers, is his father, and Ger 
trude his mother, and he himself is Olaf, and 
was brought up in the woods. By this she 
recognizes that he is her own brother. Olaf 



begs her to go back to the convent, and say 
nothing, bearing her sorrow as she may. This 
she does. But every autumn the king makes 
a feast, and invites to it all the nuns in the 
cloister. Margaret is missed, and asked for. 
Is she sick or dead? Why does she not come 
to the feast, like other merry dames ? The 
wicked abbess answers, Your daughter is 
neither sick nor dead ; she goes with child, 
like other merry dames. The king rides off 
to the cloister, encounters his daughter, and 
demands who is the father of her child. She 
replies that she will sooner die than tell. The 
king leaves her in wrath, but returns present 
ly, resolved to burn the convent, and Margaret 
in it. Olaf comes from the wood, tired and 
weary, sees the cloister burning, and quenches 
the flames with his heart's blood. 

The Icelandic ballad, ' Margrdtar kvseSi,' 
Islenzk FornkvaeSi, Grundtvig and SigurSsson, 
No 14, has the same story. It is, however, 
the man who brings on the discovery by ask 
ing the woman's parentage. The editors in 
form us that the same subject is treated in 
an unprinted Icelandic ballad, less popular as 
to style and stanza, in the Arne Magnussen 
collection, 154. 

The story of Kullervo, incorporated in what 
is called the national epic of the Finns, the 
Kalevala, has striking resemblances with the 
ballads of the Bonny Hind class. While re 
turning home in Jris sledge from a somewhat 
distant errand, Kullervo met three times a girl 


who was travelling on snow-shoes, and invited 
her to get in with him. She rejected his in 
vitation with fierceness, and the third time 
he pulled her into the sledge by force. She 
angrily bade him let her go, or she would dash 
the sledge to pieces ; but he won her over by 
showing her rich things. The next morning 
she asked what was his race and family ; for 
it seemed to her that he must come of a great 
line. " No," he said, " neither of great nor 
small. I am Kalervo's unhappy son. Tell 
me of what stock art thou." " Of neither 
great nor small," she answered. " I am Kal 
ervo's unhappy daughter." She was, in fact, 
a long-lost sister of Kullervo's, who, when a 
child, had gone to the wood for berries, and 

had never found her way home. She had 
wept the first day and the second ; the third 
and fourth, the fifth and sixth, she had tried 
every way to kill herself. She broke out in 
heart-piercing lamentations : 

' that I had died then, wretched ! 
O that I had perished, weak one ! 
Had not lived to hear these horrors, 
Had not lived this shame to suffer ! ' 

So saying she sprang from the sledge into the 
river, and found relief under the waters. 

Kullervo, mad with anguish, went home to 
his mother, and told her what had happened. 
He asked only how he might die, by wolf 
or bear, by whale or sea-pike. His mother 
vainly sought to soothe him. He consented 
to live only till the wrongs of his parents had 
been revenged. His mother tried to dissuade 
him even from seeking a hero's death in fight. 

' If thou die in battle, tell me, 
What protection shall remain then 
For the old age of thy father ? ' 
' Let him die in any alley, 
Lay his life down in the house-yard.' 
' What protection shall remain then 
For the old age of thy mother ? ' 
' Let her die on any straw-truss ; 
Let her stifle in the stable.' 
' Who shall then be left thy brother, 
Who stand by him in mischances ? ' 
' Let him pine away in the forest, 
Let him drop down on the common.' 
'Who shall then be left thy sister, 
Who stand by her in mischances ? ' 
' When she goes to the well for water, 
Or to the washing, let her stumble.' 

Kullervo had his fill of revenge. Meanwhile 
father, brother, sister, and mother died, and 
he came back to his home to find it empty 
and cold. A voice from his mother's grave 
seemed to direct him to go to the wood for 
food : obeying it, he came again to the pol 
luted spot, where grass or flowers would not 
grow any more. He asked his sword would it 
like to feed on guilty flesh and drink wicked 
blood. The sword said, Why should I not 
like to feed on guilty flesh and drink wicked 
blood, I that feed on the flesh of the good 



and drink the blood of the sinless ? Kullervo 
set the sword hilt in the earth, and threw 
himself on the point. (Kalewala, ubertragen 
von Schiefner, runes 35, 36.) 

The dialogue between. Kullervo and his 
mother is very like a passage in another Fin 
nish rune, * Werinen Pojka,' * The Bloody 
Son,' Schroter, Finnische Runen, 124, ed. 
1819 ; 150, ed. 1834. This last is a form of 
the ballad known in Scottish as ' Edward,' No 
13, or of * The Twa Brothers,' No 49. Some 
thing similar is found in * Lizie Wan,' No 51. 

The passage 5-7 is a commonplace that may 
be expected to recur under the same or analo 
gous circumstances, as it does in ' Tarn Lin,' 
D, ' The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter,' 
* The Maid and the Magpie,' and in one ver 
sion of ' The Broom of Cowdenknows.' These 
are much less serious ballads, and the tone 

of stanza 5, which so ill befits the distressful 
situation, is perhaps owing to that stanza's 
having been transferred from some copy of 
one of these. It might well change places 
with this, from ' The Knight and Shepherd's 
Daughter,' A : 

Sith you have had your will of me, 

And put me to open shame, 
Now, if you are a courteous knight, 

Tell me what is your name. 

Much better with the solemn adjuration in 
the Faroe ' Margaret,' or even this in ' Ebbe 
Gait,' Danske Viser, No 63, 8 : 

Now you have had your will of me, 

To both of us small gain, 
By the God that is above all things, 

I beg you tell your name. 

Herd's MSS, II,*fol. 65. " Copied from the mouth of a 
milkmaid, by W. L , in 1771." 

1 O MAY she comes, and may she goes, 

Down by yon gardens green, 
And there she spied a gallant squire 
As squire had ever been. 

2 And may she comes, and may she goes, 

Down by yon hollin tree, 
And there she spied a brisk young squire, 
And a brisk young squire was he. 

3 ' Give me your green manteel, fair maid, 

Give me your maidenhead ; 
Gif ye winna gie me your green manteel, 
Gi me your maidenhead.' 

4 He has taen her by the milk-white hand, 

And softly laid her down, 
And when he 's lifted her up again 
Given her a silver kaim. 

5 ' Perhaps there may be bairns, kind sir, 

Perhaps there may be nane ; 
But if you be a courtier, 

You '11 tell to me your name.' 

6 ' I am nae courtier, fair maid, 

But new come f rae the sea ; 

I am nae courtier, fair maid, 
But when I court 'ith thee. 

7 ' They call me Jack when I 'm abroad, 

Sometimes they call me John ; 
But when I 'm in my father's bower 
Jock Randal is my name.' 

8 ' Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny lad, 

Sae loud 's I hear ye lee ! 
Ffor I 'm Lord Randal's yae daughter, 
He has nae mair nor me.' 

9 ' Ye lee,- ye lee, ye bonny may, 

Sae loud 's I hear ye lee ! 
For I 'm Lord Randal's yae yae son, 
Just now come oer the sea.' 

10 She 's putten her hand down by her spare, 

And out she 's taen a knife, 
And she has putn 't in her heart's bluid, 
And taen away her life. 

11 And he 's taen up his bonny sister, 

With the big tear in bis een, 
And he has buried his bonny sister 
Amang the hollins green. 

12 And syne he 's hyed him oer the dale, 

His father dear to see : 



' Sing and O for my bonny hind, 
Beneath yon hollin tree ! ' 

13 ' What needs you care for your bonny hyn ? 

For it you needna care ; 
There 's aught score hyns in yonder park, 
And five score hyns to spare. 

14 ' Four score of them are siller-shod, 

Of thae ye may get three ; ' 
' But O and O for my bonny hyn, 
Beneath yon hollin tree ! ' 

15 ' What needs you care for your bonny hyn ? 

For it you need na care ; 

Take you the best, gi me the warst, 
Since plenty is to spare.' 

16 ' I care na for your hyns, my lord, 

I care na for your fee ; 
But O and for my bonny hyn, 
Beneath the hollin tree ! ' 

17 ' O were ye at your sister's bower, 

Your sister fair to see, 
Ye '11 think na mair o your bonny hyn 
Beneath the hollin tree.' 

' The Bonny Heyn,' I, 224. 
3 2 . Should be It 's not for you a weed. Mother- 


4 8 . The third copy omits when. 
4 8>4 . he lifted, He gae her. MotherweU. 
5 1>2 . The second copy has they. 
6 4 . All have courteth. Scott prints wi' thee, with 

7 3 . The third copy has tower. 

10 3) 4 . She 's soakt it in her red heart's blood, 

And twin'd herself of life. MotherwelL 

13,14. The first copy omits these stanzas. 


A. a. 'Lizie Wan,' Herd's MSS, I, 151; II, 78. b. B. ' Rosie Ann,' Motherwell's MS., p. 398. 
Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 91. 

A, FIRST printed in Herd's Scottish Songs, 
ed. 1776, is here given from his manuscript 
copy. B is now printed for the first time. 

A is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og 
Skotske Folkeviser, No 50, who subjoins a 
Danish ballad, ' Liden Ellen og hendes Broder,' 
of similar character. Of this the editor had 
three versions, differing but little, and all of 
slight poetical value, and he prints one which 
was committed to writing some sixty or sev 
enty years ago, with some readings from the 
others. Liden Jensen, having killed Liden 
Ellen in a wood, pretends to his mother that 

she has gone off with some knights. He is 
betrayed by blood on his clothes, confesses the 
truth, and is condemned to be burned. ' Herr 
Axel,' Arwidsson's Swedish collection, No 46, 
I, 308, under similar circumstances, kills Stolts 
Kirstin's two children, is asked by his mother 
why his hands are bloody, pretends to have 
slain a hind in the wood, and has his head 
struck off by order of his father. 

' Herr Peder og hans Soster,' an unpublished 
Danish ballad, of which Grundtvig obtained 
a single traditional version, has also a slight 
resemblance to ' Lizie Wan.' Kirsten invites 



Sir Peter to her bed. He declines for various 
reasons, which she refutes. She discovers him 
to be her brother by her needle-work in his 
shirt. He draws his knife and stabs her. 

dren playing in the mother's bosom." Com 
pare Kristensen, II, No 74 A, D, E, at the end. 
The conclusion, A 11-12, B 10-17, resem 
bles that of The Twa Brothers,' No 49, but 

This was also a pitiful sight, the twin chil- is poetically much inferior. 

Herd's MSS, I, 151 ; stanzas 1-6, II, p. 78. Herd's Scot 
tish Songs, 1776,1,91. 

1 LIZIE WAN sits at her father's bower-door, 

Weeping and making a mane, 
And by there came* her father dear : 
What ails thee, Lizie Wan ? ' 

2 ' I ail, and I ail, dear father,' she said, 

' And I '11 tell -you a reason for why ; 
There is a child between my twa sides, 
Between my dear billy and I.' 

3 Now Lizie Wan sits at her father's bower - 


Sighing and making a mane, 
And by there came her brother dear : 
' What ails thee, Lizie Wan ? ' 

4 ' I ail, I ail, dear brither,' she said, 

' And I '11 tell you a reason for why ; 
There is a child between my twa sides, 
Between you, dear billy, and I.' 

5 ' And hast thou tald father and mother o that ? 

And hast thou tald sae o me ? ' 
And he has drawn his gude braid sword, 
That hang down by his knee. 

6 And he has cutted aff Lizie Wan's head, 

And her fair body in three, 
And he 's awa to his mothers bower, 
And sair aghast was he. 

7 ' What ails thee, what ails thee, Geordy Wan ? 

What ails thee sae fast to rin ? 
For I see by thy ill colour 

Some fallow's deed thou hast done.' 

8 ' Some fallow's deed I have done, mother, 

And I pray you pardon me ; 
For I Ve cutted aff my greyhound's head ; 
He wadna rin for me.' 

9 ' Thy greyhound's bluid was never sae red, 

O my son Geordy Wan ! 
For I see by thy ill colour 

Some fallow's deed thou hast done.' 

10 ' Some fallow's deed I hae done, mother, 

And I pray you pardon me ; 
For I hae cutted aff Lizie Wan's head 
And her fair body in three.' 

11 * O what wilt thou do when thy father comes 


O my son Geordy Wan ? ' 
' I '11 set my foot in a bottomless boat, 
And swim to the searground.' 

12 ' And when will thou come hame again, 

O my son Geordy Wan ? ' 
' The sun and the moon shall dance on the 

That night when' I come hame.' 


Motherwell's MS., p. 398. From the recitation of Mrs 
Storie, Lochwinnich. 

1 ROSIE she sat in her simmer bower, 

Greitin and making grit mane, 
When down by cam her father, saying, 
What ails thee Rosie Ann ? 

2 ' A deal, a deal, dear father,' she said, 

' Great reason hae I to mane, 
For there lyes a little babe in my side, 
Between me and my brither John.' 

3 Rosie she sat in her simmer bower, 

Weeping and making great mane, 
And wha cam doun but her mither dear, 
Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann ? 



4 ' A deal, a deal, dear mither,' she said, 

' Great reason hae I to mane, 
For there lyes a little babe in my side, 
Between me and my brither John.' 

5 Rosie she sat in her simmer bower, 

Greiting and making great mane, 
And wha came doun but her sister dear, 
Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann ? 

6 ' A deal, a deal, dear sister,' she said, 

' Great reason hae I to mane, 
For there lyes a little babe in my side, 
Between me and my brither John.' 

7 Rosie she sat in her simmer bower, 

Weeping and making great mane, 
And wha cam doun but her fause, fause 

Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann ? 

8 ' A deal, a deal, dear brither,' she said, 

' Great reason hae I to cry, 
For there lyes a little babe in my side, 
Between yoursell and I.' 

9 ' Weel ye hae tauld father, and ye hae tauld 


And ye hae tauld sister, a' three ; ' 

Syne he pulled out his wee penknife, 

And he cut her fair bodie in three. 

10 ' what blude is that on the point o your 


Dear son, come tell to me ? ' 

' It is my horse's, that I did kill, 

Dear mother and fair ladie.' 

11 ' The blude o your horse was neer sae red, 

Dear son, come tell to me : ' 
' It is my grandfather's, that I hae killed, 
Dear mother and fair ladie.' 

12 ' The blude o your grandfather was neer sae 


Dear son, come tell to me : ' 

' It is my sister's, that I did kill, 

Dear mother and fair ladie.' 

13 * What will ye do when your father comes 


Dear son, come tell to me ? ' 
' I '11 set my foot on yon shipboard, 
And I hope she 11 sail wi me.' 

14 ' What will ye do wi your bonny bonny young 


Dear son, come tell to me ? ' 
' I '11 set her foot on some other ship, 
And I hope she '11 follow me.' 

15 ' And what will ye do wi your wee son, 

Dear son, come tell to me ? ' 
' I '11 leave him wi you, my dear mother, 
To keep in remembrance of me.' 

16 ' What will ye do wi your houses and lands, 

Dear son, come tell to me ? ' 
' I '11 leave them wi you, my dear mother, 
To keep my own babie.' 

17 ' And whan will you return again, 

Dear son, come tell to me ? ' 
' When the sun and the mune meet on yon 

And I hope that '11 neer be.' 

B. Written without division into stanzas. 





A. a. ' The King's Dochter Lady Jean,' Motherwell'8 C. ' Castle ITa's Daughter,' Buchan's Ballads of the 
MS., p. 657. b. 'Lady Jean,' Motherwell's Min- North of Scotland, I, 241. 

strelsy, Appendix, p. xxi. 

D. 'Bold Burnet's Daughter.' a. Buchan's MSS, I, 

B. Motherwell's MS., p. 275 ; the first six lines in 120. b. The same, II, 141. 
Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 189 f. 

B is the ballad referred to, and partly cited, 
in Motherwell's preface to ' The Broom blooms 
bonnie and says it is fair,' Minstrelsy, p. 189. 
This copy has been extremely injured by tra 
dition ; so much so as not to be intelligible in 
places except by comparison with A. The 
act described in stanza 9 should be done by 

the king's daughter's own hand; stanza 12 
should be addressed by her to her sister ; 
stanza 13 is composed of fragments of two. 
C and D have suffered worse, for they have 
been corrupted and vulgarized. 

At the beginning there is resemblance to 
' Tarn Lin' and to ' Hind Etin.' 

a. MotherwelFs MS., p. 657. From the recitation of 
Mrs Stone, Lochwinnich. b. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Ap 
pendix, p. xxi, No XXIII, one stanza. 

1 THE king's young dochter was sitting in her 


Sewing at her silken seam ; 
She lookt out o the bow-window, 

And she saw the leaves growing green, my 

And she saw the leaves growing green. 

2 She stuck her needle into her sleeve, 

Her seam down by her tae, 
And she is awa to the merrie green-wood, 
To pu the nit and slae. 

3 She liadn a pu't a nit at a', 

A nit but scarcely three, 
Till out and spak a braw young man, 
Saying, How daur ye bow the tree ? 

4 ' It 's I will pu the nit,' she said, 

' And I will bow the tree, 
And I will come to the merrie green wud, 
And na ax leive o thee.' 

5 He took her by the middle sae sma, 

And laid her on the gerss sae green, 
And he has taen his will o her, 
And he loot her up agen. 

6 ' Now syn ye hae got your will o me, 

Pray tell to me your name ; 
For I am the king's young dochter,' she said, 
' And this nicht I daurna gang hame.' 

7 ' Gif ye be the king's young dochter,' he said, 

" 1 am his auldest son ; 
I wish I had died on some frem isle, 
And never had come hame ! 

8 ' The first time I came hame, Jeanie, 

Thou was na here nor born ; 
I wish my pretty ship had sunk, 
And I had been forlorn ! 

9 ' The neist time I came hame, Jeanie, 

Thou was sittin on the nourice knee ; 
And I wish my pretty ship had sunk, 
And I had never seen thee ! 

10 ' And the neist time I came hame, Jeanie, 
I met thee here alane ; 



I wish my pretty ship had sunk, 
And I had neer come hame ! ' 

1 1 She put her hand down by her side, 

And doun into her spare, 
And she pou't out a wee pen-knife, 
And she wounded hersell fu sair. 

12 Hooly, hooly rase she up, 

And hooly she gade hame, 
Until she came to her father's parlour, 
And there she did sick and mane. 

13 ' sister, sister, mak my bed, 

the clean sheets and strae, 
sister, sister, mak my bed, 
Down in the parlour below.' 

14 Her father he came tripping down the stair, 

His steps they were fu slow ; 
' I think, I think, Lady Jean,' he said, 
' Ye 're lying far ower low.' 

15 ' late yestreen, as I came hame, 

Down by yon castil wa, 
O heavy, heavy was the stane 
That on my briest did fa ! ' 

16 Her mother she came tripping doun the stair, 

Her steps they were fu slow ; 
' I think, I think, Lady Jean,' she said, 
' Ye 're lying far ower low.' 

17 ' O late yestreen, as I cam hame, 

Down by yon castil wa, 
heavy, heavy was the stane 
That on my breast did fa ! ' 

18 Her sister came tripping doun the stair, 

Her steps they were fu slow ; 
' I think, I think, Lady Jean,' she said, 
' Ye 're lying far ower low.' 

18 ' late yestreen, as I cam hame, 

Doun by yon castil wa, 
heavy, heavy was the stane 
That on my breast did fa ! ' 

19 Her brither he cam trippin doun the stair, 

His steps they were f u slow ; 
He sank into his sister's arms, 
And they died as white as snaw. 


MotherwelPs MS., p. 275 ; the first six lines iii Mother- 
weil's Minstrelsy, p. 189. From Margery Johnston. 

1 LADY MARGARET sits in her bow-window, 
Sewing her silken seam ; 

2 She 's drapt the thimble at her tae, 

And her scissars at her heel, 
And she 's awa to the merry green-wood, 
To see the leaves grow green. 

3 She had scarsely bowed a branch, 

Or plucked a nut frae the tree, 

Till up and starts a fair young man, 

And a fair young man was he. 

4 ' How dare ye shake the leaves ? ' he said, 

' How dare ye break the tree ? 
How dare ye pluck the nuts,' he said, 
' Without the leave of me ? ' 

5 . 

( Oh I know the merry green wood 's my 

And I '11 ask the leave of nane.' 

6 He gript her by the middle sae sma, 

He gently sat her down, 
While the grass grew up on every side, 
And the apple trees hang down. 

7 She says, Young man, what is your name ? 

For ye 've brought me to meikle shame ; 
For I am the king's youngest daughter, 
And how shall I gae hame ? 

8 ' If you 're the king's youngest daughter, 

It 's I 'm his auldest son, 
And heavy heavy is the deed, sister, 
That you and I have done.' 

9 He had a penknife in his hand, 

Hang low down by his gair, 



And between the long rib and the short one 
He woundit her deep and sair. 


And fast and fast her ruddy bright blood 
Fell dropping on the ground. 

11 She took the glove off her right hand, 

And slowly slipt it in the wound, 
And slowly has she risen up, 
And slowly slipped home. 

12 ' sister dear, when thou gaes hame 

Unto thy father's ha, 
It 's make my bed baith braid and lang, 
Wi the sheets as white as snaw.' 

13 ' When I came by the high church-yard 

Heavy was the stain that bruised my heel, 

that bruised my heart, 

I 'm afraid it shall neer heal.' 

Buchan's Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland, I, 

1 As Annie sat into her bower, 

A thought came in her head, 
That she would gang to gude greenwood, 
Across the flowery mead. 

2 She hadna pu'd a flower, a flower, 

Nor broken a branch but twa, 
Till by it came a gentle squire, 
Says, Lady, come awa. 

3 There 's nane that comes to gude greenwood 

But pays to me a tein, 
And I maun hae your maidenhead, 
Or than your mantle green. 

4 ' My mantle 's o the finest silk, 

Anither I can spin ; 
But gin you take my maidenhead, 
The like I '11 never fin.' 

5 He 's taen her by the milk-white hand, 

And by the grass-green sleeve, 
There laid her low in gude greenwood, 
And at her spierd nae leave. 

6 When he had got his wills o her, 

His wills as he had taen, 
She said, If you rightly knew my birth, 
Ye 'd better letten alane. 

7 ' Is your father a lord o might ? 

Or baron o high degree ? 

Or what race are ye sprung frae, 
That I should lat ye be ? ' 

8 ' -I am Castle Ha's daughter, 

birth and high degree, 

And if he knows what ye hae done, 
He '11 hang you on a tree.' 

9 ' If ye be Castle Ha's daughter, 

This day I am undone ; 
If ye be Castle Ha's daughter, 

1 am his only son.' 

10 ' Ye lie, ye lie, ye jelly hind squire, 

Sae loud as I hear you lie, 
Castle Ha, he has but ae dear son, 
And he is far beyond the sea.' 

11 ' I am Castle Ha's dear son, 

A word I dinna lie ; 
Yes, I am Castle Ha's dear son, 
And new come oer the sea. 

12 ' 'T was yesterday, that fatal day, 

That I did cross the faem ; 
I wish my bonny ship had sunk, 
And I had neer come hame.' 

13 Then dowie, dowie, raise she up, 

And dowie came she hame, 

And stripped aff her silk mantle, 

And then to bed she 's gane. 

14 Then in it came her mother dear, 

And she steps in the fleer : 



' Win up, win up, now fair Annie, 
What makes your lying here ? ' 

15 ' This morning fair, as I went out, 

Near by yon castle wa, 
Great and heavy was the stane 
That on my foot did fa.' 

16 ' Hae I nae ha's, hae I nae bowers, 

Towers, or mony a town ? 
Will not these cure your bonny foot, 
Gar you gae hale and soun ? ' 

17 ' Ye hae ha's, and ye hae bowers, 

And towers, and mony a town, 
But nought will cure my bonny foot, 
Gar me gang hale and soun.' 

18 Then in it came her father dear, 

And he trips in the fleer : 
' Win up, win up, now fair Annie, 
What makes your lying here ? ' 

19 ' This morning fair, as I went out, 

Near by yon castle wa, 
Great and heavy was the stane 
That on my foot did fa.' 

20 ' Hae I nae ha's, hae I nae bowers, 

And towers, and mony a town? 

Will not these cure your bonny foot, 

Gar you gang hale and soun ? ' 

"21 '0 ye hae ha's, and ye hae bowers, 

And towers, and mony a town, 
But nought will cure my bonny foot, 
Gar me gang hale and soun.' 

22 Then in it came her sister Grace ; 

As she steps in the fleer, 
' Win up, win up, now fair Annie, 
What makes your lying here ? 

23 ' Win up, and see your ae brother, 

That 's new come ower the sea ; ' 
' Ohon, alas ! ' says fair Annie, 
' He spake ower soon wi me.' 

24 To her room her brother 's gane, 

Stroked back her yellow hair, 
To her lips his ain did press, 
But words spake never mair. 


a. Buchan's MSS, I, 120. b. The same, II, 141. 

1 THE lady 's taen her mantle her middle about, 
Into the woods she 's gane, 

2 She hadna poud a flower o gude green-wood, 

O never a flower but ane, 
Till by he comes, an by he gangs, 
Says, Lady, lat alane. 

3 For I am forester o this wood, 

And I hae power to pine 
Your mantle or your maidenhead, 
Which o the twa ye '11 twine. 

4 ' My mantle is o gude green silk, 

Another I can card an spin ; 
But gin ye tak my maidenhead, 
The like I '11 never fin.' 

5 He 's taen her by the milk-white hand, 

And by the grass-green sleeve, 
And laid her low at the foot o a tree, 
At her high kin spierd nae leave. 

6 ' I am bold Burnet's ae daughter, 

You might hae lat me be : ' 
' And I 'm bold Burnet's ae dear son, 
Then dear ! how can this dee ? ' 

7 ' Ye lie, ye lie, ye jolly hind squire, 

So loud 's I hear you lie ! 
Bold Burnet has but ae dear son, 
He 's sailing on the sea.' 

8 l Yesterday, about this same time, 

My bonny ship came to land ; 
I wish she 'd sunken in the sea, 
And never seen the strand ! 

9 ' Heal well this deed on me, lady, 

Heal well this deed on me ! ' 
' Although I would heal it neer sae well, 
Our God above does see.' 



10 She 's taen her mantle her middle about, 

And mourning went she liame, 
And a' the way she sighd full sair, 
Crying, Am I to blame ! 

11 Ben it came her father dear, 

Stout stepping on the flear : 

' Win up, win up, my daughter Janet, 
And welcome your brother here.' 

12 Up she 's taen her milk-white hand, 

Streakd by his yellow hair, 
Then turnd about her bonny face, 
And word spake never mair. 

A. b. I 2 , fine silken. 

1*. She luikit out at her braw bower win 

B. I 1 ' 2 and 2 are joined in tJie MS. 

5 1 ' 4 joined with 4. 5 4 . no leave of thee, an 
emendation by Motherwell, for rhyme. 

9*. He struck : an emendation. 
10 8 ' 4 are joined with 9. 
13 8 . That bruised by heart. 

After 13 is written A stanza wanting. 

D. The first three stanzas are not properly divided 
in a, and in b the first fourteen lines not 
divided at all. 

a. II 2 . An stepping. 7 1 . kind squire in both 

b. 5*. kin's. 

9 1 . Heal well, heal well on me, Lady Janet. 
II 2 . Stout stepping. 
12". She turned. 


A. ' Young Bicham,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 13, c. I. Communicated by Mr David London, Morham, Had- 
1783. dington. 

B. ' Young Brechin,' Glenriddell MSS, XI, 80, 1791. J. Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, ' Adversaria,' p. 


C. ' Young Bekie.' a. Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 11, 

c. 1783. b. Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 127. K. Communicated by Mr David Loudon. 

D. ' Young Beachen,' Skene MSS, p. 70, 1802-1803. L. The Loving Ballad of Lord Bateman. Illustrated 

by George Cruikshank, 1839. 

E. ' Young Beichan and Susie Pye,' Jamieson's Popu- ,- 

lar Ballads, II, 117. M. Young Bondwell,' Buchan's MSS, I, 18. J. H. 

Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Bal- 
P. Susan Pye and Lord Beichan,' Pitcairn's MSS, lads, p. 1. 
Ill, 159. 

N. ' Susan Pj, or Young Bichen's Garland.' a. Fal- 
G. Communicated by Mr Alex. Laing, of Newburgh- kirk, printed by T. Johnston, 1815. b. Stirling, M. 


H. ' Lord Beichan and Susie Pye,' Kinloch's Ancient 
Scottish Ballads, p. 260. 


A, B, D, P, and the fragment G now ap- C a is here given according to the manuscript, 
pear for the first time in print, and the same without Jamieson's "collations." Of E and 
is true of I, J, K, which are of less account. C b Jamieson says : This ballad and that 



which succeeds it are given from copies taken 
from Mrs Brown's recitation,* collated with 
two other copies procured from Scotland ; one 
in MS. ; another, very good, one printed for 
the stalls ; a third, in the possession of the 
late Reverend Jonathan Boucher, of Epsom, 
taken from recitation in the north of England ; 
and a fourth, about one third as long as the 
others, which the editor picked off an old wall 
in Piccadilly. L, the only English copy, was 
derived from the singing of a London vagrant. 
It is, says Dixon, the common English broad 
sheet " turned into the dialect of Cockaigne." f 
M was probably a broadside or stall copy, and 
is certainly of that quality, but preserves a 
very ancient traditional feature. 

D and M, besides the name Linne, have in 
common a repetition of the song, a trait which 
we also find in one version of ' The Heir of 
Linne ; ' J see Dixon's Scottish Traditional 
Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 30, stanzas 
2-6, Percy Society, vol. XVII. 

In Bell's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and 
Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 68, it is 
remarked that L, " the only ancient form in 
which the ballad has" existed in print," is one 
of the publications mentioned in one of Thack 
eray's catalogues of broadsides. The 'Bate- 
man,' in Thackeray's list, is the title of an 
entirely different ballad, ' A Warning for 
Maidens, or Young Bateman,' reprinted from 
the Roxburghe collection by W. Chappell, III, 

" Young Beichan " is a favorite ballad, and 
most deservedly. There are beautiful repeti 
tions of the story in the ballads of other na 
tions, and it has secondary affinities with the 

extensive cycle of * Hind Horn,' the parts of 
the principal actors in the one being inverted 
in the other. 

The hero's name is mostly Beichan, with 
slight modifications like Bekie, C, Bicham, A, 
Brechin, B ; in L, Bateman ; in M, Bondwell. 
The heroine is Susan Pye in ten of the four 
teen versions ; Isbel in C ; Essels, evidently 
a variety of Isbel, in M, which has peculiar 
relations with C ; Sophia in K, L. 

Beichan is London born in A, D, [E], H, I, 
N, English born in B ; London city is his own, 
A 6, B 7, P 7, or he has a hall there, I 7, N 
27 f . ; half Northumberland belongs to him, L ; 
he is lord of the towers of Line, D 9, C 5, M 5, 
which are in London, D 15 f, but are trans 
ferred by reciters to the water of Tay, M 29, 
and to Glasgow, or the vicinity, H 20. H, 
though it starts with calling him London born, 
speaks of him thereafter as a Scottish lord, 12, 
18, 31. 

Beichan has an Englishman's desire strange 
countries for to see, A, D, [E], I, L, N. In 
C, M he goes abroad, Quentin Durward fash 
ion, not to gratify his taste for travel, but to 
serve for meat and fee. P makes him go to 
the Holy Land, without specifying his motive, 
but we may fairly suppose it religious. C 
sends him no further than France, and M to 
an unnamed foreign land. He becomes the 
slave of a Moor or Turk, A, B, D, H, I, L, N, 
or a "Prudent," P, who treats him cruelly. 
They bore his shoulders and put in a " tree," 
and make him draw carts, like horse or ox, A, 
B, D, [E], H ; draw plough and harrow, P, 
plough and cart, N ; or tread the wine-press, 
I. This is because he is a staunch Christian, 

* Mr Macmath has ascertained that Mrs Brown was born 
in 1747. She learned most of her ballads before she was 
twelve years old, or before 1759. 1783, or a little earlier, is 
the date when these copies were taken down from her sing 
ing or recitation. 

t The Borderer's Table Book, VII, 21. Dixon says, a 
little before, that the Stirling broadside of ' Lord Bateman ' 
varies but slightly from the English printed by Hoggett, 
Durham, and Pitts, Catnach, atid others, London. This is 
not true of the Stirling broadside of ' Young Bichen : ' see 
N b. I did not notice, until too late, that I had not fur 
nished myself with the broadside ' Lord Bateman/ and have 
been obliged to turn back the Cruikshank copy into ordi 
nary orthography. 

J We have this repetition in two other ballads of the 
Skene MSS besides D ; see p. 316 of this volume, sts 1-9 ; 
also in ' The Lord of Learne/ Percy MS., Hales and Furni- 
vall, I, 1 92 f, vv 269-304. 

" An old woman who died in Errol, Carse of Cowrie, 
about twenty years ago, aged nearly ninety years, was wont 
invariably to sing this ballad : ' Young Lundie was in 
Brechin born/ Lundie is an estate now belonging to the 
Earl of Camperdoun, north from Dundee." A. Laing, note 
to Gr. That is to say, the old woman's world was Forfar- 

Mr Logan had heard in Scotland a version in which the 
hero was called Lord Bangol : A Pedlar's Pack, p. 15. 



and would never bend a knee to Mahound or 
Termagant, E, or onie of their stocks, H, 
or gods, I. They cast him into a dungeon, 
where he can neither hear nor see, and he 
is nigh perishing with hunger. This, also, is 
done in H 5, on account of his perseverance 
in Christianity ; but in C, M he is imprisoned 
for falling in love with the king's daughter, or 
other lovely may. 

From his prison Beichan makes his moan 
(not to a stock or a stone, but to the Queen 
of Heaven, D 4). His hounds go masterless, 
his hawks flee from tree to tree, his younger 
brother will heir his lands, and he shall never 
see home again, E, H. If a lady [earl] would 
borrow him, he would run at her stirrup [foot, 
bridle] ; if a widow [auld wife] would borrow 
him, he would become her son ; and if a maid 
would borrow him, he would wed her with a 
ring, C, D, M, B.* The only daughter of the 
Moor, Turk, or king (of a ' Savoyen,' B 5, 
perhaps a corruption of Saracen), already in 
terested in the captive, or immediately be 
coming so upon hearing Beichan's song, asks 
him if he has lands and means at home to 
maintain a lady that should set him free, and 
is told that he has ample estates, all of which 
he would bestow on such a lady, A, B, E, F, 
H, L, N. She steals the keys and delivers 
the prisoner, C, D, E, I, J, L, M, N ; refreshes 
him with bread and wine [wine], A, D, E, F, 
J 4, K 3, B, H, L ; supplies him with money, 
C 9, H 15, M 12, N 14, and with a ship, F 9, 
H 18, L 9 ; to which C, M add a horse and 
hounds [and hawks, M]. She bids him mind 
on the lady's love that freed him out of pine, 
A 8, D 12, [E 13], M 14, N 15, and in E 16 
breaks a ring from her finger, and gives half 
of it to Beichan to assist his memory. There 
is a solemn vow, or at least a clear understand 
ing, that they are to marry within seven years, 
A 9, B 9, E 12 f., H 17, 19, L 8, N 11 [three 
years, C 11]. 

When seven years are at an end, or even 
before, Susan Pye feels a longing, or a mis 

giving, which impels her to go in search of the 
object of her affections, and she sets her foot 
on good shipboard, and turns her back on her 
own country, A 10, B 10, D 15, L 10, N 23.f 
C and M preserve here a highly important fea 
ture which is wanting in the other versions. 
Isbel, or Essels, is roused from her sleep by 
the Billy Blin, C 14, by a woman in green, 
a fairy, M 15, who makes known to her that 
that very day, or the morn, is Bekie's [Bond- 
well's] wedding day. She is directed to attire 
herself and her maids very splendidly, and go 
to the strand ; a vessel will come sailing to 
her, and they are to go on board. The Billy 
Blin will row her over the sea, C 19 ; she will 
stroke the ship with a wand, and take God to 
be her pilot, M 19. Thus, by miraculous in 
tervention, she arrives at the nick of time. 

Beichan's fickleness is not accounted for in 
most of the versions. He soon forgot his de 
liverer and courted another, he was young, 
and thought not upon Susan Pye, say H, N. 
C, on the contrary, tells us that Beichan had 
not been a twelvemonth in his own country, 
when he was forced to marry a duke's daugh 
ter or lose all his land. E and K intimate that 
he acts under constraint ; the wedding has 
lasted three and thirty days, and he will not 
bed with his bride for love of one beyond the 
sea, E 21, K 1.J 

On landing, Susan Pye falls in with a shep 
herd feeding his flock, E, K [a boy watering 
his steeds, M]. She asks, Whose are these 
sheep, these kye, these castles ? and is told they 
are Lord Beichan's, G. She asks the news, 
and is informed that there is a wedding in 
yonder hall that has lasted thirty days and 
three, E, K, or that there is to be a wedding 
on the morn, M ; it seems to be a matter gen 
erally known, N. In other versions she comes 
directly to Young Beichan's hall, and is first 
informed by the porter, A, B, F, H, L, or the 
fact is confirmed by the porter, E, M, N ; she 
hears the music within, and divines, C. She 
bribes the porter to bid the bridegroom come 

Cf. ' The Fair Flower of Northumberland,' B 2, E 2, or wrath of her father, F, M, J, N, and in the first two has 
pp 115f. to use artifice. 

t She does not get away without exciting the solicitude t A point borrowed, it well may be, from ' Hind Horn,' 

E 5 f, A 10. 



and speak to her, A, B, C, D, J, N; send her 
down bread and wine, and not forget the lady 
who brought him out of prison, B, P, H, J, 
K, L. In E 26 she sends up her half ring to 
the bridegroom [a ring in N 40, but not till 
Beichan has declined to come down]. 

The porter falls on his knee and informs 
his master that the fairest and richest lady 
that eyes ever saw is at the gate [ladies, C, 
M]. The bride, or the bride's mother more 
commonly, reproves the porter for his graceless 
speech ; he might have excepted the bride, or 
her mother, or both: " Gin she be braw with 
out, we's be as braw within." But the porter 
is compelled by truth to persist in his alle 
gation ; fair as they may be, they were never 
to compare with yon lady, B, D, E, H, M. 
Beichan takes the table with his foot and 
makes the cups and cans to flee, B 18, D 23, 
P 28, G 3, H 47, J 5, N 42 ;, * he exclaims 
that it can be none but Susie Pye, A, B, D, 
Gr, H, I [Burd Isbel, C], and clears the stair, 
fifteen steps, thirty steps, in three bounds, 
A 19, D 24, N 43. His old love reproaches 
him for his forgetfulness, A, C, D, M, N ; f 
she asks back her faith and troth, B 21. 
Beichan bids the forenoon bride's mother take 
back her daughter : he will double her dowry, 
A 22, D 27, E 39 ; she came on horseback, 
she shall go back in chariots, coaches, three, 
B 22, D 27 1 [H 49, in chariot free]. He 

* So Torello's wife upsets the table, in Boccaccio's story : 
see p. 198. One of her Slavic kinswomen jumps over four 
tables and lights on a fifth. 

t In C 34, M 49, she is recognized by one of the hounds 
which she had given him. So Bos, seigneur de Be'nac, who 
breaks a ring with his wife, goes to the East, and is prisoner 
among the Saracens seven years, on coming back is recog 
nized only by his greyhound: Magasin Pittoresque, VI, 
56 b. It is scarcely necessary to scent the Odyssey here. 

J Eidiculously changed in J 6, K 6, L 20, to a coach and 
three, reminding us of that master-stroke in Thackeray's 
ballad of 'Little Billee;' "a captain of a seventy-three." 
' Little Billee,' by the way, is really like an old ballad, fallen 
on evil days and evil tongues; whereas the serious imitations 
of traditional ballads are not the least like, and yet, in their 
way, are often not less ludicrous. 

In M, to make everything pleasant, Bondwell offers the 
bride five hundred pounds to marry his cousin John. She 
says, Keep your money ; John was my first love. So Bond- 
well is married at early morn, and John in the afternoon. 

|| Harleian MS. 2277, from which the life of Beket, in 
long couplets, was printed by Mr W. II. Black for the 
Percy Society, in 1845. The story of Gilbert Beket is con- 

marries Susie Pye, having her baptized by the 
name of Lady Jean, A, B, D, [E], P, I, J. 

This story of Beichan, or Bekie, agrees in 
the general outline, and also in some details, 
with a well-known legend about Gilbert Beket, 
father of St Thomas. The earlier and more 
authentic biographies lack this particular bit 
of romance, but the legend nevertheless goes 
back to a date not much later than a century 
after the death of the saint, being found in a 
poetical narrative preserved in a manuscript 
of about 1300.|| 

We learn from this legend that Gilbert 
Beket, in his youth, assumed the cross and 
went to the Holy Land, accompanied only by 
one Richard, his servant. They "did their pil 
grimage" in holy places, and at last, with other 
Christians, were made captive by the Saracens 
and put in strong prison. They suffered great 
hardship and ignominy in the service of the 
Saracen prince Admiraud. But Gilbert found 
more grace than the rest ; he was promoted 
to serve the prince at meat (in his chains), and 
the prince often would ask him about England 
and the English faith. Admiraud's only daugh 
ter fell in love with Gilbert, and when she 
saw her time, in turn asked him the like ques 
tions. Gilbert told her that he was born in 
London ; told her of the belief of Christians, 
and of the endless bliss that should be their 
meed. The maid asked him if he was ready 

tained in the first 150 vv. The style of this composition en 
tirely resembles that of -Robert of Gloucester, and portions 
of the life of Beket are identical with the Chronicle ; 
whence Mr Black plausibly argues that both are by the 
same hand. The account of Beket's parentage is interpo 
lated into Edward Grim's Life, in Cotton MS.' Vitellius, 
C, xn, from which it is printed by Robertson, Materials for 
the History of Thomas Becket, II, 453 ff. It is found in 
Bromton's Chronicle, Twysden, Scriptores X, columns 1052- 
55, and in the First Quadrilogus, Paris, 1495, from which 
it is reprinted by Migne, Patrologias Cursus Completus, 
CXC, cols 346 ff. The tale has been accepted by many writ 
ers who would have been better historians for a little reading 
of romances. Angustin Thierry sees in Thomas Beket a 
Saxon contending in high place, for the interests and with 
the natural hatred of his race, against Norman Henry, just 
as he finds in the yeoman Robin Hood a leader of Saxon 
serfs engaged in irregular war with Norman Richard. But 
both of St Thomas's parents were Norman; the father of 
Rouen, the mother of Caen. The legend was introduced by 
Lawrence Wade, following John of Exeter, into a metrical 
life of Beket of about the year 1500 : see the poem in Eng- 
lische Studien, III, 417, edited by Horstmann. 



to die for his Lord's love, and Gilbert de 
clared that he would, joyfully. When the 
maid saw that he was so steadfast, she stood 
long in thought, and then said, I will quit all 
for love of thee, and become Christian, if tliou 
wilt marry me. Gilbert feared that this might 
be a wile ; he replied that he was at her dis 
position, but he must bethink himself. She 
went on loving him, the longer the more. 
After this Gilbert and the rest broke prison 
and made their way to the Christians. The 
prince's daughter, reduced to desperation by 
love and grief, left her heritage and her kin, 
sparing for no sorrow, peril, or contempt that 
might come to her, not knowing whither to go 
or whether he would marry her when found, 
and went in quest of Gilbert. She asked the 
way to England, and when she had come there 
had no word but London to assist her further. 
She roamed through the streets, followed by 
a noisy and jeering crowd of wild boys and 
what not, until one day by chance she stopped 
by the house in which Gilbert lived. The man 
Richard, hearing a tumult, came out to see 
what was the matter, recognized the princess, 
and ran to tell his master.* Gilbert bade 
Richard take the lady to the house of a re 
spectable woman near by, and presently went 
to see her. She swooned when she saw him. 
Gilbert was nothing if not discreet : he " held 
him still," as if he had nothing in mind. But 
there was a conference of six bishops just then 
at St. Paul's, and he went and told them his 
story and asked advice. One of the six pro 
phetically saw a divine indication that the two 

Richard, the proud porter of the ballads, is perhaps 
most like himself in M 32 ff. 

t Neither her old name nor her Christian name is told us 
in this legend. Gilbert Beket's wife was Matilda, according 
to most authorities, but Roesa according to one: see Robert- 
son, as above, IV, 81 ; Migne, cols 278 f. Fox has made 
Roesa into Rose, Acts and Monuments, I, 267, ed. 1641. 

Gilbert and Rose (but Roesa is not Rose) recall to Ilip- 
peau, Vie de St Thomas par Gamier de Pont Sainte Max- 
ence, p. xxiii, Elic de Saint Gille and Rosamonde, whose 
adventures have thus much resemblance with those of Beket 
and of Bekie. Elie de Saint Gille, after performing astound 
ing feats of valor in fight with a horde of Saracens who 
have made a descent on Brittany, is carried off to their land. 
The amiral Macabre' requires Elie to adore Mahomet ; Elie 
refuses in the most insolent term!*, and is condemned to the 
gallows. He effects his escape, and finds himself before 

were meant to be married, and all finally rec 
ommended this if the lady would become 
Christian. Brought before the bishops, she 
said, Most gladly, if he will espouse me ; else 
I had not left my kin. She was baptized f 
with great ceremony, and the marriage fol 

The very day after the wedding Gilbert 
was seized with such an overmastering desire 
to go back to the Holy Land that he wist not 
what to do. But his wife was thoroughly 
converted, and after a struggle with herself 
she consented, on condition that Beket should 
leave with her the man Richard, who knew 
her language. Gilbert was gone three years 
and a half, and when he came back Thomas 
was a fine boy. 

That our ballad has been affected by the 
legend of Gilbert Beket is altogether likely. 
The name Bekie is very close to Beket, and 
several versions, A, D, H, I, N, set out rather 
formally with the announcement that Bekie 
was London born, like the Latin biographies 
and the versified one of Gamier de Pont Sainte 
Maxence. Our ballad, also, in some versions, 
has the Moor's daughter baptized, a point 
which of course could not fail in the legend. 
More important still is it that the hero of the 
English ballad goes home and forgets the 
woman he has left in a foreign land, instead 
of going away from home and forgetting the 
love he has left there. But the ballad, for all 
that, is not derived from the legend. Stories 
and ballads of the general cast of 'Young 
Beichan' are extremely frequent.^: The leg- 

Macabre's castle. Htre, in another fight, he is desperately 
wounded, but is restored by the skill of Rosaraonde, the ami- 
ral's daughter, who is Christian at heart, and loves the 
Frank. To save her from being forced to marry the king 
of Bagdad, Elie fights as her champion. In the end she is 
baptized, as u preparation for her union with Elie, hut he, 
having been present at the ceremony, is adjudged by the 
archbishop to be gossip to her, and Elie and Rosamonde are 
otherwise disposed of. So the French romance, but in the 
Norse, which, as Kolbitig maintains, is likely to preserve the 
original story here, there is no such splitting of cumin, and 
hero and heroine are united. 

t There is one in the Gesta Romnnorum, cap. 5, buterley, 
p. 278, of about the same age as the Beket legend. It is 
not particularly important. A young man is captured by a 
pirate, and his father will not send liis ransom. The pirate's 
daughter often visits the captive, who appeals to her to exert 



end lacks some of the main points of these 
stories, and the ballad, in one version or an 
other, has them, as will be seen by referring 
to what has been said under ' Hind Horn,' pp 
194 ff. Bekie and Beket go to the East, like 
Henry and Reinfrit of Brunswick, the Noble 
Moringer, the good Gerhard, Messer Torello, 
the Sire de Cre'qui, Alexander of Metz, and 
others. Like the larger part of these, they are 
made prisoners by the Saracens. He will not 
bow the knee to Mahound ; neither will the 
Sire de Cre'qui, though he die for it.* Beichan 
is made to draw cart, plough, harrow, like a 
beast. So Henry of Brunswick in a Swedish 
and a Danish ballad,f and Alexander von 
Metz, or the Graf von Rom, in his most beau 
tiful and touching story. $ Henry of Bruns 
wick is set free by a " heathen " lady in the 
Danish ballad, In one version of Beichan, B, 
the lady on parting with her love breaks her 
ring and gives him one half, as Henry, or his 
wife, Reinfrit, Gerhard, Cre'qui, and others do. 
At this point in the story the woman pursues 
the man, and parts are inverted. Susan Pye is 
warned that Beichan is to be married the next 
day, in C by a Billy-Blin, in M by a woman in 
green, or fairy, and is conveyed to Beichan's 
castle or hall with miraculous despatch, just as 
Henry and others are warned, and are trans 
ported to their homes by devil, angel, or nec 
romancer. In E and N the old love is identi 
fied by a half ring or ring, as in so many of 
the stories of the class of Henry the Lion. 

Norse, Spanish, and Italian ballads preserve 
a story essentially the same as that of ' Young 


Danish. ' Stolt Ellensborg,' Grundtvig, IV, 

herself for his liberation. She promises to effect his free 
dom if he will marry her. This he agrees to. She releases 
him from his chains without her father's knowledge, and 
flies with him to his native land. 

* Nor Guarinos in the Spanish ballad, Duran, No 402, I, 
265; Wolf and Hofmann, Primavera, II, 321. Guarinos is 
very cruelly treated, but it is his horse, not he, that has to 
draw carts. For the Sire de Cre'qui see also Dinaux, Trou- 
veres, III, 161 ff (Kohler). 

t And in ' Der Herr von Falkenstein,' a variety of the 
story, Meier, Deutsche Sagen ans Schwaben, p. 319, No 362. 
A Christian undergoes the same hardship in Schoppner, Sa- 
genbuch, III, 127, No 1076. For other cases of the won- 

238, No 218, nine versions, A-G-, from man 
uscripts of the sixteenth and seventeenth 
centuries, H, I, from recent tradition. B is 
previously printed (with alterations) in Lev- 
ninger, ' Jomfrue Ellensborg,' I, 66, No 12, 
Danske Viser, III, 268, No 213 ; I, * Stalt El 
len henter sin Fsestemand.' is in Kristensen, 
I, 89, No 36. Of the older texts, A, B, C are 
absolutely pure and true to tradition, D-G re 
touched or made over. 

Icelandic, of the seventeenth century, 
Grundtvig, as above, p. 259, M. 

Swedish, from Cavallius and Stephens' 
collection, Grundtvig, p. 255, K. 

Faroe, taken down in 1827, Grundtvig, p. 
256, L. 

Norwegian, ' Herre Per i Riki,' Landstad, 
p. 596, No 76, N. 

The variations of these twelve versions are 
insignificant. The names Herr Peder den 
Rige and Ellensborg [Ellen] are found in 
nearly all. It comes into Sir Peter's mind 
that he ought to go to Jerusalem to expiate 
his sins, and he asks his betrothed, Ellens 
borg, how long she will wait for him. She 
will wait eight years, and marry no other, 
though the king should woo her [seven, L ; 
nine, M, " If I do not come then, break the 
engagement;" eight, and not more, N]. The 
time passes and Peter does not come back. 
Ellensborg goes to the strand. Traders come 
steering in, and she is asked to buy of their 
ware, sendal, linen, and silk green as leek. 
She cares not for these things ; have they not 
seen her sister's son [brother], for whom she 
is grieving to death ? They know nothing of 
her sister's son, but well they know Sir Peter 
the rich : he has betrothed a lady in the 0s- 

derful deliverance of captive knights, not previously men 
tioned by me, see Hocker, in Wolf's Zeitschrift fiir deutsche 
Mythologie, I, 306. 

| A meisterlied of Alexander von Metz, of the second half 
of the fifteenth century, Korner, Historische Volkslieder, p. 
49 ; the ballad ' Der Grnf von Rom,' or ' Der Graf im 
Pfluge,' Uhland, p. 784, No 299, printed as early as 1493 ; 
De Historic van Florentina, Huysvrouwe van Alexander van 
Mets, 1621, van den Bergh, De nederlandsche Volksro- 
mans, p. 52. And see Goedeke, Deutsche Dichtung im Mit- 
telalter, pp 569, 574 ; Uhland, Schriften zur Geschichte der 
Dichtung, IV, 297-309 ; Danske Viser, V, 67. 



ter-king's realm;* a heathen woman, " and 
you never came into his mind," E 18 ; he is 
to be married to-morrow, K 6. A woe swain 
tells her, M 14, 16, that he sits in Austurrfki 
drinking the ale of forgetful ness, and will 
never come home ; he shall not drink long, 
says she. Ellensborg asks her brother to un 
dertake a voyage for her ; he will go with 
her if she will wait till summer ; rather than 
wait till summer she will go alone, A, D, Or. 
She asks fraternal advice about going in search 
of her lover, A, E, the advice of her uncles, 
I ; asks the loan of a ship, B, C, F, H, N. She 
is told that such a thing would be a shame ; 
she had better take another lover ; the ob 
ject is not worth the trouble ; the voyage is 
bad for a man and worse for a woman. Her 
maids give her advice that is more to her 
mind, E, but are as prudent as the rest in the 
later I. She attires herself like a knight, 
clips her maids' hair, B, H, I, L, M, and puts 
them into men's clothes, D, L ; sets herself to 
steer and the maids to row, A-Q, L.f 

The voyage is less than two months, B, C, E ; 
less than three months, I ; quite three months, 
L. It is the first day of the bridal when she 
lands, B 22, E 24, N 14; in B Ellensborg 
learns this from a boy who is walking on the 
sand. Sword at side, she enters the hall where 
Peter is drinking his bridal. Peter, can in 
hand, rises and says, Bless your eyes, my sis 
ter's son ; welcome to this strange land. In B 
he asks, How are my father and mother ? and 
she tells him that his father lies dead on his 
bier, his mother in sick-bed. In L, waiting for 
no greeting, she says, Well you sit at the board 
with your wife ! Are all lords wont thus to 
keep their faith ? The bride's mother, D, G, 
the heathen bride, E, an unnamed person, 
probably the bride, A, B, F, N, says, That is 
not your sister's son, but much more like a 
woman ; her hair is like spun gold, and braided 
up under a silk cap. 

A tells us, and so F, G, that it was two 

* 0ster-kongens rige, 0sterige, 0sterland, Austrriki, un 
derstood by Grundtvig as GarSariki, the Scandinavian-Rus 
sian kingdom of the tenth and eleventh centuries. Austrriki 
is used vaguely, but especially of the east of Europe, Kuisia, 
Austria, sometimes including Turkey (Vigfusson). 

months before Ellensborg could speak to Peter 
privately. Then, on a Yule day, when he was 
going to church, she said, It does not occur to 
you that you gave me your troth. Sir Peter 
stood as if women had shorn his hair, and 
recollected all as if it had been yesterday. In 
B-E, H, I, L, M, N, this incident has, perhaps, 
dropped out. In these immediately, as in A, 
F, G, after this interview, Sir Peter, recalled 
to his senses or to his fidelity, conceives the 
purpose of flying with Ellensborg. Good peo 
ple, he says, knights and swains, ladies and 
maids, follow my bride to bed, while I take 
my sister's son over the meads, through the 
wood, B-E, H, I, N. In A, F, Sir Peter asks 
the bride how long she will bide while he 
takes his nephew across the kingdom ; in G 
begs the boon that, since his sister's son is 
going, he may ride with him, just accompany 
him to the strand and take leave of him; in 
L, M, hopes she will not be angry if he con 
voys his nephew three days on his way. (It is 
at this point in C, H, I, L, that the bride says 
it is no sister's son, but a woman.) The bride 
remarks that there are knights and swains enow 
to escort his sister's son, and that he might 
more fitly stay where he is, but Sir Peter 
persists that he will see his nephew off in per 

Sir Peter and Ellensborg go aboard the 
ship, he crying, You will see me no more ! 
When they are at sea Ellensborg lets out her 
hair, A, B, C, H ; she wishes that the aban 
doned bride may now feel the grief which she 
herself had borne for years. The proceeding 
is less covert in I, L, M than in the other 

As Ellensborg and Peter are making for the 
ship in D 30, 31 (and G 36, 37, borrowed from 
D), she says, Tell me, Sir Peter, why would 
you deceive me so? Sir Peter answers that 
he never meant to deceive her; it was the 
lady of 0sterland that did it ; she had changed 
his mind. A magical change is meant. This 

t In Swedish K, as she pushes off from land, she ex 
claims : 

1 Gud Fader i Himmelens rike 

Skall vara mm styresman ! ' 
Cf . M 28 : 

And she 's taen God her pilot to be. 



agrees with what is said in A 24, 25 (also F, 
G), that when Ellensborg got Peter alone to 
herself, and said, You do not remember that 
you plighted your troth to me, everything 
came back to him as if it had happened yes 
terday. And again in the Faroe copy, L 49, 
Ellensborg, from the prow, cries to Ingibjorg 
on the strand, Farewell to thee with thy elf- 
ways, viS titt elvargangi ! I have taken to 
myself my true love that I lent thee so long ; 
implying that Sir Peter had been detained 
by Circean arts, by a sleepy drench of 6min- 
nis b'l, or ale of forgetfulness, Icelandic M 14, 
which, in the light of the other ballads, is to 
be understood literally, and not figuratively. 
The feature of a man being made, by magical 
or other means, to forget a first love who had 
done and suffered much for him, and being 
suddenly restored to consciousness and his 
original predilection, is of the commonest oc 
currence in traditional tales.* 

Our English ballad affords no other positive 
trace of external interference with the hero's 
will than the far-fetched allegation in C that 
the choice before him was to accept a duke's 
daughter or forfeit his lands. The explana 
tion of his inconstancy in H, N, that young 
men ever were fickle found, is vulgar, and also 
insufficient, for Beichan returns to his old love 
per saltum, like one from whose eyes scales 
have fallen and from whose back a weight has 
been taken, not tamely, like a facile youth 
that has swerved. B and K, as already said, 
distinctly recognize that Beichan was not act 
ing with free mind, and, for myself, I have 
little doubt that, if we could go back far 
enough, we should find that he had all along 
been faithful at heart. 

Spanish. A. ' El Conde Sol,' Duran, Ro- 

* See ' The Red Bull of Norroway/ Chambers, Popular 
Ehymes of Scotland, 1870, p. 99; 'Mesterm0,' Asbj0rnsen 
og Moe, No 46 ; ' Hass-Fru,' Cavallius och Stephens, No 
14; Powell, Icelandic Legends, Second Series, p. 377 ; the 
Grimms, Nos 56, 113, 186, 193; Pentamerone, 11, 7, in, 9; 
Gonzenbach, Nos 14, 54, 55, and Kohler's note ; Halm, Grie- 
chische u. Albanesische Marchen, No 54 ; Carleton, Traits 
and Stories of the Irish Peasantry, 10th ed., I, 23 ; Camp 
bell, West Highland Tales, I, 25, No 2, and Kohler's notes 
in Orient u. Occident, II, 103-114, etc., etc. 

t This passage leads the editors of Primavera to remark, 

mancero, I, 180, No 327, from tradition in An 
dalusia, by the editor ; Wolf and Hofrnann, 
Primavera, II, 48, No 135. In this most beau 
tiful romance the County Sol, named general 
in great wars between Spain and Portugal, 
and leaving a young wife dissolved in tears, 
tells her that she is free to marry if he does 
not come back in six years. Six pass, and 
eight, and more than ten, yet the county does 
not return, nor does there come news of him. 
His wife implores and obtains leave of her 
father to go in search of her husband. She 
traverses France and Italy, land and sea, and 
is on the point of giving up hope, when one 
day she sees a herdsman pasturing cows. 
Whose are these cows? she asks. The County 
Sol's, is the answer. And whose these wheat- 
fields, these ewes, these gardens, and that pal 
ace ? whose the horses I hear neigh ? The 
County Sol's, is the answer in each case.f 
And who that lady that a man folds in his 
arms ? The lady is betrothed to him and the 
county is to marry her. The countess changes 
her silken robe for the herdsman's sackcloth, 
and goes to ask an alms at the county's gate. 
Beyond all hope, the county comes out him 
self to bring it. " Whence comest thou, pil 
grim?" he asks. She was born in Spain. 
"How didst thou make thy way hither?" 
She came to seek her husband, footing the 
thorns by land, risking the perils of the sea ; 
and when she found him he was about to 
marry, he had forgotten his faithful wife. 
" Pilgrim, thou art surely the devil, come to 
try me." " No devil," she said, " but thy 
wife indeed, and therefore come to seek thee." 
Upon this, without a moment's tarrying, the 
county ordered his horse, took up his wife, 
and made his best speed to his native castle. 

II, 52, that ' El Conde Sol' shows distinct traits of ' Le Chat 
Botte.' Similar questions are asked in English Gr, the other 
Spanish versions, and the Italian, and in nearly all the 
Greek ballads referred to on pp 1 99, 200 ; always under the 
same circumstances, and to bring about the discovery which 
gives the turn to the story. The questions in ' Le Chat 
Botte' ' are introduced for an entirely different purpose, and 
cannot rationally suggest a borrowing on either side. The 
hasty note would certainly have been erased by the very dis 
tinguished editors upon a moment's consideration. 



The bride he would have taken remained un 
married, for those that put on others' robes are 
sure to be stripped naked. 

B. * Gerineldo,' taken down in Asturias by 
Amador de los Kios, Jahrbuch fiir romaniache 
u. englische Literatur, III, 290, 1861, and the 
same year (Nigra) in Revista Iberica, I, 51 ; 
a version far inferior to A, and differing in no 
important respect as to the story. 

C. ' La boda interrumpida,' Mila, Roman- 
cerillo Catalan, p. 221, No 244, seven copies, 
A-G, none good. A, which is about one third 
Castilian, relates that war is declared between 
France and Portugal, and the son of Conde 
Burgos made general. The countess his wife 
does nothing but weep. The husband tells 
her to marry again if he does not come back 
in seven years. More than seven years are 
gone, and the lady's father asks why she does 
not marry. " How can I," she replies, " if the 
count is living ? Give me your blessing, and 
let me go in search of him." She goes a hun 
dred leagues on foot, in the disguise of a pil 
grim. Arrived at a palace she sees pages pass, 
and asks them for whom a horse is intended. 
It is for Count Burgos's son, who marries that 
night. She asks to be directed to the young 
count, is told that she will find him in the 
hall, enters, and begs an alms, as coming from 
Italy and without a penny. The young man 
says, If you come from Italy, what is the 
news ? Is Conde Bueso's wife living ? The 
pilgrim desires some description of the lady. 
It seems that she wore a very costly petticoat 
on her wedding-day. The pilgrim takes off 
her glove and shows her ring ; she also takes 
off and shows the expensive petticoat. There 
is great weeping in that palace, for first wives 
never can be forgotten. Don Bueso and the 
pilgrim clap hands and go home. 

Italian : Piedmontese. A. ' Moran d'ln- 
ghilterra,' communicated to Rivista Contempo- 
ranea, XXXI, 3, 1862, by Nigra, who gives the 
variations of four other versions. The daujjh- 


ter of the sultan is so handsome that they 
know not whom to give her to, but decide 
upon Moran of England. The first day of 
his marriage he did nothing but kiss her, 
the second he wished to leave her, and the 

third he went off to the war. " When shall 
you return ? " asked his wife. " If not in 
seven years, marry." She waited seven years, 
but Moran did not come. His wife went all 
over England on horseback, and came upon 
a cowherd. " Whose cows are these ? " she 
asked. They were Moran's. " Has Moran 
a wife ? " This is the day when he is to 
marry, and if she makes haste she will be in 
time for the wedding. She spurs her horse, 
and arrives in season. They offer her to 
drink in a gold cup. She will drink from no 
cup that is not her own ; she will not drink 
while another woman is there ; she will not 
drink till she is mistress. Moran throws his 
arms round her neck, saying, Mistress you 
ever have been and still shall be. 

B. * Morando,' Ferraro, Canti popolari mon- 
ferrini, p. 42, No 32, from Alessandria. Mu- 
rando dTnghilterra, of the king's household, 
fell in love with the princess, for which the 
king sent him off. The lady knocked at his 
door, and asked when he would come back. 
In seven years, was the answer, and if not 
she was to marry. The princess stole a hun 
dred scudi from her father, frizzled her hair 
French fashion, bought a fashionable suit, and 
rode three days and nights without touching 
ground, eating, or drinking. She came upon 
a laundryman, and asked who was in com 
mand there. Murando. She knocked at the 
door, and Murando asked, Have you come to 
our wedding ? She would come to the dance. 
At the dance she was recognized by the ser 
vants. Murando asked, How came you here ? 
" I rode three days and three nights without 
touching ground, eating, or drinking." This 
is my wife, said Murando ; and the other lady 
he bade return to her father. 

It is possible that this ballad may formerly 
have been known in France. Nothing is left 
and known that shows this conclusively, but 
there is an approach to the Norse form in a 
fragment which occurs in several widely sep 
arated localities. A lover goes off in Novem 
ber, promising his love to return in December, 
but does not. A messenger comes to bid the 
lady, in his name, seek another lover, for he 
has another love. " Is she fairer than I, or 



more powerful ? " She is not fairer, but more 
powerful : she makes rosemary flower on the 
edge of her sleeve, changes the sea into wine 
and fish into flesh. Bujeaud, I, 203. In ' La 
Femme Abandonee,' Puymaigre, I, 72, the 
lover is married to a Fleming: 

Elle fait venir le soleil 
A minuit dans sa chambre, 
Elle fait bouiller la marmite 
Sans feu et sans rente. 

In a Canadian version, ' Entre Paris et Saint- 
Denis,' Gagnon, p. 303, the deserted woman 
is a king's daughter, and the new love, 

Ell' fait neiger, ell' fait greler, 
Ell' fait le vent qui vente. 
Ell' fait reluire le soleil 
A minuit dans sa chambre. 
Ell' fait pousser le romarin 
Sur le bord de la manche. 

Puymaigre notes that there is a version very 
near to the Canadian in the sixth volume of 
Poesies populaires de la France, cinquieme re- 
cueil, Ardennes, No 2.* 

A broadside ballad, ' The Turkish Lady,' 
' The Turkish Lady and the English Slave,' 
printed in Logan's Pedlar's Pack, p. 16, Chris 
tie, I, 247, from singing, and preserved also in 
the Kinloch MSS, V, 53, I, 263, from Eliza 
beth Beattie's recitation, simply relates how 
a Turkish pirate's daughter fell in love with 
an Englishman, her slave, offered to release 
him if he would turn Turk, but chose the bet 
ter part of flying with him to Bristol, and 
becoming herself a Christian brave. 

Sir William Stanley, passing through Con 
stantinople, is condemned to die for his re 
ligion. A lady, walking under the prison 
walls, hears his lament, and begs his life of 
the Turk. She would make him her husband, 
and bring him to adore Mahomet. She offers 
to set the prisoner free if he will marry her, 
but he has a wife and children on English 
ground. The lady is sorry, but generously 
gives Stanley five hundred pounds to carry 
him to his own country. Sir William Stan 
ley's Garland, Halliwell's Palatine Anthology, 

Two Magyars have been shut up in a dun 
geon by the sultan, and have not seen sun, 
moon, or stars for seven years. The sultan's 
daughter hears their moan, and offers to free 
them if they will take her to Hungary. This 
they promise to do. She gets the keys, takes 
money, opens the doors, and the three make 
off. They are followed ; one of the Magyars 
kills all the pursuers but one, who is left to 
carry back the news. It is now proposed that 
there shall be a duel to determine who shall 
have the lady. She begs them rather to cut 
off her head than to fight about her. Szilagyi 
Niklas says he has a love at home, and leaves 
the sultan's daughter to his comrade, Hagy- 
masi Laszl6. Aigner, Ungarische Volksdich- 
tungen, p. 93 : see p. 107 of this volume. 

C b is translated by Loeve-Veirnars, p. 330 ; 

B by Cesare Cantu, Document! alia Storia 
Universale, Torino, 1858, Tomo V, Parte 
IIP, p. 796 ; B, as retouched by Allingham, 
by Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 18. 

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 13. 

1 IN London city was Bicham born, 

He longd strange countries for to see, 
But he was taen by a savage Moor, 
Who handld him right cruely. 

2 For tbro his shoulder he put a bore, 

An thro the bore has pitten a tree, 

* Puymaigre finds also some resemblance in his ' Petite 
Rosalie,' I, 74 : see his note. 

An he 's gard him draw the carts o wine, 
Where horse and oxen had wont to be. 

3 He 's casten [him] in a dungeon deep, 

Where he coud neither hear nor see ; 
He 's shut him up in a prison strong, 
An he 's handld him right cruely. 

4 this Moor he had but ae daughter, 

I wot her name was Shusy Pye ; 
She 's doen her to the prison-house, 

And she 's calld Young Bicham one word by. 



5 ' hae ye ony lands or rents, 

Or citys in your ain country, 
Coud free you out of prison strong, 
An coud mantain a lady free ? ' 

6 ' London city is my own, 

An other citys twa or three, 
Coud loose me out o prison strong, 
An coud mantain a lady free.' 

7 O she has hribed her father's men 

Wi meikle goud and white money, 

She 's gotten the key o the prison doors, 

An she has set Young Bicham free. 

8 She 's gi'n him a loaf o good white bread, 

But an a flask o Spanish wine, 
An she bad him mind on the ladie's love 
That sae kindly freed him out o pine. 

9 ' Go set your foot on good ship-board, 

An haste you back to your ain country, 
An before that seven years has an end, 
Come back again, love, and marry me.' 

10 It was long or seven years had an end 

She longd fu sair her love to see ; 
She 's set her foot on good ship-board, 
An turnd her back on her ain country. 

11 She 's saild up, so has she doun, 

Till she came to the other side ; 
She 's landed at Young Bicham's gates, 
An I hop this day she sal be his b'ride. 

12 ' Is this Young Bicham's gates ? ' says she, 

' Or is that noble prince within ? ' 
' He 's up the stairs wi his bonny bride, 
An monny a lord and lady wi him.' 

13 ' O has he taen a bonny bride, 

An has he clean forgotten me ! ' 
An sighing said that gay lady, 
I wish I were in my ain country ! 

14 But she 's pitten her han in her pocket, 

An gin the porter guineas three ; 

Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter, 
An bid the bridegroom speak to me. 

15 whan the porter came up the stair, 

He 's fa'n low down upon his knee : 
' Won up, won up, ye proud porter, 
An what makes a' this courtesy ? ' 

16 ' O I 've been porter at your gates 

This mair nor seven years an three, 
But there is a lady at them now 
The like of whom I never did see. 

17 ' For on every finger she has a ring, 

An on the mid-finger she has three, 
An there 's as meikle goud aboon her brow 
As woud buy an earldome o Ian to me.' 

18 Then up it started Young Bicham, 

An sware so loud by Our Lady, 
' It can be nane but Shusy Pye, 
That has come oer the sea to me.' 

19 quickly ran he down the stair, 

O fifteen steps he has made but three ; 
He 's tane his bonny love in his arms, 
An a wot he ki^sd her tenderly. 

20 ' O hae you tane a bonny bride ? 

An hae you quite forsaken me ? 
An hae ye quite forgotten her 
That gae you life an liberty ? ' 

21 She 's lookit oer her left shoulder 

To hide the tears stood in her ee ; 
' Now fare thee well, Young Bicham,' she says, 
' I '11 strive to think nae mair on thee.' 

22 ' Take back your daughter, madam,' he says, 

' An a double dowry I '11 gi her wi ; 
For I maun marry my first true love, 

That 's done and suffered so much for me.' 

23 He 's take his bonny love by the han, 

And led her to yon fountain stane ; 
He 's changd her name frae Shusy Pye, 
An he 's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane. 




Glenriddell MSS, XI, 80. 

1 IN England was Young Brechin born, 

Of parents of a high degree ; 
The selld him to the savage Moor, 

Where they abused him maist cruellie. 

2 Thro evry shoulder they bord a bore, 

And thro evry bore they pat a tree ; 
They made him draw the carts o wine, 
Which horse and owsn were wont to drie. 

3 The pat him into prison strong, 

Where he could neither hear nor see ; 
They pat him in a dark dungeon, 
Where he was sick and like to die. 

4 l Is there neer an auld wife in this town 

That '11 borrow me to be her son ? 
Is there neer a young maid in this town 
Will take me for her chiefest one ? ' 

5 A Savoyen has an only daughter, 

I wat she 's called Young Brichen by ; 
' O sleepst thou, wakest thou, Brichen ? ' she 

4 Or who is 't that does on me cry ? 

6 ' hast thou any house or lands, 

Or hast thou any castles free, 
That thou wadst gi to a lady fair 
That out o prison wad bring thee ? ' 

7 ' O lady, Lundin it is mine, 

And other castles twa or three ; 
These I wad gie to a lady fair 

That out of prison wad set me free.' 

8 She 's taen him by the milk-white hand, 

And led him to a towr sae hie, 
She 's made him drink the wine sae reid, 
And sung to him like a mavosie. 

9 O these two luvers made a bond, 

For seven years, and that is lang, 
That he was to marry no other wife, 
And she 's to marry no other man. 

10 When seven years were past and gane, 

This young lady began to lang, 
And she 's awa to Lundin gane, 

To see if Brechin 's got safe to land. 


11 When she came to Young Brechin's yett, 

She chappit gently at the gin ; 
' Is this Young Brechin's yett ? ' she says, 

' Or is this lusty lord within ? ' 
' O yes, this is Lord Brechin's yett, 

And I wat this be his bridal een.' 

12 She 's put her hand in her pocket, 

And thrawin the porter guineas three ; 
' Gang up the stair, young man,' she says, 
' And bid your master come down to me. 

13 ' Bid him bring a bite o his ae best bread, 

And a bottle o his ae best wine, 
And neer forget that lady fair 
That did him out o prison bring.' 

14 The porter tripped up the stair, 

And fell low down upon his knee : 
' Rise up, rise up, ye proud porter, 
What mean you by this courtesie ? ' 

15 ' O I hae been porter at your yett 

This thirty years and a' but three; 
There stands the fairest lady thereat 
That ever my twa een did see. 

16 ' On evry finger she has a ring, 

On her mid-finger she has three ; 
She 's as much gold on her horse's neck 
As wad by a earldom o land to me. 

17 * She bids you send o your ae best bread, 

And a bottle o your ae best wine, 
And neer forget the lady fair 
That out o prison did you bring.' 

18 He 's taen the table wi his foot, 

And made the cups and cans to flee : 
' I '11 wager a' the lands I hae 

That Susan Pye 's come oer the sea.' 

19 Then up and spak the bride's mother 

' And O an ill deid may ye die ! 
If ye didna except the bonny bride, 
Ye might hae ay excepted me.' 

20 ' ye are fair, and fair, madam, 

And ay the fairer may ye be ! 
But the fairest day that eer ye saw, 
Ye were neer sae fair as yon lady.' 



21 O when these lovers two did meet, 

The tear it blinded baith their ee ; 
Gie me my faith and troth,' she says, 
' For now fain hame wad I be.' 

22 ' Talc hame your daughter, madam,' he says, 

* She 's neer a bit the war o me ; 
Except a kiss o her bonny lips, 
Of her body I am free ; 

She came to me on a single horse, 

Now I '11 send her hame in chariots three.' 

23 He 's taen her by the milk-white hand, 
And he 's led her to a yard o stane ; 
He 's changed her name frae Susan Pye, 
And calld her lusty Lady Jane. 


a. Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 11. b. Jamieson's Popular 
Ballads, II, 127. 

1 YOUNG Bekie was as brave a knight 

As ever saild the sea ; 
An he 's doen him to the court of France, 
To serve for meat and fee. 

2 He had nae been i the court of France 

A twelvemonth nor sae long, 
Til he fell in love with the king's daughter, 
An was thrown in prison strong. 

3 The king he had but ae daughter, 

Burd Isbel was her name ; 
An she has to the prison-house gane, 
To hear the prisoner's mane. 

4 ' gin a lady woud borrow me, 

At her stirrup-foot I woud rin ; 
Or gin a widow wad borrow me, 
I woud swear to be her son. 

5 ' Or gin a virgin woud borrow me, 

I woud wed her wi a ring ; 
I 'd gi her ha's, I 'd gie her bowers, 
The bonny towrs o Linne.' 

6 O barefoot, barefoot gaed she but, 

An barefoot came she ben ; 
It was no for want o hose an shoone, 
Nor time to put them on. 

7 But a' for fear that her father dear 

Had heard her making din : 
She 's stown the keys o the prison-house dor 
An latten the prisoner gang. 

8 O whan she saw him, Young Bekie, 

Her heart was wondrous sair ! 
For the mice but an the bold rottons 
Had eaten his yallow hair. 

9 She 's gien him a shaver for his beard, 

A comber till his hair, 
Five hunder pound in his pocket, 
To spen, an nae to spair. 

10 She 's gien him a steed was good in need, 

An a saddle o royal bone, 
A leash o hounds o ae litter, 
An Hector called one. 

11 Atween this twa a vow was made, 

'T was made full solemnly, 
That or three years was come an gane, 
Well married they shoud be. 

12 He had nae been in 's ain country 

A twelvemonth till an end, 
Till he 's forcd to marry a duke's daughter, 
Or than lose a' his land. 

13 ' Ohon, alas ! ' says Young Beckie, 

' I know not what to dee ; 
For I canno win to Burd Isbel, 
And she kensnae to come to me.' 

14 O it fell once upon a day 

Burd Isbel fell asleep, 
An up it starts the Belly Blin, 
An stood at her bed-feet. 

15 ' O waken, waken, Burd Isbel, 

How [can] you sleep so soun, 
Whan this is Bekie's wedding day, 
An the marriage gain on ? 



16 ' Ye do ye to your mither's bowr, 

Think neither sin nor shame ; 
An ye tak twa o your mither's marys, 
To keep ye frae thinking lang. 

17 ' Ye dress yoursel in the red scarlet, 

An your marys in dainty green, 
An ye pit girdles about your middles 
Woud buy an earldome. 

18 ' O ye gang down by yon sea-side, 

An down by yon sea-stran ; 
Sae bonny will the Hollans boats 
Come rowin till your ban. 

19 ' Ye set your milk-white foot abord, 

Cry, Hail ye, Domine ! 
An I shal be the steerer o-'t, 
To row you oer the sea.' 

20 She 's tane her till -her mither's bowr, 

Thought neither sin nor shame, 
An she took twa o her mither's marys, 
To keep her frae thinking lang. 

21 She dressd hersel i the red scarlet, 

Her marys i dainty green, 
And they pat girdles about their middles 
Woud buy an earldome. 

22 An they gid down by yon sea-side, 

An down by yon sea-stran ; 
Sae bonny did the Hollan boats 
Come rowin to their han. 

23 She set her milk-white foot on board, 

Cried, Hail ye, Domine ! 
An the Belly Blin was the steerer o 't, 
To row her oer the sea. 

24 Whan she came to Young Bekie's gate, 

She heard the music play ; 
Sae well she kent frae a' she heard, 
It was his wedding day. 

25 She 's pitten her han in her pocket, 

Gin the porter guineas three ; 
' Hae, tak ye that, ye proud porter, 
Bid the bride-groom speake to me.' 

26 whan that he cam up the stair, 

He fell low down on his knee : 

He haild the king, an he haild the queen, 
An he haild him, Young Bekie. 

27 ' I Ve been porter at your gates 

This thirty years an three ; 
- But there 's three ladies at them now, 
Their like I never did see. 

28 ' There 's ane o them dressd in red scarlet, 

And twa in dainty green, 
An they hae girdles about their middles 
Woud buy an earldome.' 

29 Then out it spake the bierly bride, 

Was a' goud to the chin ; 
' Gin she be braw without,' she says, 
' We 's be as braw within.' 

30 Then up it starts him, Young Bekie, 

An the tears was in his ee : 
' I '11 lay my life it 's Burd Isbel, 
Come oer the sea to me.' 

31 O quickly ran he down the stair, 

An whan he saw 't was shee, 
He kindly took her in his arms, 
And kissd her tenderly. 

32 ' hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie, 

The vow ye made to me, 
Whan I took you out o the prison strong, 
Whan ye was condemnd to die ? 

33 ' I gae you a steed was good in need, 

An a saddle o royal bone, 
A leash o hounds o ae litter, 
An Hector called one.' 

34 It was well kent what the lady said, 

That it wasnae a lee, 
For at ilka word the lady spake, 
The hound fell at her knee. 

35 ' Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear, 

A blessing gae her wi, 
For I maun marry my Burd Isbel, 
That 's come oer the sea to me.' 

36 ' Is this the custom o your house, 

Or the fashion o your Ian, 
To marry a maid in a May mornin, 
An send her back at even ? ' 




Skene MSS, p. 70. North of Scotland, 1802-3. 

1 YOUNG BEACHEX was born in fair London, 

And foreign lands he langed to see ; 
He was taen by the savage Moor, 
An the used him most cruellie. 

2 Through his showlder they pat a bore, 

And through the bore the pat a tree ; 
They made him trail their ousen carts, 
And they used him most cruellie. 

3 The savage Moor had ae daughter, 

I wat her name was Susan Pay ; 
An she is to the prison house, 
To hear the prisoner's moan. 

4 He made na his moan to a stocke, 

He made na it to a stone, 
But it was to the Queen of Heaven 
That he made his moan. 

5 ' Gin a lady wad borrow me, 

I at her foot wad run ; 
An a widdow wad borrow me, 
I wad become her son. 

6 ' But an a maid wad borrow me, 

I wad wed her wi a ring ; 
I wad make her lady of haas and bowers, 
An of the high towers of Line.' 

7 ' Sing oer yer sang, Young Beachen,' she says, 

' Siflg oer yer sang to me ; ' 
' I never sang that sang, lady, 
But I wad sing to thee. 

8 ' Gin a lady wad borrow me, 

I at her foot wad run ; 
An a widdow wad borrow me, 
I wad become her son. 

9 ' But an a maid wad borrow me, 

I wad wed her wi a ring ; 
I wad make her lady of haas and bowers, 
An of the high towers of Line.' 

10 Saftly, [saftly] gaed she but, 

An saftlly gaed she ben, 
It was na for want of hose nor shoon, 
Nor time to pet them on. 

11 . 

An she has staen the keys of the prison, 
An latten Young Beachen gang. 

12 She gae him a leaf of her white bread. 

An a bottle of her wine, 
She bad him mind on the lady's love 
That freed him out of pine. 

13 She gae him a steed was guid in need, 

A saddle of the bane, 
Five hundred pown in his pocket, 
Bad him gae speeding hame. 

14 An a leash of guid grayhounds, 

15 Whan seven lang years were come and gane, 

Shusie Pay thought lang, 
An she is on to fair London, 
As fast as she could gang. 

16 Whan she cam to Young Beachen's gate, 

' Is Young Beachan at hame, 
Or is he in this countrie ? ' 

17 ' He is at hame, is hear,' they said, 

An sighan says her Susie Pay, 
Has he quite forgotten me ? 

18 On every finger she had a ring, 

On the middle finger three ; 
She gae the porter ane of them : 
' Get a word o your lord to me.' 

19 He gaed up the stair, 

Fell low down on his knee : 
1 Win up, my proud porter, 
What is your will wi me ? ' 

20 4 1 hae been porter at yer gate 

This thirty year and three ; 
The fairst lady is at yer gate 
Mine eyes did ever see.' 

21 Out spak the bride's mither, 

An a haghty woman was she : 



' If ye had na accepted the honny bride, 
Ye might well ha eccepted me.' 

22 ' No disparagement to you, madam, 

Nor none unto her Grace ; 
The sole of yonr lady's foot 
Is fairer than her face.' 

23 He 's gaen the table wi his foot, 

And couped it wi his knee : 
' I wad my head and a' my land 
'T is Susie Pay, come oer the sea.' 

24 The stair was thirty steps, 

I wat he made them three ; 
He took her in his arms twa : 
' Susie Pay, ye'r welcome to me.' 

25 ' Gie me a shive of your white bread, 

An a bottle of your wine ; 
Dinna ye mind on the lady's love 
That freed ye out of pine ? ' 

26 He took her .... 

Down to yon garden green, 
An changed her name fra Susie Pay, 
An called her bonny Lady Jean. 

27 'Yer daughter came here on high horse-back, 

She sal gae hame in coaches three, 
An I sail double her tocher our, 
She 's nane the war o me.' 

28 ' It 's na the fashion o our countrie, 

Nor yet o yer nane, 
To wed a maid in the morning, 
An send her hame at een.' 

29 ' It 's na the fashion o my countrie, 

Nor is it of my nane, 
But I man mind on the lady's love 
That freed me out of pine.' 


Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 117, compounded from A, 
a manuscript and a stall copy from Scotland, a recited copy 
from the north of England, and a short version picked off a 
wall in London. (The parts which repeat A are in smaller 

1 IN London was Young Beichan born, 

He longed strange countries for to see, 
But he was taen by a savage Moor, 
Who handled him right cruellie. 

2 For he viewed the fashions of that land, 

Their way of worship viewed he, 
But to Mahound or Termagant 
Would Beichan never bend a knee. 

3 So in every shoulder they 've putten a bore, 

In every bore they 've putten a tree, 
And they have made him trail the wine 
And spices on his fair bodie. 

4 They 've casten hun in a dungeon deep, 

Where he could neither hear nor see, 

For seven years they kept him there, 

Till he for hunger 's like to die. 

5 This Moor he had but ae daughter, 

Her name was called Susie Pye, 
And every day as she took the air, 
Near Beichan's prison she passed by. 

6 so it fell upon a day 

She heard Young Beichaii sadly sing : 

' My hounds they all go masterless, 
My hawks they flee from tree to tree, 

My younger brother will heir my land, 
Fair England again I '11 never see ! ' 

7 All night long no rest she got, 

Young Beichan's song for thinking on ; 
She 's stown the keys from her father's head, 
And to the prison strong is gone. 

8 And she has opend the prison doors, 

I wot she opend two or three, 
Ere she could come Young Beichan at, 
He was locked up so curiouslie. 

9 But when she came Young Beichan before, 

Sore wonderd he that may to see ; 
He took her for some fair captive : 

' Fair Lady, I pray, of what countrie ? ' 

10 ' have ye any lands,' she said, 

1 Or castles in your own countrie, 
That ye could give to a lady fair, 
From prison strong to set you free 

11 ' Near London town I have a hall, 

With other castles two or three; 
I '11 give them all to the lady fair 
That out of prison will set me free.' 

12 ' Give me the truth of your right hand, 

The truth of it give unto me, 
That for seven years ye '11 no lady wed, 
Unless it be along with me.' 



13 ' III give thee the truth of my right hand, 

The truth of it 1 11 freely gie, 
That for seven years I '11 stay unwed, 
For the kindness thou dost show to me.' 

14 And she has brib'd the proud warder 

Wi niickle gold and white nionie, 
She 's gotten the keys of the prison strong, 
And she has set Young Beichan free. 

15 She' s gien him to eat the good spice-cake, 

She 's gien him to drink the blood-red wine, 
She's bidden him sometimes think on her, 
That sae kindly freed him out of pine. 

16 She's broken a ring from her finger, 

And to Beichnn half <>f it gave she : 
' Keep it, to mind you of that love 
The lady bore that set you free. 

1 7 ' And set your foot on good ship-board, 

And haste ye back to your own countrie, 
And before that seven years have an end, 
Come back again, love, and marry me.' 

18 But long ere seven years had an end, 

She longd full sore her love to see, 
For ever a voice within her breast 

Said, ' Beichan has broke his vow to thce : ' 
So she 's set her foot on good ship-board, 

And turnd her back on her owu countrie. 

19 She sailed east, she sailed west, 

Till to fair England's shore she came, 
Where a bonny shepherd she espied, 
Feeding his sheep upon the plain. 

20 ' What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd ? 

What news hast thou to tell to me ? ' 
' Such news I hear, ladie,' he says, 
' The like was never in this countrie. 

21 ' There is a wedding in yonder hall, 

Has lasted these thirty days and three ; 
Young Beichan will not bed with his bride, 
For love of one that 's yond the sea.' 

22 She 's put her hand in her pocket, 

Gien him the gold and white monie : 
' Hae, take ye that, my bonny boy, 
For the good news thou tellst to me.' 

23 When she came to Young Beichan's gate, 

She tirled softly at the pin ; 
So ready was the proud porter 
To open and let this lady in. 

24 ' Is this Young Beichan's hall,' she said, 

> Or is that noble lord within ? ' 
' Yea, he 's in the hall among them all, 
And this is the day o his weddin.' 

25 ' And has he wed anither love 7 

And has he clean forgotten me? ' 

And sighin said that gay ladie, 
I wish I were hi my own countrie ! 

26 And she has taen her gay gold ring, 

That with her love she brake so free ; 
Says, Gie him that, ye proud porter, 
And bid the bridegroom speak to me. 

27 When the porter came his lord before, 

He kneeled down low on his knee : 

' What aileth thee, my proud porter, 

Thou art so full of courtesie? ' 

28 ' I 've been porter at your gates, 

It 's thirty long years now and three; 
But there -stands a lady at them now, 
The like o her did I never see. 

29 ' For on every finger she has a ring, 

And on her mid- finger she has three, 
And as meickle gold aboon her brow 
As would buy an earldom to me.' 

30 It 's out then spak the bride's mother, 

Aye and an angry woman was shee : 
' Ye might have cxcepted our bonny bride, 
And twa or three of our companie.' 

31 ' O hold your tongue, thon bride's mother, 

Of all your folly let me be ; 
She 's ten times fairer nor the bride, 
And all that 's in your companie. 

32 ' She begs one sheave of your white bread, 

But and a cnp of your red wine, 
. And to remember the lady's love 
That last relievd you out of pine.' 

33 ' O well-a-day ! ' said Beichan then, 

' That I so soon have married thce ! 
For it can be none but Susie Pye, 
That sailed the sea for love of me.' 

34 And quickly hied he down the stair; 

Of fifteen steps he made but three; 

He 's taen his bonny love in his arms, 

And kist and kist her Underlie. 

35 ' hae ye taen anither bride? 

And hae ye quite forgotten me ? 
And hae ye quite forgotten her 
That gave you life and libertie ? ' 

36 She looked oer her left shoulder, 

To hide the tears stood in her ee : 
1 Now fare thee well, Young Beichnn,' she smyt, 
' I '11 try to think no more on thee.' 

37 ' never, never, Susie Pye, 

For surely this can never be, 
Nor ever shall I wed but her 

That's done and dreed so much for me.' 



38 Then out and ppak the forenoon bride : 

' My lord, your love it changeth soon ; 
This morning I was made your bride, 
And another chose ere it be noon.' 

39 hold thy tongue, thou forenoon bride, 

Ye 're neer a whit the worse for me, 
And whan ye return to your own conntrie, 
A double dower I '11 send with thee.' 

40 He 's taen Susie Pye by the white hand, 

And gently led* her up and down, 
And ay as he kist her red rosy lips, 
' Ye 're welcome, jewel, to your own.' 

41 He 's taen her by the milk-white hand, 

And led her to yon fountain stane; 
He 's changed her name from Susie Pye, 

And he 's call'd her his bonny love, Lady Jane. 

Pitcairn's MSS, III, 159, 1817-25. From the recitation of 
Widow Stevenson, aged seventy-three : " East Country." 

1 IN the lands where Lord Beichan was born, 

Amang the stately steps of stane, 

He wore the goud at his left shoulder, 

But to the Holy Land he 's gane. 

2 He was na lang in the Holy Land, 

Amang the Prudents that was black, 
He was na-lang in the Holy Land, 

Till the Prudent did Lord Beichan tak. 

3 The gard him draw baith pleugh and harrow, 

And horse and oxen twa or three ; 
They cast him in a dark dungeon, 
Whare he coud neither hear nor see. 

4 The Prudent had a fair daughter, 

I wot they ca'd her Susy Pye, 
And all the keys in that city 
Hang at that lady by and bye. 

5 It once fell out upon a day 

That into the prison she did gae, 
And whan she cam to the prison door, 
She" kneeled low down on her knee. 

6 ' hae ye ony lands, Beichan, 

Or hae ye ony castles hie, 
Whar ye wad tak a young thing to, 
If out of prison I wad let thee ? ' 

7 ' Fair London 's mine, dear lady,' he said, 

' And other places twa or three, 

Whar I wad tak a young thing to, 

If out of prison ye wad let me.' 

8 she has opened the prison door, 

And other places twa or three, 

And gien him bread, and wine to drink, 
In her own chamber privately. 

9 then she built a bonny ship, 

And she has set it on the main, 
And she has built a bonny ship, 
It 's for to tak Lord Beichan hame. 

10 she 's gaen murning up and down, 

And she 's gaen murnin to the sea, 
Then to her father she has gane in, 
Wha spak to her right angrily. 

11 ' do ye mourn for the goud, daughter, 

Or do ye mourn for the whyte monie ? 
Or do ye mourn for the English squire ? 
I wat I will gar hang him hie.' 

12 * I neither mourn for the goud, father, 

Nor do I for the whyte monie, 
Nor do I for the English squire ; 
And I care na tho ye hang him hie. 

13 ' But I hae promised an errand to go, 

Seven lang miles ayont the sea, 
And blythe and merry I never will be 
Untill that errand you let me.' 

14 ' That errand, daughter, you may gang, 

Seven long miles beyond the sea, 
Since blythe and merry you '11 neer be 
Untill that errand I '11 let thee.' 

15 she has built a bonny ship, 

And she has set it in the sea, 
And she has built a bonny ship, 

It 's all for to tak her a long jburnie. 

16 And she 's sailed a' the summer day, 

I wat the wind blew wondrous fair ; 
In sight of fair London she has come, 
And till Lord Beichan's yett she walked. 



17 Whan she cam till Lord Beichan's yett, 

She rappit loudly at the pin : 
' Is Beichan lord of this bonny place ? 
I pray ye open and let me in. 

18 ' And O is this Lord Beichan's yett, 

And is the noble lord within ? ' 
' O yes, it is Lord Beichan's yett, 
He 's wi his bride and mony a ane.' 

19 ' If you '11 gang up to Lord Beichan, 

Tell him the words that I tell thee ; 
It will put him in mind of Susy Pye, 
And the Holy Land, whareer he be. 

20 ' Tell him to send one bite of bread, 

It 's and a glass of his gude red wine, 
Nor to forget the lady's love 

That loosed him out of prison strong.' 

21 * I hae been porter at your yett, 

I 'm sure this therty lang years and three, 
But the fairest lady stands thereat 
That evir my twa eyes did see. 

22 ' On ilka finger she has a ring, 

And on the foremost she has three ; 
As muckle goud is on her head 

As wad buy an earldom of land to thee. 

23 ' She bids you send a bite of bread, 

It 's and a glass of your gude red wine, 
Nor to forget the lady's love 

That let you out of prison strong.' 

24 It 's up and spak the bride's mother, 

A weight of goud hung at her chin : 

' There is no one so fair without 

But there are, I wat, as fair within.' 

25 It 's up and spak the bride hersel, 

As she sat by the gude lord's knee : 
' Awa, awa, ye proud porter, 

This day ye might hae excepted me.' 

26 ' Tak hence, tak hence your fair daughter, 

Tak hame your daughter fair frae me ; 
For saving one kiss of her bonny lips, 
I 'm sure of her body I am free. 

27 ' Awa, awa, ye proud mither, 

It 's tak your daughter fair frae me ; 
For I brought her home with chariots six, 
And I '11 send her back wi coaches three.' 

28 It 's he 's taen the table wi his fit, 

And syne he took it wi his knee ; 

He gard the glasses and wine so red, 

He gard them all in flinders' flee. 

29 he 's gane down the steps of stairs, 

And a' the stately steps of stane, 
Until he cam to Susy Pye ; 

I wat the tears blinded baith their eyne. 

30 He led her up the steps of stairs, 

And a' the stately steps of stane, 
And changed her name from Susy Pye, 
And ca'd her lusty Lady Jane. 

31 ' fye, gar cooks mak ready meat, 

fye, gar cooks the pots supply, 
That it may be talked of in fair London, 

1 've been twice, married in ae day.' 


Communicated by Mr Alexander Laing, of Newburg-on- 
Tay, as derived from the recitation of Miss Walker. 

2 ' They 're a' Lord Beekin's sheep, 
They 're a' Lord Beekin's kye ; 
They 're a' Lord Beekin's castles, 
That you sae often do pass bye.' 

' O WHA 's aught a' yon flock o sheep, 
An wha 's aught a' yon flock o kye ? 

An wha 's aught a' yon pretty castles, 
That you sae often do pass bye ? ' 

3 He 's tane [the] table wi his feet, 

Made cups an candlesticks to flee 
* I '11 lay my life 't is Susy Pie, 
Come owr the seas to marry me.' 




Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 260. 

1 YOUNG BEICHAN was in London born, 

He was a man of hie degree ; 
He past thro monie kingdoms great, 
Until he cam unto Grand Turkic. 

2 He viewd the fashions of that land, 

Their way of worship viewed he, 
But unto onie of their stocks 

He wadna sae much as bow a knee : 

3 Which made him to be taken straight, 

And brought afore their hie jurie ; 
The savage Moor did speak upricht, 
And made him meikle ill to dree. 

4 In ilka shoulder they 've bord a hole, 

And in ilka hole they Ve put a tree ; 
They 've made him to draw carts and wains, 
Till he was sick and like to dee. 

5 But Young Beichan was a Christian born. 

And still a Christian was he ; 
Which made them put him in prison strang, 

And cauld and hunger sair to dree, 
And fed on nocht but bread and water, 

Until the day that he mot dee. 

6 In this prison there grew a tree, 

And it was unco stout and strang, 
Where he was chained by the middle, 
Until his life was almaist gane. 

7 The savage Moor had but ae dochter, 

And her name it was Susie Pye, 
And ilka day as she took the air, 
The prison door she passed bye. 

8 But it fell ance upon a day, 

As she was walking, she heard him sing ; 
She listend to his tale of woe, 

A happy day for Young Beichan ! 

9 ' My hounds they all go masterless, 

My hawks they flee frae tree to tree, 
My youngest brother will heir my lands, 
My native land 1 11 never see.' 

10 ' were I but the prison-keeper, 
As I 'm a ladie o hie degree, 

I soon wad set this youth at large, 
And send him to his ain countrie.' 

11 She went away into her chamber, 

All nicht she never closd her ee ; 
And when the morning begoud to dawn, 
At the prison door alane was she. 

12 She gied the keeper a piece of gowd, 

And monie pieces o white monie, 
To tak her thro the bolts and bars, 

The lord frae Scotland she langd to see ; 
She saw young Beichan at the stake, 

Which made her weep maist bitterlie. 

13 ' O hae ye got onie lands/ she says, 

' Or castles in your ain countrie ? 
It 's what wad ye gie to the ladie fair 
Wha out o prison wad set you free ? ' 

14 ' It 's I hae houses, and I hae lands, 

Wi monie castles fair to see, 
And I wad gie a' to that ladie gay, 
Wha out o prison wad set me free.' 

15 The keeper syne brak aff his chains, 

And set Lord Beichan at libertie ; 
She filld his pockets baith wi gowd, 
To tak him till his ain countrie. 

16 She took him frae her father's prison, 

And gied to him the best o wine, 
And a brave health she drank to him : 
' I wish, Lord Beichan, ye were mine ! 

17 ' It 's seven lang years I '11 mak a vow, 

And seven lang years I '11 keep it true ; 
If ye '11 wed wi na ither woman, 
It 's I will wed na man but you.' 

18 She 's tane him to her father's port, 

And gien to him a ship o fame : 
' Farewell, farewell, my Scottish lord, 
I fear I '11 neer see you again.' 

19 Lord Beichan turnd him round about, 

And lowly, lowly loutit he : 
' Ere seven lang years come to an end, 
I '11 tak you to mine ain countrie,' 



20 Then whan he cam to Glasgow town, 

A happy, happy man was he ; 

The ladies a' around him thrangd, 

To see him come frae slaverie. 

21 His mother she had died o sorrow, 

And a' his hrothers were dead but he ; 
His lands they a' were lying waste, 
In ruins were his castles free. 

22 Na porter there stood at his yett, 

Na human creature he could see, 
Except the screeching owls and bats, 
Had he to bear him companie. 

23 But gowd will gar the castles grow, 

And he had gowd and jewels free, 
And soon the pages around him thrangd, 
To serve him on their bended knee. 

24 His hall was hung wi silk and satin, 

His table rung wi mirth and glee, 
He soon forgot the lady fair 
That lojysd him out o. slaverie. 

25 Lord Beichan courted a lady gay, 

To heir wi him his lands sae free, 
Neer thinking that a lady fair 

Was on her way frae Grand Turkie. 

26 For Susie Pye could get na rest, 

Nor day nor nicht could happy be, 
Still thinking on the Scottish lord, 
Till she was sick and like to dee. 

27 But she has builded a bonnie ship, 

Weel mannd wi seamen o hie degree, 
And secretly she stept on board, 
And bid adieu to her ain countrie. 

28 But whan she cam to the Scottish shore, 

The bells were ringing sae merrilie ; 
It was Lord Beichan's wedding day, 
Wi a lady fair o hie degree. 

29 But sic a vessel was never seen ; 

The very masts were tappd wi gold, 
Her sails were made o the satin fine, 
Maist beautiful for to behold. 

30 But whan the lady cam on shore, 

Attended wi her pages three, 

Her shoon were of the beaten gowd, 
And she a lady of great beautie. 

31 Then to the skipper she did say, 

' Can ye this answer gie to me ? 
Where are Lord Beichan's lands sae braid ? 
He surely lives in this countrie.' 

32 Then up bespak the skipper bold, 

For he could speak the Turkish tongue : 
' Lord Beichan lives not far away ; 
This is the day of his wedding.' 

33 ' If ye will guide me to Beichan's yette, 

I will ye well reward,' said she ; 
Then she and all her pages went, 
A very gallant companie. 

34 When she cam to Lord Beichan's yetts, 

She tirld gently at the pin ; 
Sae ready was the proud porter 
To let the wedding guests come in. 

35 ' Is this Lord Beichan's house,' she says, 

' Or is that noble lord within ? ' 
' Yes, he is gane into the hall, 

With his brave bride and monie ane.' 

36 ' Ye '11 bid him send me a piece of bread, 

Bot and a cup of his best wine ; 
And bid him mind the lady's love 
That ance did lowse him out o pyne.' 

37 Then in and cam the porter bold, 

I wat he gae three shouts and three : 
' The fairest lady stands at your yetts 
That ever my twa een did see.' 

38 Then up bespak the bride's mither, 

I wat an angry woman was she : 
' You micht hae excepted our bonnie bride, 
Tho she 'd been three times as fair as she.' 

39 ' My dame, your daughter 's fair enough, 

And aye the fairer mot she be ! 

But the fairest time that eer she was, 

She '11 na compare wi this ladie. 

40 ' She has a gowd ring on ilka finger, 

And on her mid-finger she has three ; 
She has as meikle gowd upon her head 
As wad buy an earldom o land to thee. 



41 ' My lord, she begs some o your bread, 

Bot and a cup o your best wine, 
And bids you mind the lady's love 
That ance did lowse ye out o pyne.' 

42 Then up and started Lord Beichan, 

I wat he made the table flee : 
' I wad gie a' my yearlie rent 

'T were Susie Pye come owre the sea.' 

43 Syne up bespak the bride's mother, 

She was never heard to speak sae free : 
' Ye '11 no forsake my ae dochter, 
Tho Susie Pye has crossd the sea ? ' 

44 ' Tak hame, tak hame, your dochter, madam, 

For she is neer the waur o me ; 

She cam to me on horseback riding, 

And she sail gang hame in chariot free.' 

45 He 's tane Susie Pye by the milk-white hand, 

And led her thro his halls sae hie : 

' Ye 're now Lord Beichan's lawful wife, 

And thrice ye 're welcome unto me.' 

46 Lord Beichan prepard for another wedding, 

Wi baith their hearts sae fu o glee ; 
Says, ' I '11 range na mair in foreign lands, 
Sin Susie Pye has crossd the sea. 

47 ' Fy ! gar a' our cooks mak ready, 

And fy ! gar a' our pipers play, 
And fy ! gar trumpets gae thro the toun, 
That Lord Beichan 's wedded twice in a 

Communicated by Mr David Louden, as recited by Mrs 
Dodds, Morham, Haddington, the reciter being above sev 
enty in 1873. 

1 IN London was Young Bechin born, 

Foreign nations he longed to see ; 
He passed through many kingdoms great, 
At length he came unto Turkic. 

2 He viewed the fashions of that land, 

The ways of worship viewed he, 
But unto any of their gods 

He would not so much as bow the knee. 

3 On every shoulder they made a bore, 

In every bore they put a tree, 
Then they made him the winepress tread, 
And all in spite of his fair bodie. 

4 They put him into a deep dungeon, 

Where he could neither hear nor see, 
And for seven years they kept him there, 
Till for hunger he was like to die. 

5 Stephen, their king, had a daughter fair, 

Yet never a man to her came nigh ; 
And every day she took the air, 
Near to his prison she passed by. 

6 One day she heard Young Bechin sing 

A song that pleased her so well, 

No rest she got till she came to him, 
All in his lonely prison cell. 

7 ' I have a hall in London town, 

With other buildings two or three, 
And I '11 give them all to the ladye fair 
That from this dungeon shall set me free.' 

8 She stole the keys from her dad's head, 

And if she oped one door ay she opened 


Till she Young Bechin could find out, 
He was locked up so curiouslie. 

9 ' I 've been a porter at your gate 

This thirty years now, ay and three ; 
There stands a ladye at your gate, 
The like of her I neer did see. 

10 ' On every finger she has a ring, 

On the mid-finger she has three ; 
She 's as much gold about her brow 
As would an earldom buy to me.' 

11 He 's taen her by the milk-white hand, 

He gently led her through the green ; 
He changed her name from Susie Pie, 
An he 's called her lovely Ladye Jean. 



Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, " Adversaria," p. 85. 
From tradition. 

1 SHE 's taen the keys frae her fadder's coffer, 

Tho he keeps them most sacredlie, 

And she has opend the prison strong, 

And set Young Beichan at libertie. 

2 . 

Gae up the countrie, my chile,' she says, 
4 Till your fadder's wrath be turned from 

3 She 's put her han intill her purse, 

And gave the porter guineas three ; 
Says, ' Tak ye that, ye proud porter, 
And tell your master to speak wi me. 

4 ' Ye '11 hid him bring a shower o his best love, 

But and a bottle o his wine, 
And do to me as I did to him in time past, 
And brought him out o muckle pine.' 

5 He 's taen the table wi his foot, 

And he has keppit it wi his knee : 
' I '11 wager my life and a' my Ian, 
It 's Susan Pie come ower the sea. 

6 'Rise up, rise up, my bonnie bride, 

Ye 're neither better nor waur for me ; 
Ye cam to me on a horse and saddle, 

But ye may gang back in a coach and three.' 

Communicated by Mr David Louden, as obtained from 
Mrs Dickson, Rentonhall. 

1 ' There is a marriage in yonder hall, 
Has lasted thirty days and three ; 
The bridegroom winna bed the bride, 
For the sake of one that 's owre the sea.' 

2 ' What news, what news, my brave young por 
ter ? 

What news, what news have ye for me ? ' 
' As beautiful a ladye stands at your gate 
As eer my two eyes yet did see.' 

3 * A slice of bread to her get ready, 

And a bottle of the best of wine ; 
Not to forget that fair young ladye 

Who did release thee out of close confine.' 

4 Lord Bechin in a passion flew, 

And rent himself like a sword in three, 
Saying, ' I would give all my father's riches 
If my Sophia was 'cross the sea.' 

5 Up spoke the young bride's mother, 

Who never was heard to speak so free, 
Saying, ' I hope you '11 not forget my only 

Though your Sophia be 'cross the sea.' 

6 ' I own a bride I 'ye wed your daughter, 

She 's nothing else the worse of me ; 
She came to me on a horse and saddle, 
She may go back in a coach and three.' 

The Loving Ballad of Lord Bateman. Illustrated by 
George Cruikahaiik. 1839. 

1 LORD BATEMAN was a noble lord, 

A noble lord of high degree ; 
He shipped himself all aboard of a ship, 
Some foreign country for to see. 

2 He sailed east, he sailed west, 

Until he came to famed Turkey, 
Where he was taken and put to prison, 
Until his life was quite weary. 

3 All in this prison there grew a tree, 

O there it grew so stout and strong ! 
Where he was chained all by the middle, 
Until his life was almost gone. 



4 This Turk he had one only daughter, 

The fairest my two eyes eer see ; 
She steel the keys of her father's prison, 

And swore Lord Bateman she would let go 

5 she took him to her father's cellar, 

And gave to him the best of wine ; 
And every health she drank unto him 

Was, ' I wish, Lord Bateman, as you was 

6 ' have you got houses, have you got land, 

And does Northumberland belong to thee ? 
And what woxild you give to the fair young 

As out of prison would let you go free ? ' 

7 ' I Ve got houses and I 've got land, 

And half Northumberland belongs to me ; 
And I will give it all to the fair young lady 
As out of prison would let me go free.' 

8 ' in seven long years, I '11 make a vow 

For seven long years, arid keep it strong, 
That if you '11 wed no other woman, 

I will wed no other man.' 

9 she topk him to her father's harbor, 

And gave to him a ship of fame, 
Saying, Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bate 

1 fear I never shall see you again. 

10 Now seven long years is gone and past, 

And fourteen days, well known to me ; 
She packed up all her gay clothing, 

And swore Lord Bateman she would go see. 

11 O when she arrived at Lord Bateman's castle, 

How boldly then she rang the bell ! 
' Who 's there ? who 's there ? ' cries the proud 

young porter, 
' come unto me pray quickly tell.' 

12 ' is this here Lord Bateman's castle, 

And is his lordship here within ? ' 
' O yes, O yes,' cries the proud young porter, 
' He 's just now taking his young bride in.' 

13 ' O bid him to send me a slice of bread, 

And a bottle of the very best wine, 
And not forgetting the fair young lady 
As did release him when close confine.' 

14 O away and away went this proud young por 


O away and away and away went he, 
Until he come to Lord Bateman's chamber, 
When he went down on his bended knee. 

15 ' What news, what news, my proud young por 


What news, what news ? Come tell to me : ' 
' there is the fairest young lady 
As ever my two eyes did see. 

16 ' She has got rings on every finger, 

And on one finger she has got three ; 
With as much gay gold about her middle 
As would buy half Northumberlee. 

17 ' she bids you to send her a slice of bread, 

And a bottle of the very best wine, 
And not forgetting the fair young lady 
As did release you when close confine.' 

18 Lord Bateman then in passion flew, 

And broke his sword in splinters three, 

Saying, I will give half of my father's land, 

If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea. 

19 Then up and spoke this young bride's mother, 

Who never was heard to speak so free ; 

Saying, You '11 not forget my only daughter, 

If so be as Sophia has crossed the sea. 

20 ' it 's true I made a bride of your daughter, 

But she 's neither the better nor the worse 

for me ; 

She came to me with a horse and saddle, 
But she may go home in a coach and three.' 

21 Lord Bateman then prepared another mar 


With both their hearts so full of glee, 
Saying, I will roam no more to foreign coun 
Now that Sophia has crossed the sea. 




Buchan's MSS, I, 18. J. H. Dixon, Scottish Traditional 
Version* of Ancient Ballads, p. 1. 

1 YOCNG BON WE 1. 1. was a squire's ae son, 

And a squire's ae son was he; 
He went abroad to a foreign land, 
To serve for meat and fee. 

2 He hadna been in that country 

A twalmonth and a day, 
Till he was cast in prison strong, 
For the sake of a lovely may. 

3 ' O if my father get word of this, 

At hame in his ain country, 
He '11 send red go\vd for my relief, 
And a bag o white money. 

4 ' gin an earl woud borrow me, 

At his bridle I woud rin ; 
Or gin a widow woud borrow me, 
I 'd swear to be her son. 

5 ' Or gin a may woud borrow me, 

I 'd wed her wi a ring, 
Infef t her wi the ha's and bowers 

the bonny towers o Linne.' 

6 But it fell ance upon a day 

Dame Essels she thought lang, 
And she is to the jail-house door, 
To hear Young Bond well's sang. 

7 ' Sing on, sing on, my bonny Bondwcll, 

The sang ye sang just now : ' 
' I never sang the sang, lady, 
But I woud war 't on you. 

8 ' O gin my father get word o this, 

At hame in his ain country, 
He '11 send red gowd for my relief, 
And a bag o white money. 

9 ' gin an earl woud borrow me, 

At his bridle I woud rin ; 
Or gin a widow would borrow me, 

1 'd swear to be her son. 

10 ' Or gin a may woud borrow me, 

I woud wed her wi a ring, 
Infef t her wi the ha's and bowers 
O the bonny towers o Linne.' 

11 She 's stole the keys o the jail-house door, 

Where under the bed they lay ; 
She's opend to him the jail-house door, 
And set Young Bondwell free. 

12 She gae 'in a steed was swift in need, 

A saddle o royal ben, 
A bunder pund o pennies round, 
Bade him gae roav an spend. 

13 A couple o hounds o ae litter, 

And Cain they ca'd the one ; 
Twa gay gos-hawks she gae likeways, 
To keep him on thought lang. 

14 When mony days were past and gane, 

Dame Essels thought fell lang, 
And she is to her lonely bower, 
To shorten her wi a sang. 

1 5 The sang had such a melody, 

It lulld her fast asleep; 
Up starts a woman, clad in green, 
And stood at her bed-feet. 

16 ' Win up, win up, Dame Essels,' she says, 

' This day ye sleep ower lang ; 
The morn is the squire's wedding day, 
In the bonny towers o Linne. 

17 ' Ye '11 dress yoursell in the robes o green, 

Your maids in robes sae fair, 
And ye '11 put girdles about their middles, 
Sae costly, rich and rare. 

18 ' Ye '11 take your maries alang wi you, 

Till ye come to yon strand ; 
There ye '11 see a ship, wi sails all up, 
Come sailing to dry land. 

19 ' Ye '11 take a wand into your hand, 

Ye '11 stroke her round about, 
And ye '11 take God your pilot to be, 
To drown ye '11 take nae doubt.' 

20 Then np it raise her Dame Essels, 

Sought water to wash her hands, 
But aye the faster that she washd, 
The tears they trickling ran. 

21 Then in it came her father dear, 

And in the floor steps he : 
' What ails Dame Essels, my daughter dear, 
Ye weep sae bitterlie ? 

'22 ' Want ye a small fish frae the flood, 

Or turtle frae the sea? 
Or is there man in a' my realm 
This day has offended thee ? ' 

23 ' I want nae small fish frae the flood, 

Nor turtle frae the sea; 
But Young Bondwell, your ain prisoner, 
This day has offended me.' 

24 Her father timid him round about, 

A solemn oath sware he : 

' If this be true ye tell me now 

High hanged he shall be. 

25 ' To-morrow morning he shall be 

Hung high upon a tree : ' 
Dame Essels wliisprnl to hersel, 
' Father, ye 've made a lie.' 



26 She drcssd hersel in robes o green, 

Her maids in robes sae fair, 
Wi gowden girdles round their middles, 
Sae costly, rich and rare. 

27 She 's taen her mantle her about, 

A maiden in every hand ; 

They saw a ship, wi sails a' up, 

Come sailing to dry land. 

28 She 's taen a wand in till her hand, 

And stroked her round about, 

And she 's taen God her pilot to be, 

To drown she took nae doubt. 

29 So they saild on, and further on, 

Till to the water o Tay ; 
There they spied a bonny little boy, 
Was watering his steeds sae gay. 

30 ' What news, what news, my little boy, 

What news hae ye to me ? 
Are there any weddings in this place, 
Or any gaun to be ? ' 

31 ' There is a wedding in this place, 

A wedding very soon ; 

The morn 's the young squire's wedding day, 
In the bonny towers of Linne.' 

32 O then she walked alang the way 

To see what coud be seen, 
And there she saw the proud porter, 
Drest in a mantle green. 

33 ' What news, what news, porter ? ' she said , 

' What news hae ye to me ? 
Are there any weddings in this place, 
Or any gaun to be ? ' 

34 ' There is a wedding in this place, 

A wedding very soon ; 

The morn is Young Bondwell's wedding day, 
The bonny squire o Linne.' 

35 ' Gae to your master, porter,' she said, 

' Gae ye right speedilie ; 
Bid him come and speak wi a maid 
That wishes his face to see.' 

36 The porter 's up to his master gane, 

Fell low down on his knee ; 
' Win up, win up, my porter,' he said, 
' Why bow ye low to me ? ' 

37 ' I hae been porter at your yetts 

These thirty years and three, 
But fairer maids than 's at them now 
My eyes did never see. 

38 ' The foremost she is drest in green, 

The rest in fine attire, 
Wi gowden girdles round their middles, 
Well worth a sheriff's hire.' 

39 Then out it speaks Bondwell's own bride, 

Was a' gowd to the chin ; 
' They canno be fairer thereout,' she says, 
' Than we that are therein.' 

40 ' There is a difference, my dame,' he said, 

' 'Tween that ladye's colour and yours ; 
As much difference as you were a stock, 
She o the lily flowers.' 

41 Then out it speaks him Young Bondwell, 

An angry man was he : 
' Cast up the yetts baith wide an braid, 
These ladies I may see.' 

42 Quickly up stairs Dame Essel 's gane, 

Her maidens next her wi ; 
Then said the bride, This lady's face 
Shows the porter 's tauld nae lie. 

43 The lady unto Bondwell spake, 

These words pronounced she : 
O hearken, hearken, fause Bondwell, 
These words that I tell thee. 

44 Is this the way ye keep your vows 

That ye did make to me, 
When your feet were in iron fetters, 
Ae foot ye coudna flee ? 

45 I stole the keys o the jail-house door 

Frae under the bed they lay, 
And opend up the jail-house door, 
Set you at liberty. 

46 Gae you a steed was swift in need, 

A saddle o royal ben, 
A hunder pund o pennies round, 
Bade you gae rove an spend. 

47 A couple o hounds o ae litter, 

Cain they ca'ed the ane, 
Twa gay gos-hawks as swift 's eer flew, 
To keep you onthought lang. 

48 But since this day ye 've broke your vow, 

For which ye 're sair to blame, 
And since nae mair I '11 get o you, 
O Cain, will ye gae hame ? 

49 ' O Cain ! O Cain ! ' the lady cried, 

And Cain did her ken ; 
They baith flappd round the lady's knee, 
Like a couple o armed men. 

50 He 's to his bride wi hat in hand, 

And haild her courteouslie : 
' Sit down by me, my bonny Bondwell, 
What makes this courtesie ? ' 

51 ' An asking, asking, fair lady, 

An asking ye '11 grant me ; ' 
'Ask on, ask on, my bonny Bondwell, 
What may your askings be ? ' 



52 ' Five hundred pounds to you I '11 gie, 

Of gowd an white raonie, 
If ve '11 wed John, my ain cousin ; 
lie looks as fair as me.' 


1 Keep well your monie, Boudwell,' she said, 
' Nae monie I ask o thee ; 

Your cousin John was my first love, 
My husband now he 'a be.' 

54 Bondwell was married at morning ear, 

John in the afternoon ; 
Dame Essels is lady ower a' the bowers 
And the high towers o Linne. 


a. Falkirk, printed by T. Johnston, 1815. b. Stirling, 
M. Randall. 

1 In London was Young Bichen born, 

He longd strange lands to see ; 
He set his foot on good ship-board, 
And he sailed over the sea. 

2 He had not been in a foreign land 

A day but only three, 
Till lie was taken by a savage Moor, 
And they used him most cruelly. 

3 In every shoulder they put a pin, 

To every pin they put a tree ; 
They made him draw the plow and cart, 
Like hors#and oxen in his country. 

4 He had not servd the savage Moor 

A week, nay scarcely but only three, 

Till he has casten him in prison strong, 

Till he with hunger was like to die. 

5 It fell out once upon a day 

That Young Bichen he made his moan, 
As he lay bound in irons strong, 
In a dark and deep dungeon. 

6 ' An I were again in fair England, 

As many merry day I have been, 
Then I would curb my roving youth 
No more to see a strange land. 

7 ' an I were free again now, 

And my feet well set on the sea, 
I would live in peace in my own country, 
And a foreign land I no more would see.' 

8 The savage Moor had but one daughter, 

I wot her name was Susan Py ; 
She heard Young Bichen make his moan, 
At the prison-door as she past by. 

9 ' O have ye any lands,' she said, 

' Or have you any money free, 
Or have you any revenues, 
To maintain a lady like me ? ' 

10 ' O I have land in fair England, 

And I have estates two or three, 
And likewise I have revenues, 
To maintain a lady like thee.' 

11 '0 will you promise, Young Bichen,' she says, 

' And keep your vow faithful to me, 
Thut at the end of seven years 
In fair England you '11 marry me t 

12 ' I 'II steal the keys from my father dear, 

Tho he keens them most secretly ; 
I '11 risk my life for to save thine, 
And set thee safe upon the sea.' 

13 She 's stolen the keys from her father, 

From under the bed where they lay ; 
She opened the prison strong 
And set Young Bichen at liberty. 

14 She 's gone to her father's coffer, 

Where the gold was red and fair to see ; 
She filled his pockets with good red gold, 
And she set him far upon the sea. 

15 ' O mind you well, Young Bichen,' she says, 

' The vows and oaths you made to me ; 
When you are come to jour native land, 
O then remember Susan Py ! ' 

16 But when her father he came home 

He missd the keys there where they lay ; 
He went into the prison strong, 

But he saw Young Bichen was away. 

17 ' Go bring your daughter, madam,' he says, 

' And bring her here unto me ; 
Altho I have no more but her, 
Tomorrow I '11 gar hang her high.' 

18 The lady calld on the maiden fair 

To come to her most speedily ; 
' Go up the country, my child,' she says, 
' Stay with my brother two years or three. 

19 ' I have a brother, he lives in the isles, 

He will keep thee most courteously 
And stay with him, my child, 1 she says, 

' Till thy father's wrath be turnd from thee.' 

20 Now will we leave young Susan Py 

A while in her own country, 
And will return to Young Bichen, 
Who is safe arrived in fair England. 

21 He had not been in fair England 

Above years scarcely three, 
Till he has courted another maid, 
And BO forgot his Susau Py. 



22 The youth being young and in his prime, 

Of Susan Py thought not upon, 
But his love was laid on another maid, 
And the marriage-day it did draw on. 

23 But eer the seven years were run, 

Susan Py she thought full long ; 
She set her foot on good ship-board, 
And she has saild for fair England. 

24 On every finger she put a ring, 

On her mid-finger she put three ; 
She filld her pockets with good red gold, 
And she has sailed oer the sea. 

25 She had not been in fair England 

A day, a day, but only three, 
Till she heard Young Bichen was a bridegroom, 
And the morrow to be the wedding-day. 

26 ' Since it is so,' said young Susan, 

' That he has provd so false to me, 
I '11 hie me to Young Bichen's gates, 
And see if he minds Susan Py.' 

27 She has gone up thro London town, 

Where many a lady she there did spy ; 
There was not a lady in all London 
Young Susan that could outvie. 

28 She has calld upon a waiting-man, 

A waiting-man who stood near by : 
' Convey me to Young Bichen's gates, 
And well rewarded shals thou be.' 

29 When she came to Young Bicheu's gate 

She chapped loudly at the pin, 
Till down there came the proud porter ; 

' Who 's there,' he says, ' that would be in '* ' 

30 ' Open the gates, porter,' she says, 

' Open them to a lady gay, 
And tell your master, porter,' she says, 
' To speak a word or two with me.' 

31 The porter he has opend the gates ; 

His eyes were dazzled to see 
A lady dressd in gold and jewels ; 
No page nor waiting-man had she. 

32 ' O pardon me, madam,' he cried, 

' This day it is his wedding-day ; 
He 's up the stairs with his lovely bride, 
And a sight of him you cannot see.' 

33 She put her hand in her pocket, 

And therefrom took out guineas three. 
And gave to him, saying, Please, kind sir, 
Bring down your master straight to me. 

34 The porter up again has gone, 

And he fell low down on his knee, 
Saying, Master, you will please come down 
To a lady who wants you to see. 

35 A lady gay stands at your gates, 

The like of her I neer did see ; 
She has more gold above her eye 
Nor would buy a baron's land to me. 

36 Out then spake the bride's mother, 

I 'm sure an angry woman was she : 
' You 're impudent and insolent, 
For ye might excepted the bride and me.' 

37 ' Ye lie, ye lie, ye proud woman, 

I 'm sure sae loud as I hear you lie ; 
She has more gold on her body 
Than would buy the lands, the bride, and thee ! 

38 ' Go down, go down, porter,' he says, 

' And tell the lady gay from me 
That I 'm up-stairs wi my lovely bride, 
And a sight of her I cannot see.' 

39 The porter he goes down again, 

The lady waited patiently : 
' My master 's with his lovely bride, 
And he '11 not win down my dame to see.' 

40 From off her finger she 's taen a ring ; 

' Give that your master,' she says, ' from me, 
And tell him now, young man,' she says, 
' To send down a cup of wine to me.' 

41 ' Here 's a ring for you, master,' he says, 

' On her mid-finger she has three, 
And you are desird, my lord,' he says, 
' To send down a cup of wine with me.' 

42 He hit the table with his foot, 

He kepd it with his right knee : 
' I '11 wed my life and all my land 
That is Susan Py, come o'er the sea ! ' 

43 He has gone unto the stair-head, 

A step he took but barely three ; 
He opend the gates most speedily, 
And Susan Py he there could see. 

44 ' Is this the way, Young Bichen,' she says, 

1 Is this the way you Ve guided me ? 
I relieved you from prison strong, 
And ill have you rewarded me. 

45 ' mind ye, Young Bichen,' she says, 

' The vows and oaths that ye made to me, 
When ye lay bound in prison strong, 
In a deep dungeon of misery ? ' 

46 He took her by the milk-white hand, 

And led her into the palace fine ; 
There was not a lady in all the palace 
But Susan Py did all outshine. 

47 The day concluded with joy and mirth, 

On every side there might you see ; 
There was great joy in all England 
For the wedding-day of Susan Py. 



B. 17 1 . bids me. 22 6 - 8 . Connected with 23 in 

MS. 22 6 . send he. 

C. a. 15 2 . How y you. 

b. 3*. omits house. 4 2 . omits foot. 

7 1 . omits dear. 

7'. For she 's ... of the prison. 

7 4 . And gane the dungeon within. 

8 1 . And when. 

8 s . Wow but her heart was sair. 

9 1 . She 's gotten. II 1 . thir twa. 
13 2 . I kenna. 13*. kensnae. 
14 1 . fell out. 15 2 . How y you. 
16 1 . till. 16 2 . As fast as ye can gang. 
16 8 . tak three. 

16*. To hand ye unthocht lang. 
18 1 . Syne ye. 18 8 . And bonny. 
19 8 . And I will. 
20 2 . As fast as she could gang. 
20 8 . she'staen. 

20*. To haud her unthocht lang. 
22 8 . And sae bonny did. 
22*. till. 24 8 . And her mind misgae by. 
24 4 . That 'twas. 25 2 . markis three. 
25*. Bid your master. 27 4 . did never. 
29 1 . ariH spak. 29 8 . be fine. 
29*. as fine. 32 8 . out of . 
34 8 . at the first. 35 2 . gang. 
36 4 . Send her back a maid. 

D. Written throughout without division into 


7. A like repetition occurs again in the Skene 
MSS: see No 36, p. 316. 

lO 1 - 2 . One line in tJie MS. The metre, in 
several places where it is incomplete, was 
doubtless made full by repetition: see 
19 1 - 8 . 

14 1 . This line thus : (an a Leash of guid gray 
hounds) . The reciter evidently could re 
member only this point in the stanza. 

16, 17. Whan she cam to Young Beachens 


Is Young Beachen at hame 
Or is he in this countrie 
He is at hame is hearly (?) said 
Him an sigh an says her Susie Pay 
Has he quite forgotten me 

19 1 ' 8 . Probably sitng, the stair, the stair ; win 
up, win up. 

22 s - 4 . The latter half of the stanza must be 
supposed to be addressed to Young Bea 

26 1 - a . He took her down to yon gouden green. 
27 4 . Sh 's. 29 2 . my name. 
After 29 a stanza belonging apparently to 
some other ballad : 

Courtess kind, an generous mind, 

An winna ye answer me ? 
An whan the hard their lady's word, 

Well answered was she. 

E. G 4 " 6 was introduced, with other metrical pas 
sages, into a long tale of ' Young Beichan 
and Susy Pye,' which Motherwell had 
heard related, and of which he gives a 
specimen at p. xv. of his Introduction : 
" Well, ye must know that in the Moor's 
castle there was a massymore, which is a 
dark dungeon for keeping prisoners. It 
was twenty feet below the ground, and 
into this hole they closed poor Beichan. 
There he stood, night and day, up to his 
waist in puddle water ; but night or day it 
was all one to him, for no ae styme of 
light ever got in. So he lay there a lang 
and weary while, and thinking on his 
heavy weird, he made a murnfu sang to 
pass the time, and this was the sang that 
he made, and grat when he sang it, for he 
never thought of ever escaping from the 
massymore, or of seeing his ain country 
again : 

' My hounds they all run masterless, 
My hawks they flee from tree to tree ; 

My youngest brother will heir my lands, 
And fair England again I '11 never see. 

' Oh were I free as I hae been, 

And my ship swimming once more on 

I 'd turn my face to fair England, 

And sail no more to a strange coun 

" Now the cruel Moor had a beautiful 
daughter, called Susy Pye, who was ac 
customed to take a walk every morning in 
her garden, and as she was walking ae 
day she heard the sough o Beichan's sang, 
coming as it were from below the ground," 
etc., etc. 

P. 3 8 . dungeon (donjon). 6 1 . only lands. 
6 2 . only castles. 8 1 . Oh. 



10 8 . ha she has gane in : originally has she 

gane in. 
13 2 . Many, with Seven written over : Seven in 

14 2 . 
20. After this stanza : Then the porter gaed 

up the stair and said. 

25. After this stanza : Then Lord Beichan 
gat up, and was in a great wrath, and 
31. ae : indistinct, but seems to have been one 

changed to ae or a. 

H. 4 8 . carts and wains for carts o wine of A. 2 8 , 
B 2 3 . We have wine in H 4 s , 1 3 3 , and wine 
is in all likelihood original. 
Christie, I, 31, abridges this version, making 
" a few slight alterations from the way he 
had heard it sung : " these, a,nd one or two 

2 4 . wadna bend nor how. 
7 1 . The Moor he had. 
25 1 . But Beichan courted. 
I. I 1 . Bechin was pronounced Beekin. 
K. 1. Before this, as gloss, or remnant of a pre 
ceding stanza : She came to a shepherd, 
and he replied. 

2. After this, in explanation : She gave Lord 
Bechin a slice of bread and a bottle of 
wine when she released him from prison, 
hence the following. 
3 1 . to him. 

4. After this : He had married another lady, 
not having heard from his Sophia for seven 
long years. 

L. " This affecting legend is given . . . precisely 
as I have frequently heard it sung on Satur 
day nights, outside a house of general re 
freshment (familiarly termed a wine-vaults) 
at Battle-bridge. The singer is a young 
gentleman who can scarcely have numbered 
nineteen summers. ... I have taken down 
the words from his own mouth at different 

periods, and have been careful to preserve 
his pronunciation." \_Attributed to Charles 
Dickens.'] As there is no reason for indi 
cating pronunciation here, in this more than 
in other cases, the phonetic spelling is re 
placed by common orthography. Forms of 
speech have, however, been preserved, ex 
cepting two, with regard to which I may 
have been too nice. 
I 8 , his-self. 5 2 , 9 2 . guv. 
M. 10 8 . in for wi (?) : wi in 5 8 . 

12 2 , 46 2 . bend. Possibly, however, understood 
to be bend = leather, instead of ben = bane, 

13 4 , 47 4 . on thought. 

N. a. Susan Py, or Young Bichens Garland. 
Shewing how he went to a far country, 
and was taken by a savage Moor and cast 
into prison, and delivered by the Moor's 
daughter, on promise of marriage ; and 
how he came to England, and was going 
to be wedded to another bride ; with the 
happy arrival of Susan Py on the wedding 
day. Falkirk, Printed by T. Johnston, 
b. 3 4 . his own. 

4 2 . A week, a week, but only. 
1 s . own land. 

7*. And foreign lands no more. 
II 1 . young man. 13 2 . he lay. 
24*. her trunks. 25 4 . was the. 
28 2 . that stood hard by. 28*. thou shalt. 
29 2 . She knocked. 31 4 . waiting-maid. 
32 2 . For this is his. 
34 1 . up the stairs. 34 8 . will you. 
36 4 . Ye might. 

37 2 . Sae loud as I hear ye lie. 
39 4 . And a sight of him you cannot see. 
40 4 . To bring. 42 8 . I '11 lay. 
44 2 . way that you 've used me. 
47 4 . wedding of. 




1. Biddies Wisely Expounded. 

P. 1 b. A. Add : Mtindel, Elsiissische Volkslieder, 
p. 27, No 24. Second line from the bottom, for seven 
read ten. 

2 a. Add: H. J. H. Schmitz, Sitten u. s. w. des 
Eifler Volkes, I, 159; five pairs of riddles and no con 
clusion. (Kohler.) I. Alfred Miiller, Volkslieder aus 
dera Erzgebirge, p. 69 ; four pairs of riddles, and no 
conclusion. J. Lemke, Volksthiimliches in Ostpreussen, 
p. 152 ; seven riddles guessed, " nun bin ich Deine 

2 b. (The Russian riddle-ballad.) So a Kosak: " I 
give thee this riddle : if thou guess it, thou shall be 
mine ; if thou guess it not, ill shall it go with thee." 
The riddle, seven-fold, is guessed. Metlinskiy, Narod- 
nyya yuzhnorusskiya Pyesni, pp 363 f. Of. Snegiref, 
Russkie prostonarodnye Prazdniki, II, 101 f. 

2 b, note. For Kaden substitute Casetti e Imbriani, 
C. p. delle Provincie meridional!, I, 197 f. (Kohler.) 

2. The Elfin Knight. 

P. 6 b. J. Read : Central New York ; and again in 
J, p. 19 a. Add : M. Notes and Queries, 4th Series, 
III, 605. 

7 a, note. Another ballad with a burden-stem is a 
version of ' Klosterrovet,' C, MSS of 1610, and later, 
communicated to me by Svend Grundtvig. 

7 b. Add : O. ' Ehestandsaussichten ' [Norren- 
berg], Des Diilkener Fiedlers Liederbuch, 1875, p. 88, 
No 99. (Kohler.) 

8-12. Jagic, in Archiv filr slavische Philologie, 
4 Aus dem siidslavischen Marchenschatz,' V, 47-50, 
adds five Slavic stories of the wench whose ready wit 
helps her to a good marriage, and Kohler, in notes to 
Jagic, pp 50 ff, cites, in addition to nearly all those 
which I have mentioned, one Slavic, one German, five 
Italian, one French, one Irish, one Norwegian, besides 
very numerous tales in which there is a partial agree 
ment. Wollner, in Leskien and Brugman's Litauische 
Volkslieder und Miirchen, p. 573, cites Slavic parallels 
to No 34, of which the following, not previously noted, 
and no doubt others, are apposite to this ballad: Afa- 
nasief, VI, 177, No 42, a, b ; Trudy, II, 611-614, No 84, 
614-616, No 85; Dragomanof, p. 347, No 29; Sadok 
Baracz, p. 83 ; Kolberg, Lud, VIII, 206 ; Kulda, II, 68. 

14 a, line 4. The Baba-Yaga, a malignant female 
spirit, has the ways of the Rusalka and the Vila, and so 
the Wendish Psezpolnica, the ' Mittagsfrau,' and the 

Serpolnica : Afanasief, II, 883 ; Veckenstedt, Wen- 
dische Sagen, p. 107, No 14, p. 108 f, No 19, p. 109 f, 
No 4. The Red Etin puts questions, too, in the Scot 
tish tale, Chambers, Popular Rhymes, 1870, p. 92. 
There is certainly no occasion to scruple about elf or 
elf-knight. Line 16f. The same in Snegiref, IV. 8. 

14 b. For the legend of St Andrew, etc., see, fur 
ther, Gering, f slendzk ^ventyri, I, 95, No 24, ' Af 
biskupi ok puka,' and Kbhler's references, II, 80 f. 

15 a. A, B. Dr Davidson informs me that the intro 
ductory stanza, or burden-stem, exists in the form : 

Her plaidie awa, her plaidie awa, 

The win blew the bonnie lassie's plaidie awa. 

16 a. C. This version is in Kinloch MSS, VK, 163. 
3 is wanting. 

6. Married ye sail never get nane 
Till ye mak a shirt without a seam. 

7. And ye maun sew it seamless, 

And ye maun do it wi needle, threedless. 

10. wanting. 12 1 . I hae a bit o land to be corn. 
14 is wanting. 16. loof glove. 

17 is wanting. 

3, 10, 14, 17, are evidently supplied from some 
form of B. 



Similar to F-H : Notes and Queries, 4th Series, III, 605, 
communicated by W. F., Glasgow, from a manuscript collec 

1 As I went up to the top o yon hill, 

Every rose springs merry in' t' time 
I met a fair maid, an her name it was Nell. 
An she langed to be a true lover o mine 

2 ' Ye '11 get to me a cambric sark, 

An sew it all over without thread or needle. 
Before that ye be, etc. 

3 ' Ye '11 wash it doun in yonder well, 
Where water neer ran an dew never fell. 



4 ' Ye '11 bleach it doun by yonder green, 
Where grass never grew an wind never blew. 

5 ' Ye '11 dry it doun on yonder thorn, 

That never bore blossom sin Adam was born.' 

6 ' Four questions ye have asked at me, 
An as mony mair ye '11 answer me. 

7 ' Ye '11 get to me an acre o land 
Atween the saut water an the sea sand. 

8 ' Ye '11 plow it wi a ram's horn, 

An sow it all over wi one peppercorn. 

9 ' Ye '11 shear it wi a peacock's feather, 
An bind it all up wi the sting o an adder. 

10 ' Ye '11 stook it in yonder saut sea, 

An bring the dry sheaves a' back to me. 

11 ' An when ye 've done and finished your wark, 
Ye '11 come to me, an ye 'se get your sark.' 

An then shall ye be true lover o mine 

Curialium, ed. Wright, p. 81, Alpenburg, Deutsche 
Alpensagen, p. 312, No 330. So Thetis, according to 
Sophocles, left Peleus when he reviled her : Scholia in 
Apollonii Argonautica, iv, 816. (Mannhardt, Wald- 
und Feldkulte, II, 60, 68.) 

Obtained by Mr Macmath from the recitation of his aunt, 
Miss Jane Webster, formerly of Airds of Kells, Stewartry 
of Kirkcudbright, Galloway, who learned it many years ago 
from the wife of Peter McGuire, then cotman at Airds. 

1 ' whare are ye gaun ? ' 

Says the false knight upon the road : 
' I am gaun to the schule,' 

Says the wee boy, and still he stood. 

2 ' Wha's aught the sheep on yonder hill? ' 
' They are my papa's and mine.' 

3 ' How many of them 's mine ? ' 
' A' them that has blue tails.' 

4 ' I wish you were in yonder well : ' 
' And you were down in hell.' 

3. The Pause Knight upon the Road. 

P. 20 a. Add: C. 'The False Knight,' communi 
cated by Mr Macmath, of Edinburgh. 

For the fool getting the last word of the princess, see, 
further, Kohler, Germania, XIV, 271 ; Leskien u. Brug- 
man, Litauische Volkslieder u. Marchen, p. 469, No 
33, and Wollner's note, p. 573. 

21, note. I must retract the doubly hasty remark 
that the Shetland belief that witches may be baffled by 
fliting with them is a modern misunderstanding. 

Mr George Lyman Kittredge has called my attention 
to Apollonius of Tyana's encounter with an empusa 
between the Caucasus and the Indus. Knowing what 
the spectre was, Apollonius began to revile it, and told 
his attendants to do the same, for that was the resource, 
in such cases, against an attack. The empusa went off 
with a shriek. Philostratus's Life of Apollonius, II, 4. 
Mr Kittredge referred me later to what is said by Col. 
Yule (who also cites Philostratus), Marco Polo, I, 183, 
that the wise, according to Mas'udi, revile ghiils, and 
the ghiils vanish. Mr Kittredge also cites Luther's ex 
perience: how, when he could not be rid of the Devil 
by the use of holy writ and serious words, " so hatte er 
ihn oft mit spitzigen Worten und lacherlichen Possen 
vertrieben ; . . . quia est superbus spiritus, et non potest 
ferre contemptum sui." Tischreden, in Auswahl, Ber 
lin, 1877, pp 152-154. 

Sprites of the more respectable orders will quit the 
company of men if scolded : Walter Mapes, De Nugis 

4. Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight. 

P. 22 b. D. Add : d. The historical ballad of May 
Culzean,' an undated stall-copy. 

26 b. Another Dutch version (Frisian), spirited, but 
with gaps, is given by Dykstra and van der Meulen, In 
Doaze fol aide Snypsnaren, Frjentsjer, 1882, p. 118, 
' Jan Alberts,' 66 vv. (Kohler.) 

D. Jan Alberts sings a song, and those that hear it 
know it not. It is heard by a king's daughter, who 
asks her mother's leave to go out for a walk, and is told 
that it is all one where she goes or stays, if she keeps 
her honor. Her father says the same, when she applies 
for his leave. She goes to her bedroom and dresses 
herself finely, dons a gold crown, puts her head out of 
the window, and cries, Now am I Jan Alberts' bride. 
Jan Alberts takes her on his horse ; they ride fast and 
long, with nothing to eat or drink for three days. She 
then asks Jan why he gives her nothing, and he an 
swers that he shall ride to the high tree where hang 
fourteen fair maids. Arrived there, he gives her the 
choice of tree, sword, or water. She chooses the sword, 
bids him spare his coat, for a pure maid's blood goes 
far, and before his coat is half off his head lies be 
hind him. The head cries, Behind the bush is a pot of 
grease ; smear my neck with it. She will not smear 
from a murderer's pot, nor blow in a murderer's horn. 
She mounts his horse, and rides far and long. Jan Al 
berts' mother comes to meet her, and asks after him. 
She says he is not far off, and is sporting with fourteen 



maids. Had you told me this before, I would have laid 
you in the water, says the mother. The maid rides on 
till she comes to her father's gate. Then she cries to 
her father to open, for his youngest daughter is with 
out. The father not bestirring himself, she swims the 
moat, and, the door not being open, goes through the 
glass. The next day she dries her clothes. 

30 a, 3 7 a. There is a Low German version of the 
first class, A-P, in Spec, Volksthiimliches vom Nieder- 
rhein, Kbln, 1875, Zweites Heft, p. 3, Schbndili,' 50 
vv. (Kbhler.) 

AA. Schbndili's parents died when she was a child. 
Schbn-Albert, knowing this, rides to her. She attires 
herself in silk, with a gold crown on her hair, and he 
swings her on to his horse. They ride three days and 
nights, with nothing to eat or drink. She asks whether 
it is not meal-time; he replies that they are coming to 
a linden, where they will eat and drink. Seven women 
are hanging on the tree. He gives her the wale of tree, 
river, and sword. She chooses the sword ; would be 
loath to spot his coat ; whips off his head before the coat 
is half off. The head says there is a pipe in the sad 
dle ; she thinks no good can come of playing a murder 
er's pipe. She meets first the father, then the mother ; 
they think that must be Schon- Albert's horse. That 
may be, she says; I have not seen him since yesterday. 
She sets the pipe to her mouth, when she reaches her 
father's gate, and the murderers come like hares on the 

BB. Alfred Miiller, Volkslieder aus dem Erzgebirge, 
p. 92, ' Schbn Ulrich ' [und Trautendelein], 86 vv. 
(Kbhler.) Like T, without the song. 

CC. A. Schlosser, Deutsche Volkslieder aus Steier- 
mark, 1881, p. 338, No 309, ' Der Hitter und die 
Maid.' (Kbhler : not yet seen by me.) 

DD. Curt Miindel, Elsassische Volkslieder, p. 12, 
No 10, a fragment of fifteen verses. As Anna sits by 
the Rhine combing her hair, Heinrich comes along on 
his horse, sees her weep, and asks why. It is not for 
gold and not for goods, but because she is to die that 
day. Heinrich draws his sword, runs her through, and 
rides home. He is asked why his sword is red, and says 
he has killed two doves. They say the dove must be 

32 b. H, line 10. Read : umbrunnen. 

39 a, line 1. Read : contributed by Hoffmann. 

39 a, third paragraph. Kozlowski, Lud, p. 54, No 15, 
furnishes a second and inferior but still important form 
of A (Masovian). 

A b. Ligar (afterwards Jasia, Golo) bids Kasia take 
all she has. She has already done this, and is ready 
to range the world with him. Suddenly she asks, after 
they have been some time on their way, What is that 
yonder so green? Jasia replies, Our house, to which 
we are going. They go on further, and Kasia again 
inquires abruptly, What is that yonder so white ? 
" That is my eight wives, and you shall be the ninth : 
you are to die, and will be the tenth." " Where is 
the gold, the maidens' gold?" "In the linden, Ka 

sia, in the linden; plenty of it." " Let me not die so 
wretchedly ; let me draw your sword for once." She 
drew the sword, and with one stroke Jasia's head was 

39 b. To the Polish versions are further to be added : 
NN, Piosnki wiesniacze znad Dzwiny, p. 41, No 51 ; 
OO, Roger, p. 78, No 138 ; PP, Roger, p. 69, No 125 ; 
QQ, ib., p. 79, No 140 ; RR, p. 81, No 142; 88, p. 79, 
No 139. The last three are imperfect, and QQ, RR, 
have a beginning which belongs elsewhere. Jasia sug 
gests to Kasia to get the key of the new room from her 
mother by pretending headache, and bids her take gold 
enough, NN, OO. They go off while her mother thinks 
that Kasia is sleeping, NN, OO, QQ. They come to a 
wood, NN, PP (which is corrupt here), 88 ; first or 
last, to a deep stream, NN, OO, QQ, 88 ; it is red sea 
in RR, as in J. Jasia bids Kasia return to her mother, 
NN (twice), RR ; bids her take off her rich clothes, 
OO, to which she answers that she has not come here 
for that. John throws her into the water, NN, OO, 
QQ, 88, from a bridge in the second and third. Her 
apron catches on a stake or post ; she begs John for 
help, and gets for answer, " I did not throw you in to 
help you : you may go to the bottom," OO. She swims 
to a stake, to which she clings, and John hews her in 
three, QQ. Fishermen draw out the body, and carry 
it to the church, NN, OO. She apostrophizes her hair 
in QQ, 88, as in G, I, J, and in the same absurd terms 
in QQ as in J. John is pursued and cut to pieces in 
OO, also broken on the wheel. PP closely resembles 
German ballads of the third class. Katie shouts three 
times : at her first cry the grass curls up ; at the second 
the river overflows ; the third wakes her mother, who 
rouses her sons, saying, Katie is calling in the wood. 
They find John with a bloody sword ; he says he has 
killed a dove. They answer, No dove, but our sister, 
and maltreat him till he tells what he has done with 
his victim : " I have hidden her under the yew-bush ; 
now put me on the wheel." 

39 b, line 13 of the middle paragraph. Read Piosnki 
for Pics'ni, and omit the quotation marks in this and the 
line before. 

40 b, line 2 (the girl's adding her hair to lengthen the 
cord). In the tale of the Sea-horse, Schiefner, Awa- 
rische Texte, Memoirs of the St Petersburg Academy, 
vol. xix, No 6, p. 11 f, a sixty-ell rope being required 
to rescue a prince from a well into which he had been 
thrown, and no rope forthcoming, the daughter of a sea- 
king makes a rope of the required length with her hair, 
and with this the prince is drawn out. Dr Reinhold 
Kbhler, who pointed out this incident to me, refers in 
his notes to the texts, at p. vii f , to the song of Siidai 
Marg'an, Radloff, II, 627-31, where Siidai Margiin's wife, 
having to rescue her husband from a pit, tries first his 
horse's tail, and finds it too short, then her hair, which 
proves also a little short. A maid is then found whose 
hair is a hundred fathoms long, and her hair being tied 
on to the horse's tail, and horse, wife, and maid pulling 
together, the hero is drawn out. For climbing up by a 



maid's hair, see, further, Kohler's note to Gonzenbach, 
No 53, IT, 236. 

40 b, line 7. A message is sent to a father by a 
daughter in the same way, in Chodzko, Les Chants 
historiques de 1'TJkraine, p. 75; cf. p. 92, of the same. 
Tristram sends messages to Isonde by linden shavings 
inscribed with runes : Sir Tristrem, ed. Kb'lbing, p. 56, 
st. 187 ; Tristrams Saga, cap. 54, p. 68, ed. Kb'lbing; 
Gottfried von Strassburg, vv 14427-441. 

40 b, line 36. For G, I, read G, J. 

40, note f. In a Ruthenian ballad a girl who runs 
away from her mother with a lover tells her brothers, 
who have come in search of her, I did not leave home 
to go back again with you : Golovatsky, Part I, p. 77, 
No 32 ; Part III, i, p. 17, No 4, p. 18, No 5. So, " I 
have not poisoned you to help you," Part I, p. 206, No 
32, p. 207, No 33. 

41 a, second paragraph. Golovatsky, at 1, 116, No 
29, has a ballad, found elsewhere without the feature 
here to be noticed, in which a Cossack, who is watering 
his horse while a maid is drawing water, describes his 
home as a Wonderland, like John in Polish Q. " Come 
to the Ukraine with the Cossacks," he says. u Our land 
is not like this : with us the mountains are golden, the 
water is mead, the grass is silk ; with us the willows 
bear pears and the girls go in gold." She yields ; they 
go over one mountain and another, and when they have 
crossed the third the Cossack lets his horse graze. The 
maid falls to weeping, and asks the Cossack, Where are 
your golden mountains, where the water that is mead, 
the grass that is silk ? He answers, No girl of sense 
and reason engages herself to a young Cossack. So in 
Zegota Pauli, P. 1. ruskiego, p. 29, No 26 = Golovat 
sky, I, 117, No 30, where the maid rejoins to the glow 
ing description, I have ranged the world : golden moun 
tains I never saw ; everywhere mountains are of stone, 
and everywhere rivers are of water ; very like the girl 
in Grundtvig, 82 B, st. 7 ; 183 A 6, E 5, 6. 

41 b, last paragraph. Several Bohemian versions are 
to be added to the single example cited from Waldau's 
Bohmische Granaten. This version, which is presumed 
to have been taken down by Waldau himself, may be 
distinguished as A. B, Susil, Moravske Narodni Pisne, 
No 189, p. 191, ' Vrah,' ' The Murderer,' is very like A. 
C, Susil, p. 193. D, Erben, Prostonarodni ceske Pisne 
a Rikadla, p. 480, No 16, ' Zabite devce,' ' The Mur 
dered Maid.' E, p. 479, No 15, ' Zabita sestra,' ' The 
Murdered Sister.' B has a double set of names, be 
ginning with Black George, not the Servian, but 
" king of Hungary," and ending with Indriascb. The 

maid is once called Annie, otherwise Katie. At her first 
call the grass becomes green ; at the second the moun 
tain bows ; the third the mother hears. C has marvels 
of its own. Anna entreats John to allow her to call to 
her mother. " Call, call," he says, " you will not reach 
her with your call ; in this dark wood, even the birds 
will not hear you." At her first call a pine-tree in the 
forest breaks ; at the second the river overflows ; at the 
third her mother rises from the grave. She calls to 
her sons to go to Anna's rescue, and they rise from 
their graves. The miscreant John confesses that he 
has buried their sister in the wood. They strike off his 
head, and put a hat on the head, with an inscription 
in gold letters, to inform people what his offence has 
been. There is a gap after the seventh stanza of D, 
which leaves the two following stanzas unintelligible by 
themselves : 8, Choose one of the two, and trust no 
body ; 9, She made her choice, and shouted three times 
towards the mountains. At the first cry the mountain 
became green ; at the second the mountain bowed back 
wards ; the third the mother heard. She sent her sons 
off ; they found their neighbor John, who had cut off 
their sister's head. The law-abiding, and therefore 
modern, young men say that John shall go to prison and 
never come out alive. In E the man, a young hunter, 
says, Call five times ; not even a wood-bird will hear 
you. Nothing is said of the first call; the second is 
heard by the younger brother, who tells the elder that 
their sister must be in trouble. The hunter has a 
bloody rifle in his hand : how he is disposed of we are 
not told. All these ballads but C begin with the maid 
cutting grass, and all of them have the dove that is 
" no dove, but our sister." 

Fragments of this ballad are found, F, in Susil, p. 
112, No 113, 'Nevesta neSt' astnice,' 'The Unhappy 
Bride ; ' G, p. 171, No 171, ' Zbojce,' The Murderer ; ' 
and there is a variation from B at p. 192, note 3, which 
is worth remarking, H. F, sts 11-14 : " Get together 
what belongs to you ; we will go to a foreign land ; " 
and when they came to the turf, " Look my head 
through." * Every hair she laid aside she wet with a 
tear. And when they came into the dark of the wood 
he cut her into nine [three] pieces. G. Katie meets 
John in a meadow ; they sit down on the grass. " Look 
my head through." She weeps, for she says there is a 
black fate impending over her ; " a black one for me, 
a red one for thee." He gets angry, cuts off her head, 
and throws her into the river, for which he is hanged. 
H. He sprang from his horse, robbed the maid, and 
laughed. He set her on the grass, and bade her look 

* " Cette action, si peu seante pour nous, est accomplie 
dans maint conte grec, allemand, etc., par des jeunes filles 
sur leurs amants, sur des dragons par les princesses qu'ils 
ont enlevees, et, meme dans une legende bulgare en vers, 
saint Georges refoit le meme service de la demoiselle ex- 
posee an dragon, dont il va la delivrer. Dozon, Contes al- 
banais, p. 27, note. In the Bulgarian legend referred to, 
Bulgarski narodni pesni, by the brothers Miladinov, p. 31, 

the saint having dozed off during the operation, the young 
maid sheds tears, and a burning drop falls on the face of 
George, and wakes him. This recalls the Magyar ballad, 
Molnar Anna, see p. 46. A Cretan legend of St George has 
the same trait : Jeaimaraki, p. 2, v. 41. Even a dead lover 
recalled to the earth by his mistress, in ballads of the Lenore 
class, asks the same service : Golovatsky, 11,708, No 12; Su 
sil, p. Ill, No 112, 'Umrlec,' ' The Dead Man.' 



his head through. Every hair she examined she dropped 
a tear for. " Why do you weep, Katie? Is it for your 
crants ? " "I am not weeping for my crants, nor am I 
afraid of your sword. Let me call three times, that my 
father and mother may hear." Compare German H 10, 
11 ; Q 8-10, etc., etc. 

42 a. These Ruthenian ballads belong with the other 
Slavic parallels to No 4: A, Zegota Pauli, P. 1. rus- 
kiego, p. 21 = Golovatsky, III, 1, 149, No 21 ; B, Golo- 
vatsky, III, i, 172, No 46. A. A man induces a girl 
to go off with him in the night. They wander over one 
land and another, and then feel need of rest. Why 
does your head ache ? he asks of her. Are you home 
sick? " My head does not ache ; I am not homesick." 
He takes her by the white sides and throws her into the 
deep Donau, saying, Swim with the stream ; we shall 
not live together. She swims over the yellow sand, 
crying, Was I not fair, or was it my fate? and he dryly 
answers, Fair ; it was thy fate. In B it is a Jew's 
daughter that is wiled away. They go in one wagon ; 
another is laden with boxes [of valuables?] and pillows, 
a third with gold pennies. She asks, Where is your 
house ? Over those hills, he answers. He takes her 
over a high bridge, and throws her into the Donau, 
with, Swim, since you were not acquainted with our 
way, our faith 1 

42 a. A, line 2. Read : Puymaigre. 

43 a. D. Add : Poesies populaires de la France, IV, 
fol. 332, Chanson de 1'Aunis, Charente Inferieur ; but 
even more of the story is lost. 

44 a. A ballad in Casetti e Imbriani, C. p. delle Pro- 
vincie meridionali, II, 1, begins like ' La Contadina alia 
Fonte ' (see p. 393 a), and ends like ' La Monferrina In- 
contaminata.' Of the same class as the last is, I sup 
pose, Nannarelli, Studio comparative sui Canti popo- 
lari di Arlena, p. 51, No 50 (Kbhler), which I regret 
not yet to have seen. 

45 a. Portuguese C, D, in Alvaro Rodrigues de Aze- 
vedo, Romanceiro do Archipelago da Madeira, p. 57, 
'Estoria do Bravo- Franco,' p. 60, ' Gallo-frango.' 

47. A story from Neumiinster about one Gb'rtmi- 
cheel, a famous robber, in Mullenhoft", p. 87, No 2, 
blends features of ' Hind Etin,' or ' The Maid and the 
Dwarf-King,' No 41, with others found in the Magyar 
ballad, p. 45 f. A handsome wench, who had been lost 
seven years, suddenly reappeared at the home of her 
parents. She said that she was not at liberty to ex 
plain where she had been, but her mother induced her 
to reveal this to a stone near the side-door, and taking 
up her station behind the door heard all. She had 
been carried off by a robber ; had lived with him seven 
years, and borne him seven children. The robber, who 
had otherwise treated her well, had refused to let her 
visit her home, but finally had granted her this permis 
sion upon her promising to say nothing about him. 
When the time arrived for her daughter to go back, the 
mother gave her a bag of peas, which she was to drop 
one by one along the way. She was kindly received. 

but presently the robber thought there was something 
strange in her ways. He laid his head in her lap, invit 
ing her to perform the service so common in like cases. 
While she was doing this, she could not but think how 
the robber had loved her and how he was about to be 
betrayed by her, and her remorseful tears dropped on 
his face. " So you have told of me I " cried the astute 
robber, springing up. He cut off the children's heads 
and strung them on a willow-twig before her eyes, and 
was now coming to her, when people arrived, under the 
mother's conduct, who put a stop to his further revenge, 
and took their own. See the note, Mullenhoff , p. 592 f. 

57 a. D. Insert : d. A stall-copy lent me by Mrs 
Alexander Forbes, Liberton, Edinburgh. (See p. 23, 
note .) 

62 b. Insert after c : 

d. I 1 - 2 . Have ye not heard of fause Sir John, 
Wha livd in the west country ? 

After 2 a stanza nearly as in b. 
5 wanting. 

6 1 . But he 's taen a charm frae aff his arm. 
6*. follow him. 

7 2 . five hundred. 7 8 . the bravest horse. 
8 1 . So merrily. 

8 4 . Which is called Benan Bay. 
9, 11, wanting. 
12 1 . Cast aff, cast aff. 12*. To sink. 

13. Nearly as in b. 

14. ' Cast aff thy coats and gay mantle, 

And smock o Holland lawn, 
For thei'r owre costly and owre guid 
To rot in the sea san.' 

15. ' Then turn thee round, I pray, Sir John, 

See the leaf flee owre the tree, 
For it never befitted a book-learned man 
A naked lady to see.' 

Sir John being a Dominican friar, according 
to the historical preface. 

18. As fause Sir John did turn him round, 
To see the leaf flee owre the [tree], 
She grasped him in her arms sma, 
And flung him in the sea. 

17. ' Now lie ye there, ye wild Sir John, 

Whar ye thought to lay me ; 
Ye wad hae drownd me as naked 's I was 

But ye 's get your claes frae me ! ' 



18. Her jewels, costly, rich and rare, 

She straight puts on again ; 
She lightly springs upon her horse, 
And leads his hy the rein. 

21 s . O that 's a foundling. 

22. Then out and spake the green parrot, 

He says, Fair May Culzean, 
what hae ye done wi yon brave knight ? 

23. ' Haud your tongue, my pretty parrot, 

An I 'se he kind to thee ; 
For where ye got ae handfu o groats, 
My parrot shall get three.' 

25. ' There came a cat into my cage, 

Had nearly worried me, 
And I was calling on May Culzean 
To come and set me free.' 

27 wanting. 28 3 . Carleton sands. 

29 2 . Was dashed. 29 8 . The golden ring. 

5. Gil Brenton. 

P. 62 a, last three lines. Read: said by Lockhart to 
be Miss Christian Rutherford, his mother's half-sister. 

CGb, lines 2, 3. Read: 37 G, 38 A, D, and other 
versions of both. 

66 b, line 4. ' Bitte Mette,' Kristensen, Jyske Folke- 
minder, V, 57, No 7, affords another version. 

66 b, last line. For other cases of this substitution 
see Legrand, Recueil de Contes populaires grecs, p. 
257, ' La Princesse et sa Nourrice ; ' Kohler, Romania, 
XI, 581-84, ' Le conte de la reine qui tua son sene- 
chal ; ' Neh-Manzer, ou Les Neuf Loges, conte, traduit 
du persan par M. Lescallier, Genes, 1808, p. 55, His- 
toire du devin Afezzell.' (Kohler.) The last I have 
not seen. 

67 a, note *, line 37. Read: a Scotch name. 

84 b. The same artifice is tried, and succeeds, in a 
case of birth delayed by a man's clasping his hands 
round bis knees, in Asbjernsen, Norske Huldre-Even- 
tyr, I, 20, 2d ed. 

85 a, first paragraph. A story closely resembling 
Heywood's is told in the Zimmeriscbe Chronik, ed. 
Barack, IV, 262-64, 1882, of Heinrich von Dierstein ; 
Liebrecht in Germania XIV, 404. (Kohler.) As the 
author of the chronicle remarks, the tale (Heywood's) 
is in the Malleus Maleficarum (1620, I, 158 f). 

85 a, third paragraph. Other cases resembling Gon- 
zenbacb, No 54, in Pitre, Fiabe, Novelle, etc., I, 1 73, 
No 18 ; Comparetti, Novelline popolari, No 33, p. 139. 

85, note. Add : (Kohler.) 

85 b. Birth is sought to be maliciously impeded in 
Swabia by crooking together the little fingers. Lam- 
mert, Volksmedizin in Bayern, etc., p. 165. (Kohler.) 

7. Earl Brand. 

P. 88. Add : 

G. ' Gude Earl Brand and Auld Carle Hude,' the 
Paisley Magazine, 1828, p. 321, communicated by W. 

H. ' Auld Carle Hood, or, Earl Brand,' Campbell 
MSS, II, 32. 

I. ' The Douglas Tragedy,' ' Lord Douglas' Trag 
edy,' from an old-looking stall-copy, without place or 

This ballad was, therefore, not first given to the 
world by Mr Robert Bell, in 1857, but nearly thirty 
years earlier by Motherwell, in the single volume of the 
Paisley Magazine, a now somewhat scarce book. I am 
indebted for the information and for a transcript to Mr 
Murdoch, of Glasgow, and for a second copy to Mr Mac- 
math, of Edinburgh. 

92 a. Add : I. < Hildebrand,' Wigstrom, Folkdikt- 
ning, II, 13. J. ' Frb'ken Gyllenborg,' the same, p. 24. 

96 a. Bb'Svar Bjarki, fighting with great effect as a 
huge bear for Hrdlfr Kraki, is obliged to return to his 
ordinary shape in consequence of Hjalti, who misses the 
hero from the fight, mentioning his name : Saga Hrdlfs 
Kraka, c. 50, Fornaldar Sogur, I, 101 ff. In Hjalmters 
ok Olvers Saga, c. 20, F. S. Ill, 506 f, Hbrffr bids his 
comrades not call him by name while he is fighting, in 
form of a sword-fish, with a walrus, else he shall die. A 
prince, under the form of an ox, fighting with a six- 
headed giant, loses much of his strength, and is nigh 
being conquered, because a lad has, contrary to his 
prohibition, called him by name. Asbjernsen og Moe, 
Norske Folkeeventyr, 2d ed., p. 419. All these are 
cited by Moe, in Nordisk Tidskrift, 1879, p. 286 f. Cer 
tain kindly domestic spirits renounce relations with men, 
even matrimonial, if their name becomes known: Maun- 
hardt, Wald- und Feldkulte, I, 103. 

97b. Insert: Spanish. Mild, Romancerillo Cata 
lan, 2d ed., No 206, D, p. 164: olivera y olivera, which, 
when grown tall, join. 

Servian. Add : Karadshitch, I, 345, vv 225 ff, two 
pines, which intertwine. In I 309, No 421, they plant a 
rose over the maid, a vine over the man, which embrace 
as if they were Jani and Milenko. The ballad has 
features of the Earl Brand class. (I, 239, No 341 = 
Talvj, II, 85.) 

Russian. Hilferding, Onezbskya Byliny, col. 154, 
No 31, laburnum (?) over Basil, and cypress over So 
phia, which intertwine; col. 696, No 134, cypress and 
willow ; col. 1242, No 285, willow and cypress. 

Little Russian (Carpathian Russians in Hungary), 
Golovatsky, II, 710, No 13 : John on one side of the 
church, Annie on the other; rosemary on his grave, a 
lily on hers, growing so high as to meet over the church. 
Annie's mother cuts them down. John speaks from the 



grave : Wicked mother, thou wouldst not let us /// to 
gether ; let us rest together. Golovatsky, I, 186, No 8 : 
a maple from the man's grave, white birch from the 
woman's, which mingle their leaves. 

Slovenian. Stur, O narodnich Pfsnfch a Povestech 
Piemen slovanskych, p. 51 : the lovers are buried east 
and west, a rose springs from the man's grave, a lily 
from the maid's, which mingle their growth. 

"Wend. Add : Haupt and Schmaler, II, 310, No 81. 

Breton. Add: Villemarque*, Barzaz Breiz, ' Le 
Seigneur Nann et La Fee,' see p. 879, note , of this 

98 a. Armenian. The ashes of two lovers who 
have been literally consumed by a mutual passion are 
deposited by sympathetic hands in one grave. Two 
rose bushes rise from the grave and seek to intertwine, 
but a thorn interposes and makes the union forever im 
possible. (The thorn is creed. The young man was a 
Tatar, and his religion had been an insuperable obstacle 
in the eyes of the maid's father.) Baron von Haxt- 
hausen, Transkaukasia, I, 315 f. (Kbhler.) 

A Middle High German poem from a MS. of the 
end of the 14th century, printed in Haupt's Zeitschrift, 
VI, makes a vine rise from the common grave of Pyra- 
mus and Thisbe and descend into it again : p. 517. 

J. Grimm n<jtes several instances of this marvel (not 
from ballads), Ueber Frauennamen aus 15 In men, Klei- 
nere Schriften, II, 379 f, note **. 



The Paisley Magazine, June 2, 1828, p. 321, communi 
cated by William Motherwell. " Sung to a long, drawling, 
monotonous tune." 

1 ' Gude Earl Brand, I long to see 

Faldee faldee fal deediddle a dee 
All your grey hounds running over the lea.' 
And the brave knights in the valley 


2 ' Gude lady fair, I have not a steed but one, 
But you shall ride and I shall run.' 

3 They 're ower moss and they 're ower mure, 
And they saw neither rich nor pure. 

4 Until that they came to auld Karl Hude ; 
He 's aye for ill and never for gude. 

5 ' Gude Earl Brand, if ye love me, 
Kill auld Karl Hude, and gar him die.' 

6 ' O fair ladie, we '11 do better than sae : 
Gie him a penny, and let him gae.' 

7 ' Gude Earl Brand, whare hae ye been, 
Or whare hae ye stown this lady sheen ? ' 

8 ' She 's not my lady, but my sick sister, 
And she 's been at the wells of Meen.' 

9 ' If she was sick, and very sair, 

She wadna wear the red gold on her hair. 

10 ' Or if she were sick, and like to be dead, 
She wadna wear the ribbons red.' 

11 He cam till he cam to her father's gate, 
And he has rappit furious thereat. 

12 < Where is the lady o this hall ?' 

' She 's out wi her maidens, playing at the 

13 ' If you '11 get me fyfteen wale wight men, 
Sae fast as I '11 fetch her back again.' 

14 She 's lookit ower her left collar-bane : 

' O gude Earl Brand, we baith are taen.' 

15 ' Light down, light down, and hold my steed ; 
Change never your cheer till ye see me 


16 ' If they come on me man by man, 
I '11 be very laith for to be taen. 

17 ' But if they come on me one and all, 
The sooner you will see me fall.' 

18 he has killd them all but one, 

And wha was that but auld Karl Hude. 

19 And he has come, on him behind, 
And put in him the deadly wound. 

20 O he has set his lady on, 

And he 's come whistling all along. 

21 ' Gude Earl Brand, I see blood : ' 

' It 's but the shade o my scarlet robe.' 

22 They cam till they cam to the water aflood ; 
He 's lighted down and he 's wushen aff the 


23 His mother walks the floor alone : 

' O yonder does come my poor son. 



24 ' He is both murderd and undone, 
And all for the sake o an English loon.' 

25 ' Say not sae, my dearest mother, 
Marry her on my eldest brother.' 

26 She set her fit up to the wa, 
Faldee faldee fal deediddle adee 

She 's fallen down dead amang them a'. 
And the brave knights o the valley 

Campbell MSS, II, 32. 

1 Did you ever hear of good Earl Brand, 

Aye lally an lilly lally 
And the king's daughter of fair Scotland ? 
And the braw knights o Airly 

2 She was scarce fifteen years of age 
When she came to Earl Brand's bed. 

"Wi the braw knights o Airly 

3 ' O Earl Brand, I fain wad see 
Our grey hounds run over the lea.' 

Mang the braw bents o Airly 

4 ' 0,' says Earl Brand, ' I 've nae steads but 


And you shall ride and I shall run.' 
Oer the braw heights o Airly 

5 ' 0,' says the lady, ' I hae three, 
And ye shall hae yeer choice for me.' 

Of the brew steeds o Airly 

6 So they lap on, and on they rade, 
Till they came to auld Carle Hood. 

Oer the braw hills o Airly 

7 Carl Hood 's aye for ill, and he 's no for good, 
He 's aye for ill, and he 's no for good. 

Mang the braw hills o Airly 

8 ' Where hae ye been hunting a' day, 
And where have ye stolen this fair may ? ' 

I' the braw nights sae airly 

9 ' She is my sick sister dear, 

New comd home from another sister.' 
I the braw nights sae early 

10 ' O,' says the lady, ' if ye love me, 
Gie him a penny fee and let him gae.' 

I the braw nights sae early 

11 He 's gane home to her father's bower, 

12 ' Where is the lady o this ha ? ' 

' She 's out wi the young maids, playing at the 

. I the braw nights so early 

13 ' No,' says another, ' she 's riding oer the moor, 
And a' to be Earl Brand's whore.' 

I the braw nights so early 

14 The king mounted fifteen weel armed men, 
A' to get Earl Brand taen. 

I the braw hills so early 

15 The lady looked over her white horse mane : 
' O Earl Brand, we will be taen.' 

In the braw hills so early 

16 He says, If they come one by one, 
Ye '11 no see me so soon taen. 

In the braw hills so early 

17 So they came every one but one, 
And he has killd them a' but ane. 

In the braw hills so early 

18 And that one came behind his back, 
And gave Earl Brand a deadly stroke. 

v . In the braw hills of Airly 

19 For as sair wounded as he was, 
He lifted the lady on her horse. 

In the braw nights so early 

20 < Earl Brand, I see thy heart's bluicl ! ' 
' It 's but the shadow of my scarlet robe.' 

I the braw nights so early 

21 He came to his mother's home ; 

22 She looked out and cryd her son was gone, 
And a' for the sake [of] an English loon. 



23 ' What will I do wi your lady fair ? ' 
' Marry her to my eldest brother.' 
The brawest knight i Airly 

21 1 . to her. 21 1 , 22 are written as one stanza. 

A stall-copy lent me by Mrs Alexander Forbes, Liberton, 

1 ' Rise up, rise up, Lord Douglas,' she said, 

' And draw to your arms so bright ; 
Let it never be said a daughter of yours 
Shall go with a lord or a knight. 

2 ' Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, 

And draw to your armour so bright ; 
Let it never be said a sister of yours 
Shall go with a lord or a knight.' 

3 He looked over his left shoulder, 

To see what he could see, 
And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold, 
And her father that lov'd her tenderly. 

4 ' Light down, light down, Lady Margret,' he 


' And hold my steed in thy hand, 
That I may go fight with your seven brethren 

And your father who 's just at hand.' 

5 there she stood, and bitter she stood, 

And never did shed a tear, 
Till once she saw her seven brethren slain, 
And her father she lovd so dear. 

6 ' Hold, hold your hand, William,' she said, 

' For thy strokes are wondrous sore ; 
For sweethearts I may get many a one, 
But a father I neer will get more.' 

7 She took out a handkerchief of holland so 


And wip'd her father's bloody wound, 
Which ran more clear than the red wine, 
And forked on the cold ground. 

8 ' O chuse you, chuse you, Margret,' he said, 

' Whether you will go or bide ! ' 
' I must go with you, Lord William,' she said, 
' Since you 've left me no other guide.' 

9 He lifted her on a milk-white steed, 

And himself on a dapple grey, 
With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side, 
And they slowly both rode away. 

10 Away they rode, and better they rode, 

Till they came to yonder sand, 
Till once they came to yon river side, 
And there they lighted down. 

11 They lighted down to take a drink 

Of the spring that ran so clear, 
And there she spy'd his bonny heart's blood, 
A running down the stream. 

12 ' Hold up, hold up, Lord William,' she says, 

' For I fear that you are slain ; ' 
' 'T is nought but the shade of my scarlet 

That is sparkling down the stream.' 

13 He lifted her on a milk-white steed, 

And himself on a dapple grey, 
With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side, 
And slowly they rode away. 

14 Ay they rode, and better they rode, 

Till they came to his mother's bower ; 
Till once they came to his mother's bower, 
And down they lighted there. 

15 ' O mother, mother, make my bed, 

And make it saft and fine, 
And lay my lady close at my back, 
That I may sleep most sound.' 

16 Lord William he died eer middle o the night, 

Lady Margret long before the morrow ; 
Lord William he died for pure true love, 
And Lady Margret died for sorrow. 

17 Lord William was bury'd in Lady Mary's kirk, 

The other in Saint Mary's quire ; 
Out of William's grave sprang a red rose, 
And out of Margret's a briar. 

18 And ay they grew, and ay they threw, 

As they wad fain been near ; 
And by this you may ken right well 
They were twa lovers dear. 

105 b. D. 10. For Kinlock (twice) read Kinloch ; 
and read I, 330. 



The stanza cited is found in Kinloch MSS, VII, 95 
and 255. 

107 b. There is possibly a souvenir of Walter in 
Snail, p. 105, No 107. A man and woman are riding 
on one horse in the mountains. He asks her to sing. 
Her song is heard by robbers, who come, intending to 
kill him and carry her off'. He bids her go under a 
maple-tree, kills twelve, and spares one, to carry the 
booty home. 

9. The Fair Flower of Northumberland. 

P. Ill a. B b, as prepared by Kinloch for printing, 
is found in Kinloch MSS, VII, 105. 

Add: F. 'The Fair Flower of Northumberland,' 
Gibb MS., No 8. 



Gibb MS., No 8 : ' The Fair Flower o Northumberland,' 
from Jeannie Stirling, a young girl, as learned from her 

1 She stole the keys from her father's bed-head, 

but her love it was easy won ! 
She opened the gates, she opened them wide, 
She let him out o the prison strong. 

2 She went into her father's stable, 

O but her love it was easy won ! 
She stole a steed that was both stout and 

To carry him hame frae Northumberland. 

3 ' I '11 be cook in your kitchen, 

Noo sure my love has been easy won ! 
I '11 serve your own lady with hat an with 

For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.' 

4 ' I need nae cook in my kitchin, 

but your love it was easy won ! 
Ye '11 serve not my lady with hat or with hand, 
For ye maun gae back to Northumberland.' 

5 When she gaed hame, how her father did ban ! 

' but your love it was easy won ! 
A fair Scottish girl, not sixteen years old, 
Was once the fair flower o Northumber 
land ! ' 

10. The Twa Sisters. 

Page 118 b. K is found in Kinloch MSS, VII, 256. 

Add : V. ' Benorie,' Campbell MSS, II, 88. 

W. 'Norham, down by Norham,' communicated by 
Mr Thomas Lugton, of Kelso. 

X. 'Binnorie,' Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, 
January 1, 1830, p. 7, one stanza. 

Y. Communicated to Percy by Rev. P. Parsons, 
April 7, 1770. 

119 a. Note *, first line. Read: I, 315. 

120 a, first paragraph. " A very rare but very stupid 
modern adaptation, founded on the tradition as told in 
Smaland, appeared in Gotheborg, 1836, small 8vo, pp 
32 : Antiquiteter i Thorskinge. Fornminnet eller Kum- 
mel-Runan, tolkande Systersveket Brollopps-dagen." 
The author was C. G. Lindblom, a Swedish priest. The 
first line is : 

" En Naskonung bodde pS Illvedens fjall." 

Professor George Stephens. 

120 a. Note *, lines 3, 4. Read : and in 14, 15, calls 
the drowned girl " the bonnie miller's lass o Binorie," 
meaning the bonnie miller o Binorie's lass. 

124 a, last paragraph. A drowned girl grows up on 
the sea-strand as a linden with nine branches: from the 
ninth her brother carves a harp. " Sweet the tone," 
he says, as he plays. The mother calls out through her 
tears, So sang my youngest daughter. G. Tillemann, 
in Livona, ein historisch-poetisches Taschenbuch, Riga 
u. Dorpat, 1812, p. 187, Ueber die Volkslieder der Let- 
ten. Dr R. Kb'hler points out to me a version of this 
ballad given with a translation by Bishop Carl Chr. 
Ulmann in the Dorpater Jahrbiicher, II, 404, 1834, 
'Die Lindenharfe,' and another by Pastor Karl Ulmann 
in his Lettische Volkslieder, ubertragen, 1874, p. 199, 
No 18, 'Das Lied von der Jiingsten.' In the former 
of these the brother says, Sweet sounds my linden harp 1 
The mother, weeping, It is not the linden harp ; it is thy 
sister's soul that has swum through the water to us ; it 
is the voice of my youngest daughter. 

124 b, first paragraph. In Bohemian, ' Zakleta dcera,' 
' The Daughter Cursed,' Erben, 1864, p. 466 (with 
other references) ; Moravian, Susil, p. 143, No 146. 
Dr R. Kbhler further refers to Peter, Volksthiimliches 
aus Osterreichisch-Schlesien, I, 209, 'Die drei Spiel- 
leute ; ' Meinert, p. 122, ' Die Erie;' Vernaleken, Al- 
pensagen, p. 289, No 207, ' Der Ahornbaum.' 

125 b. Add to the citations: 'Le Sifflet enchante,' 
E. Cosquin, Contes populaires lorrains, No 26, Ro 
mania, VI, 565, with annotations, pp 567 f; Kohler's 
Nachtrage in Zeitschrift fur romanische Philologie, II, 
350 f ; Engelien u. Lahn, Der Volksmund in der Mark 
Brandenburg, T, 105, ' Diii 3 Briioder ; ' Sebillot, Litte"- 
rature orale de la Haute- Bretagne, p. 220, Les Trois 
Freres, p. 226, ' Le Sifflet qui parle.' (Kohler.) 

132. I. 10 2 . Read: for water. 
K. Say : Kinloch MSS, VII, 256. 


l a . And I '11 gie the hail o my father's land. 

2. The first tune that the bonnie fiddle playd, 
'Hang my sister Alison,' it said. 

8. ' I wad gie you.' 

136 a. R b. Read : Lanarkshire. 

Campbell MS., II, 88. 

1 There dwelt twa sisters in a bower, 

Benorie, Benorie 

The youngest o them was the fairest flower. 
In the merry milldams o Benorie 

2 There cam a wooer them to woo, 

3 He 's gien the eldest o them a broach and a real, 
Because that she loved her sister weel. 

At etc. 4 

4 He 's gien the eldest a gay penknife, 

He loved the youngest as dear as his life. 
At etc. 

5 ' O sister, O sister, will ye go oer yon glen, 
And see my father's ships coming in ? ' 

At etc. 

6 ' O sister dear, I darena gang, 
Because I 'm feard ye throw me in.' 

The etc. 

7 ' O set your foot on yon sea stane, 
And was yeer hands in the sea foam.' 

At etc. 

8 She set her foot on yon sea stane, 
To wash her hands in the sea foam. 

At etc. 

9 . . . 

But the eldest has thrown the youngest in. 
The etc. 

10 ' O sister, sister, lend me your hand, 
And ye 'se get William and a' his land.' 
At etc. 

11 The miller's daughter cam out clad in red, 
Seeking water to bake her bread. 

At etc. 

12 ' father, O father, gae fish yeer mill-dam, 
There 's either a lady or a milk-[white] swan.' 

In etc. 

13 The miller cam out wi his lang cleek, 
And he cleekit the lady out by the feet. 

From the bonny milldam, etc. 

14 Ye wadna kend her pretty feet, 
The American leather was sae neat. 

In etc. 

15 Ye wadna kend her pretty legs, 

The silken stockings were so neat tied. 
In etc. 

16 Ye wadna kend her pretty waist, 
The silken stays were sae neatly laced. 

In etc. 

17 Ye wadna kend her pretty face, 

It was sae prettily preend oer wi lace. 
In etc. 

18 Ye wadna kend her yellow hair, 

It was sae besmeared wi dust and glar. 
In etc. 

19 By cam her father's fiddler fine, 
And that lady's spirit spake to him. 

From etc. 

20 She bad him take three taits o her hair, 

And make them three strings to his fiddle sae 

rare. A - 

At etc. 

21 'Take two of my fingers, sae lang and sae 


And make them pins to your fiddle sae neat.' 
At etc. 

22 The ae first spring that the fiddle played 
"Was, Cursed be Sir John, my ain true-love. 

At etc. 

23 The next spring that the fiddle playd 
Was, Burn burd Hellen, she threw me in. 

The etc. 



2, 3. In the MS. thus : 

There came . . . 

Benorie . . . 
He 's gien . . . 

At the merry . . . 
Because that . . . 

At the merry . . . 

8, 9. In the MS. thus : 

She set ... 

Benorie . . . 
To wash . . . 

At the ... 
But the eldest . . . 

The bonny . . . 

From 18 on, the burden is 

Benorie, Benorie. 

8 He could not catch her hy the waist, 

For her silken stays they were tight laced. 

9 But he did catch her hy the hand, 

And pulled her poor hody unto dry land. 

10 He took three taets o her bonnie yellow hair, 
To make harp strings they were so rare. 

11 The very first tune that the bonnie harp 

Was The aldest has cuisten the youngest away. 

Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1, 1830, p. 7. 

I see a lady in the dam, 

Binnorie, oh Binnorie 
She shenes as sweet as ony swan. 

I the bonny milldams o Binnorie 


Communicated by Mr Thomas Lugton, of Kelso, as sung 

Communicated to Percy, April 7, 1770, and April 19, 

,. , , , , 1775, by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, near Ashford, Kent : 

by an old cotter-woman fifty years ago ; learned by her from .. . , , , , \, . v, . 

J "taken down from the mouth of the spmning-wheel, if I 

her grandfather. 

1 Ther were three ladies playing at the ba, 

Norham, down by Norham 
And there cam a knight to view them a'. 
By the bonnie mill-dams o Norham 

2 He courted the aldest wi diamonds and rings, 
But he loved the youngest abune a' things. 

may be allowed the expression." 

1 There was a king lived in the North Country, 

Hey down down dery down 
There was a king lived in the North Country, 

And the bough it was bent to me 
There was a king lived in the North Country, 
And he had daughters one, two, three. 

I '11 prove true to my love, 

If my love will prove true to me. 

3 ' Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your hand, 
And pull my poor body unto dry laud. 

4 ' Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your glove, 
And you shall have my own true love ! ' 

5 Oot cam the miller's daughter upon Tweed, 
To carry in water to bake her bread. 

6 ' Oh father, oh father, there 's a fish in your 

dam ; 
It either is a lady or a milk-white swan.' 

7 Oot cam the miller's man upon Tweed, 
And there he spied a lady lying dead. 

2 He gave the eldest a gay gold ring, 
But he gave the younger a better thing. 

3 He bought the younger a beaver hat ; 
The eldest she thought much of that. 

4 ' Oh sister, oh sister, let us go run, 
To see the ships come sailing along ! ' 

5 And when they got to the sea-side brim, 
The eldest pushed the younger in. 

6 ' Oh sister, oh sister, lend me your hand, 

I '11 make you heir of my house and land.' 



7 ' I '11 neither lend you my hand nor my 

Unless you grant me your true-love.' 

8 Then down she sunk and away she swam, 
Untill she came to the miller's mill-dam. 

9 The miller's daughter sat at the mill-door, 
As fair as never was seen before. 

10 ' Oh father, oh father, there swims a swan, 
Or else the body of a dead woman.' 

11 The miller he ran with his fishing hook, 
To pull the fair maid out o the brook. 

12 ' Wee '11 hang the miller upon the mill-gate, 
For drowning of my sister Kate.' 

139 a. K. I wad give you, is the beginning of a new 
stanza (as seen above). 

141 b. S. Read: 1. MS., Orless. 

11! The Cruel Brother. 

P. 141. B, I. Insert the title, ' The Cruel Brother.' 
Add: L. ' The King of Fairies,' Campbell MSS, II, 


M. ' The Roses grow sweet aye,' Campbell MSS, II, 

N. ' The Bride's Testamen,' Dr Joseph Robertson's 
Note-Book, January 1, 1830, one stanza. 

142 b, second paragraph, lines 5, 6. Say : on the way 
kisses her arm, neck, and mouth. 

Add, as varieties of ' Rizzardo bello : ' 

B. ' Luggieri,' Contado aretino, communicated by 
Giulio Salvatori to the Rassegna Settimanale, Rome, 
1879, June 22, No 77, p. 485 ; reprinted in Romania, 
XI, 391, note. 

C. ' Rizzol d'Amor,' Guerrini, Alcuni Canti p. ro- 
inagnoli, p. 3, 1880. 

D. ' La Canzdne de 'Nttcenzie,' Pitre e Salomone- 
Marino, Archivio per Tradizioni popolari, I, 213, 1882. 

143. Slavic ballads resembling ' Graf Friedrich.' 
Moravian, Susil, 'Nest'astna svatba,' 'The Unhappy 
Wedding,' No 89, c, d, pp 85 f. A bridegroom is bring 
ing home bis bride; his sword slips from the sheath and 
wounds tbe bride in the side. He binds up the wound, 
and begs her to hold out till she comes to the house. 
The bride can cat nothing, and dies in the night. Her 
mother comus in tbe morning with loads of cloth and 
feathers, is put off when she asks for her daughter, re 
proaches the bridegroom for having killed her ; he 
pleads his innocence. 

Servian. Karadshitch, I, 309, No 421, ' Jani and 
Milenko,' belongs to tins class, though mixed with por 
tions of at least one other ballad (' Earl Brand '). Mi 
lenko wooes tbe fair Jani, and is favored by her mother 
and by all her brothers but the youngest. This brother 
goes hunting, and bids Jani open to nobody while he is 
away, but Milenko carries her off on bis horse. As they 
are riding over a green bill, a branch of a tree catches 
in Jani's dress. Milenko attempts to cut the branch off 
with his knife, but in so doing wounds Jani in the head. 
Jani binds up tbe wound, and they go on, and presently 
meet the youngest brother, who hails Milenko, asks 
where be got the fair maid, discovers the maid to be 
his sister, but bids her Godspeed. On reaching his 
mother's house, Milenko asks that a bed may be pre 
pared for Jani, who is in need of repose. Jani dies in 
the night, Milenko in the morning. They are buried 
in one grave ; a rose is planted over her, a grape-vine 
over him, and these intertwine, "as it were Jani with 

143 b, after the first paragraph. A pallikar, who is 
bringing home his bride, is detained on the way in con 
sequence of his whole train leaving him to go after a 
stag. The young man, who has never seen his bride's 
face, reaches over his horse to give her a kiss ; his knife 
disengages itself and wounds her. She begs him to 
staunch the blood with his handkerchief, praying only to 
live to see her bridegroom's house. This wish is al 
lowed her ; she withdraws the handkerchief from the 
wound and expires. Dozon, Chansons p. bulgares, 'Le 
baiser fatal,' p. 270, No 49. 

143 b, sixth line of the third paragraph. Read: 
Lord Randal.' 

144 a, line 4. ' Catarina de Lid ; ' in Mild, Roman- 
cerillo Catalan, 2d ed., No 307, p. 291, ' Trato feroz,' 
seven versions. 

Line 15. Cf. Blade", Poesies p. de la Gascogne, II, 

144 b, first paragraph. A mother, not liking her 
son's wife, puts before him a glass of mead, and poison 
before tbe wife. God exchanges them, and the son 
drinks tbe poison. The son makes his will. To his 
brother he leaves four black horses, to his sister four 
cows and four calves, to 'his wife a house. " And to 
me ? " the mother asks. " To you that big stone and 
the deep Danube, because you have poisoned me and 
parted me from my beloved." Susil, ' Matka traviCka,' 
pp 154, 155, No 157, two versions. 

144 b, second paragraph. ' El testamento de Amelia,' 
No 220, p. 185, of the second edition of Romancerillo 
Catalan, with readings of eleven other copies, A-F, 
A r F,. In BI only have we an ill bequest to the mother. 
After leaving her mother a rosary, upon the mother's 
asking again, What for me ? the dying lady says, I will 
leave you my cbopines, clogs, so that when you come 
downstairs they may break your neck. 

There are testaments in good will also in ' Elveskud,' 
Grundtvig, No 47, IV, 836 ff, L 14, 15, M 17, O 17-19. 




Campbell MSS, II, 19. 

1 There were three ladies playing at the ba, 

With a hey and a lilly gay 
When the King o Fairies rode hy them a'. 
And the roses they grow sweetlie 

2 The foremost one was clad in blue ; 
He askd at her if she 'd be his doo. 

3 The second of them was clad in red ; 
He askd at her if she 'd be his bride. 

4 The next of them was clad in green ; 
He askd at her if she 'd be his queen. 

5 ' Go you ask at my father then, 
And you may ask at my mother then. 

6 ' You may ask at my sister Ann, 
And not forget my brother John.' 

7 ' O I have askd at your father then, 
And I have askd at your mother then. 

8 ' And I have askd at your sister Ann, 
But I Ve quite forgot your brother John.' 

9 Her father led her down the stair, 

Her mother combd down her yellow hair. 

10 Her sister Ann led her to the cross, 

And her brother John set her on her horse. 

11 ' Now you are high and I am low, 
Give me a kiss before ye go.' 

12 She 's lootit down to gie him a kiss, 

He gave her a deep wound and didna miss. 

13 And with a penknife as sharp as a dart, 
And he has stabbit her to the heart. 

14 ' Ride up, ride up,' says the foremost man, 
1 1 think our bride looks pale an wan.' 

15 ' Eide up, ride up,' says the middle man, 
' I see her heart's blude trinkling down.' 

16 ' Ride on, ride,' says the Fairy King, 

' She will be dead lang ere we win name.' 

17 ' I wish I was at yonder cross, 

Where my brother John put me on my horse. 

18 ' I wish I was at yonder thorn, 

I wad curse the day that ere I was born. 

19 'I wish I was at yon green hill, 
Then I wad sit and bleed my fill.' 

20 ' What will you leave your father then ? ' 
* The milk-white steed that I ride on.' 

21 ' What will you leave your mother then ? ' 
' My silver Bible and my golden fan.' 

22 ' What will ye leave your sister Ann ? ' 
' My good lord, to be married on.' 

23 ' What will ye leave your sister Pegg ? ' 
' The world wide to go and beg.' 

24 ' What will you leave your brother John ? ' 
' The gallows-tree to hang him on.' 

25 ' What will you leave your brother's wife ? ' 
' Grief and sorrow to end her life.' 

Burden in all but 1, 2, 13, lilly hey ; in 16, 17, 18, 
spring sweetlie ; in 22, smell sweetlie. 


Campbell MSS, II, 26. 

1 There was three ladies playing at the ba, 

With a hay and a lilly gay 
A gentleman cam amang them a'. 
And the roses grow sweet aye 

2 The first of them was clad in yellow, 

And he askd at her gin she 'd be his marrow. 

3 The next o them was clad in green ; 
He askd at her gin she 'd be his queen. 

4 The last o them [was] clad in red ; 
He askd at her gin she 'd be his bride. 

5 ' Have ye asked at my father dear ? 
Or have ye asked my mother dear ? 

6 ' Have ye asked my sister Ann ? 

Or have ye asked my brother John ? ' 



7 ' I have asked yer father dear, 
And I have asked yer mother dear. 

8 ' I have asked yer sister Ann, 

But I 've quite forgot your brother John.' 

9 Her father dear led her thro them a', 
Her mother dear led her thro the ha. 

10 Her sister Ann led her thro the closs, 

And her brother John stabbed her on her 

11 ' Ride up, ride up,' says the foremost man, 
' I think our bride looks pale and wan.' 

12 ' Ride up,' cries the bonny bridegroom, 
* I think the bride be bleeding.' 

13 ' This is the bludy month of May, 

Me and my horse bleeds night and day. 

14 ' an I were at yon green hill, 

I wad ly down and bleed a while. 

15 ' gin I was at yon red cross, 

I wad light down and corn my horse. 

16 ' O an I were at yon kirk-style, 

I wad lye down and soon be weel.' 

17 When she cam to yon green hill, 
Then she lay down and bled a while. 

18 And when she cam to yon red cross, 
Then she lighted and corned her horse. 

19 ' What will ye leave your father dear ? ' 

' My milk-white steed, which cost me dear.' 

20 ' What will ye leave your mother dear ? ' 
' The bludy clothes that I do wear.' 

21 ' What will ye leave your sister Ann ? ' 
' My silver bridle and my golden fan.' 

22 ' What will ye leave your brother John ? ' 
' The gallows-tree to hang him on.' 

23 ' What will ye leave to your sister Pegg ? ' 
' The wide world for to go and beg.' 

24 When she came to yon kirk-style, 
Then she lay down, and soon was weel. 

15 1 . green cross. 
17 2 . bleed. 

Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1, 1830, No 4. 

Then out bespak the foremost priest : 

Wi a heigh ho and a lilly gay 
I think she 's bleedin at the breast. 

The flowers they spring so sweetly 

12. Lord Randal. 

P. 151. 

B. Add : Kinloch MSS, VII, 89. 

D. Read : a. ' Lord Randal,' Minstrelsy, etc. b. 
' Lord Rannal,' Campbell MSS, II, 269. 

I. Add : h. Communicated by Mr George M. Rich 
ardson, i. Communicated by Mr George L. Kittredge. 

K. b. Insert after Popular Rhymes : 1826, p. 295. 
Add : d. The Crowdin Dou,' Kinloch MSS, I, 184. 

Add: P. 'Lord Ronald, my son,' communicated by 
Mr Macmath, of Edinburgh. 

Q. ' Lord Randal,' Pitcairn's MSS, III, 19. 

R. ' Little wee toorin dow,' Pitcairn's MSS, III, 13, 
from tradition. 

153 a. I failed to mention, though I had duly noted 
them, three versions of ' L'Avvelenato,' which are cited 
by Professor D'Ancona in his Poesia popolare Italian.-!, 
pp 106ff. 

D. The Canon Lorenzo Panciatichi refers to the bal 
lad in a ' Cicalata in lode della Padella e della Frit- 
tura,' recited at the Crusca, September 24, 1656, and 
in such manner as shows that it was well known. He 
quotes the first question of the mother, " Dove andastii 
a cena," etc. To this the son answered, he says, that 
lie had been poisoned with a roast eel : and the mother 
asking what the lady had cooked it in, the reply was, 
In the oil pot. 

E. A version obtained by D'Ancona from the singing 
of a young fellow from near Pisa, of which the first four 
stanzas are given. Some 'verses after these are lost, for 
the testament is said to supervene immediately. 

F. A version from Lecco, which has the title, derived 
from its burden, ' De lu cavalieri e figliu de re,' A. 
Trifone Nutricati Briganti, Intorno ai Canti e Racconti 
popolari del Leccese, p. 17. The first four stanzas are 
cited, and it appears from these that the prince had 
cooked the eel himself, and, appropriately, in a gold 

154 a, first paragraph. F is given by Meltzl, Acta 
Comparationis, 1880, columns 143 f, in another dialect. 

154b. Magyar. The original of this ballad, 'A 
megetett Janos,' ' Poisoned John ' (as would appear, in 
the Szekler idiom), was discovered by the Unitarian 
bishop Kriza, of Klausenburg, and was published by 
him in J. Arany's ' Koszoru,' in 1864. It is more ex 
actly translated by Meltzl in the Acta Comparationis 



Litterarum Universarum, 1880, vu, columns 30 f, the 
original immediately preceding. Aigner has omitted 
the second stanza, and made the third into two, in his 
translation. The Szekler has ten two-line stanzas, with 
the burden, Ah, my bowels are on fire ! Ah, make ready 
my bed ! In the second stanza John says he has eaten 
a four-footed crab ; in the sixth he leaves his elder 
brother his yoke of oxen ; in the seventh he leaves his 
team of four horses to his younger brother. Also trans 
lated in Ungarische Revue, 1883, p. 139, by G. Hein- 

B, another Szekler version, taken down by Meltzl 
from the mouth of a girl, is in seven two-line stanzas, 
with the burden, Make my bed, sweet mother ! ' Jdnos,' 
Acta, cols 140 f , with a German translation. John has 
been at his sister-in-law's, and had a stuffed chicken 
and a big cake. At his elder sister's they gave him the 
back of the axe, bloody stripes. He bequeaths to his 
elder sister remorse and sickness ; to his sister-in-law 
six oxen and his wagon ; to his father illness and pov 
erty ; to his mother kindness and beggary. 

156 b, second paragraph. Polish : add Roger, p. 
66, No 119. Add further : Little Russian, Golovatsky, 
Part I, pp 206, 207, 209, Nos 32, 33, 35. Masovian, 
Kozlowski, No 14, p. 52, p. 53. (Sacharof, IV, 7 = Cel- 
akovsky, III, 108.) 

157 a, second paragraph. Kaden translates Nanna- 
relli, p. 52. (Kohler.) 

157 b. Italian A is translated by Evelyn Carrington 
in The Antiquary, III, 156 f. D also by Freiligrath, 
II, 226, ed. Stuttgart, 1877. 

158 a. B. Found in Kinloch MSS, VII, 89. The 
sixth stanza is not there, and was probably taken from 
Scott, D. 

160 a. D. Read : a. Minstrelsy, etc. b. Campbell 
MSS, II, 269. 

163 a. I. Add: h. By Mr George M. Richardson, 
as learned by a lady in Southern New Hampshire, about 
fifty years ago, from an aged aunt. i. By Mr George 
L. Kittredge, obtained from a lady in Exeter, N. H. 

164 a. K. Insert under b, after Scotland : 1826, p. 
295. Add : d. Kinloch MSS, I, 184. 

164 b. K 6 2 . Read : head and his feet. 


Communicated by Mr Macmath, of Edinburgh, as derived 
from his aunt, Miss Jane Webster, formerly of Airds of 
Kells, now (January, 1883) of Dairy, Kirkcudbrightshire, 
who learned it more than fifty years ago from Marv Wil 
liamson, then a nurse-maid at Airds. 

1 ' Where hae ye been a' day, Lord Ronald, my 


Where hae ye been a' day, my handsome 
young one ? ' 

' I 've been in the wood hunting ; mother, 

make my bed soon, 
For I am weary, weary hunting, and fain 

would lie doun.' 

2 ' O where did you dine, Lord Ronald, my 

where did you dine, my handsome young 

one ?' 
' I dined with my sweetheart ; mother, make 

my bed soon, 
For I am weary, weary hunting, and fain 

would lie doun.' 

3 ' What got you to dine on, Lord Ronald, my 

son ? 
What got you to dine on, my handsome young 

one ? ' 
' I got eels boiled in water that in heather doth 

And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain 

would lie doun.' 

4 ' What did she wi the broo o them, Lord Ron 

ald, my son ? 

What did she wi the broo o them, my hand 
some young one ? ' 

' She gave it to my hounds for to live upon, 
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain 
would lie doun.' 

5 ' Where are your hounds now, Lord Ronald, 

my son ? 
Where are your hounds now, my handsome 

young one ? ' 
' They are a' swelled and bursted, and sae will 

I soon, 
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain 

would lie doun.' 

6 ' What will you leave your father, Lord Ron 

ald, my son ? 
What will you leave your father, my handsome 

young one ? ' 

' I '11 leave him my lands for to live upon, 
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain 

would lie doun.' 

7 ' What will you leave your brother, Lord Ron 

ald, my son ? 

What will you leave your brother, my hand 
some young one ? ' 



' I '11 leave him my gallant steed for to ride 

And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain 

would lie doun.' 

8 ' What will you leave your sister, Lord Ronald, 

my son ? 
What will you leave your sister, my handsome 

young one ? ' 
' I '11 leave her my gold watch for to look 

And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain 

would lie doun.' 

9 ' What will you leave your mother, Lord Ron 

ald, my son ? 

What will you leave your mother, my hand 
some young one ? ' 

' I '11 leave her my Bible for to read upon, 
And I am weary, weary hunting, and fain 
would lie doun.' 

10 ' What will you leave your sweetheart, Lord 
Ronald, my son ? 

What will you leave your sweetheart, my hand 
some young one ? ' 

'I'll leave her the gallows-tree for to hang 

It was her that poisoned me ; ' and so he fell 


Pitcairn's MSS, III, 19. " This was communicated to me 
by my friend Patrick Robertson, Esq., Advocate,* who 
heard it sung by an old lady in the North Country ; and 
though by no means enthusiastic about popular poetry, it 
struck him so forcibly that he requested her to repeat it 
slowly, so as he might write it down." Stanzas 2-5 " were 
very much similar to the set in Scott's Minstrelsy," and 
were not taken down. 

1 ' O whare hae ye been, Lord Randal, my 

son ? 
O whare hae ye been, my handsome young 

' Oer the peat moss mang the heather, mother, 

mak my bed soon, 
For I 'm weary, weary hunting, and fain wad 

lie down.' 

* Afterwards a judge, with the name of Lord Robert 
son, but universally known as Peter Robertson, celebrated 
for his wit and good fellowship as well as his law, friend of 

6 ' What leave ye to your father, Lord Randal, 

my son ? 
What leave ye to your father, my handsome 

young man ? ' 
' I leave my houses and land, mother, mak my 

bed soon, 
For I 'm weary, weary hunting, and fain wad 

lie down.' 

7 ' What leave ye to your brother, Lord Randal, 

my son ? 
What leave ye to your brother, my handsome 

young man ? ' 

' O the guid milk-white steed that I rode upon, 
For I 'm weary, weary hunting, and fain wad 

lie down.' 

8 ' What leave ye to your true-love, Lord Ran 

dal, my son ? 

What leave ye to your true-love, my hand 
some young man ? ' 

' O a high, high gallows, to hang her upon, 
For I 'm weary, weary hunting, and fain wad 
lie down.' 


Pitcairn's MSS, III, 11. "From tradition: widow Ste 

1 ' Whare hae ye been a' day, my little wee toorin 


' It 's I 've been at my grandmammy's ; mak my 
bed, mammy, now.' 

2 ' And what did ye get frae your grandmammy, 

my little wee toorin dow ? ' 
' It 's I got a wee bit fishy to eat ; mak my bed, 
mammy, now.' 

3 ' An what did ye do wi the banes o it, my lit 

tle wee toorin dow ? ' 

' I gied it to my black doggy to eat ; mak my 
bed, mammy, now.' 

4 ' An what did your little black doggy do syne, 

my little wee toorin dow ? ' 
' He shot out his head, and his feet, and he 
died ; as I do, mammy, now.' 

Scott, Christopher North, and Lockhart ; " the Paper Lord, 
Lord Peter, who broke the laws of God, of man, and metre." 
Mr Macmath's note. 




Communicated to Percy by Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, near 
Ashford, Kent, April 19, 1775: taken down by a friend of 
Mr Parsons " from the spinning-wheel, in Suffolk." 

1 ' Where have you been today, Randall, my 

son ? 

Where have you been today, my only man ? ' 
' I have been a hunting, mother, make my bed 


For I 'm sick at the heart, fain woud lie down. 
Dear sister, hold my head, dear mother, make 

my bed, 
I am sick at the heart, fain woud lie down.' 

2 ' What have you eat today, Randal, my son ? 
What have you eat today, my only man ? ' 

' I have eat an eel ; mother, make,' etc. 

3 ' What was the colour of it, Randal, my son ? 
What was the colour of it, my only man ? ' 

' It was neither green, grey, blue nor black, 
But speckled on the back ; make,' etc. 

4 ' Who gave you eels today, Randal, my son? 
Who gave you eels today, my only man ? ' 

' My own sweetheart ; mother, make,' etc. 

5 ' Where shall I make your bed, Randal, my 

son ? 

Where shall I make your bed, my only man ? ' 
' In the churchyard ; mother, make,' etc. 

6 ' What will you leave her then, Randall, my 


What will you leave her then, my only man ? ' 
'A halter to hang herself ; make,' etc. 

166 a. Insert after C : 

D. b. Disordered : b 1 = a 1 ; b 2 = a 4 ; b 3 = 
a 51- 2 _|_ a 2 s, 4 . b 4 _ a 3 . a 2 i, 2, 5 a, 4 } are 

b. I 8 , been at the hunting. 

3 2 . I fear ye 've drunk poison. 
3 8 = a 2 8 . I supd wi my auntie. 
4 1 ' 2 = a 3 1 ' 2 . your supper. 
This copy may be an imperfect recollection of a. 
166 b. 
I. h. Four stanzas only, 1, 2, 6, 7. 

1 2 , my own little one. 

I 4 , at the heart . . . and fain. 
6 1 . will you leave mother. 
7 1 , will you leave grandma. 7 8 . a rope. 
k. Seven stanzas. 

1 3 , to see grandmother. 

I 4 , sick at heart, and fain. 
2 s . Striped eels fried. 

3 = a 6, d 5, h 3. 

3 1 ' 2 . Your grandmother has poisoned you. 
3 8 . I know it, I know it. 

4 = a 6. 4 1 ' 2 . would you leave mother. 

5 = a 8, b 9, h 7. 

5 1 , 2 . would you leave sister. 
5 8 . A box full of jewels. 

6 = a7; 7 = a 8. 

6 L 2 . would you leave grandmother. 
6?. A rope for to hang her. 
7 L 2 . O where shall I make it. 
K. Add after c : 
d. I 1 , my bonnie wee crowdin, and always. 

2 1 . frae your stepmither. 

2 2 . She gied me a bonnie wee fish, it was baith 

black and blue. 
5 1 . my ain wee dog. 

6 1 . And whare is your ain wee dog. 

6 2 . It laid down its wee headie and deed, 

And sae maun I do nou. 

Q. "The second, third, fourth, and fifth stanzas 
were very much similar to the set Lord Ronald, in 
Scott's Border Minstrelsy, and as Mr Robertson was 
hurried he did not take down the precise words." 
MS., p. 21. 

Ronald is changed to Randal in 6, 7, but is left in 8. 

R. Written in four-line stanzas. 

13. Edward. 

P. 168 a, first paragraph. Add : Swedish E, Amin- 
son, Bidrag till Sodermanlands Kulturhistoria, in, 37, 
eight stanzas. Nine stanzas of Finnish B are trans 
lated by Schott, Acta Comparationis, 1878, IV, cols 
132, 133. The murder here is for wife-seduction, a 
peculiar and assuredly not original variation. 

168 b. B is translated by Adolph von Marees, p. 27; 
by Graf von Platen, II, 329, Stuttgart, 1847 ; after Her 
der into Magyar, by Dr Karl von Szdsz. 

14. Babylon ; or, The Bonnie Banks o 

P. 172 a. Swedish. Professor George Stephens 
points me to two localized prose outlines of the story, 
one from Smaland, the other from Sk&ne ; ' Truls och 
bans barn,' in the Svenska Fornminnesfb'reningens 
Tidskrift, II, 77 f. 

15. Leesome Brand. 

P. 179 a. Swedish. II. Add : I, * Risa lill,' Wig- 
strb'm, Folkdiktning, II, 28. 



180 a, lines 25, 26. Read : A, G, M, X. 

181 a. German. Add : D, ' Der Hitter und seine 
Geliebte,' Ditfurth, Deutsche Volks- und Gesellschafts- 
lieder des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts, p. 14, No 13. (Kbh- 

181 b. French. C. A still more corrupted copy in 
Podsies populaires de la France, III, fol. 143, La 
fausse morte.' D. Fol. 215 of the same volume, a very 
pretty ballad from Pdrigord, which has lost most of 
the characteristic incidents, but not the tragic conclu 

182 b, first paragraph. A similar scene, ending hap 
pily, in I Complement! della Chanson d'lluon de Bor 
deaux, pubblicati da A. Graf, pp 26 ff. (Kbhler.) 

183 b, stanzas 27, 28. Compare : 

Modhren larde sonnenn sinn : 

' Skiuter tu diur och skiuter tu raa ; 

' Skiuter tu diur och skiuter tu raa, 
Then salige hindenn latt tu ga ! ' 

Den fortrollade Jungfrun,' Arwidsson, II, 260, No 
136, A 1, 2. 

17. Hind Horn. 

P. 187. F. Insert the title Young Hyndhorn.' 

G. Insert: Kinloch MSS, VII, 117. 

192. Dr Davidson informs me that many years ago 
he heard a version of ' Hind Horn,' in four-line stanzas, 
in which, as in ' Horn et Rymenhild' and 'Horn Childe 
and Maiden Riuinild,' Horn took part in a joust at the 
king's court, 

An young Hind Horn was abune them a'. 

He remembers further only these stanzas : 

' O got ye this o the sea sailin, 

Or got ye 't o the Ian ? 
Or got ye 't o the bloody shores o Spain, 

On a droont man's han 1 ' 

' I got na 't o the sea sailin, 

I got na 't o the Ian, 
Nor yet upo the bloody shores o Spain, 

On a droont man's ban.' 

193 b (2). Add : ' Hen* Lovmand,' Kristensen, I, 
136, No 52. 

194. A corrupt fragment of a ballad, 'Der Settler,' 
in Schrber's Ausflug nach Gottschee, p. 210 f (Kbh- 
ler), retains features like ' Hind Horn.' The beggar 
comes to a wedding, and sits by the stove. The bride 
kindly says, Nobody is thinking of the beggar, and 
hands him a glass of wine. He says, Thanks, fair 
bride ; thou wast my first wife. Upon this the bride 
groom jumps over the table, crying, Bachelor I came, 
and bachelor will go. 

The Epirots and Albanians have a custom of betroth 
ing or marrying, commonly in early youth, and of then 
parting for a long period. A woman was lately (1875) 
buried at lannina who, as the archbishop boasted in 
the funeral discourse, had preserved her fidelity to a 
husband who had been separated from her thirty years. 
This unhappy usage has given rise to a distinct class 
of songs. Dozon, Chansons populaires bulgares, p. 294, 

193 b (5). The German popular rhymed tale of 
Henry the Lion is now known to have been composed 
by the painter Heinrich Gbtting, Dresden, 1585. Ger- 
mania, XXVI, 453, No 527. 

198 a, to first paragraph. For the marvellous trans 
portation in these stories, see a note by Liebrecht in 
Jahrblicher fiir rom. u. eng. Literatur, III, 147. In the 
same, IV, 110, Liebrecht refers to the legend of Hugh 
of Halton, recounted by Dugdale in his Antiquities of 
Warwickshire, II, 646, ed. of 1730, and Monasticon 
Anglicanum, IV, 90 f, ed. 1823 (and perhaps in Dug- 
dale's Baronage of England, but I have not found it 
there). Hugo is another Gerard : the two half-rings 
miraculously unite. (Kbhler.) See, also, Landau on 
Torello, 'Der Wunderritt,' Quellen des Dekameron 
1884, pp 193-218. 

198 b, third paragraph. Other versions of ' Le Re- 
tour du Mari : ' Fleury, Litterature Orale de la Basse- 
Normandie, p. 268 ; E. Legrand, Romania, X, 374, 
also from Normandy. 

A ballad of the nature of ' Le Retour du Mari ' is 
very popular in Poland : Kolberg, No 22, pp 224 ff, 
some dozen copies ; Wojdcki, I, 287 ; Wojcicki, II, 
3 1 1 = Kolberg's c; Lipiriski, p. 159 =: Kolberg 's i; 
Konopka, p. 121, No 20 ; Kozlowski, No 5, p. 35, 
p. 36, two copies. In Moravian, ' Prvm milejsi,' 'The 
First Love,' Susil, No 135, p. 131. The general 
course of the story is that a young man has to go to 
the war the day of his wedding or the day after. He 
commits his bride to her mother, saying, Keep her for 
me seven years ; and if I do not then come back, give 
her to whom you please. He is gone seven years, and, 
returning then, asks for his wife. She has just been 
given to another. He asks for a fiddle [pipe], and 
says he will go to the wedding. They advise him to 
stay away, for there will be a disturbance. No, he 
will only stand at the door and play. The bride jumps 
over four tables, and makes a courtesy to him on a 
fifth, welcomes him and dismisses the new bridegroom. 

199 a, end of the first paragraph. I forgot to men 
tion the version of Costantino, agreeing closely with 
Camarda's, in De Rada, Rapsodie d'un poema alba- 
nese raccolte nelle colonie del Napoletano, pp 61-64. 

200. A maid, parting from her lover for three years, 
divides her ring with him. He forgets, and prepares to 
marry another woman. She comes to the nuptials, and 
is not known. She throws the half ring into a cup, 
drinks, and hands the cup to him. He sees the half 
ring, and joins it to his own. This is my wife, he 
says. She delivered me from death. He annuls his 



marriage, and espouses the right woman. Miklosisch, 
Ueber die Mundarten der Zigeuner, IV, Marchen u. 
Lieder, 15th Tale, pp 52-55, at the end of a story of the 
class referred to at p. 401 f. (Kb'hler.) 

A personage appeared at Magdeburg in 1348 in the 
disguise of a pilgrim, asked for a cup of wine from the 
archbishop's table, and, in drinking, dropped into the 
cup from his mouth the seal ring of the margrave 
Waldemar, supposed to have been long dead, but whom 
he confessed or avowed himself to be. Kloden, Dip- 
lomatische Geschichte des fiir falsch erkla'rten Mark- 
grafen Waldemar, p. 189 f. (Kb'hler.) 

A wife who long pursues her husband, lost to her 
through spells, drops a ring into his broth at the feast 
for his second marriage, is recognized, and they are 
happily reunited : The Tale of the Hoodie, Campbell, 
West Highland Tales, I, 63-66. 

In a pretty Portuguese ballad, which has numerous 
parallels in other languages, a long-absent husband, 
after tormenting his wife by telling her that she is a 
widow, legitimates himself by saying, Where is your 
half of the ring which we parted ? Here is mine: ' Bella 
Infanta,' Almeida- Garrett, II, 11, 14, Braga, Cantos p. 
do Archipelago Aqoriano, p. 300 ; ' Dona Infanta,' 
' Dona Catherina,' Braga, Romanceiro Geral, pp 3 f , 7. 

See, further, for ring stories, Wesselofsky, Neue 
Beitrage zur Geschichte der Salomonsage, in Archiv 
fiir Slavische Philoiogie, VI, 397 f ; Hahn, Neugriech- 
ische Marchen, No 25. 

The cases in which a simple ring is the means of 
recognition or confirmation need, of course, not be mul 

200 a, line twenty-four. For Alesha read Alyosha. 

205. G. In Kinloch MSS, VII, 117. After " from 
the recitation of my niece, M. Kinnear, 23 August, 
1826," is written in pencil " Christy Smith," who may 
have been the person from whom Miss Kinnear derived 
the ballad, or another reciter. Changes are made in 
pencil, some of which are written over in ink, some 
not. The printed copy, as usual with Kinloch, differs 
in some slight respects from the manuscript. 

a. From the recitation of Miss Jane Webster, formerly of 
Airds of Kells, now of Dairy, both in the Stewartry of Kirk 
cudbright, December 12, 1882. b. From Miss Jessie Jane 
Macmath and Miss Agnes Macmath, nieces of Miss Web 
ster, December 11, 1882: originally derived from an old 
nurse. Communicated by Mr Macmath, of Edinburgh. 

1 She gave him a gay gold ring, 

Hey lillelu and how lo Ian 
But he gave her a far better thing. 

With my hey down and a hey diddle downie 

2 He gave her a silver wan, 

With nine bright laverocks thereupon. 

3 Young Hynd Horn is come to the Ian, 
There he met a beggar man. 

4 ' What news, what news do ye betide ? ' 

' Na news but Jeanie 's the prince's bride.' 

5 ' Wilt thou give me thy begging weed ? 
And I '11 give thee my good grey steed. 

6 ' Wilt thou give me thy auld grey hair ? 
And I '11 give ye mine that is thrice as fair.' 

7 The beggar he got on for to ride, 

But young Hynd Horn is bound for the bride. 

8 First the news came to the ha, 

Then to the room mang the gentles a'. 

9 ' There stands a beggar at our gate, 
Asking a drink for young Hynd Horn's sake.' 

10 ' I '11 ga through nine fires hot 

To give him a drink for young Hynd Horn's 

11 She gave him the drink, and he dropt in the 

The lady turned baith pale an wan. 

12 ' Oh got ye it by sea, or got ye it by Ian ? 
Or got ye it off some dead man's han ? ' 

13 ' I got it not by sea, nor I got it not by Ian, 
But I got it off thy milk-white han.' 

14 ' I '11 cast off my dress of red, 

And I '11 go with thee and beg my bread. 

15 ' I '11 cast off my dress of brown, 
And follow you from city to town. 

16 ' I '11 cast off my dress of green, 

For I am not ashamed with you to be seen.' 

17 ' You need not cast off your dress of red, 

For I can support thee on both wine and 



18 ' You need not cast off your dress of brown, 
For I can keep you a lady in any town. 

19 ' You need not cast off your dressy of green, 
For I can maintain you as gay a* a queen.' 

207 b. Add : P. 1 s , 7 1 , 9 1 , 13 2 , Hyndhorn. 
208. L b. 1-3, 6, 8, 10, 14, 16-19, wanting. 

Burden 2 : Wi my hey-dey an my hey 
deedle downie. 

6 1 . O gie to me your aul beggar weed. 

11. She gave him the cup, and he dropped 

in the ring : 
O but she turned pale an wan 1 

Between 1 1 and 1 2 : 

O whaur got e that gay gold ring ? 

13 a . your ain fair han. 

15 O bring to me my dress o broun, 
An I '11 beg wi you frae toun tae toun. 

216 a. Sir Orfeo has been lately edited by Dr Os 
car Zielke : Sir Orfeo, ein englisches Feenmarchen aus 
dem Mittelalter, mit Einleitung und Anmerkungen, 
Breslau, 1880. 

2O. The Cruel Mother. 

P. 218. D. b. Kinloch MSS, VII, 23. Insert again 
at p. 221. 

P. a. Also in Motherwell's MS., p. 514. Insert again 
at p. 222. 

I. a. Also in Motherwell's MS., p. 475. Insert again 
at p. 223. 

Add : N. The Loch o the Loanie,' Campbell MSS, 
II, 264. 

219 b. Add to the German versions of 'The Cruel 
Mother : ' M. Pater Amand Baumgarten, Aus der 
volksmassigen Ueberlieferung der Heimat : IX, Geburt, 
Ileirat, Tod, mit einem Anhang von Liedern, p. 140. 
[' Das ausgesetzte Kind.'] N. A. Schlosser, Deutsche 
Volkslieder aus Steiermark, p. 336, No 306, ' Der alte 
Halter und das Kind ' (not yet seen by me). (Kohler.) 

220 a. A ballad of Slavic origin in Nesselinann's 
Littauische Volkslieder, No 380, p. 322, resembles the 
German and Wendish versions of ' The Cruel Mother,' 
with a touch of ' The Maid and the Palmer.' (G. L. 

220 b, line 7. Read : Hausschatz. 



Campbell MSS, II, 264. 

1 As I lookit oer my father's castle wa, 

All alone and alone O 
I saw two pretty babes playing at the ba. 
Down by yon green-wood sidie 

2 ' pretty babes, gin ye were mine,' 

Hey the loch o the Loanie 
4 1 would dead ye o the silk sae fine.' 
Down by that green-wood sidie 

3 ' sweet darlings, gin ye were mine,' 

Hey the loch o the Loanie 

* I would feed ye on the morning's milk.' 

Down by that green-wood sidie 

4 ' mither dear, when we were thine,' 

By the loch o the Loanie 

* Ye neither dressd us wi silk nor twine.' 

Down by this green-wood sidie 

5 ' But ye tuke out your little pen-knife,' 

By, etc. 

' And there ye tuke yer little babes' life.' 
Down by the, etc. 

6 ' mither dear, when this ye had done,' 

Alone by, etc. 

' Ye unkirtled yersel, and ye wrapt us in 't.' 
Down by the, etc. 

7 ' Neist ye houkit a hole foment the seen,' 

All alone and alone O 

' And tearless ye stappit your little babes in ' 
Down by the, etc. 

8 ' But we are in the heavens high,' 

And far frae the loch o the Loanie 
' But ye hae the pains o hell to d[r]ie.' 
Before ye leave the green-wood sidie 

226 a. C. Cunningham, as Mr Macmath has re 
minded me, has made this stanza a part of another bal 
lad, in Cromek's Remains, p. 223. 

231. Catalan. The Romancerillo Catalan, in the 
new edition, p. 10, No 12, 'Magdalena,' gives another 
version, with the variations of eight more copies, that of 
the Observaciones being now C. 

232. Add : Italian. Ive, Canti popolari istriani, p. 
366, No 14, 'S. Maria Maddalena.' Mary's father, 
dying, left her a castle of gold and silver, from which 



one day she saw Jesus pass. She wept a fountain of 
tears to wash his feet, and dried his feet with her 
tresses. Then she asked for a penance. She wished 
to go into a cave without door or windows, sleep on the 
bare ground, eat raw herbs, and drink a little salt water; 
and this she did. In ' La Maddalena,' Guerrini, Al- 
cuni C. p. romagnoli, p. 7, there is no penance. 

22. St Stephen and Herod. 

P. 236 a. Spanish. Mill's new edition, Romance- 
rillo Catalan, No 31, 'El romero acusado de robo,' 
pp 36-38, adds six copies, not differing in anything 
important. In C, the youth, un estudiant, n'era ros 
com un fil d'or, blanch com Santa Catarina. 

I may note that Thomas Becket stands by his vo 
taries when brought to the gallows as effectually as St 
James. See Robertson, Materials, etc., I, 369, 471, 515, 

238. Note $. should have been credited to R. Kbh- 

238 b, second paragraph. Professor George Stephens 
informs me that the miracle of the cock is depicted, 
among scenes from the life of Jesus, on an antependium 
of an altar, derived from an old church in Slesvig, and 
now in the Danish Museum. Behind a large table sits 
a crowned woman, and at her left stands a crowned 
man, who points to a dish from which a cock has 
started up, with beak wide open. At the queen's right 
stands an old woman, simply clad and leaning on a 
staff. This picture comes between the Magi announc 
ing Christ's Birth and the Massacre of the Innocents, 
and the crowned figures are judged by Professor Ste 
phens to be Herod and Herodias. Who the old woman 
should be it is not easy to say, but there can be no con 
nection with St James. The work is assigned to the 
last part of the fourteenth century. 

239. Most of the literature on the topic of the res 
toration of the roasted cock to life is collected by Dr 
R. Kb'hler and by Ferdinand Wolf, in Jahrbiicher fiir 
romanische u. englische Literatur, III, 58 ff, 67 f. Dr 
Kohler now adds these notes : The miracle of St James, 
in Hermann von Fritslar's Heiligenleben, Pfeiffer's 
Deutsche Mystiker des vierzehnten Jahrhunderts, I, 
168 f ; Hahn, Das alte Passional (from the Golden Le 
gend), p. 223, v. 47-p. 225, v. 85 ; Lutolf, Sagen, Brauche 
und Legenden aus Lucern, u. s. w., p. 367, No 334 ; 
von Alpenburg, Deutsche Alpensagen, p. 137, No 135; 
Sepp, Altbayerischer Sagenschatz, pp 652 ff, 656 f. 

239 b. Three stone partridges on a buttress of a church 
at Miihlhausen are thus accounted for. In the early 
days of the Reformation a couple of orthodox divines, 
while waiting dinner, were discussing the prospect of the 
infection spreading to their good city. One of them, 
growing warm, declared that there was as much chance 
of that as of the three partridges that were roasting in 
the kitchen taking flight from the spit. Immediately 
there was heard a fluttering and a cooing in the region 


of the kitchen, the three birds winged their way from 
the house, and, lighting on the buttress of Mary Kirk, 
were instantly turned to stone, and there they are. 
Thiiringen uud der Harz, mit ihren Merkwiirdigkei- 
ten, u. s. w., VI, 20 f. (Kohler.) 

240 a. T' 'monk Andrius has the scene between 
Judas and his mother as in Cursor Mundi, and attrib 
utes to Greek writers the opinion that the roasted cock 
was the same that caused Peter's compunction. Mus- 
safia, Sulla legenda del legno della Croce, Sitz. Ber. 
der phil.-hist. Classe der Wiener Akad., LXIII, 206, 
note. (Kohler.) 

" About the year 1850 I was on a visit to the rector 
of Kilmeen, near Clonakilty, in the county of Cork. 
My friend brought me to visit the ruins of an old cas 
tle. Over the open fireplace in the great hall there 
was a stone, about two or three feet square, carved 
in the rudest fashion, and evidently representing our 
Lord's sufferings. There were the cross, the nails, the 
hammer, the scourge ; but there was one piece of 
sculpture which I could not understand. It was a sort 
of rude semi-circle, the curve below and the diameter 
above, and at the junction a figure intended to repre 
sent a bird. My friend asked me what it meant. I 
confessed my ignorance. ' That,' said he, ' is the 
cock. The servants were boiling him for supper, but 
when the moment came to convict the apostle he 
started up, perched on the side of the pot, and aston 
ished the assembly by his salutation of the morning.' " 
Notes and Queries, 5th series, IX, 412 a. (Kohler.) 

A heathen in West Gothland (Vestrogothia) had 
killed his herdsman, Torsten, a Christian, and was re 
proached for it by Torsten's wife. Pointing to an ox 
that had been slaughtered, the heathen answered: Tarn 
Torstenum tuum, quern sanctum et in coelis vivere ex- 
istimas, plane ita vivum credo prout hunc bovem quern 
in frusta caedendum conspicis. Mirum dictu, vix verba 
finiverat, cum e vestigio bos in pedes se erexit vivus, 
stupore omnibus qui adstabant attonitis. Quare sacel- 
lum in loco eodem erectum, multaque miracula, prasser- 
tim in pecorum curatione, patrata. loannis Vastovii 
Vitis Aquilonia, sive Vitae Sanctorum re^ni Sveo-goth- 
ici, emend, et illustr. Er. Benzelius filius, Upsaliae, 
1708, p. 59. (Kohler.) 

240 b. Man begegnet auf alten Holzschnitten einer 
Abbildung von Christi Geburt, welche durch die dabei 
stehenden Thiere erklart werden soil. Der Hahn 
auf der Stange krahet da : Christus natus est ! der 
Ochse bru'llt mit iiberschnappender Stimme drein : 
Ubi f und das Lammlein blaheret die Antwort : Bethle 
hem! Rochholz, Alemannisches Kinderlied und Kin- 
derspiel aus der Schweiz, p. 69 f. (Kohler.) 

241 a. Wer sind die ersten Vorbothen GottesV Der 
Hahn, weil er kraht, " Christ ist geboren." Der Tau- 
ber, weil er ruff, " Wo ? " Und der Ziegenbock, weil er 
schreit, " Z' Bethlehem." Pater Amand Baumgarten, 
Aus der volksmassigen Ueberlieferung der Heimat, 
I, Zur volksthiimlichen Naturkunde, p. 94. (Kohler.) 

Hahn : Kikeriki ! Gott der Herr lebt ! 



Ochs: Wo? Wo? 

Geiss : Mah ! zu Bethlehem ! 

Simrock, Das deutsche Kinderbuch, 2d ed., p. 178, 
No 719 ; 3d ed., p. 192, No 787. (Kohler.) 

Quando Christo nasceu disse o gallo : Jesus- Christo 
e nd ... d ... d ... do (niido). J. Leite de Vas- 
concellos, Tradicdes populates de Portugal, p. 148, No 

242. Note. Add : W. Crei/enach, Judas Ischarioth 
in Legende und Sage des Mittelalters, in Paul and 
Braune's Beitriige, II, 177 ff. 

25. WUlie's Lyke-Wake. 

P. 247 b. Add : E. < Willie's Lyke-Wake.' a. Bu- 
chan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 51. b. 
Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 122. 

249 b. Swedish. Add: D. Aminson, Bidrag till 
Sodermanlands Kulturhistoria, n, 18. 

French. ' Le Soldat au Convent,' Victor Smith, 
Vielles Chansons recueillies en Velay et en Forez, p. 
24, No 21, or Romania, VII, 73 ; Fleury, Litterature 
Orale de la Basse Normandie, p. 310, 'La Religieuse ;' 
Poesies populaires de la France, III, fol. 289, fol. 297. 
A soldier who has been absent some years in the wars 
returns to find his mistress in a convent; obtains per 
mission to see her for a last time, puts a ring on her 
finger, and then " falls dead." His love insists on con 
ducting his funeral ; the lover returns to life and car 
ries her off. 

249 b. A. Magyar. The ballad of ' Handsome 
Tony ' is also translated by G. Heinrich, in Ungarische 
Revue, 1883, p. 155. 

The same story, perverted to tragedy at the end, in 
Golovatsky, II, 710, No 13, a ballad of the Carpa 
thian Russians in Hungary. 

250. Dr R. Kohler points out to me a German copy 
of A, B, C, which I had overlooked, in Schrber, Ein 
Ausflug nach Gottschee, p. 266 ff, ' Hansel June.' The 
mother builds a mill and a church, and then the young 
man feigns death, as before. But a very cheap tragic 
turn is given to the conclusion when the young man 
springs up and kisses his love. She falls dead with 
fright, and he declares that since she has died for him 
he will die for her. So they are buried severally at 
one and the other side of the church, and two lily 
stocks are planted, which embrace " like two real mar 
ried people ; " or, a vine grows from one and a flower 
from the other. 

252. This is the other form referred to at p. 247 a. 


a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 51. b. 
Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 122. 

1 ' If my love loves me, she lets me not know, 
That is a dowie chance ; 

I wish that I the same could do, 

Tho my love were in France, France, 
Tho my love were in France. 

2 ' O lang think I, and very lang, 

And lang think I. I true ; 
But lang and langer will I think 
Or my love o me rue. 

3 ' I will write a broad letter, 

And write it sae perfite, 
That an she winna o me rue, 
I '11 bid her come to my lyke.' 

4 Then he has written a broad letter, 

And seald it wi his hand, 

And sent it on to his true love, 

As fast as boy could gang. 

5 When she looked the letter upon, 

A light laugh then gae she ; 
But ere she read it to an end, 
The tear blinded her ee. 

6 ' saddle to me a steed, father, 

O saddle to me a steed; 
For word is come to me this night, 
That my true love is dead.' 

7 ' The steeds are in the stable, daughter, 

The keys are casten by ; 
Ye cannot won to-night, daughter, 
To-morrow ye 'se won away.' 

8 She has cut aff her yellow locks, 

A little aboon her ee, 
And she is on to Willie's lyke, 
As fast as gang could she. 

9 As she gaed ower yon high hill head, 

She saw a dowie light ; 
It was the candles at Willie's lyke, 
And torches burning bright. 

10 Three o Willie's eldest brothers 

Were making for him a bier ; 
One half o it was gude red gowd, 
The other siller clear. 

11 Three o Willie's eldest sisters 

Were making for him a sark ; 
The one half o it was cambric fine, 
The other needle wark. 



12 Out spake the youngest o his sisters, 

As she stood on the fleer : 
How happy would our hrother been, 
If ye 'd been sooner here ! 

13 She lifted up the green covering, 

And gae him kisses three ; 

Then he lookd up into her face, 

The blythe blink in his ee. 

14 then he started to his feet, 

And thus to her said he : 
Fair Annie, since we 're met again, 
Parted nae mair we 'se be. 

b. " Given with some changes from the way the 

editor has heard it sung." 
2 2 , I trow. 3 1 . But I. 3 8 . That gin. 
7 3 . the night. 

39. Tarn Lin. 

P. 335. Add: J. 'Young Tamlane,' Kinloch MSS, 
V, 391. 

335 a. The stanzas introduced into I a were from 
"Mr Beattie of Meikledale's Tamlane," as appears 
from a letter of Scott to Laidlaw, January 21, 1803. 
(W. Macmath.j 

336 b, third paragraph. Add : Aminson, Bidrag, 
etc., iv, 6, No 27. 

Fourth paragraph, line 9. Read : in it which. 

338 a. An old woman is rejuvenated by being burnt 
to bones, and the bones being thrown into a tub of 
milk : Ralston, Russian Folk-Tales, p. 59, ' The Smith 
and the Demon;' Afanasief, Legendui, No 31, from 
Dahl's manuscript collection. 

356. The following is perhaps the version referred 
to by Dr Joseph Robertson : see p. 335. 

28. Burd Ellen and Young Tamlane. 

P. 256. This ballad is in Pitcairn's MSS, III, 49. 
It was from the tradition of Mrs Gammel. The last 
word of the burden is Machey, not May-hay, as in 

" A fragment of Young Tamlane," Kinloch MSS, V, 391. 
In Dr John Hill Burton's handwriting, and perhaps from 
the recitation of Mrs Robertson (Christian Leslie), mother 
of Dr Joseph Robertson. 

29. The Boy and the Mantle. 

P. 270 b. If a girl takes a pot of boiling water off 
the fire, and the pot ceases to boil, this is a sign of lost 
modesty. Lammert, Volksmedizin und medizinischer 
Aberglaube in Bayern, u. s. w., p. 146. 

3O. King Arthur and King Cornwall. 

P. 274. A Galien in verse has been found in the 
library of Sir Thomas Phillipps, at Cheltenham. Ro 
mania, XII, 5. 

31. The Marriage of Sir Gawain. 

P. 292 b, last paragraph but one. Add : ' Gorvb'mb,' 
Arnason, II, 375, Powell, Icelandic Legends, Second 
Series, 366, ' The Paunch.' Gorvb'mb, a monstrous 
creature, in reward for great services, asks to have the 
king's brother for husband, and in bed turns into a 
beautiful princess. She had been suffering under the 
spells of a step-mother. 

' The night, the night is Halloween, 
Tomorrow 's Hallowday, 

2 ' The night, the night is Halloween, 

Our seely court maun ride, 
Thro England and thro Ireland both, 
And a' the warld wide. 

3 ' The firsten court that comes ye bye, 

You '11 lout, and let them gae ; 
The seconden court that comes you bye, 
You '11 hail them reverently. 

4 ' The thirden court that comes you by, 

Sae we el 's ye will me ken, 
For some will be on a black, a black, 

And some will be on a brown, 
But I will be on a bluid-red steed, 

And will ride neist the queen. 



6 'The thirden court that comes you bye, 

Sae weel 's ye will me ken, 
For I '11 be on a bluid-red steed, . 
Wi three stars on his crown. 

6 ' Ye '11 tak the horse head in yer hand, 

And grip the bridle fast ; 
The Queen o Elfin will gie a cry, 
" True Tamas is stown awa ! " 

7 ' And I will grow in your twa hands 

An adder and an eel ; 
But the grip ye get ye '11 hold it fast, 
I '11 be father to yer chiel. 

8 ' I will wax in your twa hans 

As hot as any coal ; 
But if you love me as you say, 
You '11 think of me and thole. 

9 ' O I will grow in your twa hands 

An adder and a snake ; 
The grip ye get now hold it fast, 

And I '11 be your world's mait. 

10 ' I '11 gae in at your gown sleeve, 

And out at your gown hem, 
And I '11 stand up before tliee then 
A freely naked man. 

11 ' O I '11 gae in at your gown sleeve, 

And out at your gown hem, 

And I '11 stand before you then, 

But claithing I '11 hae nane. 

12 ' Ye '11 do you down to Garden's Ha, 

And down to Garden's stream, 
And there you '11 see our seely court, 
As they come riding name.' 

13 ' It 's nae wonder, my daughter Janet, 

True Tammas ye thought on ; 
An he were a woman as he 's a man, 
My bedfellow he should be.' 

1 The night, the night is Halloween, 

Tomorrow 's Hallowday, our seely court 

maun ride, 

Thro England and thro Ireland both, 
And a' the warld wide. 

Cf. A 25, 26 ; D 16 ; G 30 ; I 33, 34. 
8*. think'and of me thole. 

41. Hind Etin. 

P. 363, note. Compare, for style, the beginning of 
< Hind Horn ' O, H, pp 205, 206. 

43. The Broomfield Hill. 

P. 393 a, first paragraph. In Gongu-Rdlvs kvaeSi, 
Hammershaimb, Faerb'iske Kvaeder, No 16, p. 140, sts 
99-105, Li nil in remains a maid for two nights, and 
loses the name the third, but the sleep-rune or thorn 
which should explain this does not occur. 

393 b, third paragraph. Add : Kurz gefasst,' Al 
fred Mu'ller, Volkslieder aus dem Erzgebirge, p. 90. 

45. King John and the Bishop. 

P. 410. Translated after Percy's Reliques also by 
von Marees, p. 7, No 2. 

503 a, fifth paragraph (ring stories). Add : W. Frei- 
herr von Tettau, Ueber einige bis jetzt unbekannte 
Erfurter Drucke, u. s. w., Jahrbucher der koniglichen 
Akademie zu Erfurt, Neue Folge, Heft VI, S. 291, at 
the end of an excellent article on Hitter Morgeners 
Wallfahrt. (Kohler.) 







Child, Francis James 

The English and Scottish 
popular ballads